9. Ava
NINE
AVA
“Hello—Mal, are you back there?” the woman in front of me calls, ringing the bell on the counter impatiently. My fingers tap at my sides as golden oldies play on the radio throughout the dimly lit pharmacy. It feels ominous being in the still space with only the two of us while it’s complete madness outside. In the distance, an impatient driver honks his car horn on cue.
Exhaling a deep sigh, I shift on my feet, feeling naked without my shoulder bag and the pack I left in Scott’s Jeep.
“I need to get back to the house. Herb is waiting,” she calls, dinging the bell again. It grates on the last of my nerves, which are shot from the past twenty-four hours.
The woman dings the bell again, and I grimace.
“Are you sure someone’s even here?” I grit out, but then someone whispers in the back.
Mallory walks out in her white coat with a tense, very forced smile on her face. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Sandra, but we are going to have to close?—”
“No.”
“Yes,” Mallory continues, coming out from behind the counter. “We’re closing up early.”
“Wait,” I blurt. “Can you at least help us first?” I can’t quell the pitch in my voice as panic sets in again.
“Hurry up!” a man calls from the back.
“I’m sorry,” Mallory says, and I see that she’s torn, but she’s afraid, and that clearly wins.
“But—” the customer stammers. “Herb needs his ointment?—”
“Here.” Mallory grabs a box of something off the shelf on her way to the door and shoves it into the woman’s hands. “Take it, please. It’s on me. No charge.”
“But this isn’t?—”
“Dammit, Sandra. Get out!”
Sandra’s expression is difficult to read, but she huffs and practically stomps toward the door. As if remembering herself, Mallory inhales a deep breath and straightens her shoulders. She opens the door and waits for the customer to exit. “I am?—”
“Goodbye.” Mallory closes the door on her mid-sentence, then peers beyond the glass. Her hands shake as she runs her fingers through her hair. This woman is going to throw me out too, and I can’t leave. Not without my prescription.
I don’t move, afraid Mallory will remember I’m here, and I need a minute to think.
“This isn’t happening,” she murmurs, scanning the parking lot. “You need to go too, Ava,” she says, but she turns the lock as she surveys the hubbub outside.
“But I don’t need ointment ,” I say, and I have to control the bite in my tone, knowing it will get me nowhere with her. “I need my anti-epileptics. They were ready for pickup yesterday, but I had to rush home because—” I can’t bring myself to say the words. “Because...” I shake my head. “Look, I’m here now.” I push thoughts of Mavey away, but my chin quivers despite myself. I hate that I have to rely on this woman’s kindness if I’m to have any reprieve for the next few weeks. “I need my meds, Mallory.” I inhale shakily. “Now, more than ever—you know I do. Please.” I force her to look at me. To hold my gaze. “This might be the last chance to get meds at all.”
I must look and sound pathetic enough because Mallory disappears into the back with a resolute sigh.
“Thank you,” I call. Exhaling my relief, every coiled part of me eases slightly and I feel a million pounds lighter.
When Mallory returns, she pulls two pill bottles from a white bag.
Beyond relieved, I pull my credit card from my back pocket and slide it onto the counter, then groan. My head hangs of its own accord. “Shit.” It’s a desperate hiss because last time I used my card it was declined, and I haven’t had the time or the wherewithal to go to the bank or ATM in the chaos.
I glance up at Mallory, knowing this is not some five-dollar generic ointment she would just hand over to me. “I’ve been having issues with my card,” I explain as calmly as I can. “And—” I gesture to her disorganized shelves, disheveled from yesterday’s quake. “I’m not sure I will be able to get it sorted with everything that’s going on.” I pull what cash I have out of my pocket, which is nowhere near enough, and slide it over to her, my fingers trembling a little. “This is all I have on me.” I sound like a fiend, an addict, but I can’t help the clawing fear that borderline suffocates me as I imagine the world all but ending while I am left in my own personal hell of half-consciousness and dysfunction. I can’t even promise her I’ll pay her back because, after today, I won’t ever see her again. “I need them. Please. ”
Mallory drops the pill bottles into the bag. “It’s fine,” she says in a rush. She clearly wants me out of here. “I know you have Mavey to worry about too.”
I take the bag, leaving my cash on the counter. “Mavey is dead.”
Mallory’s eyes widen just as the lights flicker, and then the room goes dark. The radio dies away, the hum of the halogens ceases, and the outside commotion fills the room in the deafening silence. The only light inside the pharmacy streams in from the windows, and a man shouts a curse from the back.
My stomach rolls with dread. Once the power goes out, the real panic sets in. That’s what Scott told me, and the churning disquiet I’ve felt humming in the air since I stepped out of my double-wide this morning is already flirting with hysteria.
The world rumbles to life again as a backup generator starts up, practically growling in the silence. Mallory lets out a deep sigh, and quick and heavy footsteps precede a man who emerges from the back of the pharmacy. Phillip, the man who helped me last time, pushes his glasses up his nose, only for them to slide back down again, and his forehead shines with sweat. He stops short at the counter when he sees me. “I told you to close up, Mallory. Now?—”
“And I told you we shouldn’t have even opened the shop today,” she snaps back.
He waves her retort away. “I can’t get a hold of Sammy,” he continues as if I’m not even standing there anymore. “You should go see if she’s okay. I’ll deal with the generator and secure things here.”
“Traffic is really bad,” I warn them, and though I hate to be the bearer of bad news, I’d want to know if I was trying to get to someone.
Mallory’s brow furrows and Phillip looks at me. Really looks at me. “You’re the one who always orders Depakene.”
I don’t have to answer. He clearly remembers me. “You better get home to whoever is waiting for you,” Phillip tells me, not unkindly. He looks me up and down, not in a creepy way, but in a concerned way, like he would have for his own daughter. “Come on.” He glances toward the door and grabs the keys off his belt loop. “I’ll let you out.”
“Thank you again,” I tell Mallory over my shoulder, and without wasting another minute, I follow Phillip toward the door, shoving my cash back into my pocket. Tightening my grip on my bag of meds, I flash a grateful smile to Phillip and step out into the summer heat.
The sun is blazing, and I lower my sunglasses from the top of my head and survey the parking lot. Traffic is backed up on the I-10 westbound. Every car is stalled on the overpass in the distance, and the Sunoco station next door is packed with cars, gassing up for the trip ahead. Lines of waiting vehicles stretch from each entry as far as I can see.
As I step off the sidewalk, I spot Lars at one of the diesel pumps. He climbs out of the driver’s seat. His oily black hair glistens in the afternoon sun, and his t-shirt and jeans are so tattered and faded they might be the only set he has. Rick and Ty step out of the passenger side. Rick pulls a cigarette from between his lips, laughing at the guy cursing at them, who they apparently cut off at the pump. Ty kicks the man’s bumper, daring him to get out and do something about it.
They are the last people in the world I want to see right now, and as I’m about to turn in the opposite direction, Lars spots me across the lot like a damn beacon. His eyes lock on me, and a chill unfurls over my skin. There’s something about the darkness in Lars’s gaze—a loathing so much more fiendish than anything I’ve ever seen in Knox’s expression. Or even Mitch’s, for that matter. Because Lars isn’t a bull gunning for red, he’s a predator zeroing in on his prey.
Heart pounding with dread, I turn down the road in the direction of Scott’s store, and Lars’s voice reaches my ears.
“There she is,” he calls. “I was wondering where you were and why your house was empty—well, not empty but...”
Fury fills me and I whip around, glaring at him. “You went to my house ?” I seethe, more shocked and angry than I am unnerved by it.
Lars steps around his truck. There’s a parking lot between us as he leans against the fender with a shrug. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” A salacious grin fills his narrow face. “Boy shorts,” he muses. “I’m not sure why I had you pegged as a thong underwear kind of girl.”
Bile rises up my throat in disgust at the thought of him going through my things.
“Had a talk with your friend Mavey—well, she listened, I talked,” he adds with a shrug. “It looks like you really are alone now.”
My stomach curdles. “Fuck off, Lars.” I turn back for the road. My strides eat the pavement, and all I see is red, even as a tendril of fear slithers over me.
“Where are you going?” Lars shouts. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t be wandering around on your own?” I can hear the smile in his voice, but I ignore him and continue in the opposite direction, willing the universe to give me this one grace. Just this once.
“At least let us give you a ride.” His words are laced with a dangerous intrigue, and the moment I hear their truck doors slam shut, the dire need to flee takes over and I run.