We are definitely not lucky.

  A stranger appears at the top of the aisle where we’re standing. “Oh thank god,” he breathes out, a good-natured grin on his face. “I thought I heard voices.”

  He appears to be a little older than I am, some light greying around his temples and his stubble a little salt-and-pepper. He heads down the aisle toward us. Ryder takes a small step toward me.

  I don’t know if he was already in the store, and has been in here with us the whole time, or if he just walked in off the street. If he had been in here this whole time, strange that he didn’t come over when Ryder first knocked all the video games down. But I can’t be the only one who thought to go loot a local grocery store after the world ended.

  There is something of relief in seeing another human.

  “We’re just getting some food and going home,” Ryder says. His voice is sturdy, even though I can feel the slightest tremble where his shoulder is pressed into my arm. It takes me a moment to realize he didn’t hide behind me in fear. He stepped closer to me to protect me.

  It’s kinda sweet, actually.

  The man holds up his hands—his empty hands. “Supplies are always a good idea,” he says. He has a very clean backpack slung over one shoulder, a visible tag dangling from the strap. It doesn’t look like much is in it, but something inside it clunks as he hoists the bag back up his arm.

  I remember the way the Game told me Ryder was a Party Member. There’s no convenient title for this guy, and I wonder if I can ask the Game for it.

  That’s when I also remember that the magic surge that gave me and Ryder the Game also gave other people little gifts. What sort of gift did this guy get?

  “You don’t look too upset,” I spit out before I can stop myself. Because he doesn’t. He doesn’t look like someone reeling over how the end of the world came half an hour ago. He looks like someone who just discovered the toy in the bottom of his box of cereal.

  “Upset?” he echoes.

  “Jane,” Ryder whispers a warning, turning his head toward me without taking his eyes off the other man.

  I think Help! to the Game and then What can you tell me about this guy? But the Game doesn’t give me a helpful grey box. It just places the man’s head in that thin white box with the title “Unknown Man” over it. Helpful. I’ve always been a little bit of a hermit and a little paranoid. But strange men after apocalypse events can’t be trusted, right?

  “Why would I be upset? It’s been the craziest hour of my life, the way people just disappeared. It’s a ghost town out there,” he says, shoving his thumb in the direction of outside. “But I just came across other people,” he goes on to say, gesturing to us instead, “which is a relief.”

  “I just came from Yonge Street and there were a bunch of people there,” I tell him, taking a step backwards. “Maybe you should head that way, see who else you can find.”

  He nods. “Not a bad idea. Why don’t you guys jump in my truck and we can head there together?”

  Red alerts are going off in my brain now, and not from the Game—from my own instincts as a woman living in the city. I reach up and gently take Ryder’s shirt between my thumb and index finger, giving it a light tug. “My husband’s waiting,” I lie. The man’s smile grows sinister, and I know that my instincts are right. I don’t wait for his reply, I just give a hard yank on Ryder’s shirt and say, “Run!”

  The two of us take off down the aisle. I shove my arm into the boxes of dry pasta and sweep them off, hoping the few obstacles will distract the man. I don’t look behind me, though I hear his boots. He’s following us. And taking his sweet time with it, too. It doesn’t sound like he’s running.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I don’t go toward the door. That seems too easy, and who knows if this man is alone or not. The last thing I want is for me and Ryder to be ambushed heading outside. We head further into the store.

  Ryder runs faster than I do and turns up a toy aisle, one with kids’ sports equipment. He’s looking at the options when I turn in.

  “We need a weapon,” he whispers, and turns his attention to the selection.

  “My friends!” the man calls out, his voice significantly louder than a normal voice should be. His gift from the magic, I realize. He’s able to amplify his voice. I need to assume that all his senses are amplified, too, so I press my finger against my mouth, trying to show Ryder that we need to be silent. “Where’d you go?” He takes on a vaguely sing-song tone and chills run down my back.

  Ryder takes two plastic baseball bats down from the shelf and hands one to me. They’re not going to do much against a full grown man—and one that’s likely been magically altered in some way—but I do feel better having something in my hands. We need to get to the actual sports department, find a proper bat. Or maybe I’m thinking too small. Maybe I need to go to the kitchen section and grab something sharp.

  I’ve never been a particularly violent person.

  But that was before an apocalypse event.

  “I’m just looking for some company,” the man calls out again, his voice echoing across the store.

  “It’s been an hour!” I mutter under my breath—even if this dude did have a family that poofed with the rest of humanity, which I highly doubt, he should be in mourning. Not hunting for… whatever it is he’s hunting for.

  I suppose I went to look for food, like a sensible person. Some people wanted to take advantage of the fall of society in… other ways.

  Ryder and I sneak out of the toys aisle and up against the back wall, continuing to make our way further from the grocery side of the store. I think about taking us through the doors into the back storage rooms, finding a back door. But I want to get us back to my mom’s car. We’ll have to do with whatever I had already grabbed and put in my inventory.

  I clutch my plastic bat to my chest as we come around another corner. I can see over the top of the women’s clothing section from here and just make out the far edge of the self-check out. Maybe we can still get out of this. If we head through the next section, it’ll be a straight shot to the far doors into the parking lot. I start to head further into that direction, happy to take the long way around if that means playing it safe.

  By the time I realize Ryder hadn’t followed me, it’s too late.

  He had tried to go straight toward the door. I hear the empty echo of the plastic bat against the floor and a squeal from Ryder, and the man’s accompanying chuckle. I tuck against the shelves where I’m standing, wishing there was something other than dog toys near me to use against him.

  “Jane!” Ryder yells.

  “Yes, Jane,” the man says casually, but I wince at how loud he sounds. I really wish I knew what sort of magic he took on, what he was doing or holding to have the surge effect him like this. “Come on out and play with us.”

  Oh, ew. Never mind, I don’t care at all anymore. I just want us gone.

  “You’re a bad man!” Ryder yells again, and I clap my hand over my mouth to stop my groan.

  “Hate to break it to you, kid, but the world’s a bad place,” the man says. “I really wanted your friend, but I guess I’ll take what I can get. I’m sure I can find someone to sell you to.”

  Bile churns in my gut as I wait until I hear the man take a few steps. I ease around the corner until I’m sure his back is to me, then take a few steps after them, staying as silent as I can.

  And then I chuck the rubber dog toy in my hand as hard as I can in the opposite direction. It bounces off the floor with a squeak, and the man turns around.

  Right as I bring the plastic bat around in a swing toward his face with every ounce of strength I have.

  It works better than I thought it would. The man goes right down, and while Ryder goes down with him, the kid scrambles away easily.

  The Game’s familiar box pops up, but this time it’s up in the corner of my vision and is a lighter grey with black text on it, rather than the dark box with white writing on it that we had up until now. I mentally push it away, too busy reaching for Ryder and pulling him toward me.

  “Jaa-aane,” Ryder whines, letting me hug him. But then he pushes me away to grab the backpack from the man.

  I start to tell him to leave it, but the man on the ground lets out a groan, stirring just a smidge. Nope nope nope, time to go. I shove Ryder toward the door. “Go, go, go,” I urge, and Ryder slings the bag over his shoulder and we hurry out of Wal-Mart.

  I take a quick look at the white box from the Game in the corner of my vision.

  New Achievement! You’ve selected your first weapon!

  New Achievement! You’ve injured your first enemy!

  Congrats! You’ve selected the Fighter class!

  Well, shit.