Glenn pulled himself free of the pile, heard something pop. A short, airy utterance fired from his lips. To him, any creature that made such a sound must have been injured and quite pathetic.

The entire pile of holiday rubble shifted and shuffled into a rockslide of papercuts running over Glenn’s expose skin. He gritted through the pain and stood up.

Everyone else had seemingly gone while he was under and out. There were still a few fires burning. Little puddles of glass burned and blinked up at him.

“Shit…” Glenn shook his head, and in so doing remembered. “Ellen! Can you hear me?”

His voice call back at him in echos. It was like a new wave of anxiety.

She had to be somewhere, at least that’s what he told himself. It was easier to swallow than what might have been the truth.

He moved a little ahead, hearing the crinkle of glass underfoot. His boots didn’t mind.

He never thought that he’d survive a war, that’s why he never enlisted. So why the fuck had he gone shopping on Black Friday?

That was easy, it was for her.

So where had she gone? He’d start by going home.