Checkout Counter #6, Walmart, Framingham, Mass.

She was close. Close enough that he could smell her. (Degree Antiperspirant, $3.99, aisle 3A.) Wait. Was that her? Blood on the floor. His. Grant-package's. (Band-Aid brand plastic coated self-adhesive bandages, box of 50, $5.99, aisle 3B.) No. Nonononononono... Not her. Something else, smelly. His focus was on them, on her... but his ears were elsewhere. (St. Elsewhere, box-set, season one, $29.99, aisle 28) [color=aba000]**quietly, almost hissing**[/color] [color=1a7b30]"not NOW, dammit..."[/color] He could pinpoint a sound now. It was in women's underthings, just inside the main entrance. [color=aba000]**still very, very quietly**[/color] [color=1a7b30]"Your fault. Your fault. Your. Fault. Yours. Bad. Yourfault. You and Grant-package. 'least two of them. Stinkers in the naughty garments. Leaker needs new hosiery... cleanup, aisle 2 please..."[/color] Very, very slowly, with his off-hand, Ryan reached into a coat pocket and withdrew a set of dikes (Milwaukee, $11.99, aisle 17, Automotive) and as he swivelled the wavering gun barrel toward the ladies' naughty garment section, held them out for the woman to take. Held them as if touching her or touching them while she touched them would mean certain transmission of cootiees. [color=1a7b30]"Cut him out. There'll be more coming. Always more. Always when there's fresh meat. Aisle 10. Delicatessen / Butcher..."[/color] 

[@The DudeMan] [@Lady of Lore]