Free Midnight Solitaire by Greg F. Gifune Page B

nearby. They cling to the bars in their cells and holler like the mad dogs they’ve become, some in protest, some in fear, some with sadistic joy, all with violence and insanity and release, a human zoo of caged, primal lunacy.
    Having watched the road for several minutes through the heavy snow, Luke’s eyes burn and sting, but his mind continues to race. How the hell did he end up here, in the middle of this mess? Just like that last cashier, he thinks, wrong place, wrong time.
    He looks around the office, taking it all in with closer attention this time, occasionally glancing back out at the parking lot and highway beyond.
    Same as on the floor, several sheets of paper lie scattered across the front desk counter. One in particular catches his eye. It takes a moment to register, but once it does Luke’s heart drops. How had he missed this before?
    A shoeprint. Stamped onto the piece of paper.
    Luke looks up. Drop ceiling.
    He listens carefully for any sounds of movement or even breathing.
    Nothing.
    He follows the section of ceiling directly above the shoeprint to an air vent on the wall alongside the front desk. If a person stood on the counter, removed the vent cover and gripped the bottom of the vent, they might be able to pull themselves up diagonally then climb into the vent.
    Luke takes a closer look at the vent cover. Although in place, it’s not secured with screws and is instead the style that is hinged and simply swings open with a pull. So had someone fled into the vent they could’ve easily closed the grate behind them, thereby leaving no trace of their escape.
    He stares up at the slots in the vent cover. If someone were hiding in the shaft they’d be able to see him but he couldn’t see them.
    The bells over the door sound and Luke whirls around, gun leveled.
    Greer stands just inside the door, pale and drawn, hands raised and eyes teeming with panic and fear.
    Luke lowers the gun. “Where’s Doc?”
    “Getting something from his car.” She brushes snow from her shoulders and arms but continues shaking, her face a tangled web of emotion and shock. “It’s just like he said. They’re all dead. One in one room, two in another, and…” Greer hesitates, struggling with what she is about to tell him, as it’s still difficult to believe. “Luke, there’s a dead body hanging from the flagpole. Decapitated.”
    Luke’s response is barely audible. “Jesus.”
    Greer hugs herself. “It’s a goddamn bloodbath out there and he—that man he—he had a knife right to my throat, the same knife he probably used to—”
    “Take it easy.”
    “Take it easy? Take is easy? You fucking take it easy!”
    This time it’s Luke who holds his hands up. “I didn’t mean anything by it, all right? Just stay calm, try not to freak. You don’t want to lose it. Not here. Not now. You go off that edge, you might not make it back. You feel me?”
    He’s right, and she knows it. Greer nods and does her best to release some of the tension in her body.
    Before Luke can say anything else the door opens again and Doc enters along with a burst of snow and cold wind. He carries a small black leather bag. “You’re supposed to be watching the road.”
    “I am, I—”
    “Stay on it.” Doc leans his shotgun against the front desk, places the bag on the counter and begins rummaging through it. “He’s close, I can feel him.”
    “Something you need to look at.” Once he has Doc’s attention, Luke taps a finger on the sheet of paper marked with the shoeprint then subtly cocks his head in the direction of the vent.
    Doc responds with an equally subtle nod. He thought he’d accounted for all the vehicles parked outside, but if the van The Dealer was driving came from here as well then the little Honda out front belongs to someone else. Due to where it’s parked he assumes it’s another employee, someone who was manning the front desk when The Dealer arrived. From the small size of the print it is most likely a