No Ordinary Day | Book 2 | No Ordinary Getaway

his back.
“What is it, boy?” Gloria tried to pat him behind the ear, but he shook her off, hackles rising as he growled. He stalked to the front door, ears tipped forward, lips twitching in a snarl.
Gloria hurried to the window. “Emma, get your gun.”
A shot of panic quickened Emma’s pulse. “Why?”
“There’s a man walking up the drive. I don’t recognize him.”
“One of John’s guys wouldn’t just walk up the drive, would he?”
“Who knows? It’s always better to be prepared.” Gloria hurried to the closet beside the front door and pulled out an old, rusted shotgun.
“Does that thing even work?”
Gloria shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
Emma called up to the loft. “Holly! Get down here!”
Holly’s head peeked out from the loft. “What’s going on?”
“Get Pringles and hide in the master bedroom closet.”
“Stop wasting time. Get Pringles and hide. Don’t come out no matter what.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
Emma frowned in frustration. “There’s someone here. We don’t know who they are, so you need to hide.”
“No way.” The teenager shook her head. “If there’s a threat, I can help.”
Tank growled even louder at the front door and Gloria turned toward the loft. “Please do what Emma asks. I’m worried about Pringles. I almost lost him once. I need someone to protect him.”
Holly frowned. “I’m not going to hide in the corner and watch someone shoot you like they did my dad.”
Gloria closed her eyes for a moment. “No one is asking you to do that. But please, protect Pringles. I need you to do that for me.”
At last, Holly clambered down the ladder before scooping Pringles up into her arms. “If you need me—”
“You’ll know.” Emma flashed a tight smile as Holly ducked into the master bedroom and locked the door.
Emma exhaled in relief as she reached for the revolver. “I wish I had more practice.”
“You and me both.” Gloria motioned toward the kitchen cabinet above the sink. “Raymond stuck the unused rounds up there.”
Emma hurried to find them. “How long have John and Raymond been gone?”
“Not long enough.” Fur bristled across Tank’s back as Gloria reached for the door handle. “How do we want to play this?”
“Assume he’s friendly until he gives us a reason not to trust him?”
Gloria nodded. “Let’s hope he’s just lost.”
Emma steeled herself as she stole a glimpse out the window. A man dressed in dark clothes from head to toe, no sign of a backpack, walked up the drive. In the time it took them to usher Holly to safety he’d made it within twenty feet of the front door.
Fear lanced her spine as she wiped a sweaty palm on her dress pants. “Ready?”
Gloria nodded as she turned the door handle. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Four


John
John slipped through the propped open sliding doors a step or two behind Raymond. He shook out the tension built up over the course of the drive and took a calming breath.
Four steps inside the store and Raymond faltered, taken aback by the scene. He cut John a surprised glance. “I didn’t expect—”
John gave a curt nod. Lines stretched from the cashier into the aisle, weaving through empty clothing racks and barren cardboard displays. A young woman with three bundles of toilet paper and a pile of leggings narrowly missed Raymond with the end of her cart as she hurried to find the end of the line.
“What are we here for?” John attempted to cut through Raymond’s shock. After the scene at the sporting goods store, John expected worse. Low-grade panic wafted through the building like a stink rising from a forgotten trash can. “We should get what we need and get in line. It’s not going to improve.”
Raymond shook his head as if to clear it. “Right. Food first. Anything that’s left, I suppose.”
John pointed toward the far wall where the refrigerated cases stood. “We might get lucky with the cold stuff.”
Raymond seemed to agree, letting John lead the way toward the far wall. The hum of the generator grew louder and louder as they approached. A sign hung above a bank of open refrigerated cases, hastily written in black sharpie.
All meat $0.99/lb.
No guarantee on freshness.
No returns.
“How much space do you have?” John pointed at the sign.
“Some. I’ve got a smoker, too. If we rotate shifts to keep it going, we could preserve a fair amount.”
“Might be worth our time.” John lowered his voice. “Protein will be in short supply soon.”
While Raymond sorted through the meat, opting for easy-to-smoke cuts of beef and pork, John found a rogue shopping cart, abandoned in the picked-over clothing section. He wheeled it toward Raymond, one wheel wobbling and squeaking every revolution. Not a covert vehicle. John gritted his teeth.
He parked in front of Raymond, head on a swivel as he surveyed the other shoppers. Only one other person stopped in the cooler area. A man in his early twenties, navy hoodie pulled over his head, backpack weighing down his shoulders. Based on the furtive glances toward checkout, John pegged him as a shoplifter. Not a threat.
Raymond loaded about forty pounds of meat into the cart, leaving plenty behind. “I’d like to take more, but I don’t want to waste it.” He glanced at the checkout lines with the hint of a frown. “And we should save some for other people.”
John raised an eyebrow. Did he really think other people had the capacity to cook? “If you want it, you should take it.”
Raymond’s frown deepened. “I’m not going to clear the store. What if someone comes along behind us looking for the same thing? We should be good neighbors.”
John ignored the question, opting instead to focus on the mission. “What’s next?”
“Anything shelf-stable. Hygiene products, too.”
“Seems reasonable.” John followed Raymond out of the refrigerated section, past empty bins for apples, potatoes, and a handful of wilted heads of lettuce, and into the aisles. Most were picked completely clean. One forlorn can of green beans peeked out from beneath the bottom shelf. John fished it out and set it in the