Wasted World | Episode 2

years; interfering when she least expected it, offering his advice and cutting down her decisions, usually at the same time. “I don’t have time to argue with you, there’s a mad man in here with us.”
Amanda had taken hold of her free hand and was looking up at her. “What?”
“Nothing, just talking to myself... I do that sometimes.”
They backed along the corridor. Angela kept the gun pointed out at arm’s length, sweeping it from side to side across the shadows. “We’re there,” Michael whispered. Angela peered over her shoulder and saw the blasted in remains of the window frame she’d entered through. Fifty more feet. 
May as well be fifty miles. You’ll never make it.
“Run to the window,” she ordered the children. “Get outside and hide somewhere.”
“Aren’t you coming with us?” Amanda asked.
“In a minute. I want to take some clothes while we’re here. It might start getting really cold at night.” She pushed Amanda towards her brother before either could argue. “Go!”
The children vanished around a display of running shoes towards the bleak grey opening. Angela ran in the opposite direction, to the youth section of the store, and started snatching once-expensive brand-name shirts off the walls. Nothing short-sleeved, she told herself. They needed to keep warm. Her fingers hovered over a grey hoody—she remembered the teenager in the house across from the collapsed church—and then decided on the white one next to it.
“Just because the world’s come to an end doesn’t mean you get to take that stuff without paying.”
Angela told the voice in her head to be quiet as she grabbed more.
“Hey! Quit stealing that shit.”
A fresh wave of fear crawled up Angela’s back. The music had stopped, and that wasn’t her father’s voice in her head.
“Put it all back where you found it and wait right where you are. I’m on my way.”
She wasn’t about to wait for the man the kids called Roy to show up. Angela started back towards the window, spinning about in half circles, waving her gun around and dropping clothes. He’s watching me... he’s been watching us the entire time since we left the toy store. How? There isn’t any power. How can he see me?
Now isn’t the time to act stupid, girl. Places like this have all kinds of back-up power in case of an emergency. And this is about as big as emergencies get, wouldn’t you say?
Just for once I wish you could say something helpful, Dad. Just this one time.
Okay, I can do that. Remember when you first came through this way... on your way down to that store at the other end with all them poor saps piled up cold and stiff? Angela ran into a golf bag set up in the middle of the walkway. The stand collapsed under it and the bag fell to the floor. Big-headed drivers and irons rattled half way out along the tiles. Easy, girl, watch where you’re going... What was I saying? Oh yeah, on the way to that Bay store... don’t you recall seeing that little hallway just to the left of this place? You couldn’t have missed it... the little hallway with the public washrooms sign above?
Angela nodded. She remembered. Well I’m betting there’s more than toilets and sinks down there. Could be that there’s some offices beyond... maybe a security station. Maybe this Roy character is a lot closer than you think.
There was a loud bang from somewhere behind her. Part of one the floor tiles next to the upset golf bag erupted up into the air. Angela heard something whiz by her ear at the same moment. Another bang and the golf bag jumped forward a few inches. I’m being shot at.
She could see him now, a hulking figure moving out from the shadows of stores behind, with two guns gripped in either hand. He fired two more times, each fat hand kicking up from the recoil. “Fucking thief! I told you to stay put. You fucking deaf?”
Angela pointed her gun at him.
Don’t do it. DO NOT kill another man.
But he’s going to kill me, Dad. Don’t I have the right to protect myself?
Thou shalt not kill! What part of that can’t you understand? Put the gun down, girl. You can repent for the life you’ve already taken. God can be merciful. He can forgive one tremendous sin... maybe... but he sure as hell won’t forgive a second.
The man was still advancing. He was pulling on the triggers of his guns, but they were only making clicking sounds. He’d run out of ammunition.
Pull the trigger. Stop him.
Put that goddamned thing down!
She could see the name tag on his sweaty chest. ROY. He had taken the guns and repositioned them in his big hands. He was clutching at the barrels and preparing to bludgeon Angela to death with the handles.
For the love of Jesus... lower the gun, Angie. It’ll all be over soon enough.
Her step-father had rarely been kind to her when he was living. But there had been times when he wasn’t hitting her mother or yelling at Angela. He had even tried being soft-spoken and gentle. It had been during those rare occasions when he hadn’t called her girl. He had called her Angie... and those were the times Angela knew he loved her deep down. She yearned to hear that voice. She listened to it.
Angela lowered the gun and Roy ran the last ten feet towards her. The gun in his right hand rose up over his glistening head. His eyes clamped shut, as if in sudden agony, and the gun dropped from his fingers. He fell to his knees, howling, and Angela saw Michael standing behind him, clutching the grip of a driving wood like a baseball bat.
Amanda lunged out from the clothing racks and grabbed up the gun Roy