Germ

"Stephen, you have to get up." She got her arms under him and helped him up. Atropos was forty feet away and closing in fast. They stumbled around displays of pottery and handmade ceramic picture frames, heading for the back of the store. They plowed through a closed door into a living room, where a family huddled together on a threadbare sofa. The mother, a teenage daughter, and two school-age boys were making an admirable attempt to disappear into the father's embrace. They all looked healthy and loving. And utterly terrified, Julia thought.

"I'm sorry," she said. She pointed toward another door that was ajar and seemed to lead to more rooms. "Go in there, please!"

"They don't understand," Stephen said.

"Go! Go!" she yelled, waving the way. The family dislodged themselves and started to comply. Julia shot to a third door, this one metal and heavily bolted. She opened it. "Alley," she announced. They heard the crunch of glass from the store. "Come on."

The passage was narrow and dark. Slate clouds swirled in the strip of sky overhead. The rain pelted the side of one of the buildings that formed the alley and cascaded down; a fine mist descended upon them. They sprinted left. She heard Stephen's splashing footfalls and labored breathing behind her—sounds the tight alley magnified. They passed another alleyway that transected their own. Ahead, the rain at the end of the alleyway appeared to bow inward, taking the shape of a man before he actually materialized just inside the alley.

It was Atropos.

She stopped cold. Stephen huffed behind her. "I . . . don't . . . understand . . ." he managed between inhalations. "Could he . . . have . . . come around . . . that fast?"

She thought of the crunching glass they'd heard in the store. No way. "Go back," she said. The figure was moving toward them. Spinning, they dashed toward the opposite end.

Ahead of them, Atropos stepped through the door into the alley. His head snapped around to take them in.

They stopped cold. They looked from one warrior to the other. Physically, they were identical in every way. They even converged on Julia and Stephen with the same measured gait. Each held a pistol in his right hand, a little red dot dancing beneath it, reflecting off the wet surface.

"They won't shoot," she told Stephen. "They're in each other's crossfire." She inched toward the Atropos that was farthest from them, the one who had followed them through the store. She pulled Stephen along by the hand.

"When they get close enough, they will," he said.

"That's why we're going to run down this other alley. You see it?"

"Yep."

"To the left."

"Yep."

"Now!"

They bolted into the cross-alley, crashing over a garbage can. Food wrappers and bits of trash clung to their legs; the odor of rot wafted over them. Julia's stomach, already knotted by fear, contracted at this new revulsion. She knew she could vomit and run at the same time if she had to. But in the next second, she'd forgotten about corporeal grievances—her aching muscles, her cold and waterlogged flesh, nausea—and simply ran. She listened for a sound that would signal the warriors' arrival at the head of the alley. Would they try to get closer? Or would they just aim and shoot, a certain bull's-eye in this straight-as-a-shooting-range passageway? Would the spit of a silenced round be the last thing she ever heard?

They came to the end of the alley and whipped around the corner, out of the path of any bullets sailing their way. They pressed against a stuccoed wall, panting.

"We gotta keep going," she said. Then a movement caught her eye, A block away and across the street, a stranger emerged from an alley. He was wearing a leather jacket, appearing casual with one hand in a pocket. He had stolen Indiana Jones's hat and had it cocked forward, obscuring his eyes. Rain poured off of it like a backyard water feature. He motioned to them, beckoning, then stepped out of sight.

Stephen looked at Julia.

"I don't know," she said.

A loud sound came from the alley next to them, a knocked-over-trash-can sound. That decided it for her. She ran toward where the man had stood. They curved around the corner and saw him at another intersection of alleyways. He was a black man and almost invisible against the darkness. Again he beckoned to them. He disappeared into the adjoining alley.

When they followed, they found that the alley disappeared into darkness. Behind them, footsteps echoed against the buildings. They plunged into the darkness. As a wall of brick materialized at the end of the alley, a metal door swung open. Julia crashed into it; Stephen crashed into her. Bodies rushed out of the black opening, enveloping her in unyielding, viselike arms.