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    Penelope ran inside the store. “Help me,” she cried.
    The building appeared to be the combination of a gas station and a sporting goods retailer. The large main room housed miscellaneous food and travel supplies to the left, various hunting, fishing, and camping equipment to the right, and a three-register checkout island in the center, positioned along the front windows.
    She rushed to the service counter. “You have to call the cops! There’s a fucking maniac chasing me!”
    A tall American Indian man with the muscled arms of a comic book superhero stood behind the counter. He’d been tallying the purchases of another female customer prior to Penelope’s entrance and now froze in mid-acceptance of a twenty dollar bill. Both he and the woman stared at her with tense expressions, and Penelope tried to imagine what they were seeing: a sweaty girl with dirt-scuffed clothes and purple hair, shouting with each breath.
    “ Who’s chasing you?” the clerk asked. He handed the customer her change, allowing her to leave.
    The woman made a quick exit, and Penelope pointed past her to where the van had pulled to a stop outside the parking lot’s entry. Its headlights went dark.
    “ That man’s trying to kill me,” she said. “He’s been following me for over an hour, and he just rammed my car off the road.”
    Three other people perused the aisles of merchandise: another employee stocking shelves, and two middle-aged men looking at fishing poles. Each regarded her with expressions of uncertain curiosity.
    “ Damn, are you okay?” the clerk asked. He wore a dark blue, short-sleeve shirt with a red stripe down the left side and the name “Bird” embroidered in white over the right breast pocket.
    “ I’m fine,” Penelope cried. “Just get the cops here to arrest that asshole!”
    Bird picked up a phone from beneath the counter and set it beside the register. He glanced from her to the doors. “Do you know who he is?”
    “ Not a clue,” Penelope replied. “He’s wearing some kind of mask.”
    Bird faced the massive front windows as he dialed. “Well, he’s watching us, whoever he is. Hopefully the sheriff will get here quick enough to catch the guy.”
    Penelope thanked him in a confident tone but had to hug herself to keep from shaking. Taking deep breaths, she leaned against the glass countertop and tried to relax. In the display case directly below, her reflection stared back in the polished blades of a dozen enormous hunting knives.
    She straightened up.
    Bird put the phone to his ear and a concerned look crossed his face. Placing the handset back in its cradle, he faced the cold storage lockers along the back wall of the store and called to the other employee. “Hey, Jason, come watch the register a sec.”
    The lanky, red-haired kid trotted over. “What’s up?”
    “ The phone’s dead,” Bird told him.
    Penelope faced him.
    “ Don’t worry, I’ve got a cell phone,” he assured her. “Regular lines have been up and down half a dozen times since Friday night’s thunderstorm.” He briefed Jason on the situation and told the kid to keep watch on the van. “Use the binoculars; see if you can get a license plate number. Oh, and log the counter time on the surveillance cameras,” he added, pointing to a set of security monitors. “The Sheriff will want to look at the tape. I’ll be back in a minute.”
    He turned and strode toward the back corner of the store. Penelope glanced from Bird to Jason and back, then hurried after the towering tribesman. She crossed between aisles of camping equipment, following him into a small office. She reached him in time to see the man searching through a gym bag alongside the manager’s desk.
    “ Thanks again for all your help,” she said. “I really appreciate it.”
    He nodded. “Glad to do it.”
    She wanted to sit tight, believe everything was going to be okay, but one question still undermined her resolve. “What if he comes after me?”