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boyfriend caught me with the phone, and it was a whole thing.”
    Kim makes a sympathetic face. “Sorry. Boyfriends are trash; they don’t know anything.”
    “Well, mine kinda does. He’s on the task force.”
    All light and joy immediately disappear from Kim’s face, and it’s kind of heartbreaking for you. “Wait, what? The task force that’s looking for me?”
    You nod.
    Kim’s eyes glint like light reflected off knives as she turns to look back to the store, worrying at an idea. “You said there aren’t normally this many people in the store this late.”
    “No. Why? Is that important?”
    “What would you say is the average number for this hour?”
    “I don’t know, like three or four?”
    “I counted fifteen men. Is that about what you counted?”
    You realize that the showroom has become oddly quiet. Normally,even back here, you can hear all kinds of blooping and bleeping and yelling, the low murmur of people trying to assuage their vague unhappiness with rampant consumerism. But now there’s suddenly nothing. Just quiet.
    “Um. I didn’t count the men. I spend my life trying not to think about them more than I have to.”
    “They hate that,” Kim murmurs. She pulls her bulky jacket off, revealing a skintight black bodysuit. It looks like it’s been molded to fit her perfectly weight-trained hourglass shape. “We’re in trouble,” she says as she takes out a phone and begins swiping. She’s suddenly all business, highly focused. “Do you still have the phone I gave you?”
    “Yes, in my bag,” you say. “What do you mean we’re in trouble?”
    “And where’s your bag?”
    “Just there, in my locker.”
    “Okay, let’s get it. Stay low and quiet,” Kim says, ushering you back down the hallway.
    This is suddenly weird, and you have no idea how stressed you’re supposed to be relative to how stressed Kim suddenly is. You both go to where the lockers are, between the storeroom and the showroom, and there’s a man standing there, a customer in an employees-only space. He’s one of the men who was browsing the store earlier. As soon as he sees you and Kim, he runs, practically diving back out into the store.
    “Crap, hurry hurry hurry,” Kim whispers.
    You fiddle with the combination, not totally sure what’s going on or whether it’s okay for you to ask questions, or why you have to be quiet or why the customer was being weird. You hear voices, whispers, coming from the showroom, and then footsteps, heavy boots, running, getting closer.
    You have the locker open and your bag in your hand and thenthere’s a spray of red light across your face and then there’s a little red laser dot humming across Kim’s chest and she shouts, “GET DOWN!” and pulls you to the floor just as bullets start flying through the lockers behind you and ricocheting off the metal shelves.
    You stay low, crawling with Kim back toward the storeroom. “I’m guessing that’s your boyfriend,” Kim says, already on her feet again.
    “Um, that’s not my boyfriend,” you say.
    A voice, distorted by a megaphone, calls out, “KIM KARDASHIAN, WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED.”
    “OMG, that’s my boyfriend,” you say.
    Kim makes a very emphatic and wordless gesture that says SEE, I TOLD YOU .
    “PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN AND COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP,” your boyfriend’s megaphoned voice says.
    Kim shakes her head as she swipes across her phone and holds it up to her ear. “See? What’s he talking about? Put your phone down? It’s not a gun; they’re the ones with the guns. What do they even think I’m going to do, exactly? Come on.”
    You follow Kim, running through the aisles toward the back of the room.
    “West side, three minutes, one passenger,” Kim says into her phone, then hangs up. At the back of the storeroom, she pauses. She’s looking at a map of the mall on her phone. “The back door leads to the loading dock, right?”
    You nod.
    “They’ll have that blocked off by now. We’ll escape