Chapter 1

"You should see me with makeup sometime."

Chuck sighed. Not this again.

A can began to fall off its stack, obviously not placed there to its satisfaction. With practiced anticipation, Chuck casually, but quickly, moved his hand to steady the problem item. His other hand brought another can of green beans up, filling the last empty spot on the shelf. A quick tug on a few of their neighbors brought the front ones flush ... and he was done.

With that box, at least.

Still kneeling on the floor, Chuck leaned backwards and cracked his back, one hand grabbing the cart behind him so he didn't fall over like an idiot. He sometimes got nervous enough around the more attractive cashiers as it was, without making them laugh at him because of clumsy mistakes. Speaking of which...

With a turn of the head he saw Alicia standing a few feet away, in front of the boxed mashed potatoes. Her own hand cart, the same brown four wheel, two level design as his, sat behind her with tomorrow's sale signs awaiting placement on the store shelves. She was looking down at him, waiting for a response. A response to ... ah, right.

"Why?"

Alicia blinked.

"Why what?"

Chuck chuckled, shaking his head, which turned into a yawn. Intelligent conversation could be difficult near the end of the night. He grabbed a half filled box of canned corn from the cart, an experienced eye judging that he could fit all of it in the allotted shelf space, with some cheating.

"Why should I see you in makeup? You look fine how you are."

And, she did. Long, curly blond hair framed a face full of life, blue eyes that twinkled in any light, lips that always had a smile on them, a scar running up her right cheek, from a half inch away from her lips to just next to her ear...

Chuck saw her react to his glance, smile fading a bit, and mentally kicked himself. The scar seemed to be all she thought others saw, which every glance of his confirmed. It was old, he could tell that. This wasn't some recent disfigurement Alicia was traumatized by. The eighteen year old had lived with it for awhile ... adjusted to it. Or, more likely, been warped in some ways. At least, so went his professional analysis as a fellow teen.

Forcing his eyes over to hers, he tried to put all the reassurance he could into his gaze.

"Seriously, you look great now."

She smiled, nose crinkling in that cute way she had.

"Thanks ... but you should see me in makeup."

Chuck pushed the cart down the back aisle, trying not to think about how much longer till closing time. He hadn't wanted to work at a supermarket. Hadn't wanted to work, really. Mowing a half dozen lawns a week over the summer had been more than enough income for him, especially as someone entering senior year of high school that didn't date much. But, that wasn't good enough for Dad. Oh, no. Chuck had to learn to have a "work ethic" or some such, and that could only be acquired through slavery to "The Man". Or, in this case, "The Manager". So, Dad had given him an ultimatum: either get a job ... or pay for college himself.

No, it had made no sense to Chuck, either.

Thus, here he was. Working the evening shift at the Clarence Bells supermarket on a Saturday evening. Gosh, what a fun use of his youth. At least some of his co-workers were cute...

"Chuck!"

... then there was Melinda.

He was tempted not to stop, to keep going towards the back room, and the safety to be found there. But, there was always the chance Anthony had sent her to find him, so...

It's not that he didn't like the girl, or that there was anything wrong with her. Sure, she wasn't the most attractive cashier, with big glasses and a body seemingly without curves. While Alicia could turn the required white blouse, black pants, and ugly tan store vest into an incredibly curvy fashion statement, on Melinda, it just sort of hung there. It also wasn't that she was dumb or anything, really. Chuck didn't know her well enough to really pin down something like that, the two of them going to different school districts (the store was near the town line, but most of the employees, apart from him, came from Clarence). No, it was just ... Melinda liked him, and he didn't look at her in that way. Simple as that. A few years ago, the idea of a girl throwing herself at Chuck would have seemed a wonderful concept. Maturity, and having actually had a girlfriend, had taught him that it was wise to pick which port you pulled into in a storm.

Which didn't mean he in some ways didn't like the attention.

Melinda came up to him at the end of the paper goods aisle, right hand clutching a sign trumpeting half off no-name toilet paper. Her eyes, behind those black frames, were wide, her expression not sure if it should be excited or worried. If she had long hair, she probably would have been chewing on an end, but given it was short and curly that wasn't really possible without some real effort. Not that he wouldn't put it past her to try if he said he'd have found the result sexy.

"What is it?"

She came close, biting her lip. That, Chuck thought, WAS sexy.

"Have you looked outside?"

He looked at her, a bit perplexed, then raised his eyes over her black hair towards the front of the store. The large glass windows were far enough away he couldn't see much. Just white and black, really...

He dropped his gaze back down.

"What?"

"The storm! It's a real blizzard out there!"

"Really?" Chuck raised his eyes again, seeing one could interpret what he saw as that. With no sound, apart from the annoying store ads and mindless music coming from the ceiling speakers, there was no real sense of whatever it was doing outside. "Bad?"

"Um, yeah! Dad texted me, asking if I'd rather walk home so he didn't have to try and drive in it!"

Chuck chuckled, looking down at her again. She came up to about his shoulders. He wasn't sure what that came out to, height wise, although as he was going into engineering it probably was a math problem he should be able to do. Let's see, he was five foot eleven, carry the one...

The small part of his brain not taking part these important calculations noticed Melinda was looking at him expectantly. Mentally shaking his head, he shrugged at her.

"Well, nothing we can do about it. We'll be closing soon, so with luck we won't get trapped here."

She laughed for a moment, then her cheeks began to darken. It only took a moment for Chuck to realize where her mind was going. Shaking his head, he grabbed the handle of the cart and pushed it onwards towards the back room.

Anthony leaned against the bottle return counter, looking down the length of the front aisle. He loved closing.

Here he was, in charge of the entire store, with few customers and no real chance of problems. No owner breathing down his neck, no other managers to have disagreements with. Just him, and a half dozen slaves to do his every whim. What could be better? Oh, sure, a job that actually paid a decent salary, and didn't require him to waste his weekends stuck at work until after 10 PM would be nice. But, the bars in Buffalo closed at 4 AM, so there was still plenty of time to go out if he was in the mood, and as of last week he now had a steady female companion so it wasn't like he had to go out trolling for that. Plus, this wasn't one of those huge, open all night superstores with thirty aisles, but a nice, quiet, edge of suburbia oasis. All in all, it was a good life.

"You gonna stand there all night?"

Even the bitchy females were fun. With a grin, he turned and raised an eyebrow at Hannah. The twenty four year old raised an eyebrow back, meeting his gaze. Anthony just chuckled.

"Is there something else you'd like me to do?"

"If I thought you'd be any good at it, yes."

He grinned as she turned away to finish whatever it was the office girls did, a smile on her lips. Anthony liked Hannah. Liked Tammy, the other girl working in the office tonight, but Hannah was special. For one, she was married. That meant he was free to flirt with the busty brunette as much as he wanted without having to worry about it going anywhere. That she had started the whole thing, despite being married, was interesting but not his problem. It was a good release, and kept him from doing something stupid with the cashiers.

His gaze went down to Nona, the lone girl at a register. The darker skinned Southeast Asian looked bored, leaning against the conveyor belt, cell phone in hand. She was very cute, but, what, 16? 17? Untouchable, basically, as were the other two he had off doing sale signs, something the owner's younger brother should have realized or he wouldn't now be coming to work here. Really, the stupidity of walking up to a kneeling cashier, stopping right next to her, and saying, "While you're down there..." And this guy was now to be putting in his forty hours a week here because nobody else would hire him? Great. Supermarkets were no place for that kind of thing.

Oh, sure, there was the constant sexual tension between stock boys and cashiers, pairings and un-pairings, managers having to fire couples found engaged in the back room ... he still regretted having to get rid of Owen and Veronica, but Mr. Vento had come up next to him in the open cooler doorway and seen Veronica bent over the 2% as Owen tried to give her some fresh cream. After that, Anthony tried to work the schedules so no couple worked too much of a shift together. Sure, it probably ruined their social life, but that wasn't his problem. He didn't care what they did, so long as it didn't cause trouble for him.

He didn't like trouble.

The door to the office opened, both Hannah and Tammy coming out towards him. Tammy was a bit too plain for his taste, an unremarkable face framed by long straight dirty blond hair that she wore pulled back into a tight pony tail. Small breasts too. He knew one of the stock boys kind of had a thing for her, but as it was one sided he hadn't bothered to do anything about it. Let Justin lust from afar all he wanted.

"There're no customers left," Tammy told him, her voice low and soft. "Should we close up?" Anthony's eyes flicked up to the clock over the counter, showing quarter to ten, then to the front windows. You could barely see the first row of parking spaces, filled not with cars but a sprinkling of shopping carts, despite the light coming from the poles. He considered, then nodded.

"Do it. Time to get the fuck out of here."

"Attention all customers, this store will be closing in five minutes. Please bring your items to be cashed out. Greg, please bring in the carts."

The three boys looked up at the ceiling speaker, Tammy's voice interrupting an important discussion over who should be traded at the deadline. All had agreed the team needed a new center for the third line, but who to get rid of? Chuck looked at his watch, still chuckling at Justin's idea of just trading everybody and starting over. The guy did not know hockey: the Sabres were only two points out of the playoffs...

"What the fuck?" Greg pushed himself away from the freezer door, pissed. Ignoring the amused looks on the other's faces, or more than likely enjoying them, the football player strode over to the nearby intercom phone. Picking up the receiver, he hit a few buttons. The overhead speaker gave a staticy beep. "Why?"

His voice echoing through the store, Greg hung up and stepped back, turning to grin at his coworkers. A moment later, Tammy's voice came on again.

"Because you're ugly and Chuck's mom dresses you funny."

Adjusting his glasses, Justin cocked his head at Greg.

"She's right, his mom does. You really should talk to her about that."

"Fuck you!"

A reply was on his lips. Chuck could see that. The smaller boy had a comeback all ready. But ... Greg had turned, going over towards the coat pegs. The moment was over. A small sigh came from Justin, tactfully ignored. Greg came back, buttoning up a school jacket that really wasn't suitable for the weather.

"Typical," he groused, pulling a red knit hat out and pulling it over his curly hair, "send the Black guy out into the snow." Chuck raised an eyebrow, turning to Justin. Justin just shook his head.

"Hey, I'm African American, so leave me out of this." Jumping up from the milk crates he'd been sitting on, the thin boy began walking over towards the utility area. "I've got the buffer."

Chuck pushed the large dust broom down the baking goods aisle, trying NOT to mentally repeat along with the paper towel ad currently playing throughout the store. It was so hard, though, much as it was hard not to sing along with even the most hated Christmas song on its twentieth playing. The fuckers just burned themselves into your brain. He tried focusing on the broom: long wooden handle, wide brush, able to cover a full aisle in just two passes. In the aisle he'd just finished, he could hear Justin start up the buffer, whistling some tune or other. The buffer was fun: a mini Zamboni, you just stood behind as it went along its way and tried to keep it from hitting things as it polished the tiled floor. Oh, and made sure it kept moving. Paul hadn't done that, as the burned spot over in produce kept reminding everyone.

Moving quickly, now trying not to sing along with some bad pop song, he pushed the growing pile of dust and dirt along into aisle three. Nine to go...

He felt a shudder.

The lights went out.

A moment later, a few small, dim emergency lights came on.

The sound of the buffer faded, Justin obviously not wanting to use the battery operated machine in the dark. It was replaced by Justin giving a yell.

"Captain! Captain! All the stars have gone out!"

Chuck chuckled, although he had no idea what geeky thing Justin was quoting. Some things don't need context. To his surprise, from the other side of the store Melinda's voice came back.

"You fool! You've hit the button again! Turn the view screen back on!"

"Nerd!"

"Oh, look who's talking!"

"Damn it," came Anthony's voice, "we have no time for a nerd fight! Chuck, Justin, cover the freezer and cooler cases!"

Laughing, Chuck maneuvered the broom and pushed his way back to the rear aisle. The main back room entrance was over at the far end in frozen/dairy. Justin quickly caught up with him, having abandoned the buffer to its fate in bulk, then turned and went into the meat department. Well, that settled that division of labor. He'd cover all the meat and fish cases, while Chuck did Frozen.

A quick pop into the back room, now lit by just a red glowing "Exit" sign over the back door (you never knew what backup system worked until you needed them), Chuck was soon out again with a cart loaded with covers. They were a mixture of folding metal, foil quilts, and cardboard. Obviously, just temporary things meant to keep stuff from going bad for an hour or three. With practiced ease, he began tossing them on the reach-in freezer cases that ran down the center of the aisle.

"Need a hand?"

It was Melinda, naturally, coming towards him from the cashier room (that mysterious place where drawers were counted, and no stock boy was allowed). With a grin, he took out two covers and pushed the cart with the rest towards her.

"Go for it!"

It was nice having a slave.

Alicia just wanted to get home.

This was the worst part of the day, for her. Her work was done, and she had to sit here waiting for everyone else to get their shit together. Didn't matter that her drawer was counted a half hour ago, that all the stupid make work they'd tossed at her was done. No ... she had to wait because nobody was allowed to leave until the office had all the money counted and accounted for. People could steal whole cases of food out the back door and nobody would care, but God forbid there be a dollar difference between the computer and the safe!

The weather wasn't helping either. Leaning her butt back against the register three counter, she gazed over the row of carts out the window. She didn't want to drive in that. This, she thought, was the downside to having a car: you actually had to drive in crappy weather. Well, maybe she could catch a ride with someone, or call her boyfriend to pick her up. If he'd pick her up. Alicia wouldn't blame Daren for telling her to go to hell, rather than risk death driving in this. It was BAD. So bad, she couldn't even see...

Alicia's blue eyes widened.

"Oh my God," she whispered. Blinking, she looked again. No change. "Anthony! Get over here!"

"What?" His mustached face popped into view behind the office cashier window. He was the only person she knew who actually had a mustache, which was strange enough. True, without it his face probably would be rather boyish, and with it he was rather handsome ... but this wasn't the time for that!

"Come here, quick!"

He vanished, reappearing a moment later from around the corner. A hand was up running through his short black hair.

"What is it, Alicia?"

"Look outside!"

The manager raised an eyebrow at her, then with a sigh came to stand next to her and looked out the window.

"Now, what am I suppose to..." He trailed off. Eyes focused on his face, she saw his brows furrow, his head cock. "What the..."

"You see it, too? Or, rather, don't see it?"

Anthony ignored her and walked forward towards the glass. Stopping at the wall, he put one hand on an empty shopping cart and stared.

The parking lot was gone.