Chapter 5: Cracked Bulletproof Glass

Luna was swallowing her seventeenth anti-anxiety gummy of the night when Cole's army boot crushed the 43rd rainbow candy wrapper.

"You know what chick?" The barrel of the shotgun taps against the bulletproof glass, bullet holes spelling out abstractionist smiley faces in the cracks, "Last week a Madonna hoarded three hundred cases of mineral water-"

Bullets loaded like church funeral bells.

Luna's nails dig into the festering wound in her palm. She had just used this gesture three hours ago to reject a father who had traded his daughter's heart for powdered milk, and right now beads of blood were dripping down the edge of the cash register, pooling in miniature crosses on the cover of the Employee Code.

"... And a pharmacist with a private stash of insulin." Cole's breath haloed circles of fog on the glass, "Guess how I'm going to open his safe?"

He suddenly lifted his T-shirt to reveal centipede-like stitches in his abdomen, "Use his duodenum as a key chain."

The warehouse overhead lights suddenly flashed.

It's an alarm set by Luna - when someone with a weapon enters the infrared recognition zone, the lights mimic the frequency of a seizure. But she hadn't counted on Cole whistling and raising his gun to blow out three cameras. The moment the display's snowflake dot splashed open, the man stabbed the barrel of his gun into the cargo delivery port.

"And you!" He fangs and crunches his nicotine gum, "Actually fucking stocking up on cans of borscht in a post-apocalyptic world?"

Luna's knees began to spasm. Those legs, once swollen to elephant legs from working shifts in high heels, now took a steady half-step back and lifted from behind the microwave... A can of spray cream.

Cole's laughter froze as he took in the red can.

"Rule number eighteen." She pressed the valve.

The moment the torrent of white foam sprayed into the man's right eye, the coyote alarm erupted into an electronic "Jingle Bells" tone.Cole stumbled back and knocked over the gum aisle, the smell of mint mingling with the scent of blood in the air.Luna stepped up on to the register, the edge of her jean shorts brushing against her own pale face on the monitor screen-- the

that still had the devil's horns Maya had drawn on it with her lipstick yesterday.

"This shit..." Cole wiped his sticky eyelids, "... It's for children's birthday cakes!"

"Lubricant to be exact." Luna pressed the stunner against his neck, "For stuck automatic doors, or..."

The crackle of the arcs exploding as she looked down at the muscle-bound man convulsing into a fetal position in a pile of ribbons, "... Rude guest."

Cole spat out half a broken tooth and laughed maniacally, "You're going to regret not killing me."

The man was staring at her trembling calves as Luna tied him to the gas pumps on a leash, "Look, the tyrant is shaking." He licked the bloody foam from the corner of his mouth, "You smell like expired strawberry jam..."

There was a sudden crash of cans on the warehouse floor.

Luna turns around for a split second as Cole crushes the hidden shards of glass with the heel of his shoe. The sound of a chain lock snapping exploded simultaneously with the sound of collapsing shelves, and when she turned back she saw only the man's back disappearing into the acidic fog, and the note nailed to the door- the

"SEE U SOON" spelled out in the margins of a supermarket coupon.

Moonlight illuminated the cracks in the bulletproof glass, where Cole's bloody teeth still clung, and Luna crouched down to pick up the broken teeth and put them into a glass jar labeled "Trophy." The jar already contained three fingernails, a strand of gray hair, and some priest's crucifix pendant.

"Rule Eighteen Revised." She scratched out the old entry on the New World Code, the bloodstained tip of her pen haloing the grimy lettering:

"Always carry two cans of spray cream with you."