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don’t know how, but if there was ever a time to try to learn, this is probably it.  It would make things a lot less complicated if it worked out that easy.”
    “Don’t hold your breath,” Carl said and started down one of the aisles, the beam of his flashlight dancing back and forth in front of him. 
    Taylor glanced out the front windows.  The street was still empty.  He was grateful for that. 
    He aimed the beam over the checkout area, across the counter and the cash register, and then along the shelves behind it.  No keys.  He started down the far left aisle.  Various outdoor implements hung on the wall to his left: shovels, ladders, hoses, gardening tools, bags of soil, hedge clippers; there was an entire section devoted to different styles of gloves. 
    Taylor reached up and took the hedge clippers down from the peg.  They were awkward and heavy to try wielding them with only one hand, and he put them aside, continuing his way along the wall.
    Taylor found gas cans at the end of the second aisle.  They were made of durable plastic, and he picked one of them up.  Farther down the aisle, he found an assortment of spray bottles.  He browsed the aisles until he found the paint section and located a canvas drop cloth.  He carried it to the other aisle, spread it out on the floor, and dropped the gas canister and several spray bottles onto the center of the drop cloth.  He folded the four corners and hoisted it over his shoulder, feeling a little like Santa Claus with a bag full of toys.
    Carl came around the corner, shining his flashlight in Taylor’s face.
    “Get that thing out of my face,” Taylor said.
    “What you got there?” Carl asked, directing the flashlight’s beam at the makeshift canvas sack.
    “Gas can and spray bottles.  Figure we can fill them with water before we ditch this place.”
    “See what I got?”  Carl held up his hand.  He was holding a machete.  “Thought it might come in handy.”
    “Any luck finding the keys?”          
    “I haven’t been back there yet.  You?”
    “Nothing up front at the checkout.  Find anything else useful?”
    “Not really.”
    “Let’s go in the back and check -”
    The thunderous roar began again.  Distant at first, and then growing louder by the second.  Taylor killed his flashlight and gestured for Carl to do the same.  Each sat down on one side of the aisle, backs against the cold metal shelving, and they watched as the mob passed by the front windows.
    “Still running,” Carl said.  “I can’t believe it.  They must never get tired.  It’s almost like they’re doing laps.  The town isn’t that big is it?  It’s been how many hours since we saw them last?  If they’ve been running the whole time, what took them so long to make it back this way?”
    “Don’t ask me.  Maybe they found something they were looking for along the way.  Maybe they stopped off at the local diner for some grub.”
    They remained seated until the sound of the mob’s running feet had faded away completely.  Taylor stood up and re-shouldered the makeshift canvas bag.  “Let’s see if we can find those keys in the backroom and we’ll go figure things out from there.”
    Carl had found a scabbard for the machete and had fastened it to his belt, looking like a modern-day swashbuckler with the machete sheathed along his left hip.
    The backroom of Dave’s Hardware was roomier than the backroom of the women’s clothing store.  There were boxes stacked along the walls.  There was a bathroom and a small office.  There was only enough room in the office for a desk and a chair.  A corkboard hung above the desk, papered with invoices and Post-It notes.
    Taylor checked the desk.  He rooted through the drawers and came up empty-handed.
    “I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, but for some reason I got my hopes up anyway.”
    He put the canvas drop cloth down and opened it, handing several of the spray bottles to Carl.