“We’re closed, sir,” Jin said absently, letting her long hair out of its tight tail to coil around her shoulders.
The hulking figure in the foyer didn’t move, and the not-quite-rain blew in through the open door of Saki’s Chicken, along with the mid-November chill. Jin sighed and flipped the sign in the window from ‘open’ to ‘closed’, pointedly glaring at the latecomer as she did so.
He didn’t take the hint.
“One small order of wings.” The door swung shut with a bang, and he moved to slap a bill onto the counter.
“I’m sorry, sir, but-” Jin shrunk back as the stranger rose to his full height. He was absolutely massive, bundled in layers upon layers of dark clothing. Shifting eyes peered out from under overgrown eyebrows, and clenched, bulging fists had Jin scrambling to the kitchen to reheat the last of the day’s meat. Jin, bony and a good two feet shorter, was obviously no match. She’d have to hurry, but she still had plenty of time to make it home before curfew. Her anxiety grew with each tick of the clock, and the aroma of grease and barbecue sauce was a harsh reminder that Jin hadn’t eaten since breakfast. When the timer finally sounded, she shoved all the chicken into a bag and thrust it at the stranger, earning herself another cold glare, which she dutifully ignored.
He held out his hand for the change.
Jin’s hands were visibly shaking as she fumbled with the register, and she swore to herself that this was the last time she’d take the night shift. She should never have agreed to come in so late, but she needed the money so badly.
She pushed the coins across the counter at the stranger, who ever-so-slowly recounted them. By this point, Jin was practically twitching- was this man insane? He probably owned a car, but even so, you could never be too safe when it came to curfew. The vast majority of the populace began to head for home the second the sun set. Finally, finally, he grunted and lumbered out the door, and Jin breathed a sigh of relief and slumped down against the counter. It was nearly eight-thirty. Curfew was at exactly nine o’clock, and her brother’s house was a twenty minute walk on a good day, and that only gave her ten minutes of leeway. She pulled out her cell phone to call her brother- surely he would come in his big red van, like always, and give her a reassuring smile, and laugh and joke but make her promise not to take the late shift again. A promise she’d have to break, unfortunately, as she’d done so many other times, but it was a comfort nonetheless.
The phone slipped out of Jin’s trembling hands and hit the hard tile floor. When she picked it up, it had a long crack across the screen, and it refused to turn on. Hot tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, because damn it, it was just her luck that she was trapped in such a situation with no way out.
There was no one else in the street as she wrestled with the front door key, her harsh breath coming out in little puffs of white steam as the not-quite-rain clung to her hair, her hands, the tip of her nose. Her heart was pounding loud enough to raise her parents from their quiet graves, and she imagined them now, coming down the street with sunken eyes and rotten fingers to drag her back with them into dark oblivion. In her mind’s eye, her parents, her ancestors, an army of corpses slowly making their way to the doorstep of Saki’s Chicken Shop where Jin stood frozen.
She mentally kicked herself out of the hallucination. She didn’t have time to waste- she had half an hour to be home before curfew, and her brother and his wife were probably worried sick. The littles would be asking why she wasn’t home, and they were old enough by now to know when something was wrong.
Lucky for her, she was on the varsity track team. If she could convince herself that it was just another competition, and she was running not to save herself but to earn a shiny gold medal, she would make it.
Though the circumstances were less than ideal, Jin really did love to run. The steady rhythm of her boots on the wet pavement was comforting, and even in the darkness and the cold she kept her pace and her focus. The almost-rain had thickened into a light drizzle, and Jin had to blink the water out of her eyes.
Cutting through the woods would give her another precious six minutes. She faltered, uncertain, as the reaching branches stretched out to her like greedy hands. But her unease over the clump of crooked trees was nothing compared to the utter terror she felt when she considered the possibility of missing curfew.
A deep breath, then another, and then she dove headfirst into the encroaching darkness. Jin couldn’t see even a foot in front of her. The clouds had covered the waning moon, and the faint glow of the city was barely enough to keep her stumbling on the right path. Thorns scratched her arms and her cheekbones, and the rustling of something off to the side that was definitely too big to be a bird had her scrambling towards the safe, orderly streets she knew. She didn’t know she was crying until she tasted the salt of tears mixed in with rainwater, but once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop. She took big, hiccuping gulps of air as she finally broke through the trees.
It was really raining now, and it was five minutes before curfew. The harsh wind blew bitter curses from Jin’s lips as she ran, flinging them out into the gale to dance with the sky. The lights of the houses at the edge of town blurred together as she made her way down the crest of the hill.
Five minutes.
I can make it. I will.
Damn that stupid customer.
She skittered around the corner and ran ever swifter, positively hating herself for not pushing that obnoxious man straight back out the door and getting the hell out of there herself. Her brother’s street seemed so close and yet impossibly far.
Three minutes.
A streetlight flickered. Jin’s breath hitched in nervousness. Her brother would be pacing the living room by now, and his wife would be glancing out the window every so often as she put the twins to bed. She sprinted across the intersection, causing a lone car to screech to a halt and honk its horn angrily, but she never slowed her pace.

Two minutes.
Jin could see, all the way at the end of the boulevard, her brother’s house with the red van parked snugly in the driveway and the yellow light from the lamp post out front shining like a beacon in the tempest.
One minute. She was going to make it. She was at the bottom of the street now, three houses away. She smiled in shaky relief.

She slipped.

Flat on her face, disoriented, dizzy. Fuzzily, she stumbled to her feet, but a sharp pain in her ankle caused her to fall right back down again. Her right cheek stung. She lifted a hand to her face and touched something warm and thicker than rainwater. With a dawning horror, she saw the lights of the houses behind her going out, one by one. It was eerily quiet for a minute. Jin, pushing herself upright, allowed herself to believe that maybe she still had time.The water from the pavement soaked through the knees of Jin’s jeans as she scrambled towards the front steps. She opened her mouth to yell for help, but all she could muster was a pitiful croak.
The lights of her brother’s house went out. The darkness was so sudden, so complete that Jin couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, but she didn’t have time to wait for her eyes to adjust. She stumbled up the first stair and very nearly avoided slipping again.
Then, a single mechanical click.
Jin stiffened, and moved faster.
Another click. Another. The harsh grating of metal on metal all around her.
She finally found her voice, and she screamed.
And then she didn’t.
It was five minutes past curfew, and all was quiet except for the gentle sounds of the rainstorm. The power was off, the people were all in bed, and by the next day, the rain would have washed away the single red stain and clump of ebony hair that nobody was around to see.