Shavian looked at him, her amber brown eyes kind, but skeptical. He couldn’t blame her.
“Elliott,” she said, her tone slightly admonishing, “two minutes ago I thought you were mute. And now you want me to abandon my job for a zombie invasion?”
“Zombie apocalypse,” he corrected. “There’s a huge difference. It’s a scale thing and-never mind.” He waved his hands to the door. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I’m really worried about you.”
Shavian laughed. “You’re so cute,” she said, patting his cheek affectionately. Then she went right back to folding her t-shirts. Elliott blinked, massively confused. Several thoughts warred for dominance in his mind, including, “She thinks I’m cute!”, “She thinks I’m crazy” and “What is up with these tiny t-shirts? Are they for midgets?”
What he actually said was, “What does it matter if you thought I was mute?”
She cocked her head at him, bird-like. “Well, clearly I know nothing about you,” she said, and Elliott could not refute the logic. “Besides,” she went on, “there’s a huge sale on jeans at the Gap this weekend. At what I make an hour, I can’t miss that. It would be criminal. A denim disaster.”
Elliott found himself trying desperately to rearrange logic and common sense so that the pursuit of a bargain on stylish jeans compared in urgency to being eaten alive by ravenous undead, but it just wouldn’t budge. It made no sense, no matter how he tried to recalculate the data. Of course adding in “teenage girl” was the ultimate variable and probably anything could happen then; the possibilities were damn near endless.
But that changed nothing. He couldn’t just leave her behind. He thought fast. Usually he was the antithesis of spontaneity but today seemed to be an action packed day, and who was he to question?
“Will you at least come have coffee with me?” he asked.
Shavian shook her head. “I can’t, I’m Mormon,” she replied.
Elliott quirked an eyebrow. “You get a coffee every day.”
Shavian rolled her eyes at him. “Well, I didn’t say I was good at being Mormon.” She looked up at him and smiled. “But I guess I won’t go to hell for just one more coffee.”
She went to the back of the store to make sure her manager was okay with her taking her break an hour into her shift. The manager, a pinch faced older woman who didn’t look like she was okay with anything, looked Elliott up and down but finally said, “Go ahead.”
Flushed with relief, Elliott and Shavian headed for the exit. He would just get Junie, and explain that there was a slight change in plan. He paused a moment to text Roger; he had no idea where the Scot had gotten off to, but he figured he should keep him in the loop. But when they reached the hallway, Elliott paused.
Junie was gone.
He sighed. He should have known better than to leave Junie alone for long. He looked around, hoping to see her in the mall crowd somewhere, but she was nowhere to be found. Logically, she was probably just headed back to the Hovel; her default setting was “coffee.” On the other hand, attempting to apply logic to Junie was like trying to apply a sweater to a greased weasel: it was bound to be messy and probably wasn’t going to go according to plan.
“Wasn’t your friend just here?” Shavian asked.
“I told her to meet us back at the Badger’s Hovel,” he lied. “She’s probably already got your non-fat mocha going.” He smiled at her reassuringly.
When they reached the Hovel, Elliott breathed a sigh of relief: Junie was there, preparing herself a cup of coffee. Unfortunately she’d left the door locked after she re-entered, apparently determined to keep the coffee for herself once and for all. To his dismay, he saw the old lady with the cane from earlier standing off to one side, looking at him vengefully, retribution sparkling in the rheumy liquid of her old, old eyes. Elliott recoiled.
“Do you know her?” Shavian asked, looking at the old woman in fear.
“Only in a pugilisitic way,” he replied.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Elliott said, knocking on the door to the coffee shop.
Junie looked up and smiled in pleased surprise, and when she opened the door, she handed Shavian a cup.
“Tall non-fat mocha,” she said.
“Ahh, thanks,” Shavian said. Elliott noticed that her eyes flicked to the top of Junie’s head briefly, looking somewhat displeased. Junie was a inch or so taller, but he saw nothing for her to be unhappy with. Still, she smiled nicely enough.
Junie moved aside to let them in. As he brushed past, Elliott muttered to Junie, “Keep her here for a few minutes, will you? I have to… go get something.”
“Are you up to dodgy no good again?” Junie asked, in a bad, fake British accent. Elliott gave her a look, and didn’t bother wondering what he’d done to warrant the ‘again.’
“Um, yeah, I guess so,” Elliott said. “Just hold out for a few more minutes and then we’ll be on our way.” He turned to Shavian. “I’ll be right back, I just have to… Well, I’ll be right back.”
Elliott left the Hovel, leaving Shavian with a very confused expression. He took a deep breath and headed for his old friend, the supply closet.