They must have pulled up some boards to get in, then covered them up so no one from the road could see their flashlight.

You are in the middle of three aisles of the abandoned convenience store, invisible in the darkness. On the other side of the store, a short hallway leads to three doors: a locked bathroom just ahead, and two doors, one on the left and one on the right. You think the door on the left leads to a warehouse. Mortals are trying to open it.

You count four of them: a man and a woman in their early twenties, an elderly woman and an older, frail, gray-haired man, even smaller than the old woman.

The younger woman whispers something in Spanish you don't understand, then she forces the warehouse door open with a metal winch.

"There's not much here," says the young man, sweeping the warehouse with his flashlight. He's traveling heavy: crowbar, backpack, water bottles, road flares... these are his road flares! They must have found your Honda.

Whoever they are, they are foolish or desperate to bring a woman in her seventies (at least) and a guy who is not built for this type of work. You're surprised they're this far north without already making contact with someone. The younger woman starts fiddling with the bathroom doorknob, which is between the storeroom and the office. Bored and fearless, the old man hobbles down one of the halls.

His beast screams, but you can't use that old man's blood. You try to keep close to the one you can feed on.

Then you get a great view when the young woman finally opens the bathroom door and the thing inside bites her in the face.

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