What was just supposed to be a simple supermarket search had turned into a shoot-out. Sweat beading down your temple, you worked to reload your gun, back pressed against the counter you hid behind.

A gruff voice behind the next till over caused you to jump. "How many bullets you got left?"

He, too, was holding his gun to his chest, reloading. You hadn't noticed him there before, but maybe he was searching the store, too, and just got caught up like you.