Randy Meeks was behind the counter at Blockbuster, organizing tapes and glancing at the clock every few minutes. It was well past closing time, but he had volunteered to do inventory, and the store’s fluorescent lights cast an eerie glow in the empty aisles. Shadows flickered as he moved, stacking horror movies he’d seen dozens of times, muttering his favorite lines under his breath. Every so often, he'd glance over his shoulder, half-expecting a late-night customer—or maybe something else—to appear.