She raised a hand. In it, she held a box cutter. Not the cartoonish, glowing one from the game. This one was real. Rust-flecked. The blade already half-extended.

She was closer now. Twenty yards. Fifteen. The giggle came again, but this time it wasn't from her lips. It came from your phone's speaker. Distorted. Layered.

A giggle.

You burst through the fire door into the cool night air. The parking lot was empty. Your car was a dark shape forty yards away. You fumbled for your keys, your breath coming in ragged sobs.