Flynt rummages through one of the many damp cardboard boxes populating the corner of the concrete room. He tears open one of these boxes, dumps out a brown paper bag, and stuffs it into his sweatshirt pocket. Flynt crouches against the concrete, snatches up the beaked-woman’s fallen switchblade, and stashes it into his pocket. Avery stands over the attendant’s lifeless body. She hoists the woman up in front of her, dragging her toward the back of the room. Avery tears open the service closet door and hurls the body inside before slamming it shut behind her. Jack watches from across the room.

“Not to push the envelope, but I want you to know that we could have left my home differently.”

“Okay… And?”

“Those two men could have lived.”

“Oh…”

“You do not have to kill everybody. I mean – I am sure that you already know that.”

Avery pauses

“Yeah… Great talk.”

Jack nods. The closet door cracks open, and Avery slams it shut with a resounding thud. She turns around to face Flynt and Jack, while blood pools from beneath the service-closet door. With her head down, eyes darting about the room, she ambles back toward the pristine elevator and pokes the button on the side of its door with her forefinger. Flynt and Jack follow her into the elevator, which plays a short chime as they return to the surface.

Out of the elevator, Flynt treads into the center of the gas station. The fluorescent lights buzz with a low, monotonous hum. Nearby, Flynt approaches one of the refrigerated glass doors, behind which sits an array of vodka. He snatches one out from the line and stashes it away in his pocket. A silvery, ethereal glow shines in through the front of the building. Flynt paces toward the center of the room, staring out the front door. A lanky figure in a flowing white robe paces past the entryway. Flynt wanders up to the front doors and glances about, finding nothing but fallen hail. It is pitch-dark outside, the petrol station serving as the only illuminated detail. The lights flicker. A patron peeks up over the aisle, raising an eyebrow at Jack. The man steps out of the aisle and lunges at the boy. At once, Avery grabs the man’s shoulder, stomping him against the ground, bending his elbow backward. Jack stares down at the man before glancing up at Avery. With a grimace, she kicks the man, and he grunts.

“See... Not dead.”

Flynt meanders over to Jack, gazes down at him, pats his shoulder, and directs him toward the front of the room. The fluorescent lights flicker off, casting the room in pitch darkness except for the twilight pouring in through the front door. The sound of scratching metal echoes from out of the elevator. Jack sneaks away toward the glass front doorway of the gas-station. Before them, from the shadow-draped corner at the end of the hall, the elevator doors skid open. A short, blood-soaked figure oozes from out of the elevator. Before approaching the group, the figure stands tall. The outline grows nearer, bearing a beak on its face. The attendant steps into the light; her beak digging into her, as if sprouting roots beneath her skin. A black, viscous liquid seeps between the seams of her leather beak as it bursts open, coming loose. The mask slides down the front of her face, onto the floor, revealing a real beak. Her eyes are foggy and lifeless, and she is dripping with blood.

Avery lunges at the bloody attendant. Within her gaping jaw is a black sea of static, and she clamps her beak down on Avery’s forearm. Blood flows down Avery’s coat as she writhes. Her head down, dragging Avery with her as she limps forth, the attendant proceeds toward Flynt. She grabs Flynt by the neck and lifts him off the ground. Avery draws up her leg, kicking herself free from the woman, falling onto the tiled floor. The beaked woman draws back her leg, punting Avery through the glass window, which shatters as Avery flings through, rolling out over the pavement. Unceremoniously, the attendant hurls Flynt through that shattered window. Jack glances between the beaked-woman and Flynt and Avery, while they lie motionless in the parking lot.

Jack pushes on the glass front doors. The doors do not budge. The attendant marches toward the boy, with a beady-eyed stare. Jack glances about the room. The woman leans past him and grabs onto the door, unlocking it, and creaking it open. Jack darts outside while the woman creeps back behind the counter.