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"I've got a collector in the Heights who'll pay me in fuel vouchers," Miller countered, stepping into the light. He wasn't holding a weapon, just a heavy industrial crowbar.
The neon sign for "Buy Buy Baby" flickered, casting a rhythmic, sickly pink glow over the deserted parking lot. Inside, Elias moved like a ghost through Aisle 4.
"I’ve got a mother in the East Ward with a kid who can't keep anything else down," Elias said, his voice steady despite the hammer of his heart. "She paid me in silver quarters. Real ones."
As his fingers brushed the cool metal, a sharp click-clack echoed from the entrance. It wasn't the wind. It was the sound of a heavy boot hitting linoleum. "Step away from the tin, Eli," a gravelly voice called out.
Elias looked at the tin, then at the exit. He knew the layout of these stores by heart. He didn't grab the formula. Instead, he shoved the entire shelving unit. It groaned and tilted, a precarious domino effect of plastic bottles and pacifiers spilling between them.
