You arrive in the town that will forever change your life. Only, of course, you don't know that yet. Right now, all you see, is a little run down town in the middle of nowhere that your parents have dragged you to for some ungodly reason. Something about needing a change of scenery, better and cleaner oxygen—some bullshit like that.

What makes the move even more infuriating is that it was actually predicted. One night your friends dragged you to some party. You don't typically go in for that kind of thing but, somehow, they convinced you. It was as horrible as you expected. Smoke, loud music, and drunk teenagers everywhere. But just as you were about to leave, a crowd gathered around a corner of the room caught your eye.

You wandered over to see what was happening, expecting to see some drunk fight happening or something. Instead, there's a girl, a table, and some cards.
You quickly gather that she's some kind of fortune teller. You recognize the tool of her trade as a deck of tarot cards.

"You will die alone and very unhappy," she said to the drunk girl that stood the closest to her table. The girl's friends behind her burst out laughing and she was drunk enough to join in. But you knew that some days, late at night, the girl would remember that fortune. And shudder.

You smirk to yourself. You've always found fortune telling and fate and other such things so bogus. You turn to leave but you notice the girl behind the table looking at you. She motions with her hand for you to step closer.

Before you could do anything to get away, the crowd around her laughs and a big dude beside you says, "You're next!" and pushes you in front of the table.

"Hmm," the girls says, smiling, "You don't believe in what I do, do you?"

You shook your head.

"Nonbelievers usually have the most interesting futures in store for them. It's kind of unfair how that works."

She smiles again and you remember thinking she was very attractive only, now, looking back...you can not remember a single detail of her appearance.

"Now, let's see what fate has in store for you."

You open your mouth to protest about your disbelief in fate, but you are struck silent as she starts to shuffle the deck, sending the cards over her head in an arc and back into her hand. She does this a couple times then puts the deck lovingly back onto the table.

She takes the top card, flips it, and looks at it intently.

"A great change awaits you."

You weren't expecting much but, God, was she serious? That was a textbook fortune telling thing to say.

She places another card down.

"New friends will help you on your journey. Or, perhaps, you will help them."

You had the same three friends since you were eight. You've never made a single other acquaintance outside that circle. You seriously doubted that you would suddenly be changed into a people person overnight.

One last card.

"Hmm..." She stares at the cards for a moment then does a curious thing. She places them back inside the deck and holds it out to you. "Take them. You will need all the help you can get."

You stare at her and refuse her offer. She persists but you remain firm and eventually walk away, leaving her, your friends, and the party.

That night, when you turned on your side to fall asleep, you found the deck of cards in your pocket. Today, moving to this new town, they are still there. You're not really sure why you kept them. You like to tell yourself that it was because it would have been too troublesome to walk all the way to the trash can and toss it in. But you know that's bullshit.

You didn't believe in fate or the girl's predictions. Just because a move fits under the blanket of a "great change" did not mean a damn thing. And the cards? They weren't doing any harm in your pocket. Nor did it mean anything that you kept them.

You are done thinking about this. Instead, you turn your attention to your current predicament.

The family vehicle comes to a final stop in the driveway of your new home. You look up at it for the first time, unsurprised to see that it looks exactly like your old home: two stories, several windows, blocky; boring. You glare up at it, silently blaming it for the entire move.

"Well, here we are!" Your dad said with sickening levels of enthusiasm. He was always like that.

"Oh, it's just beautiful!" Your mother said as she stepped out of the car. She smiled at the house, oblivious to the fact that it was just their old crappy one in a new location.

Sometimes, you picture your family as a pair of too cheerful parents from a cartoon. They could grate on your nerves more than half of the time and, honestly, you think any sane person would get upset at them, too. You wish that they were more like the adults in a Charlie Brown special, out of the way and full of blahs.

"Time to unpack!" They both said in a sing song voice that made you sick. Either that or the prospect of unpacking.

It took four long hours to do the dirty deed. The deck of cards in your pocket kept digging into your side painfully as you bent to lift every box. But you did not once consider throwing it away.

#

You look in the mirror, thinking that, if this were a book, this would be the part where you list your features one by one in an agonizing little list that completely stops the plot and makes you want to punch babies. You ignore all of your features—like you always do—and put on the only part of yourself that matters—a beanie cap with the number zero on the top right corner. You've had it for an embarrassing amount of years but you can't recall where it came from. But you feel it's part of you. One time, you went outside the house without it, and you had a full on panic attack until it was back on your head. Worn it every day since.

You acknowledge that thinking about this would be a very annoying thing to read in a book.

#

A few hours later, you snatch up the car keys and bolt out the door, without as much as a wave to your parents. They wouldn't miss you.

The car roars to life and you set off...to somewhere. You're not very sure what you're doing. You just know that you're sick of looking at the new house and new walls and halls full of boxes.

So, time to explore.

You blink and miss the downtown area. You wish that was a joke but, really, you sped right through it without noticing a single store name. Before you find a place to turn off—you notice something up ahead, two big buildings on either side of the road.

As you get closer you groan when the one on the right comes into view: a fucking Wal-Mart looms out of the darkness. You thought you might have escaped their influence way out here in the middle of nowhere but it seemed their thirst for money and power had them scraping at the bottom of the barrel for more customers.

You turn into the parking lot. Which is, strangely, empty. All the lights in the parking lot pole things are on, but the store itself is dark and metal gates are down, preventing entry. Weird.

A close inspection of the front doors has a sign with the store hours. They close at ten. Double weird, you couldn't even remember the last time he saw a Wal-Mart that wasn't open 24 hours. You look at your phone for the time. It was eleven.

Well, let's be honest, you didn't really want to go inside anyway.

Approaching the road to leave the parking lot, after flicking your turn signal on (force of habit), that's when you see it. On the other side of the street, the sad remains of another store sat, quiet and untouched in ages.

A large "K" hung over the front doors, the only thing left that told what store it used to be. The rest of the words were long gone though you weren't quite sure how they would have fallen down. The store must have been ten years old or more, you've never seen a modern store left alone that long.

Well...maybe not so alone, after all. A light inside catches your eye, followed by some noise as the doors are pushed open and two people walk outside.

"Shit!" You turn off your turn signal and your lights, and reverse back into the parking lot for good measure. You reverse, parking alongside the edge of the lot and the street. You crouch low, roll down your window, and look back across the street.

The two people didn't seem to notice you, they were arguing, loudly, and you could make out a little of what they were saying.

"Dude, no, I was the coolest tonight. Did you see when..." The rest was drawn out, and the boy was talking too fast for you to understand.

A second voice spoke up, a girl's: "Shut up, that was stupid—you could have gotten all three of us killed."

Three?

Almost on cue, the door flew open again and another form appeared from inside. This one was angry. And, if your eyes were seeing things right, he carried a gun. Not good.

"What the hell are you idiots doing?? I told you to lock up!"

"Yeah," the boy said. "And to go outside."

"Here we are!" The girl said cheerfully, if not a little sarcastic.

"Through the back! You know, where my car is?"

The boy and girl looked at each other but didn't say anything.

"Forget it—just get back in here. We can't risk getting—" The third person notices your car, then, and your eyes meet.

Shit.

You fall back into the car seat but the damage had been done.

"Come on. Now." The third person commands and all of them disappear back inside.

You immediately go for the keys, start to turn them but stop, reconsider. If you go now, wouldn't they assume you had seen something? And, maybe, give chase? Right now they are probably already nearing the guy's car. But that should still give you some time to—

Headlights click on and start to approach from the side of the other store. Running was not an option anymore. What other options did that leave you with?

Panic hits and your eyes dart all around your surroundings, looking for some way out of this. Your eyes stop on the glove compartment and you instantly remember what's inside. An idea hits, your only chance.

You open the compartment with one hand and with your other you snatch one of your mom's weird bandanna things she liked to wear sometimes from under the seat, silently thanking her for being so messy and tacky. You tie it on your arm, above your elbow, mimicking what you've seen on TV shows and movies.

The headlights are getting closer, they're almost to the street now.

You root around in the glove compartment until you find what you're looking for: your dad's insulin shot. You squirt the insulin out on the car floor, then stick it in your arm below where you tied it off.

The car starts to cross the street right as you throw your seat back, close your eyes, and go as still as you possibly can, your arm up against the window in an attempt to make it as visible as possible.

Ten seconds pass and they're parked. Five more and they're out, by the sound of the door slams.

"Who is it?" The girl.

Footsteps got closer. "I don't know, never seen them be—oh, check it out guys," the boy said, tapping the window.

"Druggie," The third one said. His voice was deep, definitely older than the other two.

"I was actually referring to the lame beanie cap but, yeah."

Lame!? But, shit, you forgot about that. Without it you were a nobody, with it...they might remember you. You'd worry about that later.

"Do we have addicts here?" The girl again.

"No," said the older guy.

Your heart rate increases. Come on, are they kidding? What shitty little town didn't have a rampant drug problem?

Footsteps walk away, toward the back of the car.

"Out of state license, guys," said the boy.

Praise Jesus.

The boy continued, "Druggie passing through. Stops at a Wal-Mart, sees it's not open and abandoned...decides to get high. Makes some kind of sense, right?"

You liked this kid, he was redeeming himself for the beanie crack.

"That's great and all, they didn't see us, whoo-hoo, but, um...are they alive?" The girl asked, sounding more worried with each word.

Thinking fast, you make a fake snore and turn your head away from the window. You feel the girl jump back from the car.

"Alive—and they didn't see anything. Alright, let's get out of here guys," the older one said and their footsteps start to head back toward their car. "This was a really close call—never go out the front again, alright?"

"Yes, Neo," the other two said in a deadpan, rolling-my-eyes-at-you kind of way.

Neo? They were dissing your beanie but they were totally cool with hanging around a guy with a name from science fiction?

You turn your head back slightly and open your left eye just a smidge, curiosity getting the best of you.

The car is facing the opposite direction as you so you've got the driver's side in your line of sight. The older guy—for he is older, maybe late twenties, early thirties—is busy with getting the car turned on so you risk opening your eye wider and take in as much about him as you can.

He has long black hair that goes past his ears, curling slightly at the tips. His face is young, almost too young. If he didn't have facial hair you wouldn't have thought he was old at all. He didn't look super buff, but you could tell he was in good shape.

Before, when they were across the street, you had sworn that you had made eye contact with him but, seeing him now, you're unsure why you felt that as he wore a pair of thick black sunglasses.

Their car roars to life and you snap your eyes shut. You remain motionless as they drive past you and on down the road, back into town. You take a deep breath and relax, waiting for more time to pass before you risk leaving.

You wonder what exactly it is that you just witnessed. Burglars? What did a store that old and rundown still have that was worth stealing? It wasn't a drug deal, from what they said about the town. Maybe some sex thing?

You didn't know.

Not yet.