When he crouches down, she moves backward, further into the little round rack. It'll be a tight fit with two people in there - it's not like playing hide-and-seek as a little kid on a boring shopping trip - but if he stays out there, there's a better chance that a mannequin will find him.

Once her back's against the slacks on the other side, and the man can crawl in, she answers, "A while. If we spend all our time fighting them, they'll just kill us when we get tired."

That she's found nothing to eat or drink is almost beyond comment; if she had, she'd be asking different questions. Can I trust you enough to give you some crappy chocolates? She pulls tucks her knees under her, a hunting knife gripped in one hand.