Torchwood: Exodus Code

training only two days before, and he had learned that you do not touch a customer unless you absolutely have to. Did this count as one of those times? He stared at Gwen. This woman looked really pissed off. He looked to his manager for some guidance, but his boss had backed up against the shelves, trying to regain some of his dignity, and holding his mobile in front of him like a weapon.
    ‘I’m filming you,’ he yelled at Gwen, ‘so… so you’d better back away.’
    Gwen ripped the phone from his hands and dropkicked it into the dairy section. Then she pivoted and faced the guard, who instinctively raised his hands in surrender, taking two steps back.
    Behind the guard, Gwen could see customers’ arms stretched in the air and mobiles flashing pictures. Beyond the crowd outside in the parking lot she could see the lights of an ambulance and a panda car, but worst of all she could see a look of sheer terror on Anwen’s face. God, what am I doing? Gwen inhaled and exhaled and the red at the edges of her vision began to fade, the crunch of the cereal at her feet softened, the lights above her seemed to flicker and dim.
    Holding her hand out to the manager, she said, ‘I am so, so sorry. I… I felt… I thought you were going to hurt her. This woman needs help.’
    The manager slapped Gwen’s hand away.
    ‘And so do you, missus.’
    Anwen started to cry again.
    ‘Sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me,’ Gwen said, lowering her voice and her hand. ‘I was just protecting the woman. She’s obviously having some kind of seizure and you just didn’t seem to care.’
    Gwen could feel the anger churning in her stomach. She felt sick.
    Ennobled by the sight of the police entering the shop, the manager puffed out his chest and poked Gwen’s shoulder. ‘I want you arrested.’
    ‘Mummee!’ screamed Anwen. ‘Uppie!’ Then Anwen threw the box of puffs at the guard’s head, who turned and took a step towards her.
    ‘Don’t you bloody dare,’ shouted Gwen, her blood boiling again. She slammed her chest into the guard, who fell against the trolley, causing Anwen to scream even more.
    ‘I want you out of my shop this minute,’ hissed the manager, pushing the guard towards the entrance. ‘Go get the police!’
    ‘Fine… that’s fine,’ said Gwen, catching her breath and unclipping Anwen from the trolley. ‘Please, let’s at least take care of this woman first. She really is in bad shape.’
    The security guard turned and glared at Gwen while negotiating his way through the crowd of shoppers to the front doors.
    While keeping an eye on Gwen standing behind him with Anwen in her arms, the manager crouched a safe distance in front of the madwoman, who was now howling in anguish and trembling violently, her head wrapped and hidden under her jacket.
    ‘I think she’s having some kind of epileptic fit,’ said the manager.
    ‘No shit, Sherlock,’ snapped Gwen.
    ‘Listen, you… bitch,’ said the manager, finally losing it. He stood up, pointing at Gwen. ‘You’re a bloody menace and for all I know you did something to this woman and that’s why she’s in such a state.’
    A ball of white, like the after-burn of a camera flash, burst in front of Gwen’s eyes. She was about to charge the manager again, but Anwen squirmed in her arms. Gwen blinked hard and the anger settled back in her chest.
    The madwoman’s howls had shifted to screams of terror, jolting the manager and Gwen from their face-off.
    ‘Is that blood?’ asked the manager, noticing a small puddle forming under the madwoman.
    Two paramedics wheeled a gurney piled with bags of equipment down the cereal aisle, forcing the manager and Gwen to step aside. The manager took the opportunity to get clear of this insane mother. He marched down the aisle to greet the two constables who’d arrived with the ambulance.
    ‘Don’t you dare move!’ he yelled back at Gwen. ‘You’re not leaving here until I say so.’
    ‘Piss off,’ muttered Gwen, sliding Anwen onto her hip, watching with concern as the paramedics tried to get a blood pressure cuff on the madwoman who was now prostrate on the floor, breathing heavily, her body stiff as a board, blood pooling under her head, which along with her hands was still wrapped in her jacket.
    ‘Did she ingest anything?’ the female medic asked Gwen while her partner tried to untangle the jacket from the woman’s head. She slapped away his hands, struggling against his