"Sorry," she called from the back hallway. "But we're closed for the day."

And then Kora froze just as she rounded the corner, her heart pounding when she found the self-declared Officer Lowe gazing steadily down the cold barrel of a pistol.

The ageing man with the gun, in a black dinner jacket, black tie, and silvery grandpa-comb-over didn't seem bothered by the cameras around him. His stone-faced grey focus so set on Lowe, that he didn't seem to care that the terrified cashier was standing there, witnessing the whole thing.

And just like that, the situation quickly became more than Kora had ever bargained for.

Believing she'd unwittingly walked in on a shop robbery, Kora took cover behind the register, crouching down to hide herself between the T-shirts and tartan fleece blankets hanging near the register.

Pressing her back against the jewelry case, she hit the hold-up alarm button under the counter to alert the security guards of an emergency.

"I've been looking for you, sir," the gunman said to Lowe. "A fine trick, indeed, that you made it off that ship alive. To my surprise, it turns out killing a Welshman is like watching a cockroach scurry after losing his head...Tell me, that meddlesome maid who banded in league with you...did she not survive after all? What a pity."

"Forgive me, my memory is somewhat unreliable at present. You seem to believe we've met before," Lowe said to him. "On Titanic, you say?"

"Don't remember, do you?" he answered. "We never did get the chance to properly introduce ourselves. Spicer Lovejoy, Mr. Hockley's man. And I must say, it's a good thing you survived after all, or else I would not have this unexpected pleasure of leaving you dead a second time."

The oblivious museum security guard finally strolled his way pass the gift shop window, furrowing his brow questionably at Kora, who remained crouched in hiding.

'Are you ok? 'He mouthed the words to the cashier.

'Help' Kora mouthed back to him.

And then his eyes widened when he scanned the rest of the shop. Finally noticing the gun fixed on Lowe.

White-faced upon stumbling into such a real-world situation, the panicked security guard ran back the way he came as he called the crisis into his radio. "This is not a drill. We have an active shooter on the ground floor. Active shooter in the gift shop. I repeat, this is not a drill."

"I've no idea what you mean, but I assure you there's no reason to turn to violence. It is only I and a lady shop keeper here, and you are not in danger," Lowe tried talking Lovejoy down. "What's happened to us both is due cause for alarm, but if you would just lay away your pistol, I can to you explain everything."

"What is this horrendous shanty for an establishment?" the gunman demanded, surveying the posters, T-shirts, and coffee mugs around him. "What madness have you led me into?"

"If you wish to discuss the matter further, we may do so once the shop clerk is allowed to...'clock out', as she puts it. I have regretfully frustrated her desire to do so thus far."

"That won't be necessary," the gunman disagreed. "Neither of you will be allowed to leave until I have retrieved Mr. Hockley's property from your safekeeping."

"Sir, you are deliriously mistaken."

"The diamond Ms. Dewitt-Bukater dropped when she jumped from that boat," Lovejoy informed him. "Mr. Hockley sent me to collect it, believing he'd left it in her pocket. One can imagine my surprise then, after Ms. Dewitt-Bukater shed her coat while trying to escape me. That rather tedious moment I learned the diamond had been left behind, locked in a dish pantry with the very maid and officer who interfered in my private discussion with Ms. Dewitt-Bukater and her gutter rat."

Diamond?

Kora's eyes wandered to the glass jewelry display case she leaned against as a shield, noting the faux crystal necklaces lined up inside.

That's what this is about?

But didn't this Lovejoy know it was only $53.74, tax included? And if he had a coupon, he could snag it for $48.37 with their 10-percent-off anniversary sale?

These hardcore Titanic fans really took their limited-edition collector's items seriously.

But what to do?

Because the last thing she needed was for two Edwardian men in fancy jackets to draw their loaded pistols and duel to the death right upon her freshly mopped floors.

And wasn't keeping calm and cooperating with the gunman the number one safety tip for dealing with a store robbery?

So long as there were guns involved, all of their lives were in danger.

And so, Kora needed to find a way to safely get this man and his gun out of her shop without pulling the trigger.

Slowly, so as not to attract attention to herself, Kora's hand inched for the hidden brass key under the register.

Unlocking the jewelry display case, she pulled out one of the gift boxes with a Heart of the Ocean imitation inside.

Then she carefully closed the sliding glass door again, as Lowe caught on to Lovejoy's abominable implication.

"And by 'private discussion', do you mean to say that your intention was to harass them with your pistol and lock them in a pantry without any hope of rescue?"

"It was a matter between passengers, and so it was not appropriate for a ship officer to intervene," Lovejoy said. "The matter didn't concern you then, and it certainly doesn't concern you now."

"I should say it most certainly concerns me. You murdered me," Lowe realized. "It is the reason I never returned to a lifeboat, and the reason I am here now. Even before you knew I had Ms. Dewitt-Bukater's necklace at hand, you took my life in cold blood on that ship...For nought, save the spite."

"I warned you to look the other way and you refused. You brought this upon yourself."

"My duties in that dire hour were to keep order and protect the wellbeing of the passengers," Lowe declared. "I would not stand down while you hunted a defenseless woman for a bloody necklace."

"Then you were a fool, and that lesson served you right," Lovejoy informed him. "Apparently, you've learned nothing since I did away with you the first time. However, one good turn deserves another, wouldn't you say?"

"There are women and children about here. How can you brave behaving so recklessly for nothing more than a trinket?" Lowe charged Lovejoy. "I strongly advise you to settle the matter more diplomatically this time."

"Then I advise you to return Mr. Hockley's property to me immediately, and you'll have nothing to fear from me."

"If it's a necklace you want," the seasoned retail saleswoman finally stood up from hiding, revealing herself at the register. "You can make me an offer for it."

It was only then that a spark of emotion broke Lovejoy's hardened face, piquing his interest as he sized up the bonneted young lady who'd suddenly challenged him.

"Have you gone off your head?" Lowe muttered to her. "You should not have lingered here, Ms. Amberflaw. This is no time to play the knight in shining armor."

"Just trust me," Kora whispered back to him. "Not like you have much of a choice now but to anyway."

"It won't be any use mumbling in secret to each other. There's no reason to keep prolonging this," Lovejoy warned them. "It is beyond me that you should assume I'd make you an offer for a carcanet that never should've fallen into your hands to begin with."

"Except, he sold it to me," Kora lied. "And now it belongs to this shop. So, as Employee of the Month in Outstanding Customer Service, I'd be happy to assist you, if you want to buy it back."

"Do you honestly expect me to pay you for an article my master owns already?" Lovejoy questioned her, taking a menacing step toward the young shopkeeper.

But Lowe stubbornly placed himself between Kora and Lovejoy's pistol again.

"Do not provoke me, sir. If you intend to threaten this woman," he warned Lovejoy stoutly. "I will be forced to put you down."

"That's hardly diplomatic," Kora reminded Lowe.

"Just stay behind me, miss," he said. "If he insists on waving his pistol around, he will face a man while doing it."

"Noble as that sounds, I'm sure you'll still bleed to death like the rest of us," Kora guessed.

Yet considering the circumstances, she realized she wasn't entirely sure how that actually worked for a man raised from the dead, who was by the very relaxed definition of it, a zombie.

"I won't be intimidated by savagery," Lowe insisted. "He's probably bluffing about how many are in the chamber."

"It would be my pleasure to demonstrate for you," Lovejoy dared him.

"He doesn't sound like he's bluffing," Kora said to Lowe.

"Why, that is the very object of bluffing," Lowe said to Kora. "If he isn't bluffing, then why hasn't he taken the shot yet?"

"And we're supposed to stand here and how-do-you-do him until he does?" Kora doubted.

"No, indeed. To be sure, you should probably take safely now to the door, miss," the officer told her. "I myself will settle this proposed 'offer' of yours with him."

"You'll stay right where you are," Lovejoy ordered Kora.

"This is getting us nowhere," Kora mumbled to Lowe.

"I have it under control," Lowe muttered back to Kora. "Now be off with you right away, before you regret dallying around here."

"Well, he's still got a gun on us, so clearly you don't."

"Well, if you hadn't gotten in, I might've done something."

"That's been the problem since 20 minutes ago," Kora pointed out. "You're here doing things a dead person shouldn't be doing, and now I'm late to clock out."

"What is it with you and clocks?" Lowe sighed, shaking his head. "I've never known a woman to be so obsessed with the bloody time."

"My car's parked out by the dumpster," Kora informed him of her ultimate plan. "If you're not in it by the time I get there, you're on your own."

"If you were any more domineering," Lowe remarked. "You'd be a sailor."

"Will you both kindly desist!" Lovejoy ordered them.

"All the same," Lowe said to Lovejoy. "You will let the lady go."

"Mind your manners, boy. There's nothing I enjoy more than showing a peasant foreigner back into his place," Lovejoy said to him. "However, I must say I am rather curious in hearing how the young lady plans on negotiating for the pair of you."

"He's right, Lowe. We don't have a choice," Kora said finally. "He's the one with the gun, and it's not something either of us are willing to die over."

"Ms. Amberflaw, this is no time to act rashly," Lowe tried to stop her.

"Here's the necklace he sold me," Kora revealed the jewelry to Lovejoy from the gift box. But before he could take a good look at it, she closed the lid again. "As you'd expect, it ran for quite a price. I don't know how I'd cover my losses, if the price I agreed to pay him isn't matched 100 percent by your boss, Mr. Hockley."

And Lovejoy's aggravation soared above his limit.

"How dare you assume proprietorship for a claim you have no right to barter for!"

"Then let's make this as easy as possible," Kora said. "Obviously, no matter how much money it is, it's not what's most important right now. So, to make sure nobody gets hurt over it, I'll return the necklace to you, after you put the gun away."

"You'll hand it over now, miss," Lovejoy set his own terms. "It would be your misfortune to mistake me for a bargaining man."

"Then if you want it back," Kora warned him. "You'll have to learn to play nice with the other kids. Accept the offer and everybody wins."

Lovejoy's eyes shifted to the gift box in Kora's hand, carefully considering his options.

While Kora all the while held her breath and prayed he didn't look too closely behind her, where a row of identical trinkets were lined up on display by the register.

"Put it down there, and you may both leave," Lovejoy came to his decision. "Quickly."

Kora obeyed his command, setting the gift box on a shelf of music boxes and miniature bottles of Titanic's coal dust.

"By the count of five," she said to Lovejoy. "One...two..."

But Kora didn't even get to three before Lowe grabbed her wrist and pulled her along to the back door with him.

"He's got the point, miss, I'm sure."

And knowing they had only a few precious moments before Lovejoy recognized the row of faux necklaces in the jewelry case, Kora made a run for it with Lowe out the back door.

Lowe pulling her back just in time from being run down by a procession of police cars racing around the dumpsters into the back parking lot with lights and sirens booming.

The police squad swooped in to surround the museum on all sides, blocking off all points of exit and entry, as they got into formation to confront the reported gunman inside.

And with her heart racing, Kora feared what would happen if the cops held them up and demanded her and Lowe for IDs.

"We have to get out of here before they ask questions," Kora said to Lowe, guiding him along to her parking spot on the opposite end of the lot. "This way."

"But they are the constables, aren't they?" Lowe wondered, as he kept pace behind her. "Why must we flee when they are only here to help us?"

"Because my ID is faked. I'm here in this country illegally. 'Constables' are only for the privileged," Kora said. "If I'm caught, they'll deport me, and my dad will be left here alone."

And pulling the door of the driver's seat open, she had just enough time to pile all her skirts behind the wheel of her Honda and turn the ignition before her freckled green eyes spotted a cop in the rearview mirror approaching the car.

"Shit," she whispered.

Lowe glanced over his shoulder from the passenger's seat to note what caused her so much distress.

"You're an immigrant?" he inquired of her. "Belonging to which homeland, if I might ask?"

"I don't know. I wish I knew that answer, but your guess is as good as mine," she said. "Seatbelt."

And Lowe had scarcely enough time to work out what a "seatbelt" meant, before she hotfooted the gas and jumped the wheel over the concrete parking stop to evade the policeman behind her.

Galloping forward over speed bumps to make their escape from the parking lot.

But the ship officer appeared less interested in the herd of police cars that raced in hot pursuit behind them, and was more staggered by the woman who commanded such wolfish machinery.

And though Lowe liked to brag that he had an iron stomach for the sea, at the mercy of Kora Amberflaw's death-or-glory driving, his first experience inside an automatic car was one he'd never again care to try.

Thrown about like a rogue mast sail in stormy seas (and to the grisliest "punk" concerto he'd ever given ear to from out of Ms. Amberflaw's radio), Lowe held onto the door latch for dear life.

By his estimate, she was going well over 70 knots.

But Ms. Amberflaw never let up.

She clenched the steering wheel tightly, taking steady breaths. Her eyes trained on the rearview mirror and the brigade trailing behind them.

Knowing that they were past the point of no return, and she braced for whatever was to come.

As there was no way now to undo the chaos igniting her life, when Officer Harold Lowe's world unimaginably collided into hers.