Page 19 of Glass Rose
With one clean thrust through the eye socket, her body slumps forward. Dead.
I drag Doug back into the office, arranging them behind the desk where they won’t be immediately visible, then sweep through the rest of the store. Shelves half-empty but notstripped bare. Freezers still humming with power. No more Infected hiding between the aisles. Clear.
Back at the car, I tap the window. Sofia jolts, her hand flying to her throat. Alex sits alert while Dr. Cho’s face remains impassive, analytical.
“It’s clear,” I say as Sofia rolls down the glass. “Two Infected inside, both neutralized. Place still has enough for us.”
“Thank god.” Alex reaches for the door handle.
“We should move quickly.” I scan the empty parking lot. “Grab water, non-perishables, and first aid.”
Sofia steps out of the car, eyes fixed on something distant. Her hand catches the back of my shirt as I turn in the direction of the store. A gentle tug, but it stops me cold.
“I need to check on my parents,” she says. “They live twenty minutes from here. I can grab another car, be back before dawn.”
The rational part of me, the part that survived fourteen months of torture and experimentation, knows we all should focus on gathering supplies and finding secure shelter. But there’s something in her expression that hooks into me, tugs at whatever humanity I have left.
“You’re not going alone,” I say.
“I didn’t?—”
“Wasn’t a suggestion.”
“If you two are splitting off, what about us?” Alex asks.
“You grab supplies.” I don’t take my eyes off Sofia. “Everything that fits in the car. Water, food, medicine. Batteries. Weapons, if you find any.”
Dr. Cho steps out. “And then what? Wait for you to return?”
“That’s the idea.”
“And if you don’t?” Her eyes narrow behind those rectangular frames.
“Then you’re better off without us anyway.” I shrug. “More supplies for you.”
Sofia’s fingers curl tighter in my shirt. “We’ll be back. Two hours, tops.”
Alex studies us both, calculating. “Fine. But if the military shows up or more of those things?—”
“You do what you need to survive,” I finish for him. “I expect nothing less.”
Dr. Cho sighs. “This is highly illogical. Splitting up increases mortality rates by?—”
“She needs to know.” I just need to get Sofia there, confirm what I already suspect, and get her back safely. “Wouldn’t you?”
The scientist falls silent, lips pressed into a thin line.
Sofia releases my shirt to grab my wrist, her touch feather-light on my scars. “Thank you.”
I nod once. No need for words. Some things you just understand.
Back inside, I check the office for car keys. Conveniently, the old lady has one in her pocket. I wipe the blood off on her uniform shirt and pocket it before heading back to Sofia and settling into our new car.
A family minivan. It’s cramped inside, and smells like cigarettes and energy drinks. The old lady left empty fast food bags on the floor and a photo of a smiling blonde kid stuck to the dashboard.
Better than the delivery van.
The streets are empty, silent in a way that they never were. Even before the outbreak, I could count on one hand the times I’d seen urban streets this deserted. Now, it feels like driving through a tomb.
