Hana didn't answer. She had already moved behind the nearest pillar, which saved me the trouble of telling her to do so. I crouched slightly and tried looking past the shattered glass without standing directly in front of it.
The store was dark enough that the reflections on the remaining glass made things difficult. A few shelves had been knocked over near the entrance, and someone had cleared most of the bottled drinks closest to the doors. I couldn't see whatever had moved before.
I held the pistol lower.
Still there.
Good.
It hadn't magically disappeared like Mira's things did when I wasn't thinking about it. That would've been an inconvenient mechanic to discover now.
24 rounds left in the magazine, the system noted.
Hana tapped my shoulder and pointed towards the side of the shop.
There was another window there.
I nodded.
We moved along the sheltered walkway, keeping low enough that I started wondering if crouching actually made us less visible or if we just looked stupid. The side window gave me a better angle towards the counter.
Someone was behind it.
Human shape.
Crouching.
I saw hair first, then part of a face as whoever it was leaned slightly around the counter. Our eyes met through the glass.
He ducked immediately.
I did the same.
"...Human?" Hana whispered.
"I think. Looked alive."
I waited. Nothing happened. Hmm...
I leaned around the corner again.
Still nothing.
There was a back entrance to the convenience store where deliveries usually came in, but getting there meant walking around the building and exposing ourselves to the road. The front was already open. Whoever was inside had definitely seen me carrying a gun.
I lowered it completely and raised my other hand near the window.
"Hey! What are you doing!" Hana quietly screamed at me.
I ignored her.
There was movement behind the counter.
"I'm not infected."
No answer.
"Neither is the girl."
Still nothing. As I was about to take a more forceful approach—
—A man's voice finally came from behind the counter.
"Put the gun down." His voice was shaky. Young-ish.
I didn't put the gun down.
"I'll point it at the floor."
"Put it down."
"No."
Silence. Fair enough.
I kept the muzzle towards the tiles and stepped where he could see both hands. Eventually his head appeared again. Early twenties, maybe. He had a kitchen knife in one hand and something that looked like a mop handle in the other. His shirt was stained, although from here I couldn't tell with what.
He looked at Hana.
Then me.
"Where did you get that?"
Of course that was the first question.
"Does it matter?"
"It matters if you're with the EDF."
"I'm not."
That was technically true right now.
"Police?"
"No."
Another silence. He didn't look convinced, but I was getting tired of standing outside where anything wandering along the road could see us.
"We're looking for food. That's it."
The man's shoulders loosened slightly.
"There's two in the back."
Great.
Of course there were. It's a quest.
He lifted the mop handle a little and gestured deeper into the shop. "One staff. One customer, I-I... think. I've been stuck here since yesterday."
"Yesterday?"
"The shutter jammed when I tried going out the back."
Hana shifted beside me.
I studied him again. No obvious bites. No blood around his mouth. His eyes looked normal. Terrified, exhausted, probably dehydrated, but normal.
"How'd you get in?"
"Front."
"Why are you still here?"
He looked irritated.
"I said there's two in the back."
"..."
I glanced at Hana. She didn't need to say anything. Neither of us particularly liked this, but there was food inside and we had already climbed eleven floors down a rubbish shaft to get here.
Going home empty-handed would've been insulting.
"Can you open the door?"
"It's already open."
Right. The broken automatic doors had stopped halfway apart.
The tension was getting to me.
"Don't even move." I warned the employee, and beckoned Hana with my free hand. She followed close enough that her borrowed shovel nearly hit my heel.
The smell inside wasn't as bad as the rubbish room, although there was something sour hanging in the air. Spoiled food, probably. Most of the refrigerators were dead. Water had condensed against their glass doors, leaving everything inside warm.
The man stayed behind the counter until we were properly inside.
Up close, he looked younger than I'd thought. Maybe twenty. There was dried blood on one sleeve.
I looked at it.
"Not mine."
"Whose?"
He pointed towards the back. I didn't ask further. We had more immediate problems. The store layout was familiar. I'd been here enough times during my break that I knew roughly where everything was. Snacks and drinks near the entrance, toiletries along the side, instant food deeper in, refrigerators against the wall, storeroom behind the counter.
Two infected somewhere beyond the last aisle.
The sensible option was to leave. Unfortunately, the sensible option contained very little rice.
I'm sick of crackers.
I stored the pistol from the dude's blind spot. Hana kept quiet as I did so, and returned the shovel. It felt considerably worse in my hands after having a gun, but at least it wouldn't announce our location to half of Lincol every time I used it.
I gestured at the man's mop handle.
"You know where they are exactly?"
He shook his head. "One was near the storeroom last I saw. The other keeps moving around the fridges."
"How long ago?"
"...Maybe twenty minutes?"
Great.
I looked around for something we could use without getting too close. The shelves near the front had already been ransacked, but one of the promotional stands had fallen onto its side. Lightweight aluminium frame, surprisingly long. I dragged it quietly towards the aisle and propped it between two shelves, leaving enough of a gap for one person to squeeze through.
The employee watched me.
"What are you doing?"
"Making them come through one at a time."
"What if they don't?"
"Then we improvise." His expression wasn't particularly reassured. Neither was mine.
"How are we getting them here?" Hana frowned. I picked up an empty canned coffee from the floor. Her eyes followed it.
"You crazy motherfucker..."
She's right. But adrenaline is one hell of a drug. And worst case, I'll blow their brains right out.
I tossed it.
The can travelled farther than I intended, bounced off one shelf and clattered somewhere near the refrigerated section.
All three of us went still.
For several seconds, there was nothing.
Then something crashed.
Fast footsteps followed.
The employee almost ran behind the counter.
I grabbed his sleeve before he could.
"No. Grab a stick or something."
His eyes widened.
"You're helping."
"What?"
"You wanna stay another day?"
He looked towards the aisle.
Then at me.
"...Fuck." He moved beside Hana.
The first infected appeared seconds later.
Convenience-store uniform.
Woman.
Her apron was dark with blood down one side and part of her cheek had been torn open badly enough that I could see teeth through it. She hit the fallen display rack without slowing, caught herself, then twisted through the gap towards us.
The employee made a noise that sounded like he recognised her.
Didn't matter.
"Push!" Seems like he'd managed to get a shutter pull rod for Hana too.
Hana and the guy shoved the rods forward together. One caught the infected high on the chest, the other near the shoulder. The woman snapped her jaw at them, arms reaching past the makeshift barrier.
I swung.
The shovel hit the side of her head. There was a bit of mental resistance as I did so, but more importantly—
—Not hard enough.
Again.
This time she dropped to one knee, then immediately started getting back up.
Why are skulls so fucking hard?
Third swing.
The edge struck near her temple.
She collapsed against the shelf.
I waited. Nothing.
The employee was breathing through his mouth.
Hana's face had gone pale.
"You okay?"
She nodded too quickly.
Good enough. The second infected answered for us with a scream from somewhere deeper inside.
Too loud. We need to end this.
"One more time." I instructed.
This one came running.
Male customer. Bigger than the woman, wearing an office shirt with one sleeve almost completely soaked through. He struck the display hard enough to push the whole thing backwards.
Hana slipped.
The employee's rod bent.
"Fuck—"
I stepped forwards and drove the shovel against its throat, trying to keep its teeth away from me. The infected slammed into the other side hard enough that my elbows nearly folded.
Too strong. I thought I was prepared for this, but the male zombies feel twice as heavy.
I planted one foot against the bottom of the shelf.
"Fuuuck... you...!!!"
It kept pushing.
The smell hit me next.
Blood. Sweat. Something rotten.
I could hear its teeth snapping centimetres from my face.
Nope. Absolutely fucking not.
I let go with one hand.
Inventory. I reached into my pocket, where the PZ400 materialised against my palm.
I hadn't considered that masking the ability had made the movement awkward as hell. My wrist was bent, one hand still trying to keep the shovel wedged against the zombie's throat, and for one stupid second the grip caught against the inside of my pocket.
Come on—
I yanked it free.
The infected lurched forwards another few centimetres.
Hana screamed something behind me.
I shoved the muzzle against the side of its head and fired.
BANG!
The whole thing went limp immediately.
Its weight collapsed against the shelf, taking the shovel down with it. I stumbled backwards and nearly landed on Hana before catching myself against another rack.
My ears rang. Again.
I really needed ear protection. No wonder I can't hear the girl properly since a while ago.
The employee had dropped his rod and was staring at the corpse. Hana was staring at me instead.
More specifically, at the pistol.
I kept it pointed towards the ground while trying to get my breathing under control.
Twenty-three rounds. The system gave me the number automatically.
I waited for another notification.
Nothing.
No Z-Chips.
The employee finally looked away from the body.
"Where were you keeping that?"
I looked at him.
He looked at my trousers.
Then at the gun.
"...Pocket."
"That wasn't in your pocket."
"It was."
"Your pocket isn't that big."
Hana made a strange choking noise behind me.
I gave her a look.
She immediately turned away and pretended to inspect the shelves.
"Get your eyes checked. You're tired."
The guy clearly didn't believe me, but well, exhaustion probably kept him from having more questions.
"Any more?"
He swallowed. "No. I don't think so."
I raised an eyebrow. Uncertainty leads to death.
"I've only seen those two." He clarified nervously.
I looked towards the back.
"Stay here." I grabbed the shovel and started forwards.
Hana followed, but I stopped and turned around.
"No."
"What?"
"You stay."
"Why?"
"Because if something jumps me, I can shoot it."
Her eyes narrowed, and her voice went a little lower. "And if something jumps me here? You took the knife."
I glanced at the clerk briefly.
"...Stay behind me."
"That's what I was doing."
I really didn't have the energy for this.
We checked the aisles slowly. No infected. The storeroom door was closed, the toilet was empty, and the employee had apparently barricaded the delivery entrance with two crates and a trolley after the shutter mechanism failed.
There were streaks of dried blood near the refrigerators.
A lot.
I didn't investigate too closely.
When we finally came back towards the front, the employee was still standing where we'd left him.
"Clear?"
"For now."
His shoulders dropped.
Then he sat down directly on the floor.
Just like that.
I understood.
The adrenaline was draining out of me too, and suddenly my arms felt like I'd spent the entire morning at the gym.
Hana leaned against a shelf and crouched beside one of the displays.
Nobody spoke for a while.
That was fine.
Eventually I looked around.
Food.
Right.
The reason we'd nearly died.
"Take what you need." The employee looked up.
I wasn't going to ask for permission anyway. Still...
"You've been here since yesterday. Eat something first."
He stared at me for another second before reaching for a bottle of water. That was all the permission he needed. The three of us started going through what remained. Most of the obvious things had already been taken. Bottled water near the front was almost gone, the chilled section was useless, and some coffee freak had cleared out the shelf of caffeinated products.
Fortunately, the back was better. Staple food.
Rice. Instant noodles. Canned tuna. Canned luncheon meat. Biscuits. Protein bars. Long-life milk. A few packets of bread that weren't mouldy yet.
Hana found them first. She held one up.
"Still soft."
"Take it."
"I was going to."
"Take two."
She stuffed both into her bag.
I started with things that would last.
Rice first. Then cans. Then noodles. Water was a problem. It was useful, obviously, but every bottle added weight, and I was already thinking about how much fun climbing back up eleven floors would be with another ten kilos hanging off me. Maybe we weren't going back that way. That thought had been sitting in the back of my mind since we left the apartment. I didn't like it. But I had packed everything important for a reason. Some part of me already expected that once we left, getting back might become more trouble than it was worth.
I pushed that aside for now.
There were painkillers near the counter. Antiseptic. Plasters. A few disposable masks. Took those too.
Hana quietly disappeared down another aisle and came back with several packets of sanitary pads stuffed under one arm.
Behind the counter were cigarettes and lighters.
I didn't smoke. I took several packs anyway. Might be good for bartering.
The employee watched me.
"You smoke?"
"Yep. A lot." Hana eyed me from the corner, but didn't say anything.
Batteries too. Disposable razors. Wet wipes. Small bottles of hand sanitiser. Anything compact that might become annoying to find later.
Still. It felt strange. Four days ago, I would've walked through this exact shop and ignored ninety per cent of it. Now I was evaluating shelf space like some kind of inventory-management game.
Weight. Shelf life. Utility. Trade value.
I found two power banks near the register. Dead.
Still useful if electricity came back. Into the bag.
The employee had started filling a plastic basket for himself.
"Where are you staying?"
He hesitated. "Nowhere."
That made me stop. He looked towards the broken entrance.
"I came here with some people yesterday. We got separated."
"Family?"
He shook his head.
"Friends?"
Another pause.
"My girlfriend's in West Lincol."
"How far?"
"Like uhh... Twenty minutes, normally."
Normally. Nobody used time normally anymore.
"...You planning to walk?"
"...Yeah."
I didn't answer immediately.
Hana looked at him. Then at me.
I knew that look.
Don't. Please don't make me responsible for another person.
I already had one teenager. I was barely managing that.
Still...
"Main road's bad," I said. "Saw infected near the junction from upstairs. If you're going west, use the residential paths."
He nodded quickly. "I know another way."
That was all. I went back to packing. He didn't ask to come with us. I didn't offer. Maybe that was cold. Maybe it was sensible.
I didn't know him. He didn't know me. And frankly, the fact that he wasn't immediately trying to attach himself to the guy with a gun made me trust him slightly more.
Eventually Hana asked, "What's your name?"
The employee looked surprised.
"Taylor."
"Hana."
He looked at me.
I gave him mine after a moment.
There.
Three complete strangers who had killed zombies together in a convenience store.
Friendship speedrun.
I went back to checking the bags.
By the time we were done, mine was unpleasantly heavy.
I lifted it once.
Put it back down.
"...Fuck."
Hana looked over. "Too heavy?"
"No."
She stared.
"Yes."
"Maybe if you'd quit smoking..." She smirked.
Shut up, you brat.
I moved some of the lighter items into her bag instead.
Taylor had considerably less than us. One backpack, mostly food and water.
"You should take more." Hana pointed.
"...I have to run."
I liked his answer.
I checked outside while the others finished. The street looked clear, but that didn't mean much. The gunshot had probably travelled. Twice now, if you counted the one from the rubbish room earlier.
Actually, three—
No.
Four shots in the rubbish room.
One here.
Five total today.
Jesus.
At this rate every infected in Lincol was going to know my schedule.
The PZ400 sat in my hand again.
Magazine: 23/30.
Reserve Ammunition: 120.
One hundred and forty-three rounds total.
...I really needed to get better at shooting.
Taylor came up beside me, and my body immediately became guarded on instinct.
"You're really not EDF?"
"No."
"Reservist?" He reframed the question.
"...Yeah."
"Then why aren't you with them?" Seemed like he was trying to scope out my response to the military call.
I looked outside.
"To survive."
"..." He seemed to realise that was the end of that conversation, and didn't probe further.
We had a silent meal together before leaving.
Food truly healed the soul.
Taylor went out first. He stopped at the edge of the sheltered walkway, checked the road, then looked back.
"Thanks man."
I lifted a hand.
"Don't die."
He gave me a strange look.
"...You too." Then he was gone.
Hana watched him move between the blocks until we couldn't see him anymore.
"You could've said something nicer."
"What?"
"'Good luck'."
"Don't die is more useful."
She shook her head.
I adjusted the pack. My shoulders immediately complained.
"Oh, it finally turned on. Thank god..." Hana fiddled with her phone.
Seems like she'd picked it up earlier, though the screen didn't leave unscathed.
"Come on." I called.
"Are we going back?"
I looked towards our block.
The rubbish-room route was probably compromised now. The infected outside the collection-room door had heard us earlier, and after the gunshots there was no telling how many were around the lower floors.
The lobby wasn't exactly inviting either. I could see movement near the entrance plaza from here. At least two. Maybe more behind the columns.
"...Not yet."
Hana followed my gaze.
"So where?"
There was a small sheltered seating area behind the row of neighbourhood shops. Concrete benches, tables with chessboards printed into them, several trees planted around the edges. Usually there would be old men sitting there in the morning arguing about something.
Today it was empty.
We crossed over carefully and tucked ourselves behind one of the low walls.
The moment we were reasonably hidden, Hana dropped her bag.
"I'm tired. My arms hurt."
I rummaged through my own.
"I'll give you a KitKat bar for a massage."
I ignored her.
What I was looking for was the first-aid pouch. My palms had gotten worse during the climb and fight, a few spots rubbed raw enough that gripping the shovel stung. Nothing serious. I wiped them down anyway and slapped a plaster over the worst one.
Hana watched for a while.
"...Half a KitKat."
"..."
"One full KitKat, I'll give you a hero bonus."
"What's a hero bonus?"
"It's for being a hero." She twirled her hair.
...
"I'm tired." She sighed loudly and leaned against the concrete bench.
I am too. Guess I've been too nervous for too long. My body immediately loosened once we were clear of any threats.
For the first time since leaving the apartment, nothing was actively trying to kill us. Just the sound of wind moving through the trees, some distant sirens that had been going on for so long I barely registered them anymore, and the occasional dull noise from somewhere deeper in Lincol.
I checked my watch, two hours had passed. We'd been outside much longer than I'd expected.
Going downstairs had taken forever. The convenience store took even longer, and now we had the problem of actually getting somewhere safe before carrying all this food became a very expensive way to die.
Still... I looked at the corner of my vision.
1,000 Z-Chips.
I'd been trying not to think about it.
Not very successfully.
Ten pulls.
I opened the system.
Status.
Nothing useful.
Inventory.
Same things as before.
Then:
Recruitment.
The screen appeared in front of me.
...Oh?
Hana cracked one eye open.
"What now? Staring into space."
The gacha function was unlocked. The interface looked familiar.
That wasn't surprising. What surprised me was how old it looked.
CWO had changed its menus plenty over ten years. Buttons moved around. Character pages got redesigned. New tabs appeared whenever developers found another way to sell something. By the end, the recruitment menu was crowded enough that you could scroll past three reruns, an event banner, weapon banners, selectors and whatever anniversary nonsense happened to be running that week.
This one was clean.
Almost empty.
At the top of the locked Limited Recruitment banner: V1.0
I stared at it for several seconds.
...Seriously?
The game ended at 10.7, you know?