Brooklyn, inside the Walmart Supercenter.
Normally, in a store this size, the ground floor would be reserved for groceries, fresh produce, and essentials, while the second floor would carry clothes, electronics, and cosmetics. The logic was simple, most customers came for food, so you made it easy for them.
But this Walmart was different. Here, groceries were stocked upstairs. The first floor was filled with brand-name clothes, watches, and jewelry. To make up for the inconvenience, the store had installed eight escalators leading to the second floor.
From the entrance, you couldn't see the whole layout. Only a few display counters were visible. As long as Liam's group stayed cautious while picking supplies, even if zombies roamed the first floor, they wouldn't be spotted easily.
At the center of the second floor, the real prize lay, a massive grocery section filled with everything from cheap eggs to luxurious matsutake mushrooms, and everything in between.
A small clearing had been made by shifting some of the shelves. Here, Mike sat cleaning his hunting rifle, a weapon he hadn't needed much in his peaceful life. Laura sat beside him, turning an M9 pistol over in her hands.
They were supposed to be at an age where retirement and pensions were their only concern, not survival. But the dead had changed the world. They knew their aging bodies couldn't keep pace with the young anymore, and if they wanted to live, they had to rely on something else.
Nearby, weapons and ammo were piled up, a hoard of over a hundred kilos. No one could carry it all, but every piece was precious.
Not far from them, slumped against a shelf, sat the young Black employee who had opened the door for them, head bowed, lost in thought. Before Liam and the others arrived, he had been the only living soul in this place. Everyone else was either dead or turned. He had salvaged his revolver from one of the bitten security guards, though Jason had since claimed it.
"Everyone's here. Good," Liam said, leading the others into the cleared space. All the living souls in this Walmart were finally together.
"Let me introduce Robby," Liam said casually, pointing at him. Then he pointed one by one at the others. "This is Mike. His wife Laura. Manila here. That little one's Christine, she looks older than she is, just sixteen. And you already met him, I'm sure, Jason."
"Hey, Robby!"
"Hey!"
The greetings were light, almost awkward, but it stitched something invisible between them.
Liam then nodded toward the young employee, shrugging slightly. "Him, we just met. He opened the door when we got here. Seems he was the only survivor. No idea what his name is."
The young man lifted his head briefly and muttered, "Bowen. I worked here." Then he dropped his gaze again, his whole body radiating a heavy, hopeless air.
Liam had sensed it from the start.
Bowen wasn't cold like him, he was just crushed by fear. His uniform was still stained with blood. Fresh clothes were everywhere, yet he hadn't bothered to change. That told Liam enough.
Maybe Bowen hadn't been trying to be selfish when he almost left them outside to die. Maybe he was just too scared to function at all. Liam didn't see an enemy here, only a man broken by terror. Jason, on the other hand, was the opposite, carefree, reckless, never losing the will to live.
Once Liam decided someone wasn't bad, he rarely kept his guard up.
"Jason," Liam called, and Jason sauntered over, still munching on a bag of chips.
Liam leaned in and whispered something quickly. Jason frowned, shaking his head, but after a few more words, he sighed dramatically and agreed, even clearing his throat as if preparing for some grand performance.
Liam then clapped Robby on the shoulder and jerked his head toward the north side of the floor. They moved off together, leaving Christine to fidget where she stood until Manila gently tugged her back.
...
As soon as they left, Jason plopped down beside Bowen with an exaggerated sigh and grinned.
"Hey, man."
"Hey." Bowen barely looked up before sliding even further away, studying the floor like it might offer him an escape.
"Listen, sorry about earlier. I kinda lost it, you know?" Jason said, smacking Bowen lightly on the chest. "No hard feelings, yeah?"
Bowen shrugged, almost imperceptibly. "You don't have to apologize. It was my fault," he muttered.
...
Liam and Robby reached a quiet corner. Liam hopped up onto a fruit display, grabbed an apple, and tossed it between his hands, studying Robby.
"What's your plan?" he asked, getting straight to the point.
"You first," Robby said, tapping the cleaned wounds on his arm. "Tell me what the hell happened. How did I end up here?"
Liam took a bite of the apple and chewed slowly before answering, walking Robby through the rescue in short, clinical terms.
He finished with, "We're gathering supplies, finding a car in the underground lot, and heading to the countryside. I want you to come with us. You know me. You know why I pulled you out."
He paused, letting it sink in, then added, "If you're with us, we'll stay here a few more days. Let you heal up fully before moving."
Liam didn't like wasting words. He didn't believe in dragging things out.
Robby looked away, staring at the display of fruits, then suddenly snapped his head up, his voice urgent.
"How long since you pulled me out?"
Liam glanced at his watch.
"Just past noon. Less than five hours."
"Five hours…" Robby muttered, then straightened, urgency flooding his face. "I have to go back."
Without waiting, he pulled his gun and made for the escalators, but after a few steps, he stopped, spun around, and said, "Can you spare some extra rounds?"
Liam frowned, stepping down from the display, tossing the apple core aside.
"What the hell are you planning?"
"My brother," Robby said tightly. "He's still out there. He was bitten. I have to find him. I can't just leave him."
Liam clicked his tongue against his teeth, thinking.
He thumbed over toward Mike and the gun stash. "Go. Take what you need."
Robby bolted.
He skidded to a halt beside the weapon piles, rifling through them for 9mm ammo. No rifles. A rifle needed two hands, too slow. A handgun he could move and shoot with.
The others watched in confusion.
Liam followed at a slower pace, leaning against a shelf, giving the rest a casual wave to signal no danger.
"Thanks," Robby called out over his shoulder, stuffing spare magazines into his pockets before sprinting toward the exit.
"Head for the parking lot," Liam shouted after him. "Fewer zombies down there. Take a car."
He watched Robby disappear through the escalator doors, then finally turned back.
Everyone was staring at him.
Liam scratched his nose and said calmly, "He's going back. Wants to save his brother."
He didn't suggest they all follow.
Not because he didn't care, but because it wasn't worth it.
From what Robby said, the kid was probably already dead or a zombie himself.
Risking six lives for one fading ghost? Liam didn't make those kinds of mistakes.
Still, standing there by the second-floor windows, watching the distant mouth of the underground garage, he couldn't help feeling a bitter pang of regret.
Maybe, maybe he should have stopped him.
"You're not going to help him?"
Manila's voice was quiet beside him.
Liam rubbed his stubbled chin, saying nothing.