"Get out of the car!" I screamed.

They stared at the scene ahead like deer in headlights. I had to repeat myself several times for them to open their doors and jump out. I swiped the fob key on the magnetic mount and grabbed the shotgun and the AR-15. Crouching down, I went over to the back and popped the trunk.

"What are you doing?" Luke asked frantically.

"To get the weapons bag," I said.

As I peered inside, I saw the gray duffel bag just as I thought it would be. Uncle Vernon, one of my dad's longtime friends, was a veteran cop of the Portland PD. He occasionally mentioned that cops held extra ammunition and a spare gun if one either jammed or if the police needed a backup weapon against heavily armed suspects. In front of me, a half-opened duffel bag had a box of 9mm ammunition peeking from the opening.

That was good enough for me. I pulled it out of the trunk, which was heavier than I thought, and slung the bag around my back.

"How'd you know it was there?" Luke asked.

"I don't. I was hoping the cop has it," I answered. "Anyone knows how to use this thing?" I held the AR-15 up. No one raised their hands. I turned to Logan, who had his arms wrapped around a shivering Natalie. "I know your brother goes to the shooting range frequently on Facebook. I reckon you've fired a gun before?" I asked him.

Logan paled. "I--uh, do my uncle's hunting rifle count?"

I shoved the AR-15 on his hands. "Close enough. Same deal. Safety, trigger, Sight." I quickly pointed them out to him, and he nodded. "Now you know."

Natalie yelped. "Babe! Don't touch that! It's a gun!"

I rolled my eyes. "This is no time for some anti-gun, PC shit, Nat. I need all the hands I can get."

That shut her up, but she never steered her glare away from me. Logan muttered something on his belt, and he eyed me the same way, but he kept the rifle gripped in his hands.

"What do we do now?" Screamed Aria, frightened as she gaped at the oncoming crowd.

"How'd they get here so fast?" Carson yelped.

"I don't think it's just the Upper West Side that got affected. I think it's the entire city!" Yousef said.

"It doesn't matter now. We have to get out of here!" I said.

I caught Joe's car in the pileup at the corner of my eyes, and I panicked. Oh no! Joe!

But the man clamored out from the other side, carrying Daniel in his arms, and I was glad to see that they didn't have any bruises or a scratch on them. He had a backpack with him, and as we saw each other, he ran up toward me.

His eyes landed on the shotgun on my hand. "You know how to use that thing?"

I nodded.

"We have to get out of the streets," he said.

"Yeah, do you have a place in mind?"

He thought about it for a second before he nodded. "Like I said, my cousin's. It's not far from here. Or I might've messed up my--"

"Don't care. Just lead the way," I said, keeping my eye on the intersection ahead.

We ran up to Bobby's car. All of his doors got pinned by the cars around him, and we had to pull him out through his broken window. Some of the glass scraped his skin, but he crawled out of his car, albeit a bit rattled and bruised up.

"Are those them?" he asked me.

"No time for sightseeing. Just follow Joe," I said.

"Logan, cover the front and Joe. He'll lead us to his cousin's apartment. I'll cover the back," I told him.

He narrowed his eyes at me and said something under his breath that I couldn't hear, but he ran toward the front, and Natalie followed after him.

The smell of gasoline and burnt rubber was intense. Plumes of black-grey smoke wound themselves like a hungry serpent, blaring the nearby cars' alarms parked at the sidewalk and melding together with the shrieks of the crazy people and the screams of their victims.

Joe ran up ahead of us with Logan, followed by the others. I formed the tail-end of the group, watching our flank and the back. People ran past us; some were wounded and battered up, while others seemed they didn't know what was going on.

It was coming from every corner now, like the city awakened to a night of nightmares. There was at least one building on fire or an upturned car on the road every corner we took.

We found ourselves back in 9th avenue again.

"How far, Joe?" I hollered.

"21st street! And I think we turn right!" He yelled back.

I caught sight of the street sign: 15th street.

Shit.

I pushed harder. On the way, I remembered I fired the shotgun three times earlier, and I quickly pulled the three extra shells from the side of the gun and jabbed them inside the chamber.

16th street.

Traffic ruled the streets. Blares of the horn were the symphony of the night. It seemed New Yorkers didn't take the authorities seriously when they asked them to return to their homes.

17th street.

People scrambled out our way when they saw our gun. Some hollered at us, asking questions about what was going on, but we continued to push on.

18th street.

A helicopter flew past, blasting its PA system on and urging the citizens to remain indoors. Though, it only brought more people out on the streets to see what was going on.

19th street.

People had abandoned their vehicles to seek shelter. Cars littered the streets, with some robbed by a few looters, and the storefronts had their windows broken. As I worried for one of the crazies popping out, now I had to think about looters, too.

20th street.

I bumped onto Luke's back as everyone halted ahead of us.

"What's going on?" I groaned.

Then, I heard the screams.

"Oh, God! Back! Back!" Bobby cried.

I was momentarily caught in a daze, not knowing what was going on. The screams grew louder, realized it wasn't only my group who were rushing through me. They were the people running from the oncoming rioters up north of the streets, clashing with the people running from the different rioters from the south.

And on both sides, the crazy rioters stormed after them.

One caught me by surprise until I was face-to-face with him. He looked to be about my age, and he had the same two-pupil golden eyes that the other rioters had. He hissed at me menacingly, launching himself toward me.

I raised the butt of my shotgun like a hook, and it crunched underneath his chin. He stepped back, and using the gun as a club, I smashed his face right at his nose with the butt of the shotgun.

"Bren! Come on!" Luke screamed.

The man suddenly lurched forward, but instead of his hands on my leg, he tackled a woman who zipped past me. They went to the ground, and the man bit her neck. I couldn't do anything except head after Luke.

The others huddled behind a parked truck as the rioters violently beat and pounced on their victims on the streets. We were trapped, and everyone knew it.

I caught sight of one rioter heading straight for Yousef and Bobby. I screamed at them to duck down, and once they did, I raised my shotgun and blasted a hole through the rioter's chest.

I tried not to puke. First, it was Mr. Ramirez, and then that girl in the coffee shop. Now, it was this poor man. How many people had I shot with this gun? Suddenly, I felt like a snaked coiled around my abdomen. My hands trembled, and I tightened my grip on the forearm of the shotgun.

Luke pulled me out of my thoughts when he grabbed my collar. I almost elbowed him before I heard his voice.

"In here!" he said.

He led me inside a bookstore and closed the door behind us. The others were already inside, and so were a lot of people. Luke pulled me back away from the windows. The bookstore had their lights turned off, but I was still able to see the leering faces of the people through the bookshelves, illuminated by the faint glow of fire outside.

I stared at the flimsy store-front windows. "That's not gonna hold them," I told Luke. I saw the curtains parted to the side. "Here. Help me."

We sneaked toward the window and closed the curtains, engulfing the store in darkness. I dragged Luke to a nearby bookshelf next to the door, and we dragged it against the door, using it as a barrier.

"Do you think this would be enough?"

"No," I said, frowning. "We need something better."

"Come on. Let's get to the others," Luke said.

He led me to the others behind the bookshelves farther into the room. I caught sight of Bobby crouched down with his head between his legs. Yousef was shaken too, but he formed a weak smile as I passed. Daniel sat beside him, trembling and quietly wiping the tears falling down his cheeks.

Joe greeted me and brought me to the far corner of the store where Natalie, Aria, and Luke huddled around Carson.

It wasn't until I got there that I knew something was wrong.

I took a good look at Carson and the visible, blood-soaked bite mark on his arm.