When fifteen minutes were up, I was still hoarding and emptying the shelf. I didn't recognize about seventy-five percent of the medicine there, but they looked important enough that I shoved them in the bag anyway.

Taking one last look at the shelves, I veered out of the room where Logan and Miguel were emptying the shelves outside, hauling some over-the-counter medications, and left nothing on the counter. Then, they also hit the convenience stuff like tampons, batteries, bottled waters, granola bars, and basic hygiene displayed along the aisle.

I signaled for them that we were leaving.

Gunfire rang continuously outside, and it was getting closer.

We went out of the back door and out to the alley.

Smoke filled the alley, drawing a thin mist of debris and dust. Not far from us, a building was on fire, which got bombarded by mortar shells. Soldiers blocked the street to our right, crouched behind cars, and sometimes marching forward beside tanks and Humvees. Ahead of them were the vectors streaming out of every nook and cranny of the streets, from the utility hole, the windows, the corners, and alleys, all drawn by the noise the soldiers made and charged toward them.

A big, deadly mistake.

Their mistake also meant we're caught in the crossfire. But most of all, a good distraction for us to slip out.

Miguel spun me around and dragged me to the opposite side of the alley, screaming in my ear, "We can't go back that way!"

I nodded, said, "Any ideas back to the bookstore?"

"Yeah. It's a long route. I just hoped they aren't heading there."

"How long is that going to take?" Logan asked.

"An hour around that. But it's better than getting through that."

Logan and I grumbled. We followed Miguel to the other side.

Luckily, this side of the block was empty, saved for a few vectors running from the intersection, heading toward the street where the soldiers were. I was glad that the soldiers were herding the vectors on their location, clearing up many corners for the three of us. Then again, I felt guilty for thinking that way. Most of those men were going to die. Some might not be able to leave in one piece.

Miguel swerved to a corner. We followed, finding ourselves in front of an enormous and beautiful cathedral.

Suddenly, Miguel paused, bumped his back. My breath hiked up my throat when more than a dozen vectors were running ahead of us.

"Shit!" Logan exclaimed.

They were drawn to the noise made by the soldiers, but when they saw us, they changed course, barreling toward us instead. Miguel pivoted and headed for the cathedral. Logan and I bolted after him, passing a sign that read WELCOME TO ST. MARY'S CATHEDRAL next to the door.

The doors were locked.

We banged on the doors as hard as we could, hoping that there's someone on the other side. No one answered. In a few seconds, the three of us would be swamped by hundreds of those things, and I quickly looked around to find an exit. There was a mason-bricked wall wrapped in climbing vines. The wood that wrapped around it looked sturdy enough to pull us up over the wall. I grabbed both Logan's and Miguel's shoulders and dragged them toward the wall.

I took my backpack out in mid-run and threw it over the wall. I began to climb, thrashing and screaming my heart out. A hand grabbed my ankle, and I yelped, but fortunately, its grasp was weak, and I was able to yank myself out of its grip. I managed to give a good kick, and I felt a wet crunch underneath my soles. I hauled myself over the wall.

Logan and Miguel were already on the other side, collecting the bags that we threw over. Logan gave me my bag, and I put it behind my back.

"Come! Quick! This way!" Miguel yelped.

I turned around and looked at the top of the wall. I saw a dozen hands trying to pull themselves up. I bellowed, "They're coming over!"

We found ourselves in a small garden next to the cathedral, and it was walled around. I noticed a gate at the far side, but we didn't plan on going out that way yet with so many vectors teeming the streets. Miguel led us to the back of the building and a back door.

"Father Oscar usually leaves a spare master key underneath a pot of plant or a rock," Miguel said.

"How can you be so sure?" Logan asked breathlessly.

"Believe it or not, I was a choir boy when I was young a long time ago, but Father Oscar is a man of habit," he answered.

Just as he said, Miguel found a spare key underneath a small statue of a marble angel beside the door. It wasn't only one key underneath but three sets of keys clinging to a small, thin, and round keychain. He pointed out that the bigger one of the three was the master's key.

Behind us, the vectors had just reached the garden and were coming toward us. Miguel slipped the key in and opened the door. We were in a narrow, dimly lit hallway. I shut and locked it behind us, and we dragged a wooden bench from the side of the hallway to block the door for good measure.

A second later, a vector reached the door and started pummeling with all its weight. Fortunately, The door didn't budge.

"We're trapped," said Logan worriedly.

"We're safe," Miguel corrected, out of breath.

"Not yet." I cocked my head toward the deep gloom of the hallway. Added, "We have to secure the building."

Had I ever mentioned before how I hated the dark? Not just the kind of darkness you would see at night but the pitch blackness of nothingness and emptiness that it was harder to reorient yourself. It was worse when you were gawking at the pit of darkness in a church. Churches—especially Cathedrals as big as we were in—always gave me those tingling, crawling creep, and dread.

"So, uh—who wants to go first?" I asked.

Logan gave me a stink eye as if I said something so appalling and shocking.

"I don't like creepy old buildings, particularly in the dark," I told him. From the corner of my eye, I saw Miguel did a sign of a cross and whispered a brief prayer. That frightened me more than I should be.

Miguel and Logan didn't volunteer to go first, as I'd hope. I expected Miguel to do it since he knew more about the place than I did. Sadly, he didn't. It was understandable. They were thinking the same thing as I did. Churches like these were bound to attract people who sought refuge against the horrors outside. Probably the neighboring congregation gathered around here to weather the chaos last night.

And if one of them was infected—or dozens of them—they could be waiting for us. That brought my courage down even more. When I realized no one wanted to take point, I heaved a sigh. "Fine. I'll do it."

"I got your back," whispered Logan.

I was surprised when I heard him say it, though it must be a reaction on his part. The kind of thing you would say to your best friend when you're about to do something dangerous. However, I didn't think Logan and I were at that level yet. I still considered him one of the people on my shit list for the continuous bullying back in school. But the added stress and fear of the situation warped that view to the other fence. I couldn't blame him if he had exceptions on being a little friendly to one of the only people who knew how to use a gun. If our situations switched, I would do the same thing.

True to his word, Logan kept his pace behind me while Miguel lagged.

"Miguel, keep your eyes at our tail and walk backward. I don't want one of them creeping up behind us," I told him.

"Got it," Miguel said.

The hallway eventually turned to a corner leading right, which ended with a heavy-set wooden door with an ancient, round iron doorknob. It was the kind of thing you'd see in an old cathedral from the twelfth century—or in a castle. Though, it was evident that it looked brand-new, built only for aesthetic purposes. The keyhole underneath was modern-looking like what you'd see on a regular house door.

"Where does this lead, Miguel?" I asked.

"The main hall."

"The Nave?"

"Yes."

I paused. Listened intently. I didn't hear anything from the other door.

I took a deep breath. "Whoa, boy, okay. Here we go. When I open this door, shoot anything on sight."

"But what if they're other people? Healthy ones?" Logan added.

"Well, don't shoot them."

"But how do we know?"

"If they try to kill you, then shoot them."

"Easy enough," said Miguel.

"You guys ready?" I asked.

They nodded. Miguel handed me the keys.

I grabbed hold of the iron round doorknob, placed the key inside the keyhole, and turned it. I quickly pulled the door to the side and rushed in, ready for a vector that might jump on me when I stepped foot inside the hall.

Instead, I slammed against another wrought iron gate that blocked the entrance.

The force sent me clamoring back. The shotgun snagged between the wrought-iron grilles; my finger accidentally slipped on the trigger and pulled it, firing a loud burst that echoed across the hallway and the main hall. I jumped from fright and fell back, but Logan caught my fall.

"What the hell!" I screamed.

"Oh. Right," Miguel started. "I forgot that the doors around the main church are gated."

"What on earth for?" I said.

"Security."

Logan helped me up to my feet, said, "We have to be careful. That shot must've alerted—"

He didn't have to finish his thought. I knew what he meant. We all heard it. The unmistakable moan of a vector, Not one, but many of them, sounding off in unison. It came from the main hall.

In a priest's garb, an older man slowly ambled over to us, slipping out of the shadows and stepped into the sunlight from the windows above the main hall. His face was half-torn, and his clothes tattered and bloodied, covered with dried-up blood.

"Father Oscar? Oh fu—no," he stepped back, tears brimming in his eyes.

Behind him, more bodies slipped off the darkness, joining Father Oscar in gathering around our location. They crowded the door. Father Oscar reached it first, but the gate was on the way. He slipped his arms out through the gaps, expecting it to grab on us, but we were out of reach, which agitated him more. I counted at least six of them. Two were dressed as nuns, while the others wore civilian clothing.

"We're okay. The vectors can't get through," Logan said.

"We have no way out. There are vectors back there, too!" I said.

"Shit. What now?" asked Miguel, pacing around the hallway, clutching hard on his rifle.

I looked at the half a dozen vectors clamoring for our throats beyond the gate, then to the loud banging of the vectors by the exit door. It didn't take much effort to know what we needed to do.

"We need to go through them," I said, cocking my head to the vectors by the gate.

"What? In this tight space? Are you serious?" Logan said.

"Either them or a hundred of them in the garden. You choose."

Logan didn't say anything but instead grumbled under his breath.

"You got a plan?" Miguel asked me.

"Yeah. And I'm gonna need that cleaver of yours. We're going to hack our way through. See that gap?" I pointed at the gate where Father Oscar had his head halfway through.

Miguel handed me the cleaver again. I walked over close to the gate a couple of feet out of Father Oscar's reach. "Alright. Grab my shirt. Pull me back if he pulled hard," I told Logan and Miguel. They nodded.

Logan had his hand around my waist. Miguel had his by the space between my underarm and the vest.

"I'm going to move forward to get one hit, then pull me back," I said.

I reached my hand out, and Father Oscar grabbed it, pulling me hard toward his teeth. His grip was firm, but Logan and Miguel's combined strength made me the rope in a painful tug of war. I didn't give it more than one second to last before I clobbered Father Oscar's skull with Miguel's cleaver. Father Oscar loosened his grip and slumped down to the floor.

Another vector—a nun—took his place.

Miguel and Logan's eyes lit up, understanding what I was doing.

I nodded to them, said, "On three again, okay? One,"

I readied my cleaver for another strike at the nun.

"Two."

The nun shrieked at me, wanting my blood.

"Three!"

I struck her head in a single blow.

Then again.

And again.

Kill. Pull. Kill.

And again, until all the vectors on the main hall were dead, a mound of bodies in front of us.

I waited—chest heaving. My body was drenched in sweat. After a few minutes, we didn't hear any vectors coming to investigate the noise we made. I used my shotgun and struck the Iron Gate, its clangs echoed so loud throughout the main hall, but no vectors took the bait.

I put the key on the gate's keyhole, turned it, and it swung open.

I turned to the others, said, "Now we're safe."