With me staying behind and taking my luck on the next helicopter, Luke and Logan both decided right away to stay with me. I gave each of them a deathly glare, but I knew there was no chance I'd win if I argued with them. Plus, we're running out of time.

Some of us entertained to let those who were old and injured go, especially Luke, and I knew he meant to convince me. But it would only single out Steve and me, and I had no intention of going, knowing that I'm leaving some of them behind. A hundred other people were vying for the next chopper, and it was not a guarantee that they could make it. It would be hypocritical of me to take the only seat offered because it had my name on it. I wanted to see all my group safe and sound; I would not abandon them.

Steve thrust his chest out and would not hear his grandchildren's protestations to take the seat. "I have betrayed this group for my own gain before. I will not let that happen again," he said with as much calm and certainty to his voice, and both Tessa and Gabe heaved a sigh, unable to convince him otherwise. "We could let the women go," he added.

It went back and forth for a short while. In the end, mostly everyone liked Steve's idea that women should go first. There were only three of them in our group. Peter went up to the captain again, arguing with him, but I was too far away to hear what was said. Eventually, Peter came back, telling us he managed to convince him that since Henry was small and lanky, he could squeeze in a fourth member of our group. Henry had to sit on someone's lap, thereby allowing all the women in our group to board the chopper.

But I saw through him. I took Peter aside as the chopper now hovered above the helipad, getting ready to touch down. "What did you offer him?"

"Uh...barbecue at my backyard?"

"Don't start with me."

Peter closed his eyes and sighed. "Fine. I may have offered him a way out."

I nodded. "Our Humvee and the Jeep down on the street. That's a long run."

"They'll die for sure. Makes it easier for us."

"How is any of that good?"

"The captain and his men said they are not getting on that helicopter. They want to evacuate as much of the civilians out as they can...or so they say. If the next chopper doesn't go well, we might have to make a run for the vehicle again. But I have a sneaking suspicion they're gonna make a run for the second helicopter instead."

"Are you sure?"

"They did not let us in, even when I specifically told them we were VIPs and that it came from General Clemons himself. No, they're saving the seat for the second helicopter for themselves. It's a hunch, so you better be ready with your gun."

"I'm not gonna shoot a person, Peter."

"Think of them as vectors, then, if it makes it easier for you. It makes no difference."

"Of course, there's a fucking difference! Killing is not that easy."

"Well, you certainly look like a pro at it."

"You know what, fuck you."

"Hey! I'm trying to help your stupid, useless group."

"For one more person?"

"It's a guaranteed seat. One less person for us to watch and protect down on the street."

"Is that everyone is to you? Like some cannon fodder?" I raised my eyebrow. "And if it doesn't go well for us?"

Peter glanced at the captain. "I'm already handling that."

"You're gonna try to backstab him, aren't you? Not a very soldier-like of you."

"Hey, it's the apocalypse. Anything goes. Plus, the captain's a total asshole. You should know about what he did to a recruit last year. I'm gonna teach him some manners. If we can't get into the chopper, we'll make a run for the cars, and the captain and his men will become our little cannon fodder."

I glared at him, horrified. "You're gonna use them as bait?"

"They're capable fighters. They'll mow down the vectors for us while we snuck behind. Easy-peasy. And if some of them survived, well, good for them! And we can forget this ever happened once we're in one of those planes."

I studied him for a moment, trying to make sure if he was serious. "You gave up your seat. You could have left this city like you and Haskell were always going on and on about. Why?"

"I didn't give it up. It's merely...delayed. The survivors are gonna be relocated to the airport and then flown somewhere else in the country. We can handle three miles of driving to the airport."

"Don't tell me you did it for me."

Peter scoffed. "Don't oversell yourself, Bren. You're not all that. Besides, you know what my parents are like. Either between seeing my folks again and anywhere else, well, it's easy which one I'd choose. I have my reasons."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I can fight. As far as I know, Haskell and I have a better chance of getting out of this alive. You, too. Even though you're a cripple, you're still a capable fighter. That's why you gave up your seat. Maybe Logan too, but he's a walking alarm with that mouth of his. He'll die for sure." He prattled on, and then added, "I wish."

"I didn't think any of that—"

"And besides, I'm the best motherfucker there is." Peter laughed and winked at me. "And you know it."

I rolled my eyes and walked away from him, standing beside Logan and Luke instead.

Logan shot daggers at Peter. "What did you guys talked about?"

"Some weird shit."

"Did he say something bad about me?'" Logan asked, and I winced. "He did, didn't he? I always hate that guy. He's gonna have to watch his back."

"Logan. Now's not the time," I hissed.

Logan shook his head. "You better tell him to watch out."

I ignored Logan's grumblings for now as I watched the helicopter slowly descend toward the helipad. My heart hammered against my chest as the helicopter's engines roared. Stiff gusts of wind swept parasols and plastic lounge chairs off their station, whipping plants and trees as they clung to the ground. I had to cover my face from the cold winds, could feel my nose already started tingling. I saw Margot and Felipe said their goodbyes, kissing each other as they embraced each other.

"I am going to find you wherever you are," Felipe said to Margot.

"Promise me that?"

"I promise. I love you."

"Je t' aime aussi."

Just behind them, Tessa was balling in tears right in front of her brother and grandfather, both of them pulling her into their embrace, and I saw Steve tearing up as well. Yousef and Aria talked in hushed whispers, both their eyes already puffy and red.

Suddenly, I felt Luke standing beside me, his hands clasped my own, turning me around until I faced him. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just...I thought we're all going to go together. And..." I trailed off.

"Hey, you've done what you can. You got us this far, Bren. You should be proud of that."

"It's not enough."

"Look at me." I stared up at him, and he gave me a gentle kiss on my lips. "No matter what happens, we keep moving forward, okay? You managed to bring others to safety. I have no doubt you'd do the same to those left behind."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"It seems like a good day as any."

"Well, in that case, you better keep up then."

"Are you saying I'm slow?"

I pressed my lips against his. "No. I'm just saying it must be tiring, looking at my back all the time."

Luke kissed me back again. "Cheeky bastard."

"They're going to be okay, right?" I asked, turning to look at the others who had already gathered around the small group by the entrance. Aria looked back, mouthing something to Yousef, who merely smiled and blew her a kiss.

Luke rubbed the small of my back. "They're going to be okay. We'll follow suit."

I looked up to the helicopter just as it touched down. I recognized it was a CH-47, a twin-engined, heavy-lift chopper that could carry thirty troops—thirty people—all at once. "It's us versus a hundred other people, vying for thirty spots. Those are not some good odds."

"Then we have to fight for it."

I could feel the large group pressing against our backs, pushing us toward the soldiers as some tried to wiggle their way to the smaller group. Some of the soldiers screamed a warning, heard a gunshot go off somewhere, stilling the crowd enough for the captain to lead the small group up the stairs.

I had to walk back to get a good view of the helipad from below. The landing bay doors slowly opened down, and the captain began ushering the survivors into the cabin. When I saw Henry clutching tight to Margot, eyes red and puffy with tears, I weight on my shoulder lifted. I kept saying, "They're okay, they're okay, they're okay." I didn't realize I was holding onto Luke's hand.

The chopper filled up quickly. The captain had to turn some of the VIPs back to the stairs to get away from the rotors. There were only four VIPs left, which meant that only twenty-six seats were left for the rest of us in the second helicopter. I quickly realized that out of the four VIPs, Aria was among them. Only Henry, Tessa, and Margot got in. We watched the helicopter took off the helipad and flew farther and farther from the hotel, heading north toward the airport.

"She didn't get in," Logan said, worried, looking at Aria from the roof. She looked down on us, shaking her head, not knowing what to do. She made a beeline for the stairs, wanting to get down, but Yousef gestured at her to stay put.

"Don't worry. She'll be on the next one," Yousef said, "maybe even catch a ride with us."

Logan studied the people around us. "We're probably gonna earn some broken ribs and bruises. Some of them would kill for a seat."

I could cut the tension in the roof with my own breath as we saw the second helicopter approached and hovered above us. I could feel it too in the soldiers as they eyed us carefully, readying their rifles, fingers gently over the trigger if the need arose. It grew palpable as the second helicopter touched down on the helipad. I did not like any of this at all, and with my bad leg, I doubted I could punch my way up those flight of stairs. I placed my hand on my hip until my fingertips touched the grip of my gun.

Was I willing to point a gun on a person? Not some bloodthirsty monster but a living, breathing, and fully conscious person? Peter didn't seem bothered by it, or maybe he was only pretending.

I turned to look at the roof of the building across from us. Compared to ours, they had hundreds of people up on that roof, crowding around the helicopter who just landed there, and I did not envy them at all. I wanted to be selfish, thinking what if that helicopter just landed on our helipad instead and taken everyone out of here? We had no need to compete for seats knowing we had enough for everybody.

As soon as the second helicopter touched down, and the VIPs—including Aria—were taken inside—everything went to shit. The captain walked down the stairs to determine who would go up to the helicopter and made a show of it. But when the soldiers suddenly made a beeline for the aircraft—including the captain—a mad rush ensued.

Peter was right.

Men and women were pushing everywhere, throwing the captain off-balance, and fell under the charging crowd. I could hear his desperate cries as the panicking mob stepped over him violently, which abruptly cut him short mid-scream, knowing full well what had befallen him.

I did not have time to think, to look around, or even get some air as bodies crowded around me, trying to push through the line of soldiers who were holding them back. Some screams, begging, some even went as far as spitting on the soldiers, calling them names like murderers and baby killers. Two men went down right beside me, crying for help, and as I turned to look, they were swallowed by the crowd, no doubt some of them did not even realize they were stepping on people. This was fast becoming a deadly stampede.

Someone kicked my cane accidentally, and I almost fell over, going under dozens of people's boots and shoes when a hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the mass of bodies. I came face-to-face with Logan.

"This is nuts!" Logan sputtered.

"Where's Luke?" I exclaimed.

"I don't know. I lost track of everyone."

I saw Felipe and Alfie struggling closest to us, so I tried to get to them, and Logan and I tried to pull them out of the mob. The situation worsened, and we heard gunfire from across the crowd. Screams resounded, and I saw drops and splatters of blood on the floor. A few people had already reached the stairs, running up toward the helicopter. More gunfire echoed, saw the flash of muzzle near me.

"I said, stay back! Stay back!" One soldier bellowed. Two more followed suit.

"Get down!" Logan screamed. He pushed me down to my knees, and someone bumped onto my injured leg, and I winced in pain, clutching myself so that I would not fall flat on the ground, and be in the position for dozens of people to step over me like I was a stepping stone.

As I reached the ground, another burst of gunfire emanated across the roof, more people screamed, and I saw bodies dropping right in front of me.

The soldiers were firing into the crowd.

My mind snapped back, and I pulled Logan and the others out of there as fast as possible. The restaurant was the nearby, and so I charged toward the door, never mind how my leg cried out in pain with every step I made. I already lost my cane in the commotion, and I had no time to assess my injuries. People were already cowering underneath booths and tables, some crawling injured on the ground. I limped behind a bar and saw Logan, Alfie, and Felipe were still with me. I felt around my body, trying to find if I got shot as well, but I did not feel any pain aside from my bad leg.

"Is it vectors?" Alfie asked. "Are there infected among us?"

I shook my head. "No. It's crowd control."

"But we're not infected!" Alfie moaned.

Logan mumbled a curse. "Well, they don't seem to care anymore. We lost our chance for the stairs. Maybe the others made it up?"

God, I hope so, I thought. Another burst of gunfire reverberated right outside the door.

Alfie's face paled. "Uh, I think we have a problem..." I followed his gaze to Felipe, sitting beside him, leaning back against the shelves.

There was blood all over his clothes.

I quickly crawled toward him. Felipe had been shot, and as I lifted his shirt up, blood spilled out of two holes at the side of his gut, right below his liver. I saw a couple of rags from the counter and grabbed them, putting as much pressure as I could with the wound.

"It's bad, right?" Felipe gasped. I pressed hard on the wound, and he flinched away from me, crying out and cursing.

"Hey, stay with me. I can fix this," I said. I turned to the others. "Call for help, Logan. Alfie, find the bag with the med supplies. Did Margot have them? I can't remember. Find Peter and Haskell. Maybe they can help." I slightly turned Felipe to the side, trying to find the exit wound. I heard if the bullet went through, Felipe could make it. But for a gunshot wound on the gut, statistically, not many people could survive it. But I wouldn't let Felipe die on my watch. I whirled around and found Alfie and Logan still sitting there. "Guys? The fuck? Why are you just sitting there? Call for help!"

"Bren..." Logan put his hands on my shoulder, cocked his head toward Felipe.

Felipe had grown pale, lips already purplish and blue, the redness of his cheeks a few seconds ago had drained quickly. There was so much blood on the tiled floor, soaking the rags I was clutching until his blood dripped over into my hands and arms. Felipe's breath became shallow, struggling under his throat. All I could do was keeping pressure on his wound and holding his hand.

"Tell Margot that I love her, that I will always find her wherever she is..." Felipe said.

"I will, Felipe. I'll tell her myself."

Felipe smiled. "Thank you," he said, almost a whisper. He looked around, and I reckoned he recognized where we were. Felipe stared up at the rack filled with expensive liquor. Felipe snorted softly. "I met Margot at a bar like this. Orange dress. Tu as de très beaux yeux..." You have beautiful eyes.

Felipe's smile dropped, and his jaw slacked, eyes grew distant and open, empty. His pulse grew faint against my fingertips around his wrist. I let out a shaky breath, felt my hands trembling around Felipe's wrist. I let go, but it was harder than I thought.

Logan's hand around my shoulders tightened. "Bren. We have to go. The helicopter is leaving."

I suddenly felt sick, the tightness at the back of my skull worsened into a jackhammer, hammering into a defining throb. Felipe was dead, and I did not know if I should cry, scream, or do anything about it, perhaps do all of it. I felt like someone trapped in a sinking boat, desperate to hold on to what little I had left. I let Logan drag me out of the restaurant just as the winds picked up speed, caused by the helicopter's rotors as they lifted off the helipad.

Luke, Yousef, Haskell, and Peter came running toward us. "We're too late!" Haskell said. He pointed up toward the helicopter already beginning to take off.

"Did some of us made it?" I asked.

"I don't know. I can't find the others. Maybe they're already inside. I hope."

"Aria did," Yousef said.

"Maybe there's another helicopter coming?" Alfie added in.

"Wait. Who's blood is that?" Luke pointed to my blood-drenched arms and clothes.

"It's... it's not mine," I said, feeling my throat itching, breaking my words.

"Felipe's dead," Logan said. "He got shot."

Suddenly, we heard gunshots. We ducked and crouched behind a table, but I realized it did not come from our roof. Across the building, the soldiers were firing at the crowd. I watched as the vectors spilled out of the stairwell door and started attacking the survivors. Many tried to make it up to the helicopter, trying to leave the already crowded helipad. Dozens clung from the skids, and in horror, I realized the pilot was trying to shake them off, some of them plummeting to their deaths onto the street below.

A few dangling on the chopper were infected.

The helicopter spun out of control, trying to lift away from the building. It swerved to the right, spinning desperately to fly off, and I screamed before I knew what was going to happen next.

The helicopter smashed onto the one above us. A fiery ball of fire engulfed both the aircraft, splintering into dozens of shattered debris of metal and bodies, raining down onto where I stood.

"No! Aria!" Yousef screamed.

"Run!" Peter cried out.

People screamed all around me, a mass of bodies running throughout all directions, trying to hide and hunker down from the debris falling off the sky toward us. We ran, but the panicking crowd pushed me off, and the next thing I knew, I was already in the pool, trapped by the suffocating sheet of tarp cover—pool water entering my throat.