I slowly slid the knife into her temple, right above her ears. Blood spurted out before she went slack.

Only six years old...shit.

I could imagine how long she had been here, the horror as the vectors infected her, then turning one herself, able to control them weakly. Yousef once mentioned that if the infected kids were smart enough to strategize and take control, could they retain their past selves' memories? The thought of me killing kids who were still alive inside, albeit just a small part of them, unnerved me.

I looked down at the small frame bundled on the floor. No. I can't think like that. She's too far gone to save. "So, they can starve. Good to hear," I said. Another way to kill a vector was a plus for me. I walked away from her, from the dead bodies, and into the next aisle, hoping to get rid of the stench wafting over my nostrils.

Logan followed after me, crinkled up his nose. "The problem is, none of those countless hordes outside looked like they're starving, do they? Maybe this virus takes them far longer to succumb to it, only this one's worse for wear, so it never bothered to keep her alive. Can viruses even do that?"

No, I wanted to answer, which told me then that we were not dealing with a normal virus (if it was even one), but something else entirely. Viruses love to spread in living hosts, keeping them alive as long as possible to further their means and function, but they are not, by definition, alive. The disease acted with methodical strategy and thinking, allowing mutations to grow at a rapid scale that none had been observed in humans before. The media and the government had been calling this thing a viral pandemic, but perhaps they're hiding their cards a little too close. People were bound to notice. If not a virus...then what? Something that is grown in a lab?

"It doesn't matter. They still wither and die," I said, shaking my theories and musings for another time, thinking that maybe it's a good idea to have a journal and start writing down what I had observed. There should be a notebook here somewhere, maybe a sketchpad, too.

"In that case, people can just go find a place to hole up in and wait for them all to die out. Easy-peasy."

I laughed. "Um...we can't even do a proper lockdown last year from coronavirus, and you want 330 million people to stay inside their homes again for several weeks without even stepping out onto their front porch and without Amazon delivery? They'd be screaming for their rights and patriotic duty!"

"Ah. Yeah. I almost forgot about that."

"Plus, we don't know how long they'll last, probably for several weeks, yet we can barely last less than a week without food or water. Not to sound morbid, but it is an even match." And maybe we'll both wipe out each other.

"And we can't eat rolls of toilet paper," Logan said, grinning.

I shrugged, hid my smile. "I doubt you brought me here to get toilet paper."

"Oh, shit. Yeah. Sorry. Got distracted."

I looked down at my blood-splattered clothes. I am not looking forward to rewashing it after doing the same thing two days ago. I hate doing laundry. I started planning how I'm going to convince Logan to do it for me, probably exchanging it for watch duty. "Maybe we should just go home and get cleaned up, get a nice shower..."

Logan grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the left, going deeper into the store. "Nah, as tempting as that sounds, we took care of the threat, and we're already inside. Consider this as our reward for fighting the bad guys."

"Can't you just tell me what it is?"

"That's cheating. We're almost there, anyway. Close your eyes."

I let out a sigh and closed my eyes, letting him lead me this way and that. It only took a few steps before we stopped, almost tripped over something on the way, but Logan caught me.

"Ah! It's still here! Perfect!" Logan exclaimed.

"So...can I open them now?"

"Huh? Oh! Yes." He gently tugged on my wrist. "Open them."

My gaze landed on the huge technicolor-splashed banner hanging from the ceiling: NEW MOVIES 10% OFF! I looked down, four aisles worth of Blu-ray and DVD cases neatly stacked on the shelves; some had been ransacked but then haphazardly thrown back onto the shelf as if the previous looter had thought there was no value in getting these compared to food and clothes. Three large boxes stood in the middle filled with five-dollar movies from the previous decade, all thrown in without a care. I peered inside, picked up Raiders of the Lost Ark. Man, I saw this with dad ten years ago...such a long time, but so many fond memories. I smiled.

"Movies," I whispered.

Logan loomed behind me. "Sweet! I love Indiana Jones. Bring that with us." He started walking toward one of the shelves, browsing the movies there.

"Uh, we can't bring this with us."

"Why not?"

"For starters, we don't have anything to watch it with."

"Yes, we do."

"What?"

"Duh. The RV has a TV. We can bring a Blu-Ray player with us. I think they're, yes, that way." He waved his hand to the off aisles. "Or maybe that way?"

I shook my head. "Peter's not gonna like this, you know."

Logan threw his hands up. "I stopped caring what that guy says. This is important for our mental health, right? Think about it." He tapped his forefinger at the side of his temple. "Think."

"Of what?"

"Escapism! Everyone's gotta get away from the crazy things happening out there. I know I do."

"Ah."

"See?"

"Still not wild about this. But..."

"But?"

Then, I grinned. "I do love movies."

Logan matched my grin. "I told you you'd love it. Anyway, have at it! Pick your favorites! There are some portable DVD players we can bring. It has rechargeable batteries, and since we have solar panels, I thought: Hey! This will definitely work! We can watch movies during our little road trip."

I chuckled, saw at the corner a toppled-over shopping basket wedged between the cashier's booth. I picked it up, hummed to myself, took the box set of Indiana Jones, Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, and many more, dropping them into the container. Logan grabbed his own shopping basket and started hauling the movies and TV shows he wanted. I doubted anybody would like to watch horror movies, especially with what was going on, so I mainly avoided those. I picked up a lot of comedies, however. I probably perused through the selection for only a minute, surprising me when I found I already had a pile worth fifty stacks. The customer's service desk had a display of CD carrying cases, and I, at least, grabbed three.

Logan sidled next to me, showing me that he had picked clean double my haul. "Hey, if Logan ever asks whose idea was this, can you say it's yours?"

"Mine?"

"I mean, no offense but, the guy kind of has a soft spot for you. I doubt he'd be as angry, say if it was my idea."

"It's because it is yours."

"I like to keep my head attached to my shoulders, please."

"Bah, fine. I'll tell him it was mine."

"Sweet! That will get him off my back. Oh, what's this?" He pointed at the CD carrying cases in my basket.

"This? Well, I am not going to carry a box filled with DVDs around. Once we get back to base, we can transfer all the discs into their sleeves, keeps our storage space cleaner, keep them scratch-free."

"Hm. Like our own movie library pre-Netflix. Ha! I never thought of that."

"Speaking of the library, we passed an aisle with books. I think Alfie and Miguel would love to read some books."

"We can grab those, too. Also, I got us the best portables."

It was a thirteen-inch screen Blu-Ray & DVD player, two of them, black in color, looking more like laptops except there's a large disc reader in the middle where the keyboard should be. It had lots of stickers on the side of the box, promising tons of features that had something to do with the Dolby audio, then the picture quality and resolution, down to the playback and memory function. The only thing that mattered was that the battery life was estimated to last up to twelve hours. It had other features too, but I doubted we'd have any use for Wi-Fi, Syncing, or having to do with smartphones; the future became a distant memory.

"Nice find."

"We can watch a movie tonight."

"My pick," I said right away.

Logan tried to hide his smile. "But...ah. Okay. You win."

"And Logan..." I clasped my hand on his shoulder. "Thank you. For bringing me here. It's actually very nice."

"Nah, it's nothing. So, you like getting surprises now?"

A pause. "No. I still hate them."

"Well, I can't say I didn't try. We could use a little distraction, you know, some therapeutic shopping."

"It is quite therapeutic."

"Especially when we don't have to pay a single cent. But—" He pulled out a fifty-dollar bill from his pocket and placed it on the cashier's desk—"For the impeccable service of giving us a one-hundred-percent discount."

I was shocked at first that he left such a high amount on the table, but only for a split second. Then, realization dawned, chuckled at my feigned memory. I never thought of money, paying bills, and then getting paid for a very long time, couldn't even remember when I carried a freaking wallet as if that part of me had never happened, only a dream that you couldn't quite discern why we even adhere to as if our life depended on it. And something has taken its place.

Logan peered at my haul and scoffed. "Is that the best you can do?"

I rolled my eyes. "That's because I'm not done yet, idiot." I dashed toward the nearest aisle, never giving him a chance to retort, and started picking out the covers that struck my fancy: mostly action, romance, and comedies. I couldn't quite tell if some of the horror movies got in there. At this point, I wasn't picky compared to when I started earlier. Logan dashed to the opposite aisle and did the same thing.

Who knows? Our little collection could be a historical artifact in the far future, the days before everything turned to shit, and show how truly petty, ignorant, and shallow most of human nature can be. Nevertheless, I ignored the trashy seasons of reality TV, leaving The Bachelor and the Kardashians' box-sets on the dusty shelf. Though, I did pick up some of those teen dramas because why the hell not just torture myself with cringy dialogue while a bunch of adult actors pretends to be sixteen-year-olds running a sex and drug den and catching serial killers every season inside one tiny town.

I found another shopping cart strewn on its side, pulled it back up onto its wheels and dropped my entire haul, and then moved toward the clothing section. There was still a lot of stuff left around the store; I shrugged at the display, caught sight of the book section farther out, making a note to go there, too.

I'm already here. I might as well do some free shopping.

We didn't bother hitting the food section because everything there had already been stripped bare.

It felt eerie how devoid of a soul the store was, half expecting the staff to pop out at any moment, politely nod to other passing shoppers, or hear some crazy kids running down the aisle while their folks scold them to oblivion.

Everything was quiet, plucked out of its nature.

And here I was, the cartwheels squeaking, reminiscing of the past, surprised how I missed the sight of people just living their lives in peace. We didn't know we had it good until it got taken away, and all we could do now was look back, broken.

——

Two overfilled shopping carts later, a little proud of what we had accomplished today, and I couldn't help but feel excited to watch some of the movies in a pile, the sense of dread these past few weeks I had been harboring head perceptively lightened to an ebb. I also couldn't wait to try on the new clothes, read some of the "new" fantasy books that just came out (before the shit hit the fan), tried to ignore how upset I am that my favorite authors if they're still alive, wouldn't be able to continue with the series. Aside from that, a pretty good day, one for the memories.

We walked toward our ride. By then, the sun had risen further. Noon came with the heat, felt myself sweating, mourning the strength seeping out underneath me after all that killing we did. I was thirsty, tempted to take some of the hard liquor that Logan miraculously found in the liquor aisle. Last I checked, it was almost gone. I guess no stone is left unturned when you're desperate for a stiff drink. Logan thought it would soothe everyone's worry (and no doubt, stern lectures) by bribing them with alcohol.

I distinctly remember that some arguments can be won while everyone's drunk...

"Oh, shit." Logan hissed.

I was about to look at where he was pointing at when Logan already tackled me to the ground, then dragged me behind an untrimmed bush, leaving our carts out in the middle of the parking lot's intersection. I wiggled out of his strong grip, felt the hatchet's grip uncomfortably poking at my thigh.

"What the hell?"

Logan shushed me. "Vectors."

Soon enough, I heard their shrieks ahead. I peered through the gaps between the twigs and branches, saw two men—one was shirtless while the other had a blue-buttoned polo—coming out from the west side of the parking lot in hot pursuit. My mouth hung open when I saw what they were chasing.

Logan whispered, "Wait...is that a—"

The dog bound outward, scared out of its wits, determined to escape the ravenous pursuers, albeit failing at it, its black and tan-colored coat seemed to glisten as the dog ran under the sun. A German Shepherd. But it was small for its breed, probably only coming up to my knees, snout still small and not as pronounced. Then, I realized what I was seeing.

"—A puppy," I finished Logan's sentence.

The puppy whined, panting, leaping out over the traffic cones and overturned shopping carts, stumbled, and went sprawling over the pavement. It took a brief whiff in the air, turned, and saw that the two men were still on the chase. It bolted to the left, making a beeline for our car. The vectors split up, and Blue Polo took a right, gaze ferociously marking where the dog was heading, could see him calculating the trajectory, and cut him off before he could reach our vehicle.

The puppy flailed, skidding, and struck the man's ankles, and toppled over.

Then, the vector lunged.

"No!" Logan gasped.

My hand dug into Logan's arm, bracing myself on the inevitable.

Yelping, the puppy tried to scramble away from its grasp; Blue Polo had one grip over the scruff, coming down for the bite. But his grasp was too weak, fingers slipping down to the back, and when the dog's escape was a guarantee, Blue Polo scrambled to pull back the dog's tail, missing it by a hair. The puppy bared its teeth, pounced, taking a bite out of the man's finger. Blue Polo recoiled, only for a split second, but it was enough time for the puppy to make a getaway.

The second vector—Shirtless—leapfrogged over the hood of a car and sprang for the prey, but the mutt abruptly tucked its tail and turned, dashed right. Shirtless landed on his face, breaking his nose in a spurt of blood, screeching in pain.

The puppy's whines and cries echoed across the parking lot, desperate for refuge. Suddenly, it stumbled upon one of the overturned shopping carts next to a car that had collided with another. Using it as leverage, the puppy hopped onto the cart, then bounced to the hood of the car, crawling into the small hole in the broken windshield, and disappeared from our view.

The vectors saw everything, knew he was inside the car, and could sense the prey was trapped.

The vectors surrounded the car, banging against the window, getting close to the broken windshield.

"The guy's not gonna make it," Logan hissed.

I nodded. "Follow me." I didn't have time to think, taking out my hatchet, and jumped out of the bush, making a run toward the car and the vectors. Logan soon followed, crossbow in hand.

Shirtless realized there was an opening and hopped onto the hood, crouched in front of the hole, and peered inside. He reacted savagely, and I could tell he saw the puppy probably hiding beneath the glove box. Shirtless tried to crawl through the glass without a care, and the sharp edges burrowed through his skin, drawing blood.

"Hey! You!" Logan hollered.

Blue Polo stopped pounding on the glass by the driver's side, and he was the first to turn our way. Logan shot him with an arrow through the eye, gurgled, then went limp.

Shirtless roared and hopped down from the hood, now forgetting the prey trapped within the car.

"Gah!" I threw the hatchet, arching toward him, but continued my momentum forward. The blade sank on his shoulder and brought him down on his back.

With Shirtless too busy focused on me, Logan darted to the right and went around for the passenger side door.

I reached Shirtless, thrashing on the ground, prying the hatchet out of his flesh. I swung my foot back and kicked, struck his head like it was a soccer ball, felt it connect under his chin. Blood poured out his mouth, slid the knife out of my sheath, and plunged it on his neck. The vector clutched on my wrists, trying to pull my hand and the blade off him, looking me in the eyes as if it didn't understand what was going on. Then, his strength faded, his grip loosened around my wrist. I pulled the blade out as Shirtless's last breath escaped him.

"Bren! Over here!" Logan called.

After I slid the blade back on the sheathe and pried the hatchet off the vector, I went over to Logan, who already opened the door.

The dog hid under the glove box, teeth bared, tail tucked, clearly unsettled and frightened by our appearance, probably not knowing if we would also eat him—it was a he. Dried dark blood was all over his fur, but I didn't see any wounds. It must be from his owner's blood, I shuddered. Logan and I froze, waiting out the stalemate.

"Easy, boy. Easy," Logan croaked, put his hands up. He slowly unzipped the front zipper of his backpack and pulled out his opened bag of beef jerky. He threw a piece to the dog, which landed on the passenger seat.

The puppy licked, looked at the piece of meat, then back to us, turning his head from side to side, as if trying to figure out if we were playing him as if telling us: Is this a prank? He quit showing us his teeth, and I could already see his little cute tail wagging beneath him. He took a tentative lean forward, nibbled on the edges of the jerky, but once his tongue flicked and touched it, realized it was good food, and he nabbed the entire thing into his mouth. Logan threw two more pieces, and the dog ate it all up.

Logan sighed in relief. "Glad the dog's safe."

I smiled. "Job well done." I stepped out of the way. "You can come out of the car, dog. Go there, boy!" I pointed to the wooded park, saw him followed where my finger was directed. "You're safe now! Go!"

The dog didn't move, watching us intently.

I looked at Logan and shrugged. "Well, whenever he's ready, I guess."

Logan blinked. "So...we're just going to leave him here?"

"Yes," I said.

"Really?"