Silence seeped onto the streets, only interrupted by the occasional gunfire and screams or the roaring of engines whizzing by in a mad rush. Accompanying those clamors were the shrieks and howls of the rioters. Sometimes only one, and sometimes sounding off together in a group.

Carson's condition was stable. Nothing critical got bitten out of his arm, and I managed to apply first-aid as my mother taught me. Well, as best as I could anyway. It was a mild flesh wound, but I still made sure that the bleeding wasn't too severe. Paying attention to my watch, I counted until ten minutes to see if the bleeding ceased after a firm pressure. It mostly did, so I took that as a good sign.

I am not particularly good at applying a tourniquet or bandages as my mom was more of an expert than me. Still, I knew not to use hydrogen peroxide or iodine as it could damage the deep tissues for such wounds like these. So, I dragged Carson to the bathroom at the end of the store and cleaned his wound with warm water as best as I could.

Luckily, the store had a first-aid kit, and I used their clean white bandages to patch up his arm after I applied anti-bacterial and antibiotic ointment around the wound.

"Am I gonna live?" Carson asked worriedly.

"Quit being dramatic. It's nothing," I said. "By the end of the week or two, you'll have a badass scar to show off in school." It would heal, but a teeth-shaped scar would replace it.

I caught a weak smile, but then it suddenly dropped. "I better not die from this," Carson grimaced. "You'll get it worse. I swear."

"What? Haunt me beyond the grave? You do know I don't believe in such things, right?"

"And you call yourself Catholic," he muttered under his breath.

"I mean, you're not wrong. I may be Catholic, but I'm no longer that a long time ago. But I do know that God-fearing men and women don't bully other people into making themselves feel superior," I said. "Jesus, taught us better," I quipped, grinning.

"Whatever."

Natalie, Aria, and Logan hounded him and checked if he was okay. When Logan came closer, Carson flinched away from him.

"You almost got me killed," he seethed.

"I--I froze. That's all," Logan muttered. He clutched the rifle harder in his hand.

Carson bore down his eyes at him. "Froze? If you could've shot that thing, I wouldn't have this!" he said, raising his arm. "Freaking thing hurts like a mother—"

"Shh! Quiet down," I said. "We're not out of the clear yet. Or would you rather want those things in here with us?"

They went quiet. Aria soothed Carson, and she ushered him deeper into the store where the rest of the group hid. Logan and Natalie didn't follow.

"Logan, can I talk to you for a sec?" I asked.

He eyed me warily for a second. He gave a curt nod to Natalie that he'll come back shortly. When Natalie was about to protest, he kissed her on the lips for what felt like minutes passed.

I had to avert my eyes and look around at the books on the shelves, feigning I was interested in them. My eyes caught a particular title in the middle: How to Get Kissed by Boys. I steered my eyes away from that, too.

When Logan finally pulled himself away from her, he followed me into the self-help section.

"You froze?" I asked smoothly, not wanting to sound accusatory.

But he didn't take it that way. "If you think you can lecture me like some kid or like my dad, then who do you think you are, Bren? Huh? Just because you can shoot and have a gun in your hand doesn't change who you are out there."

"What's that supposed to mean? Look, I'm trying to tell you to get your shit together. It's a war zone out there. As far as I know, you--and only you--know how to carry and shoot a gun in here beside me. If one of those things comes in here, we're the ones between them and Luke, Carson, or Nat. You understand?"

Logan began to shake his head, mumbling under his breath, "No one tells me what to do, not even you."

His glare should've been enough to scurry me away from the hallways of our school. But we're far away from those halls. Out here, high school rules didn't apply. Part of me felt guilty lecturing him because I did the same thing earlier, only this time, I didn't hesitate to shoot the rioters coming after Yousef and Bobby. I hurt and killed people. Perhaps a part of them still lived in their crazed-up mind, and I ended up murdering them. Am I a murderer? The thought churned my stomach into a tight knot that would never let go. But what scared me more was how I felt little about the action. Should I be more afraid like Logan did?

"Those people are going to hurt us," I said, finally, trying to push the thoughts nagging my head.

"Those people can be reasoned with. I'm sure they can," he said, frowning.

"I don't know, Logan. I don't know what they are. But if one of them comes to hurt one of us, you don't hesitate."

Logan scoffed. "Right. I'm not such a badass as you."

"Cut the fucking Alpha bullshit, Logan. We're scared--"

"I'm not scared." Logan winced, backing away. "Fuck, I'm not scared."

"Oh, don't be a ridiculous ass!"

"I'm telling you, am no damn chicken!"

"Whatever you feel--I don't care. All I'm saying is that it's okay to be scared. What I do care is for you to have my back."

"You're back?" He almost guffawed. "Are you kidding me?"

"Yes. If you can put aside what you think about me for a minute, I'll give you freebies to call me names when we get out of here, and I won't have to say a thing back at you."

"As if you can even come up with a comeback," Logan scoffed.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Okay, so I have to spread my legs first before that happens then?"

He tensed as the blood drained from his cheeks.

A smile crept on my lips. I rest my point. "Most of all, I want to let you know that I'll have your back, too. Heck, you can brag about it in school how you saved the day." I pointed at the AR-15 in his hand. "As long as you have that rifle in your hand, I'll watch your back. And as long as I have this"--I raised my shotgun--"You watch mine. If one of us goes down, we all go down. Understand?"

Logan didn't say a word. He stared at me for what felt like a minute before he huffed and walked away.

"We used to be friends," I said glumly. It stopped him in his tracks, pushing me to continue. "When we were kids, we used to be best friends. You live just a couple of doors down, and I remember we used to play a lot of video games together and play ball with the other kids in the neighborhood. What happened to that?"

"You don't even need to ask me that."

"Did I do something wrong?"

I already knew the answer to the latter. I didn't know why I asked, but it felt like if it came from Logan's tongue, it would mean something, like bringing down the hammer on the final nail. Perhaps it was something else, but I should I know better than that.

Logan didn't answer me for a long time. And when he did, he didn't look me in the eyes. "Look at you, Bren. Look at me. I think it's pretty clear why."

Logan didn't give me another word. I wanted to say more, but the words jumbled up beneath my tongue, and I held them in instead. I watched him walked away, nodded to myself, and headed in the opposite direction.

I may never know what happened between us. It might be due to time. If you could believe it, Logan used to be a small kid, and when we were friends, I was the tallest and biggest one in our group.

Oh, how times did change after that.

Puberty happened, and Logan's chest and shoulders broadened. His bones grew stronger. Then his muscles sculpted and toned, hugging his body tightly, and made him into a gorgeous young man. He was a gifted athlete who performed leaps of endurance that made him the school's star quarterback and made a name for himself in baseball as a pitcher.

I, on the other hand, stayed about the same. I was the same height I was when Logan got his growth spurt, and I remained lanky and baby-faced compared to Logan's chiseled face.

The last straw of our friendship ended when his parents divorced, and I came out as gay. Even during that time, I was merely delegated to an acquaintance once middle school ended and high school began. When I came out, the name-calling started, and he joined in with the crowd without a flinch.

That was the greatest betrayal of all.