We made it back to the church without any incident, except for Natalie's constant yapping and complaining about how we would die if we're going to be out on the streets. It didn't take long to convince her to follow through when the military strolled into the street where the bookstore was and completely leveled that entire block with bullets, cannons, and fire.

Soon, the army went away, retreating out of the neighborhood, and we never heard from them again. I didn't know where they went, and they could regroup somewhere to contain the city. At the time, I didn't know how far this outbreak reached, and I feared the worst.

"What do you think they're doing out there?" Logan asked me once while we're up on the cathedral's rooftop. We were making banners and SOS signs to hail any passing helicopter to rescue us. Unfortunately, there wasn't much luck.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Logan pointed out to the distance. "Helicopters avoid the inner city."

I watched over the horizon, where the bridges were. The helicopters hovering over there never moved inward. "They could be ordered not to enter the city."

"Does this mean all of this is for nothing?" Logan meant the sign.

I shrugged. "Satellites could pick us up. They could send a rescue team."

Logan paused for a moment to digest that information. In truth, I didn't know if there's ever a rescue. I didn't see helicopters flying into the city picking random survivors off of rooftops. Since yesterday, there wasn't a military presence at all in the entire neighborhood. Though, I didn't know what it looked like on the whole island or the city itself. The disease was spreading faster than I ever imagined.

Bites could turn you to one of them.

Carson got sick from his bite wound. This must be how things spread fast across the city. Mr. Ramirez was bitten that night, too. And in turn, he became one of them and chased after us. Bobby and Joe feared that it was through contact with bodily fluids, but almost all of us had at least a single contact with an infected vector for the past few days. I was caked in their gore on my first night. And here I was, two days later, walking and breathing like the living.

Bobby didn't like that I shut down his theory quickly, wary that I would suddenly turn and grab for his throat. But that didn't happen, and only disappointment dawned on him. He insisted on isolating those who made contact with vectors the most, and he wouldn't take no for an answer.

I was annoyed, and with fear running rampant through the entire group, I relented to his plan, which ended up putting me, Logan, and Miguel inside a dark room for a few hours. Luke volunteered to join as well, citing that he had fought some of them on the streets long before he got to the bookstore with me. I knew he only did it because he felt guilty about what he did back in the bookstore, and Bobby was more than welcome to let him stay in the room. Naturally, his best friend, Yousef, joined us.

Predictably, we didn't end up like Carson or Mr. Ramirez.

I stared daggers at Bobby for the rest of the day, and he didn't seem to mind that he got to be out in the main hall enjoying the food they got from the vending machine while the five of us stayed behind closed doors without even a single piece.

I suspected that was his real motive all along. The lone vending machine out in the Chapter House of the church was almost empty. Not enough for all of us to eat for one night--and we were all hungry. And the entire group outside didn't leave a scrap for any of us to eat after our isolation.

My only hope was that Bobby at least left some for the two children we had, but with Joe with them, I reckoned he must've forced him to give the boys a handful.

"Hey, can we talk?" Luke asked me by the altar.

I had laid out the weapons on the table to clean them off gore, smudge, and gunk. Maintenance was a big factor of owning guns like my dad, and I always saw him cleaning them at least once a month after using them up at the range with his friends. He told me that powder residue often attracted dust and debris to stick to down the barrel, causing them to rust once corrosive materials began to build up or when exposed to moisture, water, and any other damaging elements (which blood counted as a factor). It was why guns must be kept in pristine conditions at all times.

"What is there to talk about?" I asked, shrugging. I knew exactly what he wanted to talk about, but I wasn't in the mood to do so. I had persistently avoided Luke throughout the cathedral ever since we got there. And thank God that we never said anything during our isolation due to the tight space--and the inappropriate situation surrounded by strangers.

"About the bookstore."

"Okay, Luke. You did what you did. That's it. Now, we can move on. Hopefully, learn from it, too," I said, turning back to my guns.

"No. I can't move on. What I did was stupid and inconsiderate. I panicked."

"You did what you think was best--"

Luke shook his head. " No. I did what was best, but not to the group, but instead for me. It was wrong to leave the others behind like that without knowing if they're even dead or not."

"Can we talk about this later?"

"But that later's now. Now's the right time."

"When we're out of the city, maybe that one will be."

"I can't just stand around while you look at me like I gutted a puppy."

"Luke, stop, okay? What's done is done. We're here. We're safe. Can we focus on other things like how we can find food while we wait for rescue? Jesus Christ, we can't even feed ourselves tonight! Those things matter more than this, and if you had anything else to say that didn't pertain to that, then maybe it's best if we focus more on the pressing issues."

Once the words left my mouth, I realized I was teetering on a thin line. I could tell that Luke was visibly upset, but not to me, and instead about what happened at the bookstore. Shutting him down like that almost made me want to pull those words back in my mouth. Almost. I didn't want to talk about it, but he did. And I had no time for that.

"You're upset," said Luke determinedly.

"I am not."

"Yeah, you are. You might not think that way right now, but your eyes say otherwise. You've been avoiding me since we got here, Bren. I am not stupid not to notice that. The others are beginning to see, too. You're also upset at Joe for trying to leave the bookstore as I did, but at least he had an excuse to protect his son while I didn't. That makes it much worse, in your eyes, for me."

"You're putting words in my mouth! Can we drop this?"

"But I can't, Bren. You saved my life out there on the street."

"If you think you owe me anything, you don't. I did what I did because it's the right thing to do."

"And you think that I didn't."

"That's not what I think at all."

"Then, talk to me. Let me know what you feel. At least give me that. I wouldn't say I like this, Bren. I'm sorry — a thousand times. Fuck. A million times. And I'm going to say that until you start opening up about it. Maybe start to trust me again as you did with Logan."

"You talking shit about me?" Logan suddenly said from the side. His face was stern, focusing his attention right on Luke.

Luke huffed and whirled around to face him. "Not everything's about you, bud."

"We're not buddies. We barely knew each other."

"Can't you see we're talking here? Could you leave us alone, please?"

Logan looked at me, then back to Luke. "It's just that I heard my name..."

"Well, it's none of your business," Luke barked.

"Is that so? Pretty much anything that has my name on it is my business. Didn't you mention my name?"

Luke remained tight-lipped.

"Didn't you?"

Luke sighed. "What of it, then?"

"So, my name was on your mouth a few seconds ago. Ergo, my business." Logan turned to me. "Is he bothering you?"

I looked at both men and rolled my eyes. I turned my attention back to the guns on the altar. "We were done, anyway," I said.

"The lady says you two are done. Move along now."

I froze, but control took hold of me a split second later, and I kept on cleaning the weapons in front of me with a fine cloth. Luke sauntered close to me and whispered out of Logan's earshot, "Again, I'm sorry. You can count on me next time."

Luke walked away and took one long look before he approached Yousef, Margot, and Felipe, who were replacing the burnt-out candles around the church's nave.

I heard Logan's footsteps approached to my left. I turned toward him and glared, "Lady?"

Logan shrugged. "Perfectly describes you."

"You wanna get shot?" I said, hoping to be intimidating while I cleaned the shotgun on my hand at the same time.

"Hey, I got him to leave."

"But I have another problem," I said.

"What?"

"You're here."

It barely took a split second for him to realize what I meant, and when he did, he scoffed. "This doesn't make us even. Not even the slightest."

I didn't remember what could give him an idea that we something to each other, but I shook my head instead and said, "Of course it doesn't."

Logan turned around and walked away from the altar. I stole a glance behind me, and I was pretty sure I caught him smile a little.