LOGAN

"Did you all hear that?" Kenny asked.

Logan opened his eyes and saw Kenny looking out the floor-length windows, peering through the deluge of rain falling over the car dealership's parking lot. Go back to sleep, Kenny.

"It's just thunder," Mishka said, sitting on his sleeping bag behind the desk counter, hidden from view. Beside him, Alfie was fast asleep.

"No, I swear. It doesn't sound like thunder. More like thousands of metal falling at the same time..."

"That's thunder," Mishka waved him off and curled back to bed. He had donned a studded leather armor rather than the steel plate he wore last, explaining that since they were now on the road and thereby fully exposed to all kinds of threats. He needed armor that was light and able to protect himself from the enemies of their quest...whatever that was. His steel armor was reserved for defending, so he left them inside his van. "Now get away from the window before those things see you."

Sighing, Kenny walked back to where Logan sat. "Sorry if I distracted your nap, lover boy," Kenny said.

"No, not at all," Logan groaned and closed his eyes again, trying to count from one to one hundred, but it had been three hours now, and he still couldn't fall asleep. The storm wasn't helping. Ever since he watched that cheesy-CGI disaster movie where a group of people was being hunted and electrocuted by a killer sentient lightning storm, he had a phobia for stormy nights like these. Never let a seven-year-old watch a movie that would traumatize them for life.

Only a different monster hunts us now.

"Can't sleep?" Kenny asked.

"You, too?"

"Yeah."

Logan turned to look at him. "Scared?"

"Oh, yes. Very."

"You get used to it."

"Says you. I don't know how you all make it so...casual like they are just part of nature, you know? Like they've existed for thousands of years next to lions or cows or something. It makes me feel weird how aloof you guys are when you kill them. They used to be people."

"Ah, ignorance is bliss."

"It doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Then what's the real reason you came scouting with us, Kenny? And don't say it's because of your charms. Honest answers only."

Kenny chuckled. "Have you seen me? Lots of people nowadays underestimate me because of my stature. I wanted to help people form the opinion that they're four-foot-fucking wrong. Plus, I need to learn about our new world. Luke Skywalker didn't become a Master Jedi and saved the galaxy because he stayed on his uncle's farm."

"Well, you were a badass out there. Not Jedi level, but still a badass."

"Oh, you noticed that little detail after me shitting bricks?" Kenny smirked. "But thanks. Y'all alright yourself."

Scrapes of boots echoed from behind the hallway, and Jun walked into the room. Logan grabbed the rifle next to him, probably his turn for watch duty, but he stopped midway when he saw Jun's pale complexion, brows furrowed with worry. He still held his binoculars tightly in one hand.

"Something wrong?" Logan asked.

Jun looked up and met his gaze. "I saw...an accident. In the park, we passed by. Saw it all on the roof."

"Survivors?"

"Yes. I think so. Two of them."

"Dead?"

"Alive. For now. Vectors are crawling around that area."

Logan looked over Jun's shoulder to the downpour. They couldn't really do any rescue missions when there was low visibility. He wasn't confident that these survivors were friendly either, and it was probably best to leave them be. As much as it sucked to watch people struggle to survive out there, Logan was responsible for bringing these men back to the farm. He didn't want anyone dying on his watch.

"There's one more thing, Logan, but I'm not sure if I'm exhausted or sleep-deprived, and I am seeing things."

"What'd you see?"

Jun shifted uncomfortably. "I think I saw Aria and Yousef."

——

PETER

Peter closed the bathroom door and looked at the mirror. He quickly searched for any wounds, any bite marks, but he did not find any. His hammering heart subsided, and he let out a breath. He almost lost his strength as he fell back and sat on the toilet, catching the breath stolen from him. No, bites, no bites, he kept on repeating.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. "Pete, you alright?" Miguel asked. "I heard gunshots."

He stood up and crossed the bathroom and opened the door. Miguel studied him from beyond, puzzled, but then his eyes widened when they landed on his blood-soaked shirt. "What the fuck happened?" He asked, taking a step back, looking down as if the sight disturbed him.

All Peter thought about was a bottle and a night to sleep all this shit off. "Nothing," he said.

"That's not nothing, man. Where are Aria and Yousef? They were supposed to be on watch!"

Peter couldn't stand the name no longer. Even hearing it made him want to punch a hole in the wall. They were going to leave me there! Now how does it feel having hundreds of those fuckers after you without anyone saving your ass? He surpassed a smile. It was not a good idea to show Miguel his satisfaction. Then again, he did have to know their crime.

"They left," Peter said, and he walked toward the living room and sat on the empty couch where Aria and Yousef were supposed to be on watch duty. Once his butt hit the cushions, he sighed.

Miguel followed him. "What do you mean they left?"

"Gone. They stole our food, recruited Barry and Marie to do it for them, and then went out the back door. I tried to stop them, but then they started firing at me, had a vector attack me, and tried to leave me for dead," he said nonchalantly. "Hey, do you still have that whiskey from the cupboard?"

Miguel stood there, mouth agape. He shifted, not knowing what to do, still processing the news of Aria and Yousef's betrayal. Good. Let that sink in and be angry like me. Most of the things he said were true, except for them attacking him, but when he really thought about it, he considered leaving him to the vector as an attack. He just made the playing field even.

But Peter didn't like what Miguel said next. "It doesn't make sense."

How can you be stupid, too, Miguel? "It makes perfect sense. Aria wants to leave, and now she did."

Miguel thinned his lips and marched over to the supply room. A minute later, he came back, stood in front of the windows, and watched as a horde passed by the building, moving in the direction Aria and the others might have run to. Miguel shook his head.

"Did they steal all of our weapons?" Miguel asked.

"I managed to get them back," Peter said.

The rain had a fierce glare to it now, streaking along the glass like angry lines of razor-sharp teeth. What little light illuminated from the outside cast creeping shadows inside the living room. Peter basked under its silhouette, hoping the darkness would be a welcomed embrace compared to the vector he had to kill. He was more upset he got jumped than the others' betrayal. That was expected. But sometimes, when Peter slowed down and thought about it, he was being an unreasonable asshole, yet he didn't want to entertain another way to handle the saboteurs, as he liked to call them. Paloma did the talking, and now it was time for action, so he had to kick them out.

It was the only solution.

They dug their grave and had to bury themselves in it. Peter stomped down the gnawing guilt and focused on the peaceful silence that now settled in their hideout. Oh, look! No more arguments! Maybe I can finally sleep!

Peter got out of the couch and decided he might as well have something to eat. The scuffle with the vector left him hungry, and he realized he never ate his rations last night either, so he truly deserved it.

"Wait," Miguel said. Peter turned around and stiffened when he saw the gun pointed at him. "Did you get bit?"

"No."

Miguel scoffed. "Take off your clothes."

"Usually, I do that after the first date."

"Come on, Pete. Be serious about this. That's a lot of blood."

"Well, it's not mine."

"I have to be sure. There are other people here."

At first, Peter was offended Miguel doubted him. Then again, he would have done the same thing if he was in his shoes. See? I can be reasonable. It depended on his mood; he wasn't in a fighting spirit right now. He pulled off his bloodied shirt and then his pants, discarding them next to the couch. He even took down his underwear and let it all hang out. Miguel flinched, although Peter wasn't bothered. He knew he looked good. He stood like a statue as Miguel inspected every inch of his body. He never said anything when Deon and Noodle came out from the hallway, asking questions about what was happening and why Peter was naked, until they saw his discarded clothes. He caught sight of Charlene trying to push back her grandmother and her nieces not to enter the living room, probably because a naked grown man was standing there.

Miguel stepped back. "Clean."

"Like I said. Anyway, Can I go change now?" Miguel nodded, and Peter pulled his underwear up. It was the only clean thing he could wear as blood stained his shirt and pants. He clumped them into a ball and sauntered into the hallway, ignoring the confused looks that Charlene, Gus, and his ferret, Bernadette, and Audrey gave him. At least Diana and Wanda were inside their room. He walked into his and threw his bloodied clothes inside a closet, and picked out a green shirt and another pair of jeans.

Another knock on his door, and he was about to scream at Miguel to stop bothering him because he's starting to have a headache from all the shit he had to deal with tonight, but it was only Paloma asking about Marie being missing.

So, he gathered all eleven of them in the living room and explained exactly what had happened...to an extent. Most of them couldn't believe what they'd heard, but they realized Peter was telling the truth once Charlene counted their supplies. Paloma cried, having been betrayed by whom she probably considered her best friend. There was no love for the frat boys, but Deon showed concern for Barry's well-being and wanted to look for him and convince him to see reason.

Not a chance, he wanted to say.

Instead, Peter didn't tell him he shot Barry's dick, but he did announce to the group he was not going to have a rapist in this building, primarily when two little girls occupied the same space. The frat boys shut up and said nothing further. Miguel was upset by Aria and Yousef's betrayal, having survived the longest with them. He kept telling the group how he had no idea and wished they had consulted him about their plans so that he could talk them off.

He was angry, Peter noticed. Good.

"Good riddance," Bernadette said before ushering her granddaughters back into their bedroom. Audrey was quiet, but she followed her mother like a ghost on auto-pilot.

As the others returned to their bedrooms, Peter walked to the supply room, looking forward to finally having an early breakfast. He couldn't ignore the rumble in his stomach., but Charlene followed after him.

"What is it?" He asked, annoyed.

"I'm not gonna beat around the bush. We only have a day's worth of supplies. If we're really stretching it, maybe two."

"I managed to grab some of their stolen supplies but forgot to bring them up here. They're in the garage."

"How much?"

"Two backpacks. I don't know how much is inside. Can I please eat now? I didn't have dinner last night." Peter picked up a small travel-sized box of honey oats cereal.

"Oh. But Pete, what if they...have the right idea? Leaving, I mean?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Not you, too."

"No! It's not that! I'm just looking at our options here. We've picked the buildings clean in a two-block radius. And the horde outside is growing, Pete. We can't ignore that, or else we'll be stuck here and starve."

"Fine," Peter sighed. "We can move somewhere safer, but I'll leave that to Miguel and Noodle to find where that is, okay? But we are not leaving this town until we find Bren and the others, dead or alive, understand? Now, I need my breakfast."

Peter crossed the hallway back to his room and closed the door. He sat on his bed, staring at the cereal box. He was upset that there was no milk to go with it nor a bowl to put it in, but he opened the box and pulled the bag, tearing it up. He stared at the white wall as he ate, and he was surprised no troubling thought had crossed his mind. This was what it must feel like when one of your checklists got crossed out. Carson was dead. Natalie was dead. Now, Aria was dead, too.

Logan was the only one left, and there was a high chance he was dead.

Peter ate his cereal in silence and wondered what Bren was up to. Hopefully, Bren was thinking of him.

——

YOUSEF

Yousef and Aria ran into the bookstore. Yousef didn't want to look back to see how many vectors followed them. He climbed over upturned shelves, books splayed everywhere over half a dozen dead bodies that were months old. A few were fresh, with no bullet wounds but a wide gash on their face as if a hatchet slashed it. Those were probably killed by Aria when she last scouted here. He could feel her getting weaker with every step she made.

"Little more," he said, steering them toward the door that read: EMPLOYEES ONLY.

"No. Not there. Other door." Aria cocked her head to the right, where another door was behind the help desk counter. "Stairs behind it."

"I thought we had to go to the alley."

"Not through there. Blocked. Too many dead." Even her speech was getting worse. Yousef crushed his worries for now while he concentrated on finding a safe resting spot. He needed to give Aria a thorough search for any grievous wounds.

"I'm fine," Aria whispered.

"You need medicine."

"I said I'm fine. Let's go."

Yousef nodded. It wasn't very convincing.

Aria reached for the door handle and opened it, and just as she said, there were stairs leading to the second floor. Yousef dragged her up. "Room on the right. Second door. Fire exit ladder leads down to the alley."

"We're using a ladder?" He looked down at Aria's wound on her shoulder.

"Almost there." She closed her eyes.

"Hey. Don't sleep right now. I need you up."

"I'm tired."

"No, Aria. You need to stay awake. Second door on the right, yeah?"

Aria weakly nodded.

Shit. There's gotta be something here to help her! Yousef opened the door Aria mentioned, and he entered a small apartment with three doors on one hallway to his left and one to his right and carried Aria to the sofa. Aria didn't complain. She tried to mumble something, pointing at the window where the ladder was. Yousef had no way of carrying Aria down in her condition, much less trek the subsequent two blocks to the car dealership. He needed to deal with her situation right away. He didn't find any wounds on her until he felt something sticky behind her back.

What's this? Yousef knelt beside the sofa, lifted her shirt, and turned Aria to the side. Aria let out a weak groan, but she didn't have enough strength to fight him. Something hurt her real bad. Peeking close to her hips was a shard of metal, around three inches long.

"Fuck," he muttered. "No, no, no...."

He didn't know anything about medicine, and what little Margot had told him wasn't helping, and he did not remember much. He was good at fixing computers but less so at fixing human flesh. Was that too close to the kidney? Was Aria going to be alright? She was losing too much blood, and the sight of it made him nauseous. He didn't want to touch the wrong thing and make everything worse.

"Aria." When he spoke her name, her eyelids fluttered. She was still breathing. "Stay here. I'll look for medicine." Morphine. That was the good stuff, right? One to lessen the pain? How am I going to find that stuff? "I'll look around."

"Don't..."

"Shh. Rest, but make sure you don't sleep, yeah? I'll be back."

"Seffff..."

"I'll be back."

"It's so cold..."

"Here." He pulled a blanket from a nearby rack next to the sofa with two quilt blankets neatly folded. "Keep yourself warm. I'll look around the place."

For the next ten minutes, Yousef turned the apartment upside down. He found a tin box filled with bandaids, anti-fungal ointments, and emergency water purifiers, but what was he going to do with those? Aria needed to go to a hospital! He wanted to pull his hair out as he looked at every nook and cranny of the apartment, searching for them.

He had thought of pulling the metal out and cauterizing the wound, but the stovetop needed electricity, unlike gas, so that wasn't a big help. Using the fireplace would take longer, and he had no way of starting a fire, although there was plenty of kindle in the bookstore. For a second, he thought of finding a book that would tell him how to specifically save Aria, but that was a stupid thought, it would take longer, and he blamed himself for not knowing anything.

For another ten minutes, he shivered, hugged his knees, and cried in the bathroom. He found a medicine cabinet there, but there were only vitamins, some pill bottles with names he couldn't understand, and cough syrups. Whatever was helpful here, Aria and whoever was with her probably looted and brought the necessary medicine back to their hideout, to Pete, and was now sitting in the supply room. He could not get back there with a giant horde between them.

Maybe I can ask Pete for help? I'll say sorry! I'll apologize! I'll beg if I have to!

The more likely scenario was Pete would just shut the door. He had no love for Aria, and it showed. Whatever history the two of them had, Pete's grudge against her trumped the survival against the vectors.

Still, he took all the pill bottles out into the living room and read them one by one under what little light shone through the window. After a few more minutes of searching, he recognized one tiny pop-out pill container with ibuprofen and tried to get Aria to drink it.

"Aria, wake up. I found something that might help with the pain."

Her eyes remained shut.

"Aria?" He shook her awake, but she didn't stir nor make a sound. Fingers shaking, he felt for a pulse, but there was no beat.

Yousef stared down at her, his heart hammering. He tried to cradle her head, but his fingers soaked blood all over her hair. The wound on her abdomen had pooled beneath her and soaked the sofa. He crouched protectively over her. Pain shot through his chest, and he found himself without a voice. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He fell down on his butt, wheezing for air. The room was awfully suffocating. All of Yousef's strength was gone.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...."

Everyone was dead. Aria. Bren. Logan. Luke. Margot. Felipe. He was the only one left. Everyone that mattered. Everyone deserved to live more than him. Why was he spared all so he could watch his friends die?

"Ahhh!" He let out a scream. It felt good letting it all out there. He screamed deep in his gut, all the pain coursing through his veins. "Ahhh!" Almost a sob and a laugh. He cried, hugging his knees and cradling his chest.

I don't want to be here! I don't want to be here!