A distant scream drifted through the fog. Dylan froze, her eyes wide as they met Aletta’s. That was not the sound of a child playing. It was pure terror.
The hairs on Aletta’s arms lifted, and she shivered.
“What was that?” Dylan asked, her voice high and too loud in the quiet of the abandoned street. Aletta shook her head. Whatever it was hadn’t sounded human.
That’s insane.
Aletta’s breath was coming rapidly as she strained to hear, frozen in place. Another scream, this time longer and most definitely not human. No, she shook her head again. That was impossible. It was probably just the fog distorting the noise.
Aletta pressed her lips together and shook her head. Whatever it was, it wasn’t close to them, and they needed food. There was no point in worrying about something they had no control over.
That’s what she told herself, anyway, even if her rapid heartbeat betrayed her as a liar.
“Let’s get moving.” She forced thoughts of anything but finding food down deep inside, and strode onwards, ignoring the ache in her stomach from not eating and pretending she wasn’t straining to hear more screams.
By late afternoon, Aletta was exhausted, and, going by the way Dylan barely lifted her head when they heard the occasional distant scream, she was as well. They’d found four more stores, but all had been cleaned out. The best luck they’d had wasfinding a case of water in an abandoned car. They’d drunk their fill and stuffed their backpacks with as many bottles as they could, hiding the rest of the case to collect on the way home.
Home. Aletta didn’t see the point of returning to the small apartment, with no one around. They needed to get out of the city.
But that was a problem for tomorrow. Today, they needed food. Tonight, they’d find somewhere safe to sleep and then move on in the morning. She’d had a vague thought that they might be able to ask someone for help. Surely the police would be out helping those who were left?
But no. She shouldn’t have been surprised to discover they’d been left to die, like the many corpses that littered the street, their rotting flesh fouling the air. She’d long since given up speculating on what had happened to everyone, on where they’d gone.
The sun was setting, and the cooler air made the fog thicken around them as they reached yet another ransacked shop. This one was large—one of the better stores in this part of the city—with an actual fresh produce section. Nothing was fresh now; what had been left had rotted on the shelves, a cloud of flies lifting as Dylan walked too close to a display.
“Gross,” she said, her voice muffled behind her mask.
They trailed through the empty aisles, the shelves bare, stopping at the far side of the empty store. Dylan leaned against the wall and slid to the floor.
“I just need a minute,” she said, closing her eyes and dropping her head against the painted brick of the wall that was covered in brightly colored posters.
Aletta took off her backpack and dropped it on the floor next to Dylan. “All right. I’m going to have a look out the back.” She pointed to a door with a mirrored glass panel bearing thewords ‘employees only’ in block letters. Dylan nodded, not even opening her eyes.
It was safe enough, Aletta supposed. They hadn’t seen a soul all day—at least not living—and Dylan was exhausted. Better to let her have a moment to rest. Maybe there would be something back here that had been missed?
The door opened easily enough, but the gas arm swung it shut with a bang, making Aletta jump and lift a hand to her chest. The corridor was empty and lit only by the weak light filtering through the glass pane on the door.
She was rummaging through the cupboards in the employees’ break area when she heard a scream. Any thoughts of food were forgotten as a second scream sounded.
“Letty!”
Aletta sprinted back down the corridor to the door, desperate to get to Dylan. She gripped the handle, but the door wouldn’t open. She jiggled it, turning it one way and then the other, using all her strength in her desperation to get to her sister.
“No! No! Leave me alone!”
Aletta’s head jerked up, looking through the one-way glass. She gasped, hands pressed to the glass as she strained to see, as Dylan was dragged past by her long blond hair. She was kicking and screaming, gripping her ponytail in what must have been an attempt to ease what had to be incredibly painful.
Aletta pulled the handle again. This time something clicked, and the door jerked open, and she threw herself through the opening and into the store.
“Let go of my sister!”
Dylan’s attacker was clad from head-to-toe in black. Black combat boots, black pants, black shirt with the sleeves ripped off, black mask. Both biceps were tattooed with the same symbol—he must be a fan of symmetry—and he was huge, towering above the shelves. Dylan looked like a child in comparison.
He stopped, barking something in a language Aletta had never heard, and then turned, dismissing her and continuing to drag Dylan after him.
“Hey!” Now he was making her angry. She picked up a discarded tin can from the floor and lobbed it at him, hitting him in the back of the head. He stopped, turning slowly to look at her with menacing eyes.
He dropped Dylan and strode toward Aletta, who took a step backward. “Run, Dylan!” She screamed, hoping her sister would listen, and then bolted for the front of the store.
