After the tense hours of inventorying and restless waiting, Isabella and Mateo moved with quiet purpose, ready to carve some order out of the chaos.
Isabella hugged her knees, staring at the mess around them. "We can't just keep tripping over everything. We need… zones or something. Like, actual spots for stuff."
Mateo, curled up beside her, nodded slowly. "Like a base? In the movies, they always have a base."
"Yeah. A base." Isabella rubbed her eyes. "Okay, first, we need a bathroom spot. I'm not peeing in the middle of all our blankets again."
Mateo wrinkled his nose. "Ew. The back, then? There's more room, and it's far from where we sleep."
"Deal. We'll put the trash bag inside the backpack for… you know. Pee goes in the water bottles. We'll pour it out the window later. And we tape the windows so the creatures outside can't see us."
They moved silently but efficiently, Mateo crawling to the back while Isabella grabbed duct tape from the survival bag. She pressed the sticky strips firmly over the back window's cracks, careful not to make noise. Mateo mimicked her, taping the edges with surprising steadiness for a kid so cold and tired.
Isabella managed a tired smile. "Good thinking."
She glanced at the pile of floor mats and towels. "Middle is for sleeping. We can make it soft, and tape up the side windows, except for a little bit to peek out."
Mateo nodded, already pulling up a mat. "I want the side by the door. I can see better."
Isabella rolled her eyes, but her voice was gentle. "Fine, but no kicking me in your sleep."
He grinned, just a little. "No promises."
She turned to the front. "And the front… that's our lookout. Command center. All the maps, the notepads, the compass, everything goes up there. That's where we plan."
Mateo perked up. "Like a real mission. I'll set up the flashlight. And my guys can guard the dashboard."
Isabella snorted. "Sure, Commander Mateo. Just don't lose the pen this time."
He stuck out his tongue, but started arranging things up front with surprising care.
For a moment, the van felt almost organized. Like maybe, just maybe, they could handle what came next.
The routine gave them a fragile sense of control. As they worked, their voices filled the van, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the past hours. These small tasks helped steady their racing thoughts until, finally, Isabella paused, carefully folding a map.
"Okay, we need a plan," she said, with a steady but tired voice while folding a map carefully. "First priority: get those keys. Without them, we're stuck."
Mateo nodded but looked uncertain. "What if someone comes to rescue us? Like on TV, the police or soldiers show up?"
Isabella shook her head. "I don't think anyone's coming. Not yet, anyway. We have to do this ourselves."
Mateo's brow furrowed. "But what if we try to sneak into the store first? Grab supplies? Then come back here?"
"That's risky," Isabella replied. "The creatures are all over the lot. We don't know their patterns yet."
"That's risky," Isabella replied, glancing toward the windows. "The creatures are all over the parking lot. They're slowly wandering around, aimless but dangerous. If they spot us, we're done. We don't even know if they're attracted to noise or movement yet."
Mateo tapped his chin thoughtfully. "What if they surround us while we're out there? We'd be trapped with no way back."
Isabella's gaze hardened. "Exactly. If they close in, we'd be stuck like rats. No way out unless we fight or run blind."
"But if we wait here forever, we'll run out of food and water," Mateo said quietly. "We can't just hide."
She sighed. "I know. It's a trap either way. But rushing out without a plan is suicide."
Mateo's eyes brightened a little. "Maybe we should watch them first. See when they move, how they act. If we know their patterns and weaknesses, we can find the right moment to move."
Isabella considered this, biting her lip. "You're right. We need to be smart. Study them, learn their habits. If there's a chance to slip past or distract them, we have to find it."
Outside, through the small observation slit, the creatures shuffled slowly across the cracked asphalt. Some dragging limbs, others swaying like broken puppets. Their black eyes scanned the lot, but their movements were random, as if driven by some lost instinct rather than strategy.
Mateo whispered, "They look slow, but they don't stop. Like they're waiting for something."
"Or someone," Isabella said grimly. "We can't afford to wait too long."
Mateo nodded, determination creeping into his voice. "Okay. We watch, we learn, and then we make our move."
Isabella gave a tired but resolute nod. "Let's start taking notes."
To keep their minds sharp and spirits up, the siblings invented a series of quiet games. Mateo pressed his nose to the taped window slit, whispering, "I spy with my little eye… something that's moving but not making noise."
Isabella squinted out. A hunched, limping infected shuffled past a row of carts, its head bobbing awkwardly. "Is it… Lurchy?"
Mateo grinned. "Yep! Lurchy's my favorite. He moves like he's got rocks in his shoes."
They started giving the creatures nicknames as they watched:
Lurchy was the limping one,Stompy kept banging its fists on a car hood for no reason,Nibbles had a chunk missing from its ear,Jazz Hands waved its arms every time a gust of wind caught its tattered jacket.
"Okay, your turn," Mateo said, still grinning. "I spy something… blue."
Isabella scanned the lot. "The minivan two rows over?"
"Nope."
"That water bottle by the cart return?"
"Nice try, but nope."
Isabella smiled despite herself. "Is it the one by the red car?"
"Yep!" Mateo grinned.
She kept searching. "Wait, Stompy's got blue socks!"
Mateo burst into a silent laugh, covering his mouth. "You win."
Between games, they used their notepads to sketch out the parking lot and mark where the creatures wandered. Mateo started a new game: "Let's see who can find the best path to the keys and the store."
Isabella traced a possible route with her finger. "If we crawl under the white truck, then cut behind the shopping cart corral, we might avoid Nibbles and Jazz Hands."
Mateo added, "But there's a big puddle by the sidewalk. If we go around it, we end up near the smashed car with all the glass. That's where Lurchy hangs out."
They debated routes, drawing arrows and X's, arguing over whether the sidewalk was safer or if hiding behind the carts would give better cover.
Later, they played "Spot the Weapon." Mateo started: "I see a broken umbrella by the curb. That could be a spear."
Isabella pointed out a loose hubcap. "Shield. If it's not too heavy."
They counted water bottles, checked for anything shiny that might be a tool, and played "Who can spot the most blue cars?" (Mateo won, five to three.)
Between all this, Mateo used his action figures to act out possible escapes, narrating in a hushed voice. "If we distract Jazz Hands with a noise here, maybe Stompy and Nibbles will start fighting, and we can sneak by."
Isabella watched, genuinely impressed by his creativity. These moments, full of whispered jokes, wild theories, and silly nicknames, helped keep the darkness at bay, if only for a little while.
Isabella glanced at her list. "So, what do we actually know about these things? They're slow now, but… remember the parking lot? When it all started, they were fast. Like, freaky fast."
Mateo nodded, chewing the end of his pen. "Yeah. Maybe the cold makes them slow down. Or maybe they get tired, like batteries running out."
"They look worse, too," Isabella added quietly, while looking through the window. "Their skin's falling off. They're getting paler. Like… old bananas."
Mateo snorted, then got serious. "I think the cold is making them rot faster. Or maybe it's just making them stiff. If it warms up, what if they go back to being fast?"
Isabella shivered. "Let's hope not. But… we should be ready. What if they can still sprint if something wakes them up?"
Mateo's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Let's test it. Like a real experiment."
Isabella frowned. "What do you mean?"
He crawled over to the sunroof, grabbing one of his full piss bottles. "If we hit one and it gets mad, maybe we'll see how fast they really are."
Isabella hissed, "Mat, wait—"
But he'd already slid the sunroof open, climbed up on top of the seat, and with a quick flick, tossed the bottle. It sailed out and smacked Lurchy right on the shoulder.
Lurchy jerked, then let out a guttural snarl, spinning around so fast it nearly fell over. It lunged at the nearest creature, which was Jazz Hands, clawing and biting wildly. The sudden violence set off a chain reaction, with several more creatures joining the frenzy.
Isabella and Mateo ducked down, stifling their laughter, and their hearts pounding. "You got him!" Isabella whispered, half in awe, half in disbelief.
Mateo grinned, breathless. "Direct hit. Science!"
But as their giggles faded, worry crept in. Through the window, they watched as Lurchy and the others tore at each other with terrifying speed and strength, the "rest mode" gone in an instant.
Isabella's smile vanished. "They're not slow. They're just… waiting. Like they're asleep until something wakes them up."
Mateo's voice was small. "That means if we mess up, they'll all go crazy again."
They both went quiet, the weight of their discovery settling in. It wasn't just the cold making the monsters less dangerous; it was the stillness before a storm.
Isabella scribbled the new discovery in her notepad. "We need a better plan."
After watching the chaos settle, Mateo whispered, "Wait, let's try something else."
Isabella furrowed her brow, thinking aloud. "What else do you think attracts them? Is it just movement? Or maybe something else?"
Mateo's eyes brightened. "I think noise might do it, too. Like, if we make a loud sound somewhere else, maybe they'll all rush over there and leave us alone."
Isabella looked skeptical but nodded slowly. "It's worth a try. Just… be careful."
Mateo grabbed an empty glass bottle of sparkling water from the floor of the van, which Dolores used to drink, and climbed up to the sunroof again. With a soft toss, the bottle shattered loudly against the asphalt.
Immediately, several creatures turned sharply toward the noise, their heads snapping in unison. They shuffled and lurched in that direction, their slow, aimless wandering replaced by focused movement.
Isabella's eyes widened. "They're definitely attracted to sound."
Mateo nodded, excitement mixed with fear flickering in his tired eyes. "So, noise can distract them. We definitely have to be careful."
Isabella leaned back against the seat, rubbing her face with her hands. "Okay… so we know they get fast and aggressive if provoked. They can be distracted, but that means any mistake could set them off."
She sighed heavily, voice raw. "I don't know what to do now, Mat. We can't just sit here forever, but going out there feels like a death sentence."
Mateo looked down, fiddling with one of his action figures. "Maybe… maybe we just keep watching. Learn more. Wait for the right moment."
Isabella's jaw tightened. "Waiting's killing me. But rushing feels worse."
They sat in silence for a moment, the distant sounds of the creatures' shuffling and snarling filling the van.
Mateo finally said softly, "We'll figure it out. We have to."
Isabella nodded slowly, but the uncertainty hung heavy between them.
Then, through the window, they spotted movement.
A car door creaked open near the far side of the lot, and one, then two people slipped out cautiously. Both wore dirty white tank tops and bright orange pants that looked a lot like prison uniforms. They moved quickly but quietly, keeping low as they tried to weave past the creatures scattered across the parking lot.
Mateo's breath hitched. "Isabella," he whispered, pressing closer to the glass. "Look. People."
For a second, something like hope flickered in his eyes. "Do you think they'll help us? Should we… I don't know, wave or something?"
Isabella's first instinct was the same. Someone else, finally. But it died as fast as it came. She squinted at the orange pants, the way the fabric hung, the numbers stenciled near the thigh.
"Those look like prison clothes," she said under her breath. "Jail pants."
Mateo frowned. "So? They're still just… people. Like us."
"People can be worse than the creatures," Isabella muttered. "If they're prisoners, we don't know what they did. For all we know, they're the kind that shove you toward the monsters to save themselves."
Mateo chewed his lip, still staring. "But if we don't say anything, they might just leave. Or die."
Isabella swallowed, thinking fast.
If we yell, the creatures hear us.
If we run to them, we leave the van.
If they're bad, we're trapped between them and the horde.
"We watch first," she decided. "See what they do. If they make noise, the creatures will go after them instead of us. That might be our only opening."
Mateo didn't look convinced, but he nodded slowly. "So… we use them as a distraction?"
Her jaw tightened. "We use whatever we can to stay alive," she said. "Then we figure out if they're the kind of people we want anywhere near us."
He went quiet at that, eyes tracking the two figures in white tanks and orange pants as they slipped between the cars. Outside, one of the creatures turned its head, then another, drawn by the faint sound of their footsteps.
Isabella watched the way the prisoners moved, hugging the cars, ducking low, edging closer to the scattered infected. The creatures were starting to drift toward them, slowly but with interest.
"This is it," she murmured. "They're pulling them away."
Mateo glanced at her. "What are you doing?"
"Using our distraction," Isabella said, more to herself than to him. "If they make noise, the creatures will go after them, not us."
Before he could argue, she eased the opposite side door open, moving inch by inch so the hinges wouldn't squeal. Cold air rushed in. She slipped out, keeping the van between herself and the creatures.
Her heart pounded as she crouched low and quickly scanned her surroundings. Just beside the van, a shopping cart sat abandoned, half-filled with debris, its metal frame casting long shadows in the weak light.
Sticking to the shadows, Isabella slipped behind a nearby sedan, then edged along its bumper before darting to a battered SUV. She kept low, always making sure there was a car or truck between her and the nearest creatures. Step by careful step, she crept closer to Bullseye Mart, using the maze of parked vehicles for cover while keeping one eye on the prisoners as they threaded their way through the lumbering horde.
But just as the people neared the shopping cart corral, one of them accidentally stepped on the van's remote lying near the front tire.
The sudden blare of the alarm shattered the uneasy quiet.
Isabella froze, already outside and at an angle where rushing back to the van to get Mateo might be impossible.
Her breath caught. The creatures turned sharply, their heads snapping toward the noise. The moment of fragile hope twisted into sudden, roaring danger.