They didn't have time to spiral.
Justin made himself move, because if he didn't, the room would become a crying, arguing mess that drew sound that drew death.
"Bathroom," he said quietly. "One at a time. Clean up. Eat. Drink. Then we pack."
No one argued that. Even Tally, for once, didn't have the energy.
They moved like ghosts through the store.
Mari washed her face in the sink with cold water and stared at herself in the mirror like she didn't recognize her own eyes. When she came out, she didn't say anything. She just sat near Justin again, close enough to ground him, far enough not to make him feel trapped.
Marcus ate a granola bar like it was cardboard and kept looking toward the window like he expected the dead to notice the chewing.
Renee forced down crackers, then wiped her mouth hard, eyes shining with tears she refused to let fall.
Dot sat and drank water slowly. "Feels sinful to drink clean water when the world's on fire," she murmured.
Ethan was already walking the back area, checking doors, checking sightlines, checking the back exit. He moved like he was in a building he'd cleared before.
Justin didn't like it.
But he couldn't deny it was useful.
Kenzie led Barbie carefully toward the storage area in the back and let her out of the little pack. Barbie walked in small circles, sniffing, uncertain. Kenzie found paper towels and made a quiet corner. She waited with the patience of someone who understood that the dog didn't know the rules had changed.
Tally watched from across the aisle and rolled her eyes dramatically.
"Oh my God," she muttered. "It's a dog."
Kenzie didn't look up. She just kept her voice calm. "She needs to go."
Tally scoffed. "We're really doing bathroom breaks for pets during the apocalypse."
Mari's head lifted like a blade. "Shut up, Tally."
Tally's face twisted. "Why do you care? It's not even your—"
Mari cut her off. "Because that dog has been quieter than you this whole time."
Kenzie's hand stilled. Barbie looked up like she understood she'd been defended.
Tally's eyes sharpened. "Oh my God, you two are like—"
Justin stepped in fast. "Tally. Enough."
Tally's jaw clenched. She turned away, muttering under her breath.
Kenzie finished, cleaned it, and made a tight little bundle of paper towels she could throw away later—like keeping the store clean meant they were still human.
She strapped Barbie back into the pack, and Barbie fit like she belonged there now—snug, safe, warm against Kenzie's chest. Kenzie adjusted the straps with careful hands.
Lila watched it from near the shelves, eyes softening. "She's… she's cute," Lila said quietly.
Kenzie nodded, voice gentler than she'd been with anyone in hours. "Her name is Barbie."
Lila gave a shaky smile. "I'm Lila."
Kenzie nodded once. "Kenzie."
They held eye contact for a second longer than strangers normally would. It wasn't flirting. It was recognition. Two young women in a world that had ripped the future off like a bandage.
Tally noticed and rolled her eyes again, loud enough to be heard. "Of course."
Kenzie didn't respond. But inside, something tightened.
Because Tally always did this—made kindness feel embarrassing. Made softness feel like weakness. Made other people feel stupid for needing anything.
Kenzie had spent years swallowing it.
Now she couldn't afford to.
Not with Barbie depending on her. Not with survival on the line.
Justin gathered what they had left from the store: bottled water, jerky, crackers, peanut butter, protein bars, whatever they could carry without clanking and making noise. He stacked it near the back door in careful piles like he could control the chaos by organizing it.
Ethan found gas cans in a back storage cabinet—two red plastic ones and a couple of random containers that used to hold cleaning supplies.
"We're taking every container," Ethan said.
Tally frowned immediately. "Where is all that going to go? We already have too many people."
Mari's head snapped up. "You're the reason we have extra people."
Tally's eyes flashed. "I saved them."
"You endangered us," Mari shot back. "Again."
Tally stepped forward, ready to fight.
Justin didn't let it happen. "Stop," he said, voice hard. "We're not doing this right now."
Tally's mouth tightened. "You always tell me to stop."
Justin leaned toward her. "Because you don't know when to."
That landed.
Tally looked like she wanted to cry and scream at the same time, so she chose the one that made her feel powerful—anger.
"How are we even fitting this stuff?" she demanded, louder than she should. "Are you planning to stack it on our heads?"
Justin took a slow breath. "Cargo carrier," he said. "Top. I still have it."
Mari blinked. "You do?"
Justin nodded. "From when we came down from Penn. It's folded in the back. And I've got the storage box in the trunk."
Tally scoffed. "Why do you even have all that?"
Justin didn't look at her. "Because I plan ahead."
Mari's expression shifted—soft, brief—like she remembered the version of this conversation where planning ahead meant road trips and snacks and music and not… this.
Ethan nodded like it proved something. "Good. We'll load quiet. Back door only."
Justin's mouth tightened. "My Jeep is already backed up to the door."
"You did that on purpose," Ethan said, impressed.
Justin didn't accept the compliment. He didn't want it. He'd done it because he'd learned quickly that convenience could be the difference between life and death.
They moved to the back door like a group stepping up to an execution.
Everyone checked themselves without speaking—shoes tied, packs tightened, hands empty so they could grab supplies fast. People looked at their phones one last time like maybe the world would change if they stared hard enough.
No signal.
No messages.
Just dead screens reflecting scared faces.
Justin put his hand on the back door handle, breathing shallow. He listened.
Outside: moans. Far. A few close. Something scraped metal down the alley and he froze until it passed.
He looked at Ethan. Ethan gave a tight nod like: now.
Justin eased the door open a crack.
The smell hit first.
Smoke. Rot. Gasoline. Something coppery and wrong.
Morning light spilled into the back room. The alley was empty for now, but that didn't mean safe.
They moved.
Quiet. Fast. Efficient.
They carried supplies out and into the Jeep through the narrow space where Justin had backed it up—so close the bumper was almost kissing the threshold.
It should have been easy.
It wasn't.
The cargo carrier made noise.
Metal against metal. The kind of sound that traveled.
When they unlatched it, the clink made everyone freeze instantly.
Every head turned.
Every breath stopped.
Outside, a moan rose somewhere around the corner.
Justin's heart slammed against his ribs.
"Back," he hissed.
They retreated inside and shut the door softly, holding the supplies they'd already brought like stolen goods.
They stood there in silence for a long beat until the moan drifted away.
Lila's breathing started to shake.
"I—I don't want to go back out there," she whispered. Her eyes were huge. "I can't—"
Tally rolled her eyes, as if terror was inconvenient. "Oh my God."
Mari snapped, "Tally, shut up."
Lila's eyes filled. She pressed her palms to her face. "I'm sorry—"
Kenzie stepped forward unexpectedly.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… steady.
"You're okay," Kenzie said quietly. She shifted Barbie's pack so Lila could see the dog's face. Barbie's eyes were wide but calm. "Look at Barbie. She's scared too."
Lila let out a tiny broken laugh through her tears. "Hi, Barbie."
Barbie blinked slowly like she accepted the greeting.
Kenzie's voice stayed gentle. "We do it in pieces. In and out. Quiet. If you freeze, it's okay. Just follow someone. Don't run unless we say run."
Lila swallowed hard and nodded. "I'm nineteen," she said suddenly, like it mattered. Like she needed them to know she wasn't a child even though she felt like one.
Kenzie nodded. "Okay. I'm eighteen."
They held eye contact.
Tally scoffed again, under her breath. "Of course you're both—"
Justin cut her off without looking. "Tally. One more comment and you're staying in here alone."
That finally shut her up.
They went back out again.
They attached the cargo carrier slower, padding it with a towel to soften the clinks. They moved supplies into it like they were packing a life that had shrunk down to food and water and duct tape.
Every time something scraped, their bodies tensed like someone had pointed a gun at them.
Twice, a moan drifted closer and they froze mid-step, hands gripping cans and bags.
The second time, Lila's eyes went wild and she started to back up fast—panic blooming.
Kenzie caught her wrist, not hard but firm enough to anchor. She shook her head once: stay.
Lila swallowed and stayed.
Justin noticed.
He filed it away.
Kenzie wasn't just surviving.
She was becoming useful.
And Tally… was becoming dangerous.