Hanish stood in the middle of the store, surrounded by dead bodies. He huffed and wiped the blood and tears from his face. He wondered where Janice had gone. He made his way around the store, shouting for her, but received no response. He figured she had probably run out of the store.

  He saw his truck still where he had left it days ago. He was sore from his shoulders to his feet. His head was pounding, and he found the bathroom and splashed water on his face, looking at himself in the mirror. He was fading; his hair was greasy and graying. He started bawling and screaming at himself. He dropped to his knees and curled into the fetal position. He wondered if he was still a good person.

  “Of course you are,” he heard from the voice in his head. He knew that he was just doing what he needed to do to survive. He then thought about Janice. He wondered if she was okay. He picked himself up and dusted himself off. He staggered out of the bathroom, walking to the aisle with backpacks. Hanish glanced down the aisle and ran his hand over the different kinds of backpacks, pulling two down.

  Breathing heavily, Hanish unzipped the first bag and shoved the food they had collected into it. He grabbed three water bottles and looked over to grab some of Janice’s stuff, but he noticed she didn’t have anything. She had come to him with nothing. He felt bad for her, realizing he had to go after her. He needed her company after all. He grabbed two first aid kits and threw them into the other backpack. He slung it over his shoulder.

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  He grabbed the gun and a gun holster. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled. “You got this.” He walked out, past the broken doors, and down through the parking lot to his truck. He went to turn it on, but it stalled. “Fuck,” he screamed, slamming his hands on the wheel. He hit the wheel multiple times and screamed. He looked at the road before him. She couldn’t have gotten too far. He knew she was a strong person, so she had to be somewhere close by.

  He got out of the car and decided he would just have to walk. He took a deep breath and looked both north and south of the road. The undead littered the parking lot and some bodies on the road. He knew he would have to work fast. It was just trying to figure out which road to take. He looked ahead, noticing a craft store and a jewelry store in the distance. He looked behind him, and there was an abandoned Mexican restaurant and a dress store. Which way would she have gone? he thought to himself. He thought about Aleaha.

  “If I lived in a craft store, I would be the happiest,” Aleaha spoke in a memory he had. She was drinking an iced tea while she made trinkets out of broken bottle tops and felt fabrics.

  He chuckled, looking to the north of the road. “I guess I’ll check there first.” He picked himself up and headed towards the craft store.

  The road was longer than he thought. He walked for what felt like an hour, but he wasn’t anywhere close to the buildings. He felt them moving away from him. He noticed his body was starting to cramp, and the sun glared down. Working on the farm, he was used to the heat, but he realized he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in quite some time.