Aubrey smashed the window with the butt of her rifle.
Glass spiderwebbed, then collapsed inward with a soft, dangerous clatter. She reached through immediately, fingers brushing the inside lock, and with a muted click the doors came loose.
Every gun came up at once.
No one spoke.
We slipped inside like a held breath.
The air smelled wrong— stale fabric, dust, old mildew. Mannequins loomed in the dark, half-lit shapes frozen mid-pose, like people who'd stopped running and never finished dying.
"Alright," I said quietly.
My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
"Aubrey. Hale. Left side of the store. Check for infected."
Hale's eyes lifted to mine. He nodded once, already moving, a suppressed pistol resting easy in his grip.
Aubrey folded her arms for half a second, unimpressed— but she went anyway.
"Lila and I will take the right."
Lila's head snapped toward me.
Her face lit up.
