The manager's office was cramped, hot, and smelled of stale beer. Dr. Jess Harding sat on a cot, her ankle zip-tied to the metal cot leg, just long enough for her to stand, but not to walk. Shane, Frank's oldest son, leaned against the doorframe, trying to look charming.
"C'mon, Jess," he said, holding a bottle of lukewarm water. "Don't be like that. You're... you're a brilliant woman. Smart. Beautiful." He took a step in. "It's a shame to keep you locked in here. I... I don't want you tied down. But you gotta understand, my dad... my family... we need you. You're our doctor."
Jess looked up from the floor, her brown eyes blazing with cold fury behind her glasses. "I am a veterinarian. I've been trapped here for six days. And I am your prisoner. I want to leave. I don't see how you plan to survive here for more than another two weeks, and I want to get to a farm I know, where there's a real chance. This... this is a tomb."
Before Shane could retort, the restaurant's back door slammed open. Kyle, his younger brother, stumbled in, panting, his face pale but his eyes gleaming. "Dad! Dad! Raiders!"
Frank, the 50-year-old patriarch, and his brother-in-law David, ran in from the main dining room, Frank holding a 9mm pistol. "What?! Where?"
"The Target! Across the lot!" Kyle gasped, pointing. "I saw 'em! Five of 'em! They're armed, they got guns and weapons! They... they lured all the biters away from the store. Now their 'team' is inside, stealing everything!"
Frank's face darkened. "Stealing our supplies..."
"Are... are you sure, Kyle?" David, a nervous, thin man, wrung his hands. "Are you sure they're raiders?"
"Yes!" Kyle insisted, his voice cracking with feigned panic. "I'm sure! They looked... professional. Dangerous. Giving off real bad vibes! They're gonna strip that place, and then they'll come here!"
This was all the paranoid, desperate Frank needed to hear. "No. We hit them first. While they're inside, split up." He checked his pistol. "Shane, David, Kyle... grab the pipes. And the ropes. In case we can capture 'em alive."
"The wives stay here," Frank commanded. "Guard the doc. We move. Now."
Inside the Target, the four were moving with quiet efficiency. It didn't take long.
"Okay," Alice said, her voice echoing in the vast, empty store. "Jenna, you and Mina got the... things?"
"And clothes," Jenna confirmed, holding up a backpack. "The clothing department is pretty lacking, but it'll be enough."
"Good," Mark said, his tire iron resting on his shoulder. "I've got batteries and some tools. Let's gather by the registers, wait for Alex."
They clustered in the wide, open area by the main entrance, their four backpacks in a small pile. Mina was nervously peering out the glass doors. "Where is he...?"
"DON'T. MOVE."
The voice was a harsh growl from behind them. Frank had stepped out from behind a pillar, his arm wrapped around Mina's throat, the cold metal of his pistol pressed hard against her temple.
Alice, Jenna, and Mark froze. Mina let out a terrified, strangled squeak, her hands flying up to grab Frank's arm.
"Hey! Hey, man, take it easy!" Mark said, his hands raised, trying to defuse the situation. "We don't want any trouble! We're just..."
"Shut up!" Shane yelled, bursting from the end of an aisle. He swung his baseball bat in a low, brutal arc, slamming it into the back of Mark's knees. Mark yelled and collapsed, and Shane was on him, kicking the tire iron away and yanking his arms behind his back. "Just shut up!"
At the same time, Kyle and David rushed the girls. "Kneel! Hands behind your back!" Kyle ordered. Jenna, terrified, immediately dropped. Alice, trying to move, winced on her bad ankle and was shoved down.
Kyle, grinning, went to Alice, pulling her hands back with the rough rope. As he did, he "accidentally" let his hands slide over her ribs, his fingers brushing the side of her breast. Alice let out a full-body shiver of pure, cold disgust and glared at him. That glint of fire in her eyes only fueled his intentions.
In less than a minute, all four were on their knees, hands tied. Frank pushed a sobbing Mina down next to them and tied her as well.
"Who are you?!" Frank demanded, pacing in front of them. "Who's your leader? The guy outside? Where's he gone?"
"He's just our friend!" Mark gasped, his ribs aching. "We're not raiders! We just... we just needed some necessities for the girls, and then we were leaving! We don't want your 'territory'!"
"Liar!" Shane snarled, kicking Mark's pack. "You're a scouting party! You're too well-equipped!"
Alex circled back, his job done. The horde was a hundred yards away, happily tearing at the t-shirt. He slipped back toward the Target entrance, his movements silent. He peered through the glass. And his blood ran cold.
He saw his entire team, his responsibility, on their knees, tied. He saw the four men standing over them. And then he saw him. The youngest one (Kyle), grinning, "checking" Alice's ropes, his hands lingering on her shoulder, sliding down her arm.
A cold, white-hot, primal rage. A feeling that tightened his stomach, a sudden, unfamiliar desire to not just neutralize, but to kill.
He repressed it. Cold. Logic. Four men. One pistol. He needed an advantage. He slipped away from the front entrance, moving along the outside of the store to the dark, glassed-in Garden Center. He saw David, the nervous one, had been posted as a "lookout" at this entrance. He was staring out, away from Alex, watching the parking lot.
Alex moved inside, behind a wall of dead potted plants. He needed their attention. He saw Alice, her head bowed. He tapped lightly on the glass. Tap... tap... tap.
Alice's head snapped up. She heard it. Not a zombie. Her eyes scanned the dark, cluttered Garden Center. She saw him. A shadow in the shadows. Alex.
He raised one finger to his mouth. Shhhh.
He was already moving. David, the lookout, was so focused on the lot, he never heard him. Alex stepped up behind him. His left arm snaked around, hand clamping hard over David's mouth. His right arm locked around his neck. He applied the pressure. David struggled, his feet kicking, but he was weak, panicked. Alex just held it, his face a mask, until the man went completely limp. He eased the unconscious body to the floor.
One.
Alice, catching Alex's signal, understood. She needed to draw their attention, to be the "problem." She started to wriggle, her hands bound behind her, making noises of discomfort.
"H-hey, my... my ankle," she winced, "this is really..."
The youngest, Kyle, who had been staring at her, saw his chance. Thanking this god-given opportunity, he moved, putting his hands on her shoulders to hold her down. "Hey, just... just stay still," he said, his voice greasy. His hands weren't still. They slid from her shoulders, down her sides, his fingers "accidentally" brushing over her, feeling her in shameful, obvious places.
"Just what do you think you're doing?!" Mina, tied up nearby, raged, her fear forgotten and replaced by pure, protective fury.
Kyle, emboldened, just laughed. "I wouldn't have to reluctantly hold her down if she wouldn't move around so much!"
This earned him a disgusted look from Mark, Jenna, and even his own father.
But the diversion was a success. All eyes were on the sisters. No one was watching the shadows.
Alex moved. He was a silent blur, crossing the open space behind Frank. He targeted the pistol. In one fluid motion, his hand chopped down, smashing into Frank's wrist. The pistol clattered to the tile. As Frank grunted in pained surprise, Alex's other fist, moving in a clean, tight arc, connected with an uppercut to the chin. Frank's head snapped back, his eyes rolled, and he crumpled to the floor, out cold.
"Dad!" Shane yelled, his head snapping around. He reacted with pure brawn, letting go of Mark and launching himself in a wild tackle at Alex.
Alex didn't fight the tackle; he used it. He sidestepped, grabbing Shane's arm, and used the man's own momentum to spin him, tripping him over his own feet. Shane crashed to the floor, and before he could even get up, Alex was on him, his knee pinning the man's arm, the point of his knife pressing against his throat. "Don't. Move." Shane froze.
But Kyle was resourceful. In the chaos, he dove, not for Alex, but for the gun.
He scrambled, got his hands on the pistol, and rolled. He came up to his knees, his face split in a grin of pure, triumphant malice, and aimed it straight at Alex. "Not so tough now, are you?!" he shrieked. "You're done!"
He thought he had won. He was just about to pull the trigger.
"ALEX!" Alice screamed.
Alex was already moving. He shoved off Shane, ducking forward, under the aim. A BANG exploded in the enclosed space, deafening. Fire lanced across Alex's right shoulder as the bullet grazed him, drawing blood.
He was undeterred. He was inside Kyle's range. He kneed him, hard, in the solar plexus. Kyle folded with a sound like a punctured lung. Alex ripped the pistol from his gasping hand, tossed it away, and, with a zip-tie from his own belt, bound the man's hands with brutal efficiency.
He moved to the other three, zip-tieing the still-dazed Shane, the unconscious Frank, and the KO'd David from the Garden Center, dragging them all into one pathetic, groaning pile.
Only then did he go to his friends, his knife cutting their ropes. "Go, get the bags. We're leaving."
Alice didn't go for the bags. The moment her hands were free, she rushed him, hugging him tight. "You're... you're bleeding!"
She pulled back, her hands hovering over his shoulder, which was now soaked.
"It's a surface wound," Alex said, his voice flat, but he winced. "I lured the zombies far enough. They won't trouble us. Get the bags."
As the men started to come to their senses, finding themselves in the other end of the situation, Alex stood over them. "Talk."
Frank, his jaw aching, his eyes wide with fear, told them everything. How they were on a family vacation from Ohio, got stuck. How they reinforced the Applebee's, just trying to survive, waiting for the rescue teams. He conveniently, desperately, left out any mention of Jess.
Alex, now calmer, listened. He understood. They were scared. But he kept looking at Kyle, who was glaring at him with pure, undiluted hatred. He knew, without a doubt, that this little shit had initiated the whole thing.
He'd heard enough. It wasn't worth his time. He was about to turn to his group and say, "Let's leave," when he heard it.
Faint. Muffled. From the direction of the Applebee's.
"HELP! Is anyone out there?! LET ME OUT!"
The air around Alex dropped ten degrees. The "surface wound" and the "understanding" were gone. He turned, his face a cold, dangerous mask, and looked down at the four tied-up men.
"You," he said, his voice a low growl, "seem to have forgotten to mention... a third woman."
Frank's face fell, the pathetic, tough-guy mask evaporating into pure, desperate fear. "Wait! No! It's... it's not what it looks like!" he stammered, his eyes wide. "She just... she misunderstands our good will! She's a doctor!"
Alex's cold, dead-eyed stare didn't change.
"She was here, shopping, just like you!" Frank babbled, scrambling to explain. "When this all happened... we... we got together. She saved my wife! My wife had a panic attack, and she... she medicated her! She's... she's valuable!"
"She was adamant on leaving," Frank continued, "just... leaving! Despite us being safe here, having enough food and water... we... we couldn't just let her go. You... you understand, right? You can't just... let a doctor walk out into... that."
"Uhuh," Alex reacted, his voice flat. He'd heard enough. "I'll check it out myself."
He turned to his group, who were all standing, shaken but safe. "Mark. Jenna. Alice. Watch them." He gestured with his pistol. "If any of them moves... even an inch... smack 'em with the pipes. I'll be right back."
"Alex, wait!" Mina called out, jogging to catch up as he strode toward the Applebee's.
"Go back to the others, Mina."
"No, I... I swear that voice sounded familiar to me!"
Alex stopped, gave her an exasperated look. He didn't believe her for a second; she was just terrified and thought he was the safest place to be. He sighed. "Fine. Stay right behind me. And be silent."
He kicked open the kitchen service door, his pistol up, sweeping the room. The main dining area was dark, but he saw them. Two middle-aged women—the wives—were nervously packing bags. And in the middle of the room, tied to a sturdy wooden chair, was a woman. Brown hair, brown eyes, round glasses. She looked exhausted, her clothes rumpled from six days of captivity, but despite the wear, she was... really pretty.
The two wives froze, hands up, terrified by the cold-faced man, covered in drying blood and holding a pistol.
"Help me!" the woman in the chair yelled, seeing her chance. "They're keeping me hostage! Please, help me!"
"You... you ungrateful bitch!" one of the wives spat. "We saved you!"
"Shut up!" Alex barked. The room went silent. He walked past the wives, ignoring them, and stood in front of the captive. "Who are you?"
"My name is Dr. Jess Harding," she said, her voice shaking but firm. "I'm a veterinarian. I was on a mobile run when this started, and these... these animals locked me in here..."
"I KNEW IT!"
Mina, who had been hiding behind Alex, suddenly burst forward, her eyes wide with recognition and awe.
"Dr. Harding! I knew it was you!" she squealed. "I saw you on that TV documentary! The one about the Cornell Vet Program! You're the one with the stellar uni record! You're... you're famous!"
Mina spun to Alex, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Alex! She's famous! And she's a doctor! We need her! Think of the farm! The animals! Think of Alice's ankle! Your shoulder! She can fix us!"
Alex just stared at Jess, who stared back, utterly baffled by this sudden, hyperactive fan. But his mind was already working.
Mina's not wrong. She's a vet. The farm has cows, chickens, goats. They will get sick. I need a vet.
A vet knows anatomy. Knows antibiotics, sutures. She can treat us. Look at my shoulder.
The farm can host six. Easily.
The car... the car is five-personal. But... she can fit. Squeeze in the back. It'll be cramped. But it's doable. Her value is too high.
He made the decision. It was pragmatic.
He was silent for a few seconds, his face unreadable. Then he turned to Mina. He pulled the Raptor's keys from his pocket and tossed them to her. She fumbled, but caught them.
"Mina. Go back to the Target. Get the others. Get the bags. Get everything to the car. Now."
Mina, reluctant to leave, her eyes still sparkling, wanted to say something. "But... are we...?"
"Now!" Alex commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it had a razor's edge that made her flinch. "Go."
She nodded and ran, mission-focused.
Alex turned to the two wives, who were trembling. "Your family... your husbands... they're tied up in the middle of the Target. Go get them."
They stared, shocked. "You're... you're letting us go?"
"I don't have time for you. Get out."
The two women scrambled, falling over each other to get out the door.
The room was suddenly, blessedly silent.
Just Alex, and the tied-up Dr. Jess Harding.
Alex walked over to a nearby table, pulled a chair, and dragged it across the floor. The sound was loud in the empty restaurant. He sat down, facing her, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. The pistol was still in his hand, but it was pointing at the floor.
"Okay, Dr. Harding," he said, his voice low. "You and I... we're going to have a little talk."