Zombie survivor

[91] R al C n dian S perstore

The streets of East Kelowna stretched out before them like a desolate wasteland. Broken windows gaped open like hollow eyes, burned-out cars littered the roads, and faded graffiti covered the walls of once-thriving businesses. The town was quiet, but not the peaceful kind of quiet—it was the kind that made your skin crawl, as though the ruins themselves were holding their breath.

Jean led his group cautiously, his flashlight cutting through the shadows. Akira stayed close to his side, her twin knives glinting faintly in the dim light. Chloe walked slightly behind, her shotgun resting on her shoulder, while Evan and Blake brought up the rear, their flashlights bobbing with every step.

Ahead of them loomed a Real Canadian Superstore, its towering sign missing a few letters, leaving only "R al C n dian S perstore." The massive parking lot was eerily empty, save for a few abandoned shopping carts that had tipped over, their wheels squeaking faintly in the breeze.

"Looks promising," Jean said, gesturing toward the store. "Let's check it out."

"Yo, this place gives me horror movie vibes," Evan muttered, gripping his pistol tightly.

"Everything gives you horror movie vibes," Chloe said with a roll of her eyes. "Come on, let's get this over with."

The glass doors were shattered, shards crunching under their boots as they stepped inside. The air was stale, thick with the smell of mildew and decay. Shelves were overturned, their contents scattered across the floor. The flashlight beams danced over empty cans, torn packaging, and faded signs advertising long-expired sales.

Jean raised his hand, signaling for the group to spread out. "Stay close, but start looking. We need food, tools—anything useful."

They moved cautiously through the aisles, their flashlights illuminating the wreckage. Akira stayed near Jean, scanning the shadows with sharp eyes. Chloe wandered off slightly, her boots clicking against the tiles as she casually checked the shelves. Evan and Blake followed her like loyal puppies, their flashlights fixed on her every move.

"Jackpot," Chloe said, crouching down to pick up a dusty box of canned goods. "It's not medical supplies, but it's something."

Evan was at her side in an instant. "Here, let me carry that for you."

Chloe raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing at her lips. "Wow, such a gentleman."

"Of course," Evan said quickly, his cheeks flushing. "Anything you need."

Blake stepped forward, adjusting his glasses. "Actually, I'd be happy to carry it for you, Chloe. It's only fair that I help."

"Oh my God," Chloe muttered, rolling her eyes. "Seriously?"

"It's just common courtesy," Blake said earnestly. "No woman should have to carry heavy burdens when there's a capable man around to assist."

Evan glared at him. "Dude, she already asked me to carry it."

"Actually, she didn't ask you," Blake retorted, his tone annoyingly precise. "You just assumed."

"I'm trying to be helpful!" Evan snapped, his voice rising slightly. "You don't have to make everything a fucking lecture."

Jean, who had been quietly shoving a few cans into his backpack, sighed heavily. "Guys, can we not do this right now?"

"Seconded," Akira muttered, her expression cringing as she watched the argument unfold.

Chloe, meanwhile, was standing between the two boys, her arms crossed and a faux-annoyed look on her face. "You two are ridiculous. Fine. Evan can carry this one, and Blake can carry the next loot we find. Happy?"

Blake straightened up, his expression brightening as though he'd just been knighted by the Queen. "More than happy," he said, nodding. "It's an honor to assist."

Evan muttered something under his breath but reluctantly took the cans from Chloe, stuffing them into his pack. Chloe smirked to herself, clearly enjoying the attention despite her outward exasperation.

"Y'all are cringier than my mom's old Facebook posts," Jean muttered, his voice low but carrying across the eerily silent store. Chloe shot him a glare, but he wasn't wrong. Akira stifled a small giggle, while Evan and Blake avoided looking at each other, their awkward tension palpable.

Just as the group was getting ready to move on, the sound of something scraping against the floor froze them in place. It was faint—a soft metallic clink, like a can rolling across the tiles.

Jean's head snapped toward the sound, his heart racing. "Did anyone else hear that?"

Akira gripped her knives tighter, her eyes scanning the darkness. "Yeah. Over there."

The group huddled closer together, their flashlights darting toward the source of the noise. The beam of light caught a single can, spinning lazily before coming to a stop against a broken shelf. The tension in the air was palpable, every breath feeling like a betrayal of their position.

"Okay, that's not creepy at all," Chloe whispered, raising her shotgun.

"Could be the wind," Evan said nervously, though his grip on his pistol tightened.

"There's no wind in here, dumbass," Blake said, pulling out his own gun and holding it steady. "Stay focused."

Another sound echoed through the store—a faint rustle, like something moving just out of sight. This time, it wasn't subtle. Whatever it was, it wasn't small.

"Alright, what the fuck was that?" Chloe hissed, her voice low and tense.

"Jean," Akira said softly, stepping closer to him. "What do we do?"

Jean swallowed hard, his mind racing. "Stay calm. Everyone spread out, but stay within sight of each other. And for God's sake, don't shoot unless you're sure of your target."

The group moved carefully, their weapons raised, the beams of their flashlights slicing through the oppressive darkness. Every step echoed unnervingly, the sound amplified in the cavernous, empty store.

"Whatever it is," Chloe said, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes, "I'm not dying in a fucking grocery store."

"Same," Jean muttered, gripping his pistol tightly. "Stay sharp."

They advanced slowly, the silence stretching out like a rubber band about to snap. The noise had stopped, but the tension remained, coiling around them like a vice.

Something—or someone—was out there. And they were about to find out what.

Q: What do you think it was?