An Unexpected Discover

19

"Last time I was out, I closed all the fire doors below the 9th floor." 

"I remember," he led me toward the gate of the complex. When it came to avoiding zombies, Chris seemed quite experienced. 

"But if there are other survivors in this building, this tactic might expose us instead." 

"So when I closed the doors, I wedged some paper in them. If we are discovered, we at least need to identify who they are." 

"He must have opened the fire door for some reason, causing the paper to fall to the ground." 

"Then he closed the door again, meaning he didn't want to be found by us." 

"It's normal for there to be other survivors," Chris looked up at the dense buildings in the complex, "If he's survived this long, he must be resourceful." 

"If he's been observing, he might have already noticed us," I said, a bit worried.

I hadn't closed the fire doors above the 10th floor, creating a clear demarcation line. 

"Got it," he nodded, "I'll keep an eye out."

I stared at his profile for a long time.

Having seen him take down zombies with swift, decisive actions, I initially thought he'd be ruthless.

However, he didn't seem hostile towards this newly discovered survivor.

But then again, he'd always had this calm demeanor since our first meeting.

Lost in thought, we reached the gate.

The barrier arm was broken, and the security booth's door was wide open, the inside a mess.

The riot shields and steel forks were gone, likely scavenged by others.

Stepping out of the gate, this was the first time in over a month that I saw the outside world.

The road was eerily empty.

There weren't many zombies, suggesting they hadn't spread beyond the complex. Standing on the city's streets again felt surreal.

Chris walked ahead.

He was tall, his hair slightly curly from neglect. With each step, the hem of his long coat fluttered.

His backpack seemed modified, with two leather straps on the sides where his fire axe was secured.

I turned to look at the shop windows along the street.

The reflection showed someone with a spiky haircut like Anne's,

but with no blood on the face.

No piles of bodies by the roadside.

No zombies that couldn't be shaken off following me.

The scene was far better than in my dreams.

This thought lifted my spirits.

We soon arrived at the convenience store.

A quick glance revealed the shelves had been stripped bare.

Chris had visited twice before, and based on the inventory checks, no one else had discovered this place then.

If it were me, I would've moved heaven and earth to haul all the supplies back home.

But he seemed to have other plans.

Seeing him standing still by the checkout counter, I joined him.

On the counter was a question mark drawn in marker.

"Did another survivor draw this?" I asked, surprised. 

"No," he admitted readily, "I did." 

"Why did you draw this?"

I wanted to knock some sense into his head, "Aren't you afraid of exposing yourself?" 

"Not really. The reduced inventory would've already exposed me. Drawing or not drawing doesn't make much difference."

He put the marker back in his pocket, "I just wanted to see their reaction." 

"No matter what the response is, it provides some information."

No response is also a response.

The question mark lay alone on the counter, while the store had been emptied.

Whoever had taken the supplies ignored Chris's gesture of goodwill.

So, he came to the convenience store just to confirm this?

I suddenly thought, was his visit to my place also to see our reaction?

What was the point of that reaction? 

"It was likely taken by the same group," he mused. 

"If someone left some supplies behind, they would've responded. So, there's no scenario where different groups of survivors split the food without leaving a mark." 

"You left food for them, and they took it all," I said, both heartbroken over the supplies and subtly trying to sow discord. 

He smiled, "I'm not as generous as you think."

Chris continued deeper into the store.

Ahead was the small storage room of the convenience store.

The lock was broken, and he pushed the door open to check inside. I followed.

It was empty, just a few shelves and an office desk.

As we were about to leave, Chris suddenly grabbed my arm.

Before I could react, his other hand quickly covered my mouth. 

"Shh," his hand was cold, "Someone's coming."

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