Chapter 25 – The Gunman and the Doctor

In a store like Walmart, you could bet there were indoor fire hydrants, and they weren't hard to find.

On the second floor, Jason had already hauled a hose from one of the hydrants, and Christine ran to crank open the valve. Jason and Bowen gripped the high-pressure nozzle and aimed out the window. Flames outside died one by one under the force of the water, and the blast of the stream even knocked several zombies flat.

Liam and the others soon returned to the second floor. Robby collapsed near a shelf, head tilted back, disoriented and spent. Liam stepped up to the window to double-check that all fires were out, then gave Jason's shoulder a pat.

"You did good."

Jason, though wiry, was tough. Street dancers didn't slack on physical fitness, and among the group he was the most physically active. Always moving, always carrying.

"No problem, Liam…" Jason dropped the hose, panting, and flashed a grin, his dark face lighting up with bright white teeth. But then he paused, brow furrowed. "Hey Liam, can I ask you something?"

Liam, hands on his hips and still catching his breath, glanced at Robby slumped nearby before turning back. "What is it?"

"Why'd we put the fires out? Wouldn't it be better to just let them burn? Kill more of them that way, right?"

Liam gave him a look like he'd just asked if water was wet. "Because we'd burn with them. The outer walls of this Walmart are mostly glass. Fire stays long enough, those windows will explode, zombies rush in, whole place catches. We'd either be eaten or roasted alive. Take your pick."

Jason blinked, then nodded and tapped his forehead. "Got it. Yeah, okay. That makes sense. I was just—just didn't think it through."

Laura, standing behind Mike, let out a quiet laugh. Jason rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Laura…"

Mike smirked, then nudged the window closed with his foot. He bent down, gathered a few loose rifles and some ammo belts, and gestured for Laura to follow as he headed deeper into the store. One by one, the others trickled away, windows sealed behind them. Soon it was just Liam standing at the glass, and Robby still sitting on the floor a short distance away.

Robby eventually pulled himself up, limping toward Liam with one leg dragging.

"Doc…"

"You were reckless," Liam said, not turning. Calm voice, calm eyes.

"I know… I lost it," Robby admitted. He paused, then added quietly, "I'm sorry."

Liam looked at him for a long time, then let a slight smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "Apology accepted."

Robby could've gotten himself killed. He'd acted purely on emotion. But he was good at what he did, and more importantly, he owned his mistakes. That counted for something.

"Are you injured? Bitten? Scratched?" Liam asked, scanning Robby's bloody form.

"No bites or claws," Robby said, peeling off his jacket. His white tank was soaked red. "A lot of scrapes though. I think some got zombie blood in them. Who knows. I might turn. Also, I smashed my leg—could be bone damage."

Liam squinted. Robby's wounds didn't look deep, but there were a lot. Light cuts on the arms, nothing massive. Most likely, he was fine. Survivors had built up some level of resistance. Minor exposure wasn't a death sentence. But still, it was a risk.

"This why you came back?" Liam asked. He hadn't understood it before. Why Robby returned. The street outside was suicide. If Robby had made it out of the city, alone, he'd have stood a better chance than most. So why?

Robby nodded. "You're a doctor. You've saved me before. Figured maybe you'd do it again. If not—well, God's missed a lot of chances to kill me already. I'm betting He'll miss this one too."

He clapped Liam on the shoulder. "I trust you, Doc."

"Let's patch you up."

Liam helped Robby limp to the southwest corner of the third floor where the store kept its medical supplies. Most of it was household-grade, nothing hospital-level. Prescription meds were scarce.

Liam examined Robby's injuries carefully. Thirteen scrapes, none life-threatening. The worst was on his back. The leg was swollen, but without proper tools, Liam couldn't say if the bone was fractured.

"Lots of wounds. But most are shallow and your clothes probably blocked the worst of the blood exposure. I'd say your risk of infection is low. What concerns me is your leg—you'll need to rest it for at least a week."

He cleaned the injuries with disinfectant. Robby leaned against the wall, completely naked, a little embarrassed. Liam didn't blink. After years in medicine, he'd probably seen more naked men than women.

Half an hour later—

Back on the second floor, center of the store, shelves had been pushed aside to make space. Robby sat on a chair, bound tight. His choice. Not Liam's. Robby insisted on being restrained until enough time passed to be sure he wouldn't turn. Liam had offered to simply assign someone to watch him. Robby refused.

Night fell. The once-bright city dimmed into silence.

Inside the store, all main lights were off. Unlike homes, a place like Walmart lit up like a beacon. Any light would scream "fresh meat" to anything in the dark. Liam had forbidden flashlights—beams could slip past curtains, and zombies followed light like moths. Everyone used small desk lamps, tucked low.

"Yo, man, why so quiet?" Jason circled Robby on his bike, again and again. He'd been bugging him for a while now. Robby had his eyes closed, jaw tight.

"What'd you do before all this, huh? Heard you're a sharpshooter…"

"You're tough as hell, man. Charging through that horde? Respect."

"Hey, yo, seriously—"

Jason could be annoying as hell when he was bored. A human mosquito. Robby was seriously regretting asking to be tied up.

"Stop pestering him, Jason. If I untie him now, he'll probably shoot you," Liam's voice came through Jason's walkie-talkie.

Jason glanced up. Liam and Manila were approaching.

"Congrats, Robby. Time's up," Liam said, checking his watch. He knelt and started untying the ropes.

Robby opened his eyes, then smiled faintly.

"You should leave," Manila said to Jason with a teasing smile, fingers on her lips. Robby played along, turning to glare at Jason like he meant it.

"Right, yeah, I'll just—uh, catch y'all later," Jason stammered and pedaled off like a man fleeing death.

Once unbound, Robby stood, tested his arm, then leaned on a cane Liam handed him. Liam shrugged. "Jason's harmless. Just… too much energy."

"I get it."

Later, around ten at night, they brought down mattresses from the third floor, laying them in the cleared space. There were staff rooms, but too small. Staying together at night was safer. If something happened, they needed to respond fast.

They'd also set up makeshift alarm systems—bells, wind chimes, anything that made noise. Strung them between shelves, circling their sleeping area. No zombie was sneaking up on them quietly.

The night passed without incident.

Morning came. Sunlight crept over the ruined city. It was quiet, but not peaceful—nothing was with so many undead roaming.

Before people split off, Liam called everyone over. They gathered in a loose circle.

"Time to formally welcome our new friend. Robby." Liam nodded toward him.

Jason clapped twice. No one joined. He awkwardly lowered his hands.

"Introduce yourself. Properly. We all did," Liam said. "They know I was an underground doctor. Don't hold back."

Robby nodded slowly. He looked around, seemed unsure how to speak to a crowd like this. Then he cleared his throat.

"I'm Robby. Twenty-eight. Born in rural Jersey. Never went to college. Enlisted at eighteen. Deployed to Afghanistan. Got wounded. Got a Silver Star and a Purple Heart. Came back when we pulled out in 2021. Killed twenty-three enemy combatants in total. After the war, I had PTSD. Couldn't deal. Moved to New York in '22, joined a gang. Became a gunman. I stayed with the gang till the outbreak. That's how I met the doc."

He looked down, then back up. "That's it."

"He's an excellent shot," Liam added. "Best I've seen."