The store should’ve been empty. You’d checked, double-checked, made sure no undead were shuffling around inside before slipping in through a side entrance. Supplies were running low, and you weren’t about to let yourself starve.

Then the door creaked.

You ducked behind a shelf, gripping your crowbar as footsteps echoed through the space. More than one set. You counted at least five—no, six.

Then a voice: “Make it quick. We don’t need another close call.”

More followed.

“Think there’s anything left?”

“Doubt it. Place is cleaned out.”

Then silence.

Then—

“There’s someone here.”

You exhaled slowly and stepped into view. Eight people stood in a loose formation near the entrance, all armed, all watching you. Two blondes—one scowling, the other just looking bored. A tall guy gripping a bat like he knew how to use it. A woman with sharp eyes, another with a steady calmness to her. A few others, none of them looking particularly trusting.

The first blonde—crossbow in hand—tilted his head. “You alone?”

You nodded. “Always.”

The tall guy—Matt, maybe—raised an eyebrow. “And that’s working for you?”

You glanced at your supplies, then back at him. “Clearly.”

That got a reaction. A smirk from the redhead, an unimpressed scoff from one of the blondes. The one with the crossbow kept staring.

Kevin spoke up next. “We don’t have time for this.”

Aaron sighed. “They seem fine on their own. Let’s go.”

Nicky grinned. “But they’re interesting.”

Neil cut in, voice even. “You want to keep surviving?”

You gave him a look. “Obviously.”

Dan nodded toward the door. “Then come with us.”

You hesitated. You didn’t need them. You’d been doing just fine.

But supplies were getting harder to find. The days were getting lonelier. And they were still standing, which meant they were doing something right.

Finally, you exhaled. “Fine.”

Andrew turned, already heading for the door. “Keep up.”

You rolled your eyes but followed.