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Kirby tried the door, but none of us were surprised to find it locked. “Back entrance?” she suggested. “If we break the glass out here, we’re letting everyone know we’re around.”

Ava went over to the narrow driveway beside the bakery. “Looks like it leads to parking at the rear.”

If we entered the alley, we could end up trapped down there with another group of infected, but we were out of time. The car down the street had inched closer, still surrounded by the dead. “It’s our best option right now, and we need to move.”

We took off down the laneway, the stench of urine and rotten food surrounding us. Graffiti covered the brick walls, and rubbish spilled from overflowing bins. A sign pointed to staff parking at the rear, and our pace quickened as we approached the back of the building.

Around the corner, we found a row of empty parking spaces, and the metal door to the hardware store was half open, the surrounding frame cracked.

The stale smell lingered, but there were no hints of decomposing flesh or shuffling footsteps.

Ava tensed and pulled out her meat tenderiser again.

“In and out, remember,” Kirby said, her attention on the rear entry.

I approached the door and pulled it fully open, stepping straight into a stockroom filled with rows of shelving units. Nothing moved in the light coming through the side window, and the only smells I picked up on were dust and—strangely—a hint of sweat that wasn’t coming from us.

“Clear?” Kirby whispered behind me.

“Looks that way.”

Ava slipped in beside me, then Kirby, leaving the door open for a quick exit.

As we grouped together, a scuff came from the main shop floor.

Ava stiffened and raised her weapon, her eyes meeting mine.

Before I could decide how to handle it, a man stepped into view at the end of the aisle. Late forties, with greying hair and a beard. A crowbar hung at his side, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Hey,” he said. “We didn’t know anyone else was here.”

A woman of similar age sidled up with a hammer clenched in her fist, her dark hair hanging loose over one shoulder.

“Neither did we,” I said.

No one seemed to know what to do next. Were we enemies? Competition? The world had literally gone to shit yesterday.

Ava took a step forward, whether out of natural confidence or the illusion of it, I didn’t know. “We came in looking for weapons to use on the dead,” she said, her voice steady.

The woman gave her a quick, tight smile. “Same here.”

A third person joined them, still half-hidden, a teen girl with light brown hair and pale skin.

Kirby smiled. “This has to be the world’s most awkward party.”

No one laughed, but the man’s shoulders loosened up a little.

He stared past us at the open door, then back at our group. “There’s a shitload of stock. Axes, hammers. Long-handled screwdrivers. We were just finishing up when we heard you.”

“We’ve grabbed a couple of nail guns, too,” the woman added in a nervous rush. “The ones that use gas canisters, so you don’t need power. There’s one left.”

Shit. Nail guns. Why hadn’t I thought of that? “Good to know.”

No one spoke for a moment, and Ava looked from Kirby to me.

“Sooo…” Kirby said.

The man’s back straightened as if he’d just remembered why they were here. “We’ll grab our stuff and leave you to it.”