After reading the {Alert}, the group followed Mark upstairs to his apartment. Once inside, the four boys sat down on a worn brown leather couch, while Mark settled into a rocking chair across from them.
As he stared at the boys, Mark couldn't help but frown. He felt a pang of sympathy. They were just kids, yet they were being forced to survive in a world where death lurked around every corner. Mark wasn't a hero, and he certainly wasn't planning to waste his supplies on strangers. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't offer them a place to rest for a while.
"Where are you planning to go after this?" he asked.
"The convenience store," Johnathan replied.
Mark nodded thoughtfully. Stocking up was smart. The issue, however, was transportation and storage. The boys were still wearing their school uniforms, making it easy for Mark to figure out which school they attended. That school wasn't close. Which meant their homes were likely even farther. Carrying heavy supplies all that way would make them vulnerable to any unexpected zombie encounter.
Mark sighed.
"I need supplies too," he said. "There's an apartment next door you can use to store your things. And don't worry—I won't take any of your stuff."
Johnathan felt genuine gratitude at the offer. Though they were somewhat close to his house, his younger brother's school was even farther. Having a nearby storage point would make things much easier.
"We'll gladly accept," Johnathan said.
Mark stood, walked to the counter, grabbed a set of keys, and tossed them to him.
"Good. Let's head to the convenience store. I need to restock as well."
Johnathan turned to Ash. "You stay in the apartment next door. It'll be safer for you—and for us."
"But—"
"We'll be back," Ivan cut in. "We have to bring the supplies somewhere anyway."
Ash hesitated. He was terrified of being left alone. These boys had saved him, and in his mind, they were already like older brothers. He knew they might not see him the same way—after all, he was just someone they happened to rescue—but he still trusted them.
Reluctantly, he nodded.
Before leaving the floor, Johnathan unlocked the neighboring apartment and ushered Ash inside. He gave him strict instructions not to open the door for anyone—no matter who knocked or what they said.
Then the four of them headed out.
Exiting the bike store through the back door, they moved as quietly as possible. They passed several buildings emitting disturbing, wet chewing sounds, but they ignored them and continued toward the intersection.
Before crossing, they spotted a group of zombies to their right, shambling toward them from across the street.
"Run," Mark muttered.
They dashed toward the convenience store just ahead. Slipping inside, they shut the door quickly. The zombies, too slow and too far, remained dozens of meters behind.
The group exhaled in relief.
But their relief didn't last long.
From deeper inside the store, seven distinct growls echoed.
"Of course," Ivan muttered.
Johnathan drew his knife and raised his guard. The others followed suit, weapons ready, knees bent in preparation. Within seconds, seven zombies emerged from different aisles, closing in from multiple directions.
"Get ready, boys," Mark said, gripping his nail-studded bat. "Let's put these ugly bastards down."
Adrenaline surged through them. Despite the danger, excitement pulsed in their veins.
"Let's do it!" they shouted together.
Johnathan grabbed a cardboard display sign and hurled it at a zombie to his left. Then he launched forward with explosive speed. Reaching it in seconds, he drove a brutal kick into its ribcage. A sickening crack rang out as bones shattered.
The zombie collapsed.
Without hesitation, Johnathan plunged his knife into its skull.
Mark watched in shock for half a second before grinning. He charged forward and swung his bat with full force. The nails bit deep as the impact crushed the zombie's head, splintering bone and destroying its brain instantly. He pivoted and rushed toward another target.
Ivan and Danny didn't hesitate either. They split off, each sprinting toward a separate zombie. With precise, forceful strikes, they drove their knives into the creatures' foreheads.
The fight was brutal—but short.
In less than five minutes, all seven zombies lay motionless on the store floor.
Breathing heavily, the group began searching the bodies for crystals. Luck was uneven—Johnathan and Danny each found one. Ivan and Mark found none.
Johnathan glanced at Mark and noticed him searching the corpses carefully.
So he does know.
Mark felt the stare and looked up.
"What? You didn't think I wouldn't know about the crystals, did you?"
Johnathan shrugged. He had suspected it, but part of him wondered whether Mark had ever left his store long enough to obtain one.
"Anyway," Johnathan said, shifting the focus, "let's gather the supplies."
The real goal had never been the fight.
It was survival.