Dot didn't move.
At first, no one noticed how wrong that was. After everything—the stairs, the gunshots, the door nearly coming apart under hands and teeth—stillness felt like mercy. Like a pause the world owed them.
Then Mari knelt beside her.
"Dot?" she whispered.
Nothing.
Mari touched Dot's shoulder. Her skin was clammy, colder than it should've been. Her chest rose, but barely. Shallow. Wrong.
"Dot," Mari said again, louder now.
Renee hovered near the overturned couch, still clutching the note from her sister like it might dissolve if she let go. Tally stood frozen by the door, eyes locked on the barricade as something scraped slowly across the wood outside. Ethan paced once, twice, checking corners out of instinct even though the apartment was sealed tight.
Mari shook Dot harder.
"Hey—no, no, no," she said, panic snapping through her voice. "Dot, wake up."
Dot's head lolled to the side.
Mari's hand slipped down Dot's arm as she tried to reposition her—and caught on something hard beneath the sleeve.
Plastic.
Mari pulled the cuff of Dot's jacket up.
There it was.
A medical alert bracelet.
Blue band. White lettering.
DIABETIC — INSULIN DEPENDENT
Mari's breath punched out of her chest.
"Oh my God," she whispered.
Ethan was at her side instantly. He took one look at the bracelet and swore—sharp, ugly, the sound of someone who knew exactly how bad this was.
"She didn't tell anyone," Mari said. "She never said—"
"Doesn't matter," Ethan cut in. He dropped to one knee, checked Dot's pulse with practiced fingers. "She's crashing."
Renee blinked at them, delayed shock finally catching up. "Crashing how?"
"Blood sugar," Ethan said. "Too low or too high—either way, she's in trouble. This—" he gestured at Dot's slack body, "—this is a coma."
Tally's voice came out thin. "A coma?"
Mari nodded, tears burning. "She needs insulin. Or glucose. Or something."
Ethan was already searching Dot's pockets, moving fast, methodical. Jacket. Jeans. Boots.
Nothing.
"She doesn't have a kit," he said grimly. "No pen. No vials. No tabs."
Mari shook her head, frantic. "Check again."
"I am checking," Ethan snapped—not angry at her, just terrified. "She didn't carry it on her."
Renee's voice rose. "Then where is it?"
"Probably in a purse," Mari said.
They all looked around.
There was no purse.
The studio apartment was nearly empty. A mattress on the floor. A small dresser with one drawer half-open. An unplugged lamp. Cabinets bare except for a single can of green beans and a box of saltines that someone crushed underfoot earlier.
No insulin.
No sugar.
No mercy.
Dot groaned faintly, a sound that barely existed, then went still again.
Mari grabbed Ethan's arm. "She's dying."
Ethan didn't pull away. "I know."
Renee sucked in a sharp breath, mind racing now that panic had somewhere to go. "There's a CVS."
Everyone turned to her.
"A block over," Renee said quickly. "Other side of the apartments. I—I used to walk there all the time."
Tally nodded immediately. "Yeah. It's next to Klassy Kats. The strip club. Across from Michaels—by the mall."
Mari swallowed. She knew that area. So did Ethan.
Renee's face fell as reality set in. "But it's off Abercorn Street."
Silence hit hard.
Abercorn Street.
Marcus had mentioned it earlier—traffic piled so thick it looked like a parking lot from hell. Cars jammed bumper to bumper. Bodies stuck between them. The dead moving through the wreckage like it was built for them.
"There's no driving through that," Ethan said quietly. "Not even close."
Renee hugged herself. "We'd have to go on foot."
Outside, something shrieked. High and sharp. Not a zombie—human. The sound cut off abruptly.
Tally flinched.
Mari felt her stomach twist. "How long does she have?"
Ethan checked Dot's pulse again. It was thready now. Unreliable.
"Minutes," he said. "Maybe less."
Renee shook her head. "We won't make it."
Ethan stood.
"I will."
Everyone reacted at once.
"No," Renee said immediately.
"Absolutely not," Tally snapped.
"That's suicide," Mari said—and then stopped herself.
Ethan met her eyes. "If I don't go, she dies."
Mari's chest tightened. Dot had been steady. Quiet. Watching when others yelled. The one who noticed things. The one who pressed chips into Mari's hand without saying why.
"You won't make it back alone," Renee said. "There's too many of them."
"I know," Ethan said.
Mari stood.
"I'm going with you."
Every head snapped toward her.
"No," Renee said again, louder now. "No way."
Tally shook her head violently. "Mari—no—Justin—"
Mari cut her off. "Don't."
Ethan frowned. "Mari—"
"He can't go alone," Mari said firmly. "That's how people die. One mistake. One slip. One thing grabbing you from behind."
Renee's voice cracked. "You're in no shape for this."
Mari stiffened but didn't explain. "Not your call."
"This isn't about sexism," Renee said desperately. "This is about survival."
Mari took a step closer to Ethan. "Exactly. And survival doesn't mean hiding while someone else bleeds out on the floor."
Dot let out another faint sound. Wet. Wrong.
Mari's voice shook—but she kept going. "You think Justin would tell me to stay behind? You think he'd say 'let her die'?"
Tally looked down, tears spilling silently now.
Ethan studied Mari for a long moment. Not dismissive. Not patronizing. Assessing.
"You know this is bad," he said quietly.
"I know," Mari replied. "But if we don't go, she dies. And I'm not watching another person disappear because we were scared."
Renee wiped her face hard. "We'll lose you."
Mari turned to her. "We're already losing her."
Silence fell again—heavy, suffocating.
Outside the door, something slammed hard enough to shake the barricade. A low moan dragged through the hallway. Another joined it.
Time was running out.
Ethan finally nodded once.
"Five minutes," he said. "We move quiet. We don't engage unless we have to. We get in, get what we need, and get back."
Mari exhaled shakily.
Renee grabbed her arm. "If you don't come back—"
Mari squeezed her hand. "We will."
Tally looked up, eyes red. "Please."
Mari nodded to her. "Watch Dot. Keep her breathing."
Dot didn't move.
The clock inside Mari's head screamed.
They didn't say goodbye.
They didn't pray.
Ethan checked his weapon.
Mari tightened her grip on the knife in her hand.
And outside, the dead waited.