The Supply Run.

The supermarket doors opened for us.

Not all the way. Just enough for the motion sensor to wake with a dry click and pull the glass apart a few inches. Cold air slipped out carrying bleach, freezer burn, and a faint sweetness underneath.

Rook raised his rifle.

Grant Holder looked at me.

Nina stared past all of us.

The store was lit by thin red emergency strips. Checkout lanes sat in neat rows. Shopping carts waited in perfect formation beside the entrance.

No bodies.

No signs of scavengers.

No chaos.

Only order.

The sign above the doors still welcomed customers.

Nina spoke first.

“They cleaned the carts.”

I looked closer.

The handles shone.

Someone had wiped them.

A scanner beeped somewhere inside.

Then the speakers crackled.

“Thank you for shopping at Harbor Mart.”

The voice was cheerful despite the static.

A cart wheel squeaked.

A figure in a blue vest crossed the far end of the store, pushing a cart containing a single box of cornflakes.

It never looked at us.

It simply continued its task.

Grant whispered, “We leave.”

We needed medicine. We needed food.

I stepped through the doors.

The others followed.

Inside, the air felt maintained.

The floor had been mopped.

Displays were faced forward.

At register four stood a cashier.

Her nametag read LUCY.

One eye was gone. The other stared at nothing.

Her gray hand pushed a carton of powdered creamer across the scanner.

Beep.

Pause.

Beep.

The sound belonged to ordinary life.

That made it unbearable.

Rook lifted his rifle.

I pushed it down.

Lucy wasn't attacking.

She was working.

Another squeak drifted from deeper in the store.

Then another.

More carts.

A dead man pushed one.

A dead teenager carried a shopping basket.

Near the candy display stood a child holding a cereal box against its chest.

They moved through Harbor Mart with slow purpose.

Not hunting.

Shopping.

The speakers crackled again.

“Cleanup needed in aisle twelve.”

Every infected stopped.

Every head turned.

Toward us.

The silence felt rehearsed.

“Associate assistance requested.”

Lucy stepped away from her register.

The others moved too.