Page 6 of Glass Rose (Where Roses Rot #1)

FIVE

GAVIN

My senses have been dialed to eleven since they pumped me full of their experimental cocktails, and in this open world, every fucking input screams for attention.

I filter through it all, searching for the distinct putrid smell that means the Infected are nearby. Nothing yet. But they’re coming. I’m sure they are. And if not them, other people…

Sofia sits beside me in the passenger seat, the blue glow of her phone illuminating the tears gathering in her eyes.

Fourteen calls to her parents, fourteen times straight to voicemail.

The panic rolling off her skin smells like copper pennies and salt, mixed with something floral from her shampoo, a scent I’ve become too familiar with since I met her.

“They’re not answering.” Her fingers tremble against the screen, leaving smudges on it. “They always answer. Even at night.”

“Cell towers might be down.” Though I suspect it’s worse than that. Everything is worse than people think.

“Please.” The call fails again, and she slams the phone against her thigh .

I want to tell her it’ll be okay, but I’ve never been good at lying. Especially not now.

My fingers tighten on the steering wheel. What the fuck do you say to someone whose world is collapsing? I haven’t had a normal conversation in over a year. My social skills are as fucked as my DNA.

She stifles a sob with a quick cough. It breaks my hesitation, and I reach over, placing my hand over hers.

She flinches. Fuck. Too much pressure? I ease up. These hands can punch through drywall now and crush metal. What the hell am I doing touching someone as breakable as her?

“Sorry.” I start to pull away, but she doesn’t let me

Her hand turns over, fingers interlacing with mine. “It’s fine. Just… startled me.”

“You’re still afraid of me?”

“No. There are worse things to fear now.”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I know what you’ve chosen not to do.” She squeezes my hand. “That tells me more than whatever they did to you in that place.”

My scarred hand is monstrous against her smooth skin, and something tight in my chest loosens. Maybe I’m not as lost as I thought.

In the backseat, Dr. Cho clears her throat. “We need a plan beyond ‘drive until we run out of gas.’ The military will establish quarantine zones within hours.”

“If they haven’t already,” Alex says. “We should head north. Less population density.”

“North is mountains and winter,” Cho snaps. “We’d freeze to death.”

“Better than being eaten alive.”

“Oh, and you’re a survival expert?”

“At least I’m thinking beyond the next five minutes, which is more than?— ”

“Both of you shut the fuck up.” I spot a small supermarket ahead with an almost empty parking lot. The place is dark except for security lights. Good enough. “We need supplies first.”

I swing the car into the lot, cutting the headlights as we approach. My enhanced vision picks up details in the darkness—no broken windows, central door still intact.

“Here?” Alex asks. “You think there’s anything good in there?”

“This place is small enough that the looters will skip it for the bigger stores first,” I say.

People are flocking to warehouse stores and gun shops first, grabbing weapons, water, and canned goods in bulk. Places like this, tucked between a laundromat and a hair salon, get overlooked in the initial panic.

I steer the car around to the back of the supermarket, where a delivery van sits with its rear doors hanging open. Perfect. The loading dock’s metal door is fully raised. Means we’re not the first ones here, but maybe we’re not too late either.

I reluctantly leave the warmth of Sofia’s hand to cut the engine. There’s a pounding. Consistent. “Stay here. I’ll check if it’s clear.”

“Alone?” she asks. “That’s?—”

“Smart,” I finish for her. “I’m immune, remember? And these days, I’m hard to kill.”

“We don’t know that yet.” Her eyes map the scars on my face.

“Close enough.” I fish out the knife I took from the dead security guard. The weight feels good in my palm. Familiar. “If I’m not back in five minutes, drive away.”

“Gavin—”

“Five minutes.” I lock eyes with Alex in the rearview. “Keep them safe. ”

He nods, and I catch something in his eyes. Always weighing odds, that one. I’ve met his type before. Survival at any cost. Even if the price is someone else’s. I don’t like leaving her alone with him, but taking her inside with me?

Fuck that. Too risky.

I’ve seen what happens to civilians in hot zones. They freeze. Make noise. Get themselves killed. Better she stays put, where at least the car offers some protection.

“I’ll be right back.” I slip out, knife gripped in my right hand.

The night air hits my face, carrying the smells of distant smoke, car exhaust, and underneath it all—the faint copper-rot stench of the Infected.

I walk up to the metal roll-up, scanning the inside of the storage room. Stacked cardboard boxes in the middle. Pallets of water bottles. Cases of energy drinks. Toilet paper, shampoo,…

No blood spatter. No signs of struggle. Just abandoned inventory waiting to be shelved. Nothing rotting. Nothing dead.

Here.

I move between the towers of boxes, knife ready. My hearing picks up that steady thumping again—rhythmic, insistent.

A swinging door separates the storage area from the rest of the store, and I press my ear against it, listening for breathing, heartbeats, anything human.

Nothing close. Just that damn thumping, louder.

I tap the wood and enter a short hallway with rooms on either side. The left one is marked ‘Restroom.’ Right one ‘Office.’ That’s where the thumping’s coming from.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

I take it, using my weight against the cheap wood. It gives with a crack. The thing inside staggers back—skinny male, blue uniform with a logo patch, name tag reading ‘DOUG.’ Delivery guy. Now, just another walking corpse with cloudy eyes and that unmistakable stench.

His head jerks, jaw working silently. Blood drips from his chin where he’s been chewing on something—his own tongue, from the looks of it. Fuck. That explains the lack of moaning.

He stumbles past, drawn to the open door and whatever primal instinct drives these things. The shoulder of his uniform is torn open, revealing a nasty bite mark that’s gone black around the edges.

He doesn’t even register me standing there. Just keeps walking, bumping into the doorframe before finding his way out.

“Still invisible, huh?” I mutter.

Some quirk in my biochemistry renders me a ghost to their senses. Useful, but fucking creepy every time.

Doug shuffles three more steps before I drive my knife into the back of his skull. His body goes instantly limp, dropping to the floor.

A soft scraping sound draws my attention back to the office.

Another Infected—this one female, older—is wedged between a metal desk and the wall, arms flailing uselessly.

Her jaw snaps at nothing, teeth clicking together.

On the desk, an empty prescription bottle has rolled on its side, caught by a stack of papers before it could fall off the edge.

“Sorry about this,” I whisper, though I’m not sure why I bother.

With one clean thrust through the eye socket, her body slumps forward. Dead.

I drag Doug back into the office, arranging them behind the desk where they won’t be immediately visible, then sweep through the rest of the store. Shelves half-empty but not stripped bare. Freezers still humming with power. No more Infected hiding between the aisles. Clear.

Back at the car, I tap the window. Sofia jolts, her hand flying to her throat. Alex sits alert while Dr. Cho’s face remains impassive, analytical.

“It’s clear,” I say as Sofia rolls down the glass. “Two Infected inside, both neutralized. Place still has enough for us.”

“Thank god.” Alex reaches for the door handle.

“We should move quickly.” I scan the empty parking lot. “Grab water, non-perishables, and first aid.”

Sofia steps out of the car, eyes fixed on something distant. Her hand catches the back of my shirt as I turn in the direction of the store. A gentle tug, but it stops me cold.

“I need to check on my parents,” she says. “They live twenty minutes from here. I can grab another car, be back before dawn.”

The rational part of me, the part that survived fourteen months of torture and experimentation, knows we all should focus on gathering supplies and finding secure shelter. But there’s something in her expression that hooks into me, tugs at whatever humanity I have left.

“You’re not going alone,” I say.

“I didn’t?—”

“Wasn’t a suggestion.”

“If you two are splitting off, what about us?” Alex asks.

“You grab supplies.” I don’t take my eyes off Sofia. “Everything that fits in the car. Water, food, medicine. Batteries. Weapons, if you find any.”

Dr. Cho steps out. “And then what? Wait for you to return?”

“That’s the idea.”

“And if you don’t?” Her eyes narrow behind those rectangular frames .

“Then you’re better off without us anyway.” I shrug. “More supplies for you.”

Sofia’s fingers curl tighter in my shirt. “We’ll be back. Two hours, tops.”

Alex studies us both, calculating. “Fine. But if the military shows up or more of those things?—”

“You do what you need to survive,” I finish for him. “I expect nothing less.”

Dr. Cho sighs. “This is highly illogical. Splitting up increases mortality rates by?—”

“She needs to know.” I just need to get Sofia there, confirm what I already suspect, and get her back safely. “Wouldn’t you?”

The scientist falls silent, lips pressed into a thin line.

Sofia releases my shirt to grab my wrist, her touch feather-light on my scars. “Thank you.”

I nod once. No need for words. Some things you just understand.

Back inside, I check the office for car keys. Conveniently, the old lady has one in her pocket. I wipe the blood off on her uniform shirt and pocket it before heading back to Sofia and settling into our new car.