Chapter 45: Grocery Store Aftermath

“Sister, you okay?” Rebecca asked as she approached cautiously, her footsteps echoing softly against the debris-strewn floor of the grocery store.

Rachel stood frozen in place, her chest rising and falling rapidly as the adrenaline slowly ebbed from her system. The infected creature lay motionless several feet away from where she had hurled it, its twisted form creating an unsettling silhouette against the overturned shelving unit.

“Ha…” The sound escaped Rachel’s lips as a breathless laugh, but there was no humor in it. She blinked rapidly, as if awakening from a trance, and suddenly became acutely aware of the circle of stunned faces surrounding her. The realization of what she had just done—or more like how savage she did it—hit her like a physical blow. Her face flushed a deep crimson that spread from her cheeks down her neck. “I… I just wanted to do it myself…”

Christopher let out a low whistle, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. “You bet… I even started feeling bad for the Infected.” He gestured toward where the creature had landed. “You sent that thing went flying and stabbed it to death.”

“Hey! You idiot!” Cindy’s reaction was swift and sharp as she drove her elbow into Christopher’s ribs. The impact produced a satisfying thud and drew a pained groan from him.

“What was that for?” Christopher wheezed, clutching his side.

“Have some tact,” Cindy hissed under her breath, though her own eyes kept darting back to Rachel with poorly concealed curiosity.

Rachel’s flush deepened further, the embarrassment now spreading across her entire face. For reasons she couldn’t quite understand, her gaze found mine across the small crowd that had gathered.

I met her eyes, but my mind was racing down a entirely different track than the others’. While they saw an adrenaline-fueled burst of desperate strength, I recognized something far more significant and potentially dangerous. The way she had grabbed that infected creature, the ease with which she had thrown it—that wasn’t normal human capability, even under extreme stress.

She was developing the same enhanced physical abilities that I had been experiencing.

Don’t tell me…

The pieces were falling into place with horrifying clarity. Rachel had been exposed to the Dullahan Virus through our intimate contact, and now it was manifesting in her system just as it had in mine. The implications were staggering and terrifying.

If she was indeed developing these superhuman abilities, it meant the virus was actively changing her body. But according to what the white lady had told me, this progression would come at a devastating cost. Rachel’s human physiology wouldn’t be able to withstand the viral transformation. The pain would be excruciating, and if left unchecked, it could drive her to complete madness.

Fuck.

I knew what I had to do. Another dose of the Stabilizing Agent, administered the same way as before, might halt the virus’s progression. But the thought of having to explain this to her, of having to reveal the true nature of what was happening…

“Hey, let’s hurry up and take whatever we need, guys!” Sydney’s voice rang out at that time. She clapped her hands together, the sharp sound echoing through the store. “We don’t know how long we have before more of those things show up.”

The group stirred into action, the strange moment with Rachel’s display of strength gradually fading into the background as survival instincts took precedence. Everyone nodded their agreement and began dispersing throughout the store, grabbing shopping baskets and bags from the customer service area.

The grocery store was a surreal landscape of normalcy disrupted. Some aisles remained relatively intact, their shelves still lined with products as if nothing had changed. Others looked like war zones—merchandise scattered across the floor, shelving units toppled, and dark stains that no one wanted to examine too closely.

I moved methodically through the canned goods section, loading my basket with items that would keep without refrigeration. Beans, corn, soup, tuna—anything with a long shelf life. The familiar routine of grocery shopping felt bizarrely normal given our circumstances.

The snack aisle beckoned despite everything, and I found myself grabbing packages of cookies, crackers, and even some candy bars. Small comforts would matter in the days ahead, I reasoned, though part of me wondered if I was just clinging to vestiges of the old world.

After filling my basket with food supplies, I made my way toward the back of the store where I’d spotted a section dedicated to tools and hardware supplies.

Christopher was already there, examining the limited selection with the focused attention of someone trying to make life-or-death decisions about equipment.

“Hey man, look, we have better weapons here,” he called out with a grin. He hefted a hand axe, testing its weight and balance. The tool section also contained screwdrivers of various sizes, a few hammers, and other miscellaneous implements that could serve double duty as weapons.

“Yeah, we should all take better weapons,” I agreed, reaching for a hand axe that caught my eye. This one had a handle wrapped in black rubber grip tape, and the blade gleamed with a sharp silver edge that looked like it could cut through more than just wood. The weight felt perfect in my hand—substantial enough to do damage, but not so heavy as to tire me out quickly.

The upgrade from kitchen knives was significant. This felt like a real weapon, something that could actually make a difference if we encountered more infected.

I was somewhat surprised to find axes in a grocery store, but as I looked around at the rural setting visible through the store’s large windows—the dense treeline and scattered properties—it made more sense. Maybe they needed it here…?

I found myself smiling slightly as I gave the axe a few careful test swings, familiarizing myself with its balance and reach. The motion felt natural, almost instinctive.

“Careful,” Christopher laughed.

“Yeah,” I replied, checking the blade’s sharpness with my thumb. “But there are only two of them.”

“Well, we should take both,” Christopher said pragmatically, picking up a handsaw designed for woodworking. Its serrated edge looked vicious, though I wondered how effective it would be in actual combat. “We can make better use of the axes. Jason and the girls can use other tools.”

The handsaw seemed like an awkward weapon at best, but in our current situation, anything was better than being defenseless.

“Oh wait…” I muttered, noticing a small storage closet partially hidden behind a display of seasonal items. The door was slightly ajar, revealing cleaning supplies and maintenance equipment inside.

I pulled the door open wider and peered inside. Most of the contents were mundane—brooms, mops, bottles of industrial cleaning solution—but then something metallic caught my eye near the back.

A crowbar. Not just any crowbar, but a quality one made of solid steel with a curved end perfect for prying and a straight end ideal for striking. I picked it up, feeling its substantial weight and imagining how effective it could be in the right hands.

“Perfect for Elena,” I said, unable to suppress a grin.

Christopher burst out laughing. “She’ll finally stop breaking chair legs to use as weapons.”

I joined in his laughter, nodding in agreement. Elena had indeed developed a habit of improvising weapons from furniture, leaving a trail of damaged chairs in her wake.

I spent a few more minutes searching through the closet, hoping to find additional useful items, but came up empty. The crowbar was the only real treasure hidden among the cleaning supplies.

Satisfied with my haul, I made my way across the store toward the pharmacy section, where I’d spotted Elena browsing the shelves with intense concentration. The pharmacy area was separated from the rest of the store by a half-wall topped with plexiglass, though the actual prescription counter was closed and secured behind a metal grate.

As I approached, Elena’s posture caught my attention. She stood rigidly still, staring down at something in her hands with an expression of deep contemplation mixed with what looked like distress.

I moved closer, trying to see what had captured her attention so completely, and when I finally got a clear view, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

A morning-after pill package. The distinctive white and pink box with its straightforward pharmaceutical labeling was visible.

Elena sensed my presence and turned toward me, her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions I couldn’t quite parse. For a moment, we both froze, caught in an awkward tableau of mutual recognition and embarrassment.

Her face flushed a deep red that rivaled Rachel’s earlier display of mortification. My own cheeks burned with heat as the implications of what she was considering hit me fully.

Damn, why is this so embarrassing?

The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken thoughts and uncomfortable implications. Neither of us seemed to know what to say, how to address the elephant in the room that was her consideration of emergency contraception.

Finally, Elena clutched the package tightly to her chest and hurried away without a word, leaving me standing alone among the over-the-counter medications and first aid supplies.

While I stood there trying to process what had just happened, I caught movement in my peripheral vision. Rachel was approaching the same section, her steps hesitant and her eyes darting around to make sure no one else was watching.

She glanced at the spot where the morning-after pills were displayed, her face already showing signs of the same embarrassment that had consumed Elena moments before. With quick, almost furtive movements, she grabbed a package and tucked it against her body before hurrying away, unable to meet my gaze. But I couldn’t miss how her face had turned an even deeper shade of red than Elena’s had been.

Right…

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. In the chaos of everything that had happened, I’d somehow expected they might have already dealt with this concern, but how could they have? We’d been running for our lives, focused on immediate survival. There hadn’t exactly been time for a trip to the pharmacy until now.

At least now they would be taking precautions against pregnancy. That was one less thing to worry about in our already complicated situation.

But as I stood there watching the empty aisle, a troubling thought occurred to me. They had only taken one package each. And the fucking problem was that if the Dullahan Virus continued to develop in them and they began to succumb to madness, I would need to administer the stabilizing agent again through the same intimate contact. Which meant unprotected sex, once again putting them at risk.

And it wasn’t just them I had to consider. In the future, there was a very real possibility that I would encounter other women who had been infected, women who would need to be cured using the same method. The implications were staggering and deeply uncomfortable to contemplate.

I crouched down and slipped my bag off my shoulders, glancing around to make sure none of the others were paying attention to me. The last thing I needed was someone asking questions about what I was doing.

Working quickly and as discreetly as possible, I began gathering every emergency contraceptive package I could find, stuffing them into my personal bag and not the big grocery bags with the medical supplies and food. My face burned with embarrassment as I worked, but I forced myself to continue. This wasn’t about personal comfort—this was about being prepared for scenarios I hoped would never come to pass.

Imagine what the others would think if they saw me filling my bag with dozens of morning-after pills, I thought grimly. Yeah, I’d never be able to face them again.

Just as I was about to stand up and move on, something else caught my attention on a lower shelf. Condom packages, displayed in neat rows with their colorful packaging and bold marketing claims.

I felt my face burning even hotter. Taking condoms implied something entirely different—sex for pleasure rather than medical necessity. It suggested the possibility of normal, consensual relationships, something that seemed almost impossible to imagine in my current situation.

The thought of trying to explain to a future girlfriend that I occasionally needed to have unprotected sex with other women to save them from infection was beyond absurd. It sounded like the worst pickup line in history, the kind of excuse that would get me slapped and permanently blacklisted from any decent person’s life.

It looks impossible for me to have a normal relationship, I realized with a mixture of sadness and resignation.

But despite the awkwardness of the situation, I found myself grabbing a few packages anyway. Better to have them and not need them than the reverse, I reasoned. And maybe, just maybe, there would come a time when my life would allow for something approaching normalcy.

I mean I am sure some scientist were working for a vaccine or something!

After that embarrassing episode, I forced myself to focus on more practical medical supplies. I loaded up on bandages, antiseptic alcohol, pain relievers, and anything else that looked useful for treating wounds and injuries. Multiple toothbrushes and tubes of toothpaste went into the bag, along with bottles of shampoo and bars of soap. Personal hygiene would be crucial for maintaining both physical health and morale in the days ahead.

Making another circuit through the store, I continued filling my already straining bag with miscellaneous survival essentials: waterproof matches, disposable lighters, rolls of duct tape, batteries in various sizes, and several small flashlights. The several grocery bags I had were beginning to protest under the weight and volume of everything I’d packed.

I wasn’t the only one who had gone overboard with the supply gathering. Looking around, I could see that everyone else had also filled their bags to the absolute brim. We all understood that opportunities like this might be rare, and we were determined to take advantage of every resource available.

When we had finally exhausted the store’s useful offerings, our group made its way back to the parking lot where our two vehicles waited. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cracked asphalt, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of pine from the surrounding forest.

The loading process proved to be a logistical challenge that took considerably longer than any of us had anticipated. Sydney worked alongside Rachel and Rebecca to arrange everything we’d gathered in her car’s trunk, playing an elaborate game of three-dimensional Tetris to make everything fit. Meanwhile, Miss Ivy was assisted by Cindy in a similar effort with the second vehicle.

Christopher, Jason, and I took turns keeping watch around the perimeter of the parking lot, scanning the treeline and nearby buildings for any signs of infected or other threats.

My gaze eventually wandered toward Liu Mei, and I realized I had almost forgotten about her presence. She had been so quiet throughout our supply run that she had nearly faded into the background.

She was perched on the hood of Miss Ivy’s car, looking remarkably composed despite everything we’d been through. Her bag sat beside her, and I was surprised to see that while the rest of us had focused on survival supplies, she had apparently spent also her time gathering books. Several paperbacks were visible sticking out of the top of her pack.

She sat with perfect posture, gracefully waving her folding fan with one hand while reading what appeared to be a novel with the other.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to approach her.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep