Back at the shut-down convenience store, just hours before the infection reached its critical mass, Maxine and Pitoy had hastily pulled down the store shutter, creating a fragile barrier against the infected swarming outside. Their hearts pounded as the chaotic sounds of desperation and horror seeped through the metal shutter.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Maxine, her eyes blazing with fury, lunged at the man, her fist connecting with his face in a brutal punch. She spat on his shirt, her disdain palpable. The alcoholic beverages he had grabbed from the cooler tumbled from his arms, shattering on the floor and releasing their pungent aroma. Maxine adopted a fighting stance, fists raised just above her line of vision, chin down, revealing her Muay Thai training.
"Come at me," she challenged, her voice a steady, lethal whisper.
The man, now seething with rage, swung at her wildly. Maxine, with calculated precision, parried his punch, deflecting his wrist aside, and delivered a swift left hook to his face followed by a sweep kick to his leg. The man retaliated with a flurry of aimless punches and kicks, but Maxine countered each one effortlessly, maintaining her distance while inflicting calculated damage. Despite his bloodied and bruised face, the man refused to back down, humiliated by her skill.
Enraged, he closed in, throwing a barrage of cheap shots. Maxine, momentarily caught off guard, stumbled backward. Sensing her vulnerability, the man grappled her, lifting her effortlessly with the strength of a construction worker and hurling her towards a store shelf. She crashed violently, collapsing with the shelf and its displayed products, pain radiating through her back.
"Jesus, Maria, Joseph—stop what you're doing, you're going to end up killing each other!" an old woman nearby exclaimed, her voice trembling with fear.
Pitoy, watching helplessly, felt his chivalrous instincts scream at him to intervene, but fear paralyzed him. He was terrified of becoming the next target and equally fearful of Maxine's wrath if he interfered.
"Putang ina mo!" the man shouted, picking up a bottle from the floor. "This is what you wanted when you crossed me, right? Now, you're dead to me."
He pinned Maxine to the ground and smashed the bottle onto her face. The liquid splashed onto her uniform as glass shards scattered. Blood streamed down the side of her head, but Maxine managed a defiant grin, staring up at him.
"What are you smiling about, bitch?" he snarled. "You enjoying this, huh? Like me being on top of ya?"
"Is this how you beat your wife and children?" Maxine laughed through her pain.
Her words cut deep, and in a fit of rage, he wrapped his hands around her neck and strangled her. Maxine gasped for air, her vision blurring. Desperately, she groped the floor for anything she could use. Her fingers closed around a nearby bottle, and with a surge of strength, she smashed it against his head.
The impact made him release his grip, and Maxine, gasping for breath, headbutted him, causing him to stagger. She pushed him away, sending him rolling across the floor.
Ignoring the blood streaming down her forehead, she pinned him down. With fierce determination, she delivered punch after punch until he was knocked out cold.
Panting heavily, Maxine stood up, victorious yet battered. "You deserve that shit," she muttered, stretching her sore back muscles, feeling the adrenaline slowly ebb away. The store was eerily silent now, the only sound her ragged breathing and the distant cries of the infected outside.
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Hours had passed since the fight erupted, and the atmosphere inside the convenience store had grown quiet, yet tense. The once vibrant store had transformed into a chaotic refuge. Shelves lay toppled, products strewn across the floor, with spilled beer forming sticky puddles and shards of broken bottles scattered like dangerous confetti. The man who had been knocked out earlier had come to and now, unsteadily, reached for more alcohol from the beverage cooler, his movements slow and deliberate.
Maxine lay sleeping on the counter, her face serene as she basked in the cool air from the air conditioner, a small escape from the chaos surrounding her. The grandma, with a distant look in her eyes, rested on her rattan bed, rhythmically munching on biscuits, the crunching sound a small, comforting rhythm amid the turmoil.
Pitoy sat by the front door, his face pale and drawn, looking particularly unwell and drained. His eyes were heavy with fatigue, and he seemed to be teetering on the edge of consciousness, the weight of the evening's events pressing heavily on him. The store, now a temporary haven, held a sense of uneasy calm, as if holding its breath, waiting for what might come next.
"Young man, are you okay?" the old woman asked Pitoy with concern.
"I just feel a little feverish, maybe I worked myself too hard today. I've been out there with my cart selling street food since morning," Pitoy replied, his voice strained. "My throat hurts as well."
"Here, do you want some?" Isabel offered him some of her snacks. "Maybe you're hungry."
"No, I'm fine, thank you. I'm still full, had some of my street food earlier. A couple of fish balls, squid balls, and kikiams. It's not much, but my cooking is quite good, you know? Especially if you eat it with my homemade Manong sauce," Pitoy explained, trying to muster a smile.
"Oh, now you're making me want to try your food," the old woman replied, chuckling lightly.
After their brief conversation, Pitoy asked her for a favor. "Hey, could you bring me some medicine and water? I'm starting to feel worse."
"Sure thing," Isabel said kindly, heading off to find some over-the-counter medicine.
After scanning the store shelves for medicine and drinkable water in the beverage section, she returned with lozenges, antibiotics, and bottled water.
"Thanks, uh…" Pitoy hesitated, realizing he didn't know her name.
"Isabel," the old woman introduced herself, Isabel dela Cruz, patting his shoulder gently.
"Thank you, Isabel. You're a lifesaver," Pitoy said gratefully. "Please, don't tell anyone I'm sick. I'm afraid they'd be worried about me."
As Isabel nodded with a smile and walked away, Pitoy desperately took the medicine the moment she turned her back, struggling to swallow it.
…
A little later, Isabel grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and walked over to the man drinking beer with his rooster, which was now out of its game fowl box.
"Ijo, that's a nice game fowl!" she said, offering the ice pack to the man. "What's its call name?"
The man eyed her skeptically but answered, "Taga-Paslang. He's good at cutting off other game fowl's heads, you know? Won me a good amount of cash."
T/N: "Taga-Paslang" means "Slayer" in Filipino.
"Lots of people probably bet on that one," Isabel said, trying to keep the conversation light.
"Yeah, he's the people's choice."
"May I ask what caused the two of you to fight like that?" Isabel inquired, wanting to understand the root of the conflict.
"I don't know about that woman," the man replied, pressing the ice pack to his head. "I just finished my construction job, had a rough day. The foreman didn't let us have a cut of our pay, so I went to the cockfight arena to earn some money. Then those sick people started attacking us, and panic broke out. I fled to the highway and ended up here. Next thing I know, that woman crossed me." He paused, reflecting. "Okay, I made a mistake not helping them close the shutter. I admit my fear got the best of me because of those damn sickos."
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
"Since we're all together here, may I know your name, ijo?" Isabel asked gently.
"Andres. You can go bother others now—unless you want to drink with me," the drunkard, Andres Villalobo, said with a smirk.
"Oh, I'm too old to drink. My liver might give up if I take a sip of that beer," Isabel laughed.
"You're never too old to drink," Andres remarked.
"I'm down for some," Maxine said, appearing suddenly. She grabbed a bottle from the beverage cooler, popped it open, and took a swig.
Andres snickered, and Maxine did the same. By sharing a beer, they silently declared a truce. No apology, no handshake—just an unspoken agreement to move forward. They drank together, blood and bruises still marking their faces.
"Nice cock," Maxine remarked, eyeing Andres' game fowl.
Maxine wandered over to the snack shelves and returned with two packs of vinegar-flavored corn snacks. "Snacks sound good with the alcohol, don't you think?" She tossed one pack to Andres, who caught it.
"Care to tell me more about these sick people or what's happening outside?" Andres asked as he opened the snack.
"They say it's a virus and people get it from eating seafood," Maxine explained. "It's like rabies: sick people bite, and that person turns into one of them. They also spray saliva into other people's mouths and do violent things."
"Yeah, I saw them do that back at the cockfighting arena. It's hard to tell who is sick or who isn't. All you can do is run your ass off."
"Be a pussy like you did back there at the shutter?" Maxine teased. "Nah, I'm just messing around. I heard your story."
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The group waited anxiously for updates from the radio about the quarantine zones, completely unaware of what was happening outside due to the shutter closing off the view of the streets. Maxine's phone became their lifeline to the outside world, displaying videos of people's harrowing experiences during the outbreak. They watched in horror, seeing the gruesome violence of the infected, and continuously scrolled for more updates, the tension in the store palpable.
At 8:00 PM, the breaking news music blared through the store's speakers, interrupting the current segment. Everyone listened intently as officials made their announcement: the strict evacuation protocols, the right to defend against the infected, information about the Mater Lyssavirus, and the locations of quarantine zones across the country.
"North Luzon Expressway - E1? That's way far from here! Do they expect everyone to have transportation?" Andres exclaimed, his voice rising with panic. "Now, they're saying there will be no rescue efforts? Fuck!" In a fit of frustration, he cleared the shelves near him, scattering products everywhere. "My niece is in school and she hasn't gone home yet! What's going to happen to her if there's no help coming?"
"At least they gave us rights to protect ourselves. But how can we get there with all those sick people chasing us down the road?" Maxine added, her voice tinged with frustration and fear. "Is this their best shot to stop the infection? Evacuating everyone all at once will only cause more panic than help. Those officials and their privileged asses don't know how it is out here."
"They can remain calm like that because they know they're already safe in their post!" Andres vented his anger at the officials. "Where's the president when you need him? How come he doesn't have any say on this? It's a fucking disaster out there and he disappears?"
Maxine wanted to tell Andres to shut up, calm down, and man up, but she understood his situation, letting him vent.
"We have two choices: We can go outside right now and evacuate; everyone will be out there panicking to get to the quarantine zone. Or we can stay here until rescue efforts are done. But we will never be sure when that day will come or if it will come and for how long our food will last," Maxine stated, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I can open the shutter for the ones who evacuate. The infected who almost got in might not be there anymore. What will it be?"
Isabel sat on her rattan bed in hopelessness, not commenting on the situation, as if unaffected.
"I'm going to stay here until things calm down," Maxine declared. "How about the others?"
"I'll stay and be here with you, dear," Isabel said softly, her voice barely masking her underlying despair.
"I'm going outside to get my niece," Andres said, determination lacing his words despite the fear in his eyes.
Not hearing from Pitoy, who lay on the floor in a fetal position, Maxine noticed his absence in their conversation. He was covering his face with his arms, holding his head as if in pain. Concerned, Maxine approached and gently checked on him, her heart heavy with worry for their fragile group.
"Pitoy, right? You okay?" Maxine asked, crouching next to him, her concern evident in her eyes.
Pitoy didn't respond, only producing gagging sounds as if choking on his own saliva. His convulsing throat rendered him silent. Maxine noticed the empty medicine packets nearby that Isabel had given him earlier. It looked like he had taken all the medicines at once, hoping to feel better, but it had done nothing. The water bottle seemed untouched, with only a sip taken from it.
"Shit," Maxine muttered, recalling the same medicines being bought at the store earlier by a sick person she thought had contracted the virus. "He's infected..." She stood up, brushing her blue-highlighted hair back in stress. "Does anybody have any idea how he got sick? I cleared all the seafood products from the shelves."
"Oh, dear! He told me he ate those fishballs that he was selling. Those are made from fish, right?" Isabel realized, remembering the news about tainted seafood products. "I'm sorry, old age makes me forgetful at times."
"That's right, he's a street food vendor," Maxine said, finding the answer. "He got it from his food."
"Great, now we're stuck with one of those violent bastards," Andres said, picking up a broken bottle neck from the floor as a weapon. "We should kill him before he turns into one of them!"
"What? Are you out of your mind?" Maxine exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"Then what else should we do? Wait for him to turn and infect us?" Andres' suggestion, though heartless, had a point.
As they debated Pitoy's condition, Pitoy’s happiest memories flashed before him, giving him a brief moment of euphoria before falling into a comatose state. Suddenly, his body convulsed violently, saliva frothing from his mouth. Uncovering his face, he locked his bloodshot eyes on Andres and ran towards him. Andres managed to stab Pitoy with the broken bottle, but it didn't stop Pitoy from tackling him to the ground.
"Help me, help!" Andres screamed, continuing to stab Pitoy with the broken bottle as they struggled on the floor.
Pinning him down, Pitoy sprayed contagious saliva into Andres' mouth, making him gag and choke. He then beat Andres with his fists, smashing his skull while Andres screamed. Pitoy pressed his thumbs into Andres' eye sockets, blood spurting out as Andres screamed in pain, blinded in the process. Stimulated by his screams and hidden resentment of the way Andres talked to Maxine earlier, Pitoy pulled his tongue until it ripped. Blood mixed with saliva flowed out of Andres' mouth as he pleaded for help incoherently.
"Jesus Christ, save us!" Isabel exclaimed, signing the cross as she watched the horror unfold.
Her voice caught Pitoy's attention, and now Isabel became his target. He stood up from Andres' body and ran towards her, punching her to the ground, where she lay helplessly.
Maxine, horrified by the infected Pitoy, fumbled for the store's shutter key. As she ran for the door, Isabel's pleading voice stopped her.
"Young lady, help me!" Isabel screamed, lying on her stomach with her mouth bleeding. Pitoy stepped on her back, yanking her arms backward, pressing his foot on her spine until it cracked. Isabel let out a moan of pain, her body convulsing under his weight. With a brutal kick, he let go of her arms, her body smacking hard against the floor. He then got on her back and leaned forward, biting her ear off, tearing through her wrinkled flesh. Blood flowed as he bit her repeatedly, her desperate cries for Maxine's help echoing in the store.
Within minutes, Andres started convulsing, tears streaming from his bloody eye sockets, saliva overflowing from his mouth. Blind and disoriented, he struggled to stand, following Isabel's pained cries. Driven by the infection's madness, he joined Pitoy in the violence, stomping on Isabel's body with sickening force as the rooster clucked, running, and flying around the store.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" Maxine muttered, looking at Isabel one last time before abandoning her and running to the door. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she tried to unlock the shutter. "Fuck! Let me out, let me out!"
Finally managing to unlock the shutter, she hurriedly lifted it open. Pitoy, now targeting her, stood up from Isabel's broken body and staggered toward her. Maxine crawled under the partially opened shutter, desperate to escape. Pitoy grabbed her leg, and she turned around, kicking his head repeatedly. He nearly bit her foot, but with one final, powerful kick to his face, she broke free.
She stood up, her heart pounding, as Pitoy banged on the metal shutter, screaming and failing to reach her. The night air hit her like a slap, and she took a moment to catch her breath, her chest heaving. The muffled screams and thuds from inside the store were replaced by the eerie, deafening noise of heavy traffic on the highway and the unintelligible chatter of evacuees moving forward on foot.
Maxine took one last look at the shutter, a pang of guilt gnawing at her, but she knew she had to move. She had to survive. She prepared to join the moving crowd, her mind racing with fear and determination.
The street was chaos. People ran in every direction, their faces masks of terror and desperation. The infected roamed among them, their guttural growls and screams adding to the cacophony. Maxine pushed forward, her legs trembling but resolute. She scanned the crowd, looking for a path to safety, every instinct focused on staying alive.
Each step away from the store felt like a betrayal, but Maxine forced herself to keep moving. The horror she had witnessed inside was burned into her mind, fueling her resolve. She would survive this nightmare, no matter what it took.