After quite a while of walking, leaving behind a one-footed blood trail,
"Oh?"
They'd stumbled upon three survivors, cautiously moving through the service corridors behind the shops, just like them.
"Oh god… oh god…" One man from the group dropped to his knees, completely drained, sweat drenched him, his every inch trembling. Relief swept through the group as they saw the volunteers carrying weapons.
"You okay?" Nick asked, helping the man to his feet immediately. "All of you?" Then turned to the rest behind with a concerned but firm gaze.
"Thank God…" the man whispered through tears, as he borrowed Nick's shoulder to stand up on those shaky legs of his, nearly limp.
"We're fine, but someone else isn't," the woman of the group of three replied Nick.
That drew a sharp look from the third survivor, wide-eyed, accusatory. Sweat trickled down his cheek intensely, as his body froze. His glare and gritted teeth said, "Why would you say that?"
"Who's not?" Nick asked.
Instead of answering, the man on Nick's shoulder deflected. "Did you guys find a good hiding spot?"
"We did," Nick said while nodding with a faint smile. "We'll get you all there, after we rescue the one who's still out there."
The man's expression shifted, tightening jaw, trembling fists, red veins surfacing in his eyes as he pushed away from Nick.
"Where is he?" Nick inquired and shrugged subtly.
"Stuck in the washrooms," the woman explained, her expression noticeably calmer than the other two. "Through that door, into the ice cream shop. The washrooms are across the mall from there." She pointed.
"What does he look like?" a teenage girl asked quickly, stepping forward, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Like a teenage boy, I guess?" The woman shook her head with a frown, uncertain, but good enough for the girl.
"Was he wearing an oversized white shirt? Tall, like this?" she held her hand above her head. Her movements became noticeably more animated, a smile was attempting to curl her lips.
"I… think so. I'm not sure." The woman shook her head again.
"Whoever it is," Nick said firmly, drawing everyone's attention back to him, "we're getting him out." He nodded.
He moved toward the door the woman had pointed to, but was halted by a desperate voice.
"Wait!" The third survivor bowed deeply, his tears falling to the floor. "Please, take us to the hiding spot first." He pleaded with quivering voice and shaky finger.
Nick didn't even hesitate, he nodded. "Of course. Isaac, take them ba—"
"Dad!"
Nick turned at the sound of his daughter's voice. Samantha had followed the trail of bloody footprints he'd left behind.
"I'm coming too." She said, eyes sharp but it was forced.
"What?" First time panic flashed on Nick's expression, "No! I told someone to keep you back there." He grabbed her wrist, trying to pull her away. "Go back."
But she yanked her arm free. "No. I'm coming, whether you like it or not." She held her hands out like she's not afraid of anything, "You know I'm better at fighting. And I'm already here."
"You're going back." Nick turned to Isaac. "Take her with you—"
"I'm not leaving." Samantha insisted.
"Stop it, Sam," he said without turning.
"No."
Nick finally turned, placed a firm hand on her shoulder, and squeezed. His intense stare tried to shake her resolve.
But she didn't flinch.
So he sighed. His expression softened. "I can't lose you..."
Samantha's tense face relaxed too, "Yeah… same. So don't die."
"I won't."
"Neither will I."
Nick shook his head slowly, gesturing to Samantha hands. "You don't even have a weapon." He pointed out quietly.
Samantha quickly glanced at her empty hands, embarrassed, teeth gritting, eyes falling low.
"Damn it…" Nick sighed again, heavier this time. Then, hesitantly, he handed her a knife. "Here."
Samantha brightened up instantly, "Thanks." She accepted it so fast she practically snatched it.
He turned to the woman, and pointed. "This door?"
She nodded.
Nick slowly opened it, careful to avoid creaking hinges. On the other side was a dim storage room stocked with cups, tubs, and ingredients. The ice cream shop the woman spoke of.
Isaac, with the three rescued survivors, began the trip back to the kitchenware store while Nick, Samantha, and the others crept inside. The room was silent, but the dim red glow leaking through the cracks in the main door gave the space an eerie air.
Nick gently pushed the door open just wide enough to peek through. They were now behind the counter of the shop. Across the mall, near the public restrooms, two monstrous hounds prowled, their mouths dripping blood.
He quietly shut the door and turned to whisper.
"Here's the hard part. Let's say we haven't killed a single dog yet. There are 18. Two are right outside those washrooms, that's why he can't get out. He's safe... for now, if they can't hear, smell, or... see him. And judging by their behavior, they more than likely don't know he's there." Nick explained while keeping himself calm and composed.
"But if they decide to barge in—" the middle-aged woman in the group began, her face frowning with concern.
"He's dead," Nick finished his sentence. "Those doors won't hold. Same problem we'd have back at the kitchenware store. So technically… we could leave him. It's a solid spot over there. Pretty much no difference to what we have..."
"No!" the teenage girl protested, her expression fierce, her arms flailing. "It might be Sean! You said there are already two dogs right by him. That isn't safe." She shook her heads violently.
"You're not wrong. But…"
"Please." She grabbed Nick's hand. Her grip was trembling, her eyes pleading. "Please don't leave him." She squeezed Nick's hand.
Nick hesitated. He looked down at her shaking hands, then back into her shaky eyes.
"… Alright." He agreed, though reluctantly, "But we need a plan."
"Taking down two dogs silently?" The middle-aged man in the group that isn't Nick questioned. "How?"
"I have an idea," Samantha said, stepping forward.
Nick smiled faintly. "That's my daughter, alright." He thought to himself.