For a heartbeat, neither of them moved… neither dared. The silence was so dense it felt alive, pressing against his eardrums, magnifying the frantic rhythm of his pulse. His rifle trembled, steady as a surgeon's scalpel in the wrong hands… except this cut wouldn't heal anyone.
His thoughts spiraled. He remembered the dissected beast, the stench of torn sinew and the ugly truth he'd uncovered: armor was never perfect. Joints. Eyes. Orifices. Weaknesses always existed. He could see hers too… the faint seams where her armor breathed, the delicate flesh of her throat, face and eyes half-shielded by pale hair that drifted like smoke.
But his finger would not move. Every possibility chained him in place, stopping him from taking action. If I shot, would she die? Would she scream? Would a dozen others like her come rushing in? If I don't shoot, would she cut me down where I stood? he thought helplessly.
The sword in her grip pulsed softly, veins of energy crawling across its edge like cracks of lightning frozen in steel. It hummed at a frequency he felt more than heard, thrumming in his ribs. The same feeling he had felt when facing the ironclad beast's armor… but different. Refined. Pure.
Her eyes fixed on him. Cold, unreadable. The levitating strands of her hair shimmered as if tasting the air, shifting color from grey to a faint, poisonous blue. Was it curiosity? Hostility? He couldn't know. Every tilt of her head, every slight shift of her stance carried the weight of an alien code he had no way to decipher.
And he realized, with a cold clarity that sank into his bones: We are in the same boat, aren't we? He laughed sarcastically in his head. His breathing. His grip. Even his hesitation—they all screamed things she might interpret as threat. Or weakness.
Both of them were locked in a stalemate. The air between them kept growing sharper by the second, the tension being pulled like a string ready to break. The break would mean death. His or hers. Maybe both.
Kaai knew that very well. So he did something.
That something went against every survival instinct screaming in his bones. He did something reckless. Something naïve. Something stupid.
He let out a slow, deliberate breath and…
…lowered his rifle.
The motion was careful, unthreatening—his hands trembling as though every muscle resisted. Inch by inch, he lowered the weapon down until it was on the floor, never breaking her gaze.
Her sword did not move.
Her eyes followed.
For a heartbeat, nothing changed. Her blade stayed poised, humming with that faint, alien resonance. Her eyes, cold and unreadable. Kaai's throat was dry, every muscle tight. Her blade stayed steady, her eyes locked on him, reading him like a puzzle. The silence stretched so long it felt like the building itself was holding its breath.
And then, before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out.
"Look… you can kill me after I eat one last chocolate, okay?"
The sound of his own voice nearly made him wince. It was shaky, ridiculous—the kind of thing you say when your brain has no idea how else to keep you alive. But the words were out, hanging in the air between them like fragile glass.
Then, almost imperceptibly, she shifted. Her wrist loosened. The humming blade tilted downward, then lowered fully, until its edge hovered harmlessly by her side.
The air didn't relax… if anything, the tension grew heavier. Because now it wasn't instinct that kept them alive. It was choice. The choice not to be like the beasts that roamed these forsaken lands. The choice to cling to whatever kept them sane and would keep them sane. Because in these lands it's not you against me. It's us versus the beasts.
She didn't sheath the blade. Not yet. Instead, with the same measured calm, she reached across her belt and drew out a shorter weapon… a dagger, thin and cruel, its edge whispering faintly with energy.
Kaai stiffened, pulse kicking. But she didn't raise it. She crouched instead, placing the dagger flat against the ground. Then, with one gloved hand, she slid something free from her side… a worn leather satchel. The straps creaked faintly as she pushed it across the dust between them along with her dagger. Now all her equipment lay across the room from them.
Her eyes never left him. The sword remained loose but ready in her grip, its hum steady, warning. The message was clear enough: I've laid something down. Now you.
So Kaai did the same. He took off his backpack and emptied his pockets into it. He then slid the backpack across the room as well, keeping his rifle close to him.
Kaai and the girl remained frozen, neither willing to yield more than they already had. His pack sat between them, hers beside it.
Kaai swallowed hard, his rifle still clutched but angled low. He shifted one boot forward. The floor creaked. Instantly, her sword sang louder, vibrating with a dangerous hum. She hadn't struck yet, though. That pause, that calculation, told him she was watching, weighing, not simply killing.
He stopped, raising one hand slightly away from his rifle, open-palmed. A wordless gesture: I don't want this fight.
To his surprise, she mirrored him. One step forward, blade still angled, but she didn't close the distance. She matched him exactly, like a reflection… as if two wary predators were circling each other but refusing to lunge.
Then the quiet cracked in the worst way possible: the girl's stomach growled, loud in the silence. He froze, confused, eyes darting back to her. 'What?'
He blinked at her, baffled. 'She's… hungry?'
'Of course she was. Anyone desperate enough to push into an unfamiliar ruin for supplies had to be.' The realization steadied him, if only slightly.
'Good thing we're standing in a food aisle', he thought grimly.
Moving slowly, careful not to spook her, Kaai slid his left hand to a nearby shelf. His fingers closed around a tin can. He nudged it forward across the dust toward her.
The girl tilted her head, examining the metal cylinder as though it were some puzzle box. Confusion flickered across her pale features.
Kaai understood instantly. He grabbed another can, hooked his finger under the lid, and cracked it open. The scent of tuna spilled into the air. He held it up for her to see.
Kaai had expected the canned tuna to smell faint, metallic, maybe spoiled. But when the lid popped with a sharp hiss, the scent that hit him was clean. Fresh. As if it had been packaged yesterday.
His stomach twisted at the impossibility. Outside, he'd seen buildings eroded into skeletons and streets eaten by rust, but here inside this mall the air carried no rot, no dust of decades. Even the labels on the cans looked sharp, their colors un-faded.
He dipped a finger into the brine and tasted. Salt. Oil. Tuna. Nothing off. His medical mind raced. No bacterial breakdown. No time decay. Nothing. He stared at the can as though it were a riddle.
"This should be impossible…" he muttered.
Then another crack echoed in the mall. She had opened her can.
Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed it, then looked at him as if waiting for further instructions. Kaai simply ate the tuna. He was at bliss after hours of walking and hiding. He had finally found a good storage he could rely on. He looked back at her, but was confused.
She had a deep, disgusted look on her face as if telling him, "How could you eat that?" She didn't want to eat the canned fish, but hunger won. After a long minute she tasted the tuna, frowned at the flavor, then—with surprising speed—devoured the rest.
When she finished, she pressed her palm to her stomach and looked at him. Not hostile. Not soft either. Was she trying to acknowledge his deed, or tell him that she was still hungry?
Kaai didn't know.
Nor did he know how to communicate with her. He understood one thing: she was no fool. She was intelligent. He then intentionally broke eye contact with her, looked at the counters, and another specific aisle, then back to her. She understood what he was trying to convey.
Kaai relaxed a bit. He then exhaled and stood up, slinging his rifle across his back. Across from him, she sheathed her sword. Now walking next to him, the girl let out a sigh. They were heading to the counters to pick up some shopping carts. As they walked, they started to understand that they weren't a threat to each other, but might be each other's only hope to survive this nightmare.
He muttered under his breath, almost laughing at the absurdity.
"The last thing I thought I'd be doing while the world ends… is grocery shopping with an alien. Not surgery. Not saving lives. Grocery shopping…. God help me"