Everyone was still gathered near the market's checkout counter. Outside, the silence felt almost unnatural, but inside, the mood was lazy, filled with idle chatter. Out of nowhere, Alonso shifted the conversation:— Hey, guys, have you noticed how dead quiet it is out there? I've been picking up on it for like… half an hour now.
Reidner lifted his head, as if the thought had just hit him.— You're right, man. Haven't heard a thing since last night. You think it's completely deserted out there?
Camille, always the one to poke fun, glanced at the door and smirked:— I don't know… but you're men, aren't you? Why don't you go check it out?
The group chuckled under their breath, but Edvaldo, leaning against the counter with a serious look, turned to Daniel.— I don't know, bro. I think it's way too early to just walk out like that. Might be smarter to ask Mohammad to check the cameras first. What if there are infected right outside, you know?
Gabriel Francisco, slouched in the cashier's chair, let out a heavy sigh before pushing himself up.— Man, are you guys really gonna keep debating this all night? We need to bring some mattresses and blankets in here. Sleeping on the damn floor again isn't an option.
He gestured at the group with both hands.— Come on, let's just get it done. It's still early, it looks calm enough… I think.
Everyone exchanged glances, but no one seemed brave enough to be the first to say, I'll go.
After Gabriel's words, silence fell over the room again. They just stared at one another, like a game of chicken, each waiting for someone else to step up.
Alicia, listening in, crossed her arms, her thoughts sharp: Gabriel's right. But let's be real—none of them is going to move on their own. A bunch of grown men, and not one with enough guts… Guess I'll have to give them a little push.
She flipped her hair back, then raised her voice with a mocking edge:— That's right. Sleeping on the floor last night was hell! I froze my ass off, and I'm not doing it again. So here's the deal: whoever doesn't step up right now to fix this is a coward!
The impact was instant. Reidner was the first to get up, laughing as he headed toward the door.— Alright, I'm going! Who's coming with me?
The taunt worked. A chorus of "I'll go!" erupted through the market as everyone stood, moving all at once, laughing and grumbling while they did. Within minutes, the place turned into organized chaos, each person running around, fixing up their little corners and figuring out where to set up the makeshift beds.
Meanwhile, João was climbing the stairs, balancing a few bottles in his hand. He stopped at the top for a moment, watching the commotion below. The hustle and bustle didn't hold his attention for long. He shrugged it off and kept walking, knocking on the door just as he had planned.
***
Bruno woke to the sound of pounding on the door, his eyes heavy, his body even heavier. When he forced them open, he saw a small pool of blood on the floor — as if his tears and spit had mixed together while he slept. He realized he was sprawled across the office floor, a lingering dizziness clouding his head.
Before answering the door, he instinctively searched for the teeth he swore he had spit out. The memory felt too real. Finding nothing, he stumbled into the bathroom. Staring into the mirror, his eyes traced every detail of the teeth still in place. A sigh of relief slipped out—cut short by another round of knocks at the door.
— Hold your damn horses, I'm coming! — Bruno shouted, rubbing his face as if that could wipe away the strange feeling.
He shuffled back toward the office, moving slowly under the weight of dizziness and the ache burning behind his eyes. When he opened the door, João stood there with a bottle of Askov in hand. He handed it over without a word before collapsing into the chair nearby, exhausted.
Still trapped somewhere between the dream and the blackout he couldn't quite remember, Bruno grabbed the bottle and muttered his thanks:— Damn, man, thanks. I really needed this.
João Paulo looked like he was at the breaking point. His bloodshot eyes, half-closed, told the story of sleepless nights. He dragged his hands down his face before spilling everything in a raw, unfiltered voice:— Bro, I'm wrecked… I didn't sleep a single second last night. Hadassa's dead, and I don't even know if Ayme's still alive. Man, I'm falling apart.
Bruno twisted the cap off, took a long swig, then pulled a chair closer to sit across from João. He didn't truly grasp the weight of his friend's words, but tried to look concerned. In a tone bordering on apathy, he asked:— Still freaked out by all this?
João Paulo gripped the bottle tightly, took three hard swigs in a row, then drew in a deep breath before answering:— If only it were that simple… What's tearing me apart is not knowing if Hadassa was already infected when… when I did it. That thought is killing me, man.
The silence between them grew heavy, broken only by João's long, ragged sigh. Bruno stared down at the bottle in his hand, lost once more between his own confusion and the raw pain bleeding out of the friend sitting across from him.
***
Bruno, even if he didn't truly care, decided to ease some of the weight João Paulo was carrying. He figured it was the right thing to do, so he went straight to the point:— What do you mean you don't know if she was infected or not? What exactly happened when you struck her?
João looked away, and Bruno noticed how quickly his eyes welled up with tears. His voice came out weak and trembling, heavy with pain:— Man… my sister was right behind me… I was surrounded, scared out of my mind. I started thrashing around, swinging in every direction, just trying to get out. But in the middle of it, I swung my arm back… and when I looked, the knife was buried in her chest. And I think… I think she wasn't infected yet.
Bruno fell silent for a moment, processing what his friend had just confessed. To him, it seemed obvious João should've checked the body—but in the chaos of the moment, who would've thought of that? Trying to ease the crushing guilt eating at his friend, he said:— Damn, man… she might've been infected already. Think about it: how else could she show up in the middle of a swarm of infected without being torn apart? Don't torture yourself with this—it's too much for one person to carry. If you need to cry, let it out. I'm here, you get me? Better now than later, because soon enough, we won't even have time for that.
João Paulo broke down, curling into himself as if trying to hide from the pain. Tears streamed nonstop as he muttered:— I can't, man… Every time I close my eyes, it's like I'm right back there. The scene won't leave my head.
Bruno took a long pull from the bottle, let out a loud belch, and glanced at João with a crooked grin:— Bro, if you're too beat, don't worry about going outside with me, alright? But hey, if you can't get any sleep, I can fix that real quick. Just say the word and I'll knock you out cold—problem solved. Two seconds flat.
For a moment, João cracked a faint, reluctant smile, as if that stupid joke had worked just enough to break through. But then his eyes drifted toward the door, and his face changed. A small pool of blood caught his attention. He pointed at it and asked:— No, man, I'm fine… We'll head out to get supplies later, alright? But tell me this—what's with that blood by the door?
Bruno followed his friend's gaze, saw the pool of blood, and sighed. Slowly, he dragged a chair over to the computer, where a monitor showed the market's security-camera feed. Trying to sound calm, his voice nonetheless carried a tight, restless edge:
— Dude, there's something wrong with me.
João Paulo frowned, puzzled.
— What do you mean?
Bruno hesitated. He didn't know how to explain the strange feeling that had been eating at him since he woke up, or how to describe the other version of himself he'd seen in the mirror. It was so absurd he could barely order his thoughts. He started with what felt clearest:
— Man, since yesterday when we came up here… when I was alone, I just snapped. Like, I really snapped. I spent the whole night like that, and as morning came, I don't know… something changed in me. And I've been feeling it ever since.
João leaned forward, trying to catch what Bruno was saying. He blinked, confused.
— Dude, you'll have to explain that better. I don't get any of this.
Bruno drew a breath, forcing words for something he barely understood himself. His eyes were fixed and heavy as he finally admitted:
— The thing is I don't feel anything for anyone anymore, man… It's like I'm not even alive. The only thing I still truly feel is rage. Remember last night, when Camille started pushing my buttons? I felt like I wanted to kill her, bro. Like for real. I pictured smashing her head against the wall, ripping the flesh from her neck with my teeth, just to watch her die slowly right in front of me.
As he spoke, Bruno seemed to see every grim detail unfold, as if the words dug up memories he didn't even know he had. He ran a hand over his face, trying to shake the image away, but the scene stayed vivid in his mind.
João, instead of answering, stayed silent and watched him. Then he noticed the cut on Bruno's face. The wound looked odd, the edges dark—almost black—as if something was wrong. Putting aside Bruno's confession for a moment, he pointed at his friend's face and asked:
— And that cut—yeah, I know I'm the one who did it, but… have you washed it yet?
Bruno frowned, as if only now remembering the wound. Cuts and bruises were nothing new to him, and with everything going on he'd simply ignored it. Running his fingers around the edge of the gash, he felt a faint sting and muttered:
— Yeah, man. This damn thing just won't heal.
He stood up, glancing toward the bathroom. He knew he had to take care of it before they went out. Pointing at João, he gave a simple order:
— I'm gonna wash this crap off in the bathroom. Go grab a bottle of 70% alcohol, alright? And bring some gauze to cover it after. We'll finish this talk later, cool?
João nodded, still uneasy about whatever was happening to Bruno. As he stood, he gave the cut one more look and murmured under his breath:
— This isn't normal…
***
Walking through the market's busy aisles, Alicia noticed a small figure tucked away at the back of the storeroom entrance. The noise around her—laughter, loud voices, the slap of boys' shoes on the floor—felt distant when she saw Samira curled up in a shadowed corner. The others, distracted, hadn't noticed her, and Alicia felt a pull to go over. Samira's head was down; her shoulders shook with stifled sobs. The market's noise didn't reach her, and the silence that hung around Samira only deepened her loneliness.
Alicia walked up to her already planning how to cheer her up. When she got close, Samira looked up, and Alicia crouched beside her. The girl's breathing was heavy, as if she were trying to hold in something far bigger than the words choking her. Alicia spoke softly, but against the boys' chatter and laughter her voice floated clear to Samira.
— What's wrong, Samira? Why are you sitting here all alone?
Samira stared at the floor in front of her, where dark stains still marked the tiles—leftovers from the infected Bruno had killed earlier. Her gaze lingered on those stains and her mind began to paint grim images. The boys' conversation in the background bled into her thoughts, and Alicia's gentle words couldn't quiet the noise inside her head.
— My brother lied to me… he said he didn't find them. But I can tell by looking at his face that he was lying. And now… looking at these bloodstains, I keep thinking… what if they're not here anymore? Wouldn't it have been easier if he'd told the truth… that he got there and didn't find them alive?
Alicia felt the weight of Samira's words. The noise around them—the boys playing, shouting—felt like a cruel contrast to Samira's pain. She glanced at the blood on the floor and, for a moment, imagined Samira's brother alone, maybe forced to face something unspeakable. The memory of what Camille had said about what happened at her friend's house made Alicia wonder about the nightmare he must have lived through when he left. She thought for a moment, sighed, and said:
— Have you thought that maybe he couldn't tell you the truth… because he was afraid of how you'd react?
Samira scrunched up her face, almost angry, and without hesitation shot back:
— My brother isn't like that… He doesn't care how I'd feel. Remember how he just walked away yesterday like I didn't matter?
Alicia sighed deeply, looked around at the market's bustle, trying to mute the noise and focus on the girl beside her. She couldn't let Samira stay lost in that mix of anger and grief aimed at her brother.
— I don't think that's it. Yesterday he was fighting with everything he had to protect you, Samira. The whole time, he made it clear you were his priority.
Samira turned her head, silent. Her small pout showed a mix of shame and frustration. Alicia gave a small smile, trying to ease the tension.
— Look, he's overwhelmed, you know? Have you stopped to think what he might have faced getting here? Or better yet… the hell he must have walked through after he left?
Samira was quiet for a moment, the sounds around her seeming distorted as she chewed on Alicia's words. Finally she met her friend's eyes and, with a softer exhale, said in a calmer voice:
— Maybe you're right… Maybe I was unfair to him.
Alicia smiled, pleased to see the shift, and the tightness in Samira's face eased a little. But even as the anger cooled, Samira still hesitated to go near her brother. She gave a little pout and looked back down at the floor.
— But still… I don't want to see his face right now.
***
João Paulo rushed past the girls with a bottle of rubbing alcohol in hand, hurrying back toward the office. Across the market, Pedro and Guilherme were sitting against the wall, chewing gum with sleepy expressions. They watched João Paulo pass, carrying the bottle, before disappearing into the office where Bruno was.
Guilherme glanced at his brother, Pedro, as Anael approached them. With a lazy smile, he asked:— Yo, PH, you got the weed? I'm dying for a hit.
Pedro, eyes half-closed, fumbled through his shorts pocket and replied:— Got it, man. But let's see if Bruno wants some too.
Anael, chewing on a cookie, crossed his arms and said with a hint of disdain:— Don't you guys ever get tired? One day this is gonna catch up with you, I'm serious.
Pedro rolled his eyes and shot back, in his usual blunt tone:— Chill out, man. Buzz off.
Shaking his head, Anael turned away and went over to his cousin Arthur, who was standing with his younger brother. Even with a cookie in hand, he couldn't hide how out of place he felt.
After watching him leave, Guilherme and Pedro got up and headed for the office. When they arrived, they saw Bruno taking the bottle of alcohol from João's hand. He poured a bit of it onto his hand and rubbed it directly on the wound. His face twisted in pain, teeth clenched, as he cleaned the injury thoroughly.
Pedro stepped closer, frowning:— Dude, you're crazy putting that stuff on like that.
Guilherme also stepped forward, half-joking:— So… anyone wanna smoke? PH's got some good stuff here.
João Paulo grinned wide:— Dude, you're a lifesaver!
Bruno glanced at the marijuana and immediately started thinking about how they could plant the seeds before smoking it. Just as Guilherme began rolling a joint, he raised his hand:— Hey, Gui, don't light that up right now!
Pedro frowned, confused:— Why not?
Bruno gave a half-smile:— Man, from now on, we're gonna have to grow our own weed, got it?
João Paulo, already sitting in a chair, nodded:— Damn right. We don't have anywhere to buy from anymore, you feel me, my man.
Excited by the idea, Guilherme suggested:— Let's check where the guys used to stash their stuff. Bet they left something lying around.
Bruno threw an arm over Pedro's shoulder, energized, and added:— Hell, we can go right now. Might as well grab some mattresses and blankets while we're at it, 'cause last night was freezing.
João Paulo looked down at his clothes, stained with dried blood, and said:— Man, we gotta change these rags. They're disgusting from yesterday.
Bruno glanced at his own state and agreed:— True that. I could use a shower too. Might as well take a hot one while we still can.
Guilherme, full of energy and ignoring the dangers outside, stepped forward and called out:— Alright, let's go! No more waiting around, let's move!