"He needs medicine," Margot said, checking the temperature on Carson's forehead. Carson lay on the couch, covered in blankets from neck to toe. Carson could barely talk.

Margot also checked Carson's blood pressure by pressing her finger on Carson's wrist, felt his pulse, and counted with her watch. His blood pressure was unusually high. Margot was a registered nurse in Paris, and although her English was somewhat limited, I was able to discern what she was saying.

Felipe acted as Margot's translator. She said something lengthy to him in French that I couldn't understand. "She said he needed antibiotics. None of the first aid kits carries one. She can bring down the fever as best as she could, but nothing more."

"But we already applied Neomycin in it," said Aria.

Margot spoke something to Felipe, and he translated, "The ointment is a good job, but, in this case, the ointment couldn't stop the infection. It needs something a puissant--stronger."

"There's a pharmacy a couple of blocks down from here," Miguel said. "It's close to the diner where I worked."

"Then, we have to go get some for Carson!" Aria said.

"Are you crazy? Do you know what's out there?" Natalie huffed. "I'm not stepping foot outside those doors!"

"But it's Carson, Nat. He might die," Aria pleaded.

"She's right," Logan chimed in, surprising Natalie. "It's Carson we're talking about."

"You're not getting out there. You barely know how to shoot a gun!"

Logan winced and gritted his teeth. "I have to try, babe--"

"No, Logan. You are not going out! Let him do it!" Natalie pointed at me.

All heads turn to me, and I paled. My hands started sweating as I saw their eyes bore down on me for a response. Here I was, standing with a LAR-15 slung against my back and a shotgun in my hands--armed to the teeth--and essentially becoming the poster card for a raid through the pharmacy.

I gulped down hard. "Uh--what kind of medicine?" I asked Margot.

Margot paused. "Anything ending with a '-in' is antibiotique. Penicillin good, but look for better. Le plus tôt le mieux."

"The sooner, the better," Felipe added.

"Or we can choose not to do anything." It was Joe who said it, and all heads turn to him. "I say we handcuff him."

The room suddenly grew cold.

"Handcuff him? Why would we do that?" Aria asked.

"He might have it," Joe said. He had Daniel behind his leg, and the man gently pushed the boy back to the manager's office where Henry and Christina were, playing on some toy displays on the office desk.

Meanwhile, the room turned ugly. Aria was livid for Joe to insinuate that Carson had the sickness, but the others who didn't know him, took a step back, including Felipe, but Margot insisted on staying by Carson's side.

"Vectors. He'll turn into a vector just like Bren said," Bobby said, looking around the room to find someone that agreed with him and Joe. 

He mainly looked at me with the latter notion, and I blanched. "Hey, don't get me into this."

Bobby ignored me. "We've encountered many of them outside before, and if it's a sickness, then we should have it by now, but we don't. Carson is the only one who got bit, and now he's sick! It makes sense!"

"We don't know that!" Aria insisted.

"But we do! Look at him."

"No! Maybe we can still save him. Perhaps, if we get the medicine he needs," Aria said. She placed the flashlight over Carson's eyes. "See? He didn't have their weird pupils. He's fine."

"I agree with her," Margot said. " À ce train, his fever goes up way high, and he'll d'une crise d'épilepsie--I mean, have a seizure. He'll die."

I held tightly on the grip of the shotgun, then looked down on my brown oxford shoes, which were not built for running. It was already tattered and worn from the running I did last night. I grumbled and walked toward the duffel bag sitting on the island and grabbed the armor-plated vest and placed it over my head, slipped it around my body.

The room went quiet as I placed the two shells into the loading port of my shotgun in loud clicks and then racked the slide. I loaded the spare, too. I walked over to Joe and gave him the spare shotgun. "Since you know how to use this, you can have it."

"You're letting him shoot Carson?" Aria exclaimed.

"No, of course not! I'm going to the pharmacy, and I can't leave you guys undefended now, can I?"

Aria glared at me and then back at Joe. "Okay, fine. But he better not shoot him."

"Joe, you're not shooting him, right?" I asked.

Joe sighed. "Oh--no, of course not. Unless he gives me a reason to."

"Okay, then. That fucking settles it. And Logan's coming with me," I said.

Now, it was Logan's turn to glare at me, and Natalie began to protest. "Why is he going?" She yelled.

"He wants to go," I said, shrugging. "After all, no one tells him what to do. Am I right, Logan?"

Logan's scowl deepened, but he tugged Natalie's grip on his arm, and he stepped toward me. He purposefully bumped me on the shoulders as he walked toward the island counter and picked up the rifle.

Joe pulled me aside. "Maybe I should go with you--"

"No. I want someone who knows how to handle a gun to stay here with the others. And I can't ask you with your son in here. And I think Logan's got my back," I said. I made sure Logan heard me say that, and he paused for a second before he sauntered back to Natalie and kissed her on the forehead. Natalie pushed him away and stormed out of the room.

"You might need a third man, too," Miguel interrupted. "It's point and shoot. It's better than this cleaver." He pointed at the cleaver strapped on his belt. He already changed out of his blood-drenched clothes to one of Jonas's black-collared shirt that was a size smaller than what he wore. It looked like it was ripping out of the seams due to his muscles.

"I don't want someone who freezes out there," I said.

Miguel chuckled with mirth. "Ha! Man, I grew up in these streets. I know how it breathes. Plus, I've been to the pharmacy many times for my Abuelita's medicine. And you also need a local guide."

"Well...if you insist."

We only had four weapons with us. I already gave Joe the spare shotgun, and Logan got the AR-15. I gave Miguel the rifle strapped on my back since it had low recoil and a fast reload, concluding that it might be easier to use than a shotgun. He whistled when I gave it in his hand and started aiming at the windows. I flinched, grabbing the barrel, and lowered it to the floor.

"Let's not think we're Rambo all of a sudden, all right?" I said.

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

Jonas emptied his backpack from his locker and gave it to me. "You might need a bag," he said.

"Thank you. Logan, Miguel, let's meet out at the loading dock in five minutes."

I went over to the kitchenette, pulled out one of the drawers where the knives were, and grabbed the butcher knife. I strapped it to the knife pouch attached to the vest. I also brought the three flashlights inside the duffel bag with me. I passed through the main hall where Joe gave me a good pat on the shoulder while the others merely watched.

I was nervous as hell as I shuffled into the loading dock where Luke, Logan, Natalie, and Miguel were waiting. When Natalie saw me, she gave Logan a passionate, wet kiss that looked like she was trying to suck out the oxygen in the man's lungs. I guessed they made up in such a short time. Natalie stomped out of there, gave me a huff as she passed by me, and stormed out.

"You ready?" Luke asked me. "I'll be here waiting by the doors until you two return."

"Good." I turned to the other two men. "From what I've seen, shooting them on the head kills them, but it's fine if you can't aim at the head properly. I'm not a good shot either. Slow them down by either shooting them on the legs and such. Whatever means necessary to give you time to move away."

Luke gave me a worried glance as he grasped the keys and opened the padlock on the door. "Good luck."

I nodded, moving toward the door. "I take point."