Vaulting over the cars, I land nimbly on my feet and swiftly take the lead toward our designated raiding target for today: Chapters. The raid will be straightforward since I cleared out the few zombies inside last night. Adhering to our established protocol, I knock on the front doors, wait, then proceed to the back entrance, open the doors, and whistle inside.

With no response, both my team and the one at the front enter the store cautiously. With flashlights and weapons ready, we patrol the store, ears pricked for any subtle noises. Our hearts race with adrenaline, yet the presence of new weapons has diminished the unease and uncertainty. Having swept the store, traversing each aisle from the top floor to the bottom, we begin our raid.

With a basket in hand, I whistle softly while I amble down the aisles, eyeing the book titles. Pausing at the maps section, I pull out a map of Manitoba, briefly perusing the large tome. After a moment's consideration, I decide to take the rest, stacking them in my basket. As I continue down the aisle, I nonchalantly pick up anything that seems useful.

I gathered books on indoor gardening, medicinal and edible plants, maps, weapon usage, electronics, survival, and, unexpectedly, a book on zombie apocalypses—likely a recent release coinciding with the new season of The Walking Dead.

Once I had filled two baskets to the brim, I carry them to the truck. "Quite a haul you got there," a boy says.

I grin shrugging "Grabbed what looked interesting," I say waving as I go back inside to do one last sweep.

Ignoring the top floor, I head straight to the decorations and writing section. With a grin, I snatch up all the pillows and blankets that seem exceptionally cozy and swiftly carry them to the trucks. Disregarding the boy's laughter as I unload the pillows and blankets, I return inside one last time. Notebooks and writing utensils will be valuable since we can no longer depend on technology; all our records will be handwritten from here on out.

Neil comes to my side his basket recently emptied. "Ahh writing supplies very usefully," he says stacking the stuff into his basket.

I nod, following his lead. Soon, the shelves and tables are nearly bare. We gathered all the calendars, writing utensils, and notebooks, leaving behind the ornate and flashy ones as they are unnecessary.

A sharp, clear whistle sounds twice, signaling the end of our raid. Checking my watch, I let out a chuckle; two hours have slipped by since we entered the store. As we exit, I glance at the shelves and chuckle again, noting the unprecedented emptiness. The useful bookshelves are bare, with only the storybooks and novels remaining untouched.

Since our mission was solely to acquire books, we opted for two smaller trucks instead of the usual four or five larger ones needed for other stores. Jogging back to Ikea alongside the foot teams, I can't help but smile at the sight of our now fortified gate and fence.

With the raid team departed, the remaining people fortified the chain link fence with wood and metal on the side facing the cars, preventing anyone from climbing over from the outside. As we approached, a bell rings from within, signaling the gates to open for the first time, allowing entry from the front rather than scaling the fence.

Shelves procured from Costco are being repurposed by a small construction crew, led by Jaron, into lookout towers along the fence. Efforts to transform Ikea into a habitable space throughout the year are gradually taking shape. Hastening to the back, I found a queue already formed, with boxes of books being handed down the line from one person to another.

"Kaindra, perfect timing come help me sort these books," Kaitlyn calls out waving to me from inside the loading dock.

Skipping over to her side, she gestures towards a cart brimming with books. "Please take these to the storage room and organize them by genre," Kaitlyn directs, already pivoting to reprimand another person for mishandling the books.

With a sigh, I grasp the cart's handles and push it towards the book storage room. Picking up the first book I come across, I read the title 'Map of Manitoba' and survey the already stacked shelves. A section for maps has begun, but a quick glance tells me Kaitlyn would disapprove of the haphazard arrangement, or as she would put it, the half-assed job.

Taking matters into my own hands, I wheel the cart to the map section. A quick look over my shoulder confirms that I'm now alone, the last person having departed with their empty cart. Facing the shelves again, I extend my hand and, carried by a gentle breeze, the books float off the shelf. I meticulously reorganize them, sorting the maps by cities and towns in alphabetical order, according to their respective provinces. Finally, the last map softly settles into its place on the shelf.

I turn to my cart and pick up the next book, noticing more people filing into the room. As I walk around placing books on the shelves, I can't help but shake my head, knowing Kaitlyn is going to rip everyone a new one once she sees this mess.

Right on cue, Kaitlyn, the devil in question, strides in. Her gaze sweeps over the shelves, and in less than a second, her eyes narrow in displeasure. A collective gasp fills the room as she begins her march forward. "What is this? You call this organization have you learned anything? Look at these medicinal plants for flat land mixed with edible plants of forestry." She waves the books in front of the people's faces and casts a pleased glance towards the maps section, nodding happily. "Kaindra you did this shelf didn't you?"

I nod, and she grins, skipping to my side and giving me a firm pat on the back. "And that people is how you sort books follow that example. Now, Kaindra, help me do the rest with these nice people." My eyes widen as she grins up at me; the devil has been fully unleashed, and I have been ensnared as her loyal servant, unable to leave.

Swallowing I grin weakly at her "Of course Kaitlyn, it would be my pleasure."

She pats my shoulder as she walks by clapping her hands "Now first things first plant books on that shelf weapons and survival books on that shelf. Sorted by type, location, then alphabetically. Novels at the front sorted the same way now," she claps her hands twice, signaling for us to start "Let's get cracking."

Torture, the little devil is a master at torture, I have been through a few different torture scenarios but Kaitlyn will always be a memorable one in my life. She's fearless when it comes to reprimanding with a hand or a stick—almost as if she were a teacher in a past life, instructing us in the ways my grandmother described school. 

Despite our friendship, she doesn't hesitate to hit me, even when I've done nothing wrong. It seems she might find some amusement in it, or perhaps it's her way of penalizing me for not feeding? Could she still be upset about that? Whatever, I plan to feed tonight. It's essential to maintain full strength to ensure their safety.

"No, this is a book on medicinal plants for flatlands, not hills flat land medicinal books go over here not with the hills section," Kaitlyn reprimands, gesturing with her stick toward the specified section. She delivers a smack, forceful enough to leave a red mark on the individual's hand, then strides away, her gaze fixed on her next target.

As Kaitlyn passes by, she smacks my wrist with less than gentle force. "Not there Kaindra, beside it." Rubbing my wrist, I place the book in the designated spot. As I reach for the next book, my hand finds the bottom of the cart. I look at the cart and sigh with relief; it's empty. Glancing at the others, I silently celebrate—the carts are all cleared.

As the last individuals wheel out the carts, Kaitlyn conducts a final inspection of the room. Watching her, I see the tension leave her hands as her gaze sweeps over the orderly shelves. With a grin, I loop my arm through hers and we skip towards the door together.

"Good job everyone. I think it's dinner time now, let's eat," I say over my shoulder dragging Kaitlyn beside me.

I listen to the door closing and watch the last people leave with wide grins. Finally, it's over; it always takes so long when Kaitlyn's perfectionism comes into play, but at least everything is neatly organized now.

Kaitlyn mutters under her breath, fiddling with her hair stick as she gathers her hair into a messy bun, securing it in place. "Why can no one understand the simplest things when it comes to organization? Is it that hard to put things in alphabetical order?" Kaitlyn grumbles pushing my arm off.

Chuckling, I pat her head "Ohh Kaitlyn, you don't just put things in alphabetical order. If you did we would have been done long ago, you just like things to be a little more...structured in how they are placed that's all."

"Doesn't mean it should take them that long to learn the order of things." She grumbles under her breath.

Chuckling, I grab her arm pulling her along "Come on, the food is getting cold." At last, the menacing presence of 'Devil Kaitlyn' has vanished, allowing us to once again enjoy the company of the regular Kaitlyn. As I dash into the cafeteria, a smile spreads across my face seeing everyone gathering their meals.

The once tense atmosphere that enveloped the building has mostly cleared over the week as we've gradually fortified the store. Now, everyone has a bed to sleep in within the privacy of a closed door, ample food and water, and robust security measures, including personal weapons for self-defense if necessary. It's still an odd realization that merely two weeks ago, we were sitting in class, gearing up for final exams before the summer break, and now, we're in a reality where most are struggling for survival against those who, for some unknown reason, are trying to eat us.

As I sit down with my usual small portion of food, Jen, Kaitlyn, and Liam's grins remain wide on their faces. Liam, smirking, leans over to Jen and whispers in her ear. "Seems like we need to have her drink blood more often if it puts her in this much of a good mood." I throw a piece of bread at him sticking out my tonged.

Jen snickers nodding "Agreed..ach," she screeches getting a piece of bread on her forehead.

We laugh eating our food as we chat amongst ourselves merrily.

I observe as yet another zombie effortlessly crosses the barrier I set up, shambling down the street. Anything with the intent to harm cannot pass through the barrier, whether alive or dead. What is it that sets them apart? 

Extending my hand, a shadowy appendage emerges and clutches the zombie's feet, pulling it back beyond the barrier. The shadowy hand then vanishes, melting into the darkness of the night. Inside the barrier, I come face to face with the zombie. I roll up my sleeve and draw a shard of ice across my arm, carefully parting the skin. Dark, black blood oozes out, glistening in the weak moonlight. The scent of fresh blood captures the zombie's attention, making it aware of my presence for the first time.

This is an exceptionally dumb zombie that requires the scent of blood to detect my presence. Shaking my head, I lift my arm, the cut held forcibly open by wooden splinters under my control, causing a persistent sting. My fingers brush the barrier's edge. My black blood trails down my arm, disappearing into the darkness. The zombie's red eyes flare as it snarls and charges at me.

I remain still and composed as the zombie hurtles towards me at full speed. As it staggers closer and reaches out its hand, it barely touches the barrier near my arm before it recoils, ice erupting and wrapping around its limb like a serpent. The zombie's momentum causes its arm to snap off, dropping to the ground and shattering into fragments. Colliding face-first with the barrier, the zombie's snarls cease as its body instantly freezes, then collapses and breaks apart like glass.

As I lower my arm, the searing pain dissipates, the cut healing as the charred wood turns to ash and is removed, allowing the skin to seamlessly knits itself back together, leaving my pale skin unmarked. Passing my other hand over the wound, water materializes, drawing the blood from my skin; the mixture simmers and evaporates, leaving my skin pristine once more. I roll down my sleeve, concealing my arm again.

Kneeling before the shattered corpse, I lift a fragment of its icy remnants, scrutinizing it between my fingers. "Do you need something to make you want to kill," I mumble dropping the frozen corps piece back onto the ground.

"Well, that's all for tonight, I still need to feed before heading back," I slap my legs and stand up, dusting off my hands. Turning around, I whistle a tune while walking, my hands resting in my back pockets.

Three weeks later, I'm casually chatting with a teammate from my raiding group as we wait for the others to arrive for today's raid on some nearby houses. We've already cleared out Costco, Cabela's, and Chapters, stowing away all the supplies we found useful in storage for future use.

"Haha yeah, I mean if we split the groups into two teams we should be able to take on a house in each group instead of having five working on one house." He says.

I nod "Bring that up with Mr. Jones and Jim they should be fine with it, more supplies coming in a raid is always nice."

He nods, opening his mouth when a loud bang draws our attention to the front doors. A lookout rushes in, his eyes wide and frantic. "P-p-people," he stutters, pointing outside.

A person approaches and firmly grasps the boy's shoulders, forcing him to look at him "Speak clearly, what's this about people?"

The boy inhales deeply a few times before pointing outside once more. "There are people outside the gates, wandering around."

People are here? For what reason? They better not be looking for trouble.

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