Chapter 2

Damien was fully immersed in his fantasy of being the king.

Along with his so-called "inner circle"—his and Helena's parents—he commandeered the best refrigerated display cases in the fresh produce section that were stocked with imported steaks, salmon, and an array of expensive seafood.

The rest of us, including the sycophantic Walter, were left with nothing but bread and canned goods.

Helena approached me, carrying a plate of grilled steak in her hands, saying, "Here, Carl. Eat something."

The steak on the plate was still sizzling, its delicious aroma filling the air. I glanced up at her, then looked over at Damien and his family, who were busy feasting nearby.

"Is this for me?" I asked.

"Yeah." Helena nodded. "Dam specifically asked me to bring it to you. He said you're weak and need proper nourishment."

I took the plate and dumped the steak straight into a nearby trash can right in front of her.

Helena's face went deathly pale.

"Carl! What are you doing?"

"I'm not hungry," I said, my tone indifferent.

Her eyes welled up with tears.

"Do you really have to be like this? We're all in the same boat now!"

"The same boat?" I let out a laugh. "You mean this boat is named the 'SS Damien', and I'm just a stowaway waiting to be tossed overboard, aren't I?"

Helena was left speechless by my words.

Noticing the commotion, Damien walked over. He took one look at the steak in the trash can, his expression darkening, and said, "Don't push your luck, Carl. I was being nice by offering you steak, and you're repaying my kindness by throwing a tantrum like this?"

I leaned back against the shelving unit, not even bothering to acknowledge him.

Damien felt humiliated in front of everyone else, and his temper flared. He yelled, "Lock him in the storage room! Let him sit there and reflect on his behavior!"

Two men immediately stepped forward, reaching out to grab me.

My gaze turned icy. "Don't touch me."

The two men, taken aback by my demeanor, stopped in their tracks.

Flustered and enraged, Damien snapped, "Useless idiots! Get him!"

I slowly stood up and flexed my wrists, which still felt a bit stiff. The effects of the drug were wearing off, and I could feel my strength slowly returning.

I clenched my fists. "Are you sure you want to do this, Damien?"

Just then, the supermarket's public address system crackled to life. After a harsh burst of static, a woman's voice came through.

"Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? Please, if you can hear me, say something!"

Everyone froze.

Damien's expression shifted, and he rushed toward the broadcast room.

I went after him.

Walter was there too, frantically fumbling with the equipment.

"What's going on? Didn't you say the internal lines were all cut?" Damien demanded furiously.

"I don't know, Mr. Farley! It looks like… It seems like it's coming from an external channel."

The woman's voice continued over the broadcast, now laced with sobs.

"Help! Is anyone there? We're at Trader Poe's on the west side of town! There are monsters here… Aaaah—"

A piercing, blood-curdling scream followed. Then, there was nothing but the hiss of static.

A deathly silence fell over the entire Costgo. Every face was etched with terror.

Trader Poe's didn't require a membership.

They were doomed.

Fiona was the first to recover. She grabbed Damien's arm, her voice trembling as she said, "Thank goodness we listened to you, Dam! Thank goodness we came to Costgo…"

"Yeah! How could Trader Poe's ever compare to Costgo?" some others chimed in, their expressions a mix of lingering dread and relief.

Damien's ego was thoroughly satisfied. He cast a smug glance my way, as if to say, "See? I was right all along."

Helena clutched her chest and turned to me, saying, "Carl, did you hear that? It's far too dangerous out there! We have to stay here."

I said nothing.

Instead, I walked over to the broadcast console and adjusted a few of the knobs with a casual, offhand motion. Then, I whispered under my breath, "Step one, clear."