The White Elephant came into view like a dead thing waiting to be robbed.
The logo—three elephants stacked on top of each other like corporate optimism—was cracked straight down the middle. One tusk was missing, the glass entrance doors were shattered, and the storefront was littered with sun-bleached flyers for canned milk and expired rations.
It looked abandoned.
It wasn't.
Lucas was already halfway out the door before the hummer came to a full stop.
"Standard procedure?" Ava asked, already pulling up her scan overlay.
"Give me two minutes," he said. "No delays."
"Try not to bleed on the produce section," Cassi muttered, leaning over the steering wheel. "Messes with the flavor."
Lucas didn't respond.
He stepped through the broken doors like he was clocking in for work.
Inside, the air was hot, still, and sharp with the sour-sweet smell of rotted packaging and dried blood. Something had moved in. Recently. A pack, maybe. Or one large thing that moved like five.
