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... anything edible—beans, tuna, meatballs in sauce, even canned peas. Anything could be useful. He also found a few bottles of water, one still slightly cool, as if it had recently sat in a working fridge. For a moment, he stood there, absorbing the absurd normalcy—stocking up for a trip, except this time, his life depended on it.

By a large, dried bloodstain next to an overturned bread rack, he spotted a backpack. Larger, sporty, black with red stripes. Adam knelt, unzipped it, and looked ...

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