Shoot the mysterious figure.

You have no idea what that person is gonna do. They could have a gun and if you step out and alert them, you would be as good as dead. You decide that you should act first and make sure you get the person before they get you.

You grip the Remington tightly and think about what you are about to do. You've never taken a life before, you have no idea how you will feel after. You keep telling yourself that it is either them or you. Your justification feels almost hollow to you, but you realize you are still thinking in your old-world frame of mind. There is no law or morals anymore, only survival.

You step cautiously away from the aisle and stare at the figure. You raise the shotgun at the silhouette and pull the trigger. The blast is deafening and the aisle is lit up by the muzzle flash. The figure is pushed against the display of cans by the **** of the blast and several cans near him burst open spilling their contents onto the supermarket floor.

As you stare at the body on the floor, you can hear his raspy breath as he writhes in pain. You walk over slowly to confront the unfortunate figure. You still keep the shotgun trained on him as if he is somehow faking his injuries. When you reach the person you notice he is a man around your age, he looks familiar to you. He looks at you with fear in his eyes and then you see a look of shock cross his face. You then recognize these man. He was an old high school friend of yours. He begins muttering something, and you soon realize he is saying your name. You can't take it anymore and you run as fast as you can from the man and out of the supermarket. Once you get outside you drop to your knees and throw up on the ground with the image of your mortally wounded friend in your mind.