## Childhood Alley
The narrow alley lay hidden behind a busy street in Ho Chi Minh City. It was so tight that two motorbikes had to tilt their handlebars to pass each other, but to Son, Vy, My, and Long, it was as vast as the entire world.
The four of them had grown up together in that alley.
Son was always the fastest runner, and the first to climb over the neighbor's wall whenever the group knocked their ball into the yard. Vy remembered every house, every turn, and even the sound of the locks on the doors of the people who lived in the alley. My usually carried a small bag of candy, dividing it evenly among the group even though she always took the last piece for herself. Long always had a joke ready, even when all of them were being chased by adults for breaking a flowerpot.
That afternoon, the four of them sat on the steps outside Grandma Nam's old house. The rain had just stopped. Water lay in long streaks across the alley, reflecting the glow of passing headlights and the flickering signs at the end of the street.
“When we grow up, I'm going to buy this whole alley,” Son said, resting both hands on his knees.
“What for?” Vy asked.
“So no one can ever chase us out again.”
Long burst out laughing. “Can you even afford a bag of iced tea yet, and you want to buy the whole alley?”
My held the last piece of candy, looked at her three friends, and smiled. “If Son manages to buy it, we'll still all live together, right?”
“Absolutely,” Son replied at once. “The four of us will stay here forever.”
None of them knew that promise would be put to the test just a few years later.
Ten years passed, and the alley remained almost exactly the same. The old corrugated-metal roofs still pressed tightly against one another. Grandma Nam's corner store still opened at dawn. Whenever the weather grew hot, the smell of exhaust, rainwater, and food from the tiny kitchens lingered between the walls.
The four of them were still there, even though life had pulled them in different directions.
Son worked as a delivery driver. He had a quick temper, but he was always the first to show up when his friends needed help. Vy studied nursing and was so perceptive that she could tell what someone was hiding just by looking at their face. My worked at a convenience store near the market, gentle but stubborn whenever she had to protect someone she loved. Long repaired phones in a small shop, always cracking jokes to hide the things he never talked about.
That morning, they met at the entrance to the alley as they did every day.
Son parked his bike by the curb. “What should we eat tonight? My treat.”
“What happened to make you so generous?” Long asked.
“Got paid.”
“Then I'm ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”
Vy didn't laugh. She was looking toward the main road.
“Did you hear that?”
The other three fell silent.
Ho Chi Minh City had never truly been quiet. There was always the sound of motorbikes, vendors calling out, metal doors rolling up, and people calling to one another between the tightly packed houses. But at that moment, the noise outside the alley suddenly died away.
One second.
Two seconds.
Then came the sound of a collision.
A motorbike toppled onto the road. The woman standing beside it screamed and clutched her bleeding arm. The man lying on the ground pushed himself upright. His movements were slow and stiff, as if his body no longer obeyed his will.
“Don't get any closer!” Vy shouted.
But Son had already stepped forward. He snatched up a broom leaning against the wall and held it in front of the woman.
“Run into the alley!”
The man raised his head. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot. He lunged forward, mouth gaping wide, his teeth snapping down on empty air just inches from the woman's neck.
Son swung the broom into his shoulder. The blow only made the man stagger.
“Long, lock Grandma Nam's gate!”
Long didn't ask why. He pulled My toward the metal gate. Vy helped the woman inside, keeping one hand clamped over the wound on her arm as they moved.
Son backed away one step at a time. The man kept advancing. Behind him, more figures were staggering out from the end of the street.
“Run, Son!” My called.
Son turned his head. In that instant, he saw his Childhood Alley: the old steps, the corner store, the potted plants hanging outside the doors, and his three friends waiting for him.
He tightened his grip on the broom.
“No one gets into this alley.”
Son slammed the broom against the handlebars of the parked bike beside him. The sharp clang of metal drew the approaching figures' attention. He turned and ran, leading them away from the gate.
“You crazy bastard!” Long shouted as he opened the gate wider. “If you die, I won't have the money to pay off my debts!”
“Then remember to stay alive and pay them!” Son shouted back.
The group dragged Son inside just before the first hands reached them. Long slammed the gate shut, and Vy and My shoved a wooden cabinet against it.
Outside, fingernails scraped across the metal bars.
One line.
Then a second.
No one said a word. The four of them stood shoulder to shoulder, gasping for breath in the alley that had sheltered them since childhood.
Vy's phone vibrated. An emergency alert appeared on the screen: “Residents are advised to limit travel. Medical facilities are receiving large numbers of patients suffering from high fever and agitation.”
Long stared at the message, the smile disappearing from his face.
“They aren't saying what's wrong with them.”
Vy looked out through the gate. “Because they know that if they tell the truth, everyone will panic.”
Dragging footsteps echoed from the end of the alley. Not one person. Not two.
A lot of them.
My took Son's hand. His hand trembled slightly, but he still squeezed hers to reassure her.
“That promise we made as kids…” My whispered. “The four of us will stay here forever.”
Son looked at his three friends. Outside, the city was beginning to collapse. But inside the narrow alley, they were still standing together.
“Yeah,” Son said. “From now on, no one gets left behind.”
A heavy impact made the gate shudder.
All four of them turned to look.
Their Childhood Alley had just become their last shelter.