can’t see anyone inside and there isn’t any movement. Holding my breath, and keeping my eye on the sight of the rifle, I approach. A bell jingles softly as I push the door open. There are goods strewn across the floor, bags and crumbs crunching under my boots. My eyes scan the walls, not having to travel far in the small space.
The building is empty.
I feel only a little guilty when I start gathering food up into a box. I set it on the counter and walk around to check the till. Considering the current state of the world, I doubt I’m going to need cash money for a very long time, but it couldn’t hurt to have it.
My feet stop just short of stepping on the body.
There is a man lying on the floor. Through the dark I can’t really see many details, but I can tell he’s dead and not sleeping like Aunt Stella. I’m pretty sure the dark halo around his head is blood. He’s got a shotgun lying next to him.
Careful not to step in the blood and leave tracks that I was here, I cross to the register. It takes me a moment to figure out how to open the cash drawer but it finally pops open.
I wasn’t the first to find the body. The drawer has already been cleaned out.
I shake my head as I turn back to the dead man and relieve him of his firearm. I find a box of ammunition under the counter. When the world starts to go to hell, you always chose a weapon over money.
The tank is filled when I get back outside. I hook the nozzle back in its place and set my new box of food supplies in the back of the SUV. I’m about to hop back in when I notice the building across the street.
It’s a sporting goods store.
I’m torn as I look back toward the SUV and then back to the store again. In the end I can’t resist and switch Uncle Rich’s shot gun for the newer one. I check the ammunition and then silently cross the street.
The glass front door has been busted in and that’s nearly enough to send me unharmed back to my vehicle. But like the man that makes too many mistakes that I am, I step through the broken glass inside.
It’s pitch black when I get more than fifteen feet from the front doors. There are no windows in the building. One of those warehouse types. I head to the cash registers, and as I suspected I would, find two flashlights under the counter.
I switch one on, holding it level with my shotgun.
My blood drops to my feet.
There is an entire row of those things standing just feet behind the line of checkout stands. Twelve of them. They’re just standing there, their eyes open and empty. Just like Stella. They’re looking right at me, but I can tell they’re not seeing me.
I have to remind myself to breathe. Breathe quietly.
I’m about to leave when I see the section where they have all the firearms. It’s only about ten yards away.
My eyes never leaving the bodies before me, I take one cautious step to the right. None of them move. I take another two. Still nothing seems to notice me. Keeping the shotgun pointed in their direction, I slowly back towards the firearms section.
I wish I had more time to actually look at the labels and make sure I’m getting the right ammunition, but I don’t dare waste any time. I grab a shopping bag from behind the counter and start grabbing anything that looks remotely correct.
Daring to dash another twenty yards away, I grab one of the largest hiking packs I can find. After finding the key, I unlock the display case and grab two bigger handguns. I slip the ammunition inside the pack after them. Looking back toward the sleepers, I move silently toward the hunting knives.
I’ve packed up four of them when I hear the slightest sound. Like clothing brushing against something. My beam of light and the shotgun in my hand flashes back to the sleepers and I curse under my breath again.
There are only eleven bodies.
I click the flashlight off and I swing my new pack on, heavy but not as loaded