The Storm Read Online Free

about that, man,” an early twenty-something kid muttered. “Hey man, you gots a lot of tuna. I need me some of that. Can you spare some?”
                  “I can’t, man. I’m really sorry,” was the first thing that I could say. “They still have canned chicken over there, maybe you can get some of that?”
                  “Whatever, man. You suck!” He wasn’t even looking at me anymore and was already moving on to whatever was next on his mind.
                  My cart was almost full, and it was getting rowdy. Open arguments could now be heard and obscenities started to fly. More people continued pushing into the store. “Okay.” I was talking aloud to nobody to help settle my nerves and focus. “Got everything I need, just have to grab some meat to barbeque on the grill the next couple of days, and I’m outta here.” Deeper into the store I went.
                  Spinning around the corner from the main aisle, I was immediately rattled by what lay before me. The “fresh proteins” section was desolate. Immediate memories of seeing grocery stores in Soviet Russia with empty shelves and rotting produce came to mind. The store was full and operating normally a few minutes before. Two guys were fighting over some turkeys. It looked like each had a couple in their carts, but there was one last turkey and each wanted it.
                  “I don’t give a damn, man,” shouted the tall, lanky black man. “I was here first, and you stole my thunder and took a couple already.”
                  “You have plenty of other food in your cart. I don’t. I need that for my family,” retorted back the short but stout Hispanic guy. He had a huge chest with almost no neck and looked like a construction worker. This would be ugly.
                  I turned my attention away from them for two seconds to grab a few cheap hot dogs from some nasty brand that Stacy would never have permitted in the house prior to today and then heard the crash.
                  The black guy was on the ground and was being pummeled with repeated blows. “Why you do that, man? “Why you gotta be that way?” The Hispanic man was perturbed and not relenting. He had blood coming from his nose too, so I missed who threw the first punch, but it was obvious who was going to toss the last one. F this, I had to move and get out of there. I grabbed a few cheap cuts of meat that I saw and was pushing my now heavy cart away as fast as I could. Who knew how much food I had, but it felt like enough for an army. It would have to suffice.
                  From the corner of my eye, I saw two men hop behind the counter of the butcher station and start opening the shelves in the back to get at more inventory. A sharp sound splintered from close by. I heard the sound of shattering glass. I still intended to pay and was already fumbling for my wallet as I pushed around crowds of people coming in the store who were sure to be pissed at not finding food and come after people like me with a full cart. This was going downhill fast. A fear and rage pulsed through everyone. It was palpable and present, much as one feels static around them.
                  The loudspeaker came on again, though I could barely hear it over the roar a thousand panicked voices around me all shouting as if someone was listening. A different voice this time, one that projected management. In a deep but clear tone with some assertiveness mixed in, it echoed across the store “Attention, LeapMart shoppers, please leave the store at once. The police have been called. All employees, code B! I repeat, code B! Get your asses out of there and be safe!”
                  Dozens more were streaming into the store. Most now didn’t bother with a shopping cart; they just ran and were hoping to get whatever they could. Ahead of me, I saw a man running out of the