Mike hopped through the broken-window entrance and followed the sounds of not-too-distant giggles. Wiping the sweat from his head, he welcomed the cooler temperature inside the store. He passed empty shelves and coat hangers and stopped to look at some nice T-shirts and clothing. This Deb girl has some decent taste, Mike thought, making a mental checklist of some things to grab on the way out. He resumed his mission and proceeded to the girls.
The light dimmed as he approached the back, and shadows played tricks on his stoned mind. At one point, he stopped in his tracks. Before proceeding, he slapped his face repeatedly to make sure he was seeing clearly; to make sure that a pair of mannequins underneath a “New Arrivals” banner were not, in fact, two infected people reaching for him. It was no longer the heat that was making him sweat; paranoia was getting the better of him.
Out of nowhere, a mannequin fell to the ground. A coyote, which had been hiding under a table, knocked the plastic model over as it bolted to the exit. Mike was a split second away from firing—and from ruining his underwear. He lowered his shotgun, walked a few more steps, and stopped at the edge of the women’s dressing room.
The girls were in a frenzy. The changing room had been transformed into their personal runway, and the aisle was their catwalk. Mike found himself right in the middle of the fashion show.
Parading about half-naked, they must have tried on at least a half-dozen combinations and showed no signs of slowing. Mike gazed into the changing room, which may as well have been Heaven. Both girls had long, dark brown hair, torn jean shorts that barely covered their butts, and were now wearing matching “Don’t Mess with Texas” T-shirts that were two sizes too small.
Mike only knew a little bit about them. Before the outbreak, they had lived in Dallas, trying to become models, but they were too dumb to make it; he didn’t need to know more. As much as he wanted the show to go on, Mike knew it wasn’t safe. He contemplated—between squeals of “Oh my god!” and “Shut up, you are not fat!”—between yelling for them to come out or scaring them senseless.
He chose the latter.
As they tried on their next set of outfits, Mike rounded the corner and yelled wildly, frightening them so badly that they screamed bloody murder and threw the clothes out of their hands, leaving themselves bare-chested.
“You scared the tar out of us!” said Jessica, regaining her nerves.
“Yeah, I nearly had a heart attack,” Mandy concurred. She grabbed Jessica’s hand and put it on her chest. “Jess, can you feel my heart? It’s racing a mile a minute!”
Through Mike’s eyes, it looked as though the girls were feeling each other up. They felt each other’s panic stricken hearts for about a minute before noticing Mike’s gape. He finally broke out of his fantasy as they covered up their breasts with their hands. As if nothing had happened, Mike lit up the rest of his joint and sat on a fluffy little sofa.
Smelling the aroma, the girls looked at each other and beelined straight for him. No longer caring if Mike saw, the girls let their breasts come uncovered as they neared. Their petite bodies, clad only in thongs, strode in unison. They planted themselves on either side of Mike, caressing his chest and thighs with soft hands, clearly intent on seducing him.
“You didn’t tell us you had pot,” Mandy said in a seductive, girlish voice. “We haven’t had some in so long. When was the last time, Jess?”
“Shoot, I don’t know. Maybe, like, 8 months ago? We’d do anything to have some,” Jessica said, licking her lips and pushing her breasts closer to Mike’s face.
“W-w-what? Oh pot… yeah, I always make sure I have some,” Mike said, trying to string words together amidst these two naked women in his face.
The girls moved closer and their hands began moving up his legs, grabbing harder. Mike took in a deep hit, intent on exhaling, when Mandy pressed her index finger on his lips to stop him. Unexpectedly, she put her lips to his as he exhaled and took in the second hand smoke. She blew out a small trail of smoke and began kissing his neck. Mike took another drag and Jessica followed Mandy’s move.
It started to turn into a soft-core orgy, and the couch never felt so good. In between hits, Mike kissed each of them, then they kissed each other, and finally all three kissed and continued the fondling. Mandy took another hit, and exchanged the smoke into Jessica’s mouth in the same kissing fashion. Mike sat back, stoned and horny, loving the sight. He no longer cared about whether or not it was safe.
Things escalated to red hot until a radio call disrupted the scene.
“Mike. You there? Come in,” Collin asked through Mike’s dangling earpiece.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Cully,” Mike muttered before he clicked on his radio to talk. “Great timing, asshole. Yeah, I’m here, what is it?”
“Grab those girls and get back here to regroup, okay? We’ll be back in ten.”
After the radio exchange, the passion diminished, and the girls began putting their clothes back on. Mike beckoned to the girls to come back, but they only smiled and blew him kisses. Winking at him, Jessica and Mandy showed their goods one last sensual time before getting dressed.
Mike grabbed his crotch to rearrange. “Yes, Collin, I got it! Mike-out!” he responded obviously upset. “All right, girls, don’t worry. I have plenty more where that came from.”
“Awesome,” Mandy said, smiling.
“Great, so later on we can finish where we left off?” Jessica said, grabbing Mike’s groin one more time and giving him a kiss on the neck. Her wet lips hit his sweet spot, causing him to shiver.
“Fuck yeah,” he replied, wishing later was now. “Okay, this place still hasn’t been checked and cleared, so we should probably get going. Grab whatever you can carry and keep an eye out.”
The girls threw whatever they could into two shopping bags, then followed Mike out. The pot was starting to hit them, and they walked through the store giggling and stumbling over some boxes.
Had the visibility been better, they would have noticed fresh blood stains on the walls and floor, and a body being pulled slowly into the stockroom.
“Oh shit, that’s right,” Mike said, remembering the clothes he saw earlier. He grabbed a bag and loaded it full with about a dozen shirts, a few pairs of shorts, some socks, and underwear.
A few feet away, the stockroom door closed shut. The girls jumped and hid behind Mike, pointing back to the direction the noise had come from.
“What was that?”
“Don’t worry, it’s probably just a coyote,” Mike said assuredly. “One ran past me when I came in.”
Mike’s explanation was sensible enough to calm the girls. He tossed a few more clothing items over his shoulder and followed the two girls out of the store, back into the blistering heat.
In the back room, Deb, the Cajun store owner, began devouring the body.
1603 hours
Dan and Michele dragged their feet walking back from their gasoline scavenger hunt. Collin, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to get back. Had they not found almost forty gallons of gasoline, he would have shot himself. The company was torturous, cruel and unusual punishment.
Collin was forced to listen to Michelle’s constant whining. Every thirty-seconds, it was something new.
“Dan! Why is it so hot?”
“Dan! I’m hungry. Get me some food!”
“Dan! My feet hurt. Can I go back now?”
The first few cars they checked were empty, but they found a tow truck that gave them the bulk of their gas. The desert heat had created a lot of condensation in the tank, but they sifted through most of it. Gasoline was their first priority; it was the gold standard.
Out of blind luck, Michelle glanced down a side street and saw something glistening in the distance.
“No freakin’ way!” she shouted in disbelief. “A pool! I can’t believe it! It’s like one of them thangs in the desert! You know…”
Collin rolled his eyes. “An oasis?” he guessed, growing less and less annoyed with th
eir ignorance. He had reached the end of his tolerance and rather than explode with a tirade of insults, he just gave in to their stupidity.
The couple began jumping up and down hugging each other in glee. Collin had never witnessed a more proper time to say the phrase “happier than pigs in shit.”
Michelle abandoned her cart and began walking toward the distant body of water.
“Yeh, I sayz we goes and party right now,” Dan said with a bright smile on his face, accentuating his mouthful of dental problems.
“Guys! We still have other stuff we have to take care of. Food and water? You guys want to eat, don’t you?” Collin announced in a stern voice.
Dan and Michelle stopped, then walked back. They looked like a couple of kids whose mom had just told them they couldn’t have ice-cream.
“Damn, now that’s just shitty, ain’t it?” Dan murmured. “But yer probly right.”
Michelle continued pushing the cart the last hundred feet to the Wal-Mart entrance. At one point Dan had to help her when she dimwittedly managed to run the cart into a pot hole.
They pulled up next to the entrance and put the cart in a shady spot under the overhang. A “Grand Opening” plastic banner, hung loosely by two of its four zip-ties, slapped gently against the stucco. Collin peered in through the windows while the others leaned against the wall in exhaustion.
“Kinda weird,” Collin said under his breath.
Apart from a few sections of broken glass, Wal-Mart’s entrance wasn’t like the other shops. Two anti-theft, metal grated sheets fastened together by a thick chain and secured by a heavy padlock had deterred much of the rioting and looting. While the gates were still locked together, the center was slightly bent outward, enough for a single person to fit through, and it looked as though at least one person had taken advantage of the gap.
“Is it safe?” Michelle asked nervously.
“You done think any o’ them are in der?” Dan followed, surveying the inside.
Collin cupped his hands around his eyes to increase his vision. “I don’t know. I can’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean this store is empty. Either way, we need to get food and water, so we are going to have to go in. Keep your eyes open.” He reached down and pinched the talk button of his radio. “Steve, you there?”
After a few seconds, the radio responded with a slight crackle. “Yeah — Cull — I’m — here — Whasup?”
“The three of us are going into Wal-Mart for food and water. We should be back in around fifteen minutes,” Collin reported.
“Sounds good,” Steve called back. “I don’t know — if — it’s your — radio — or mine but — I’m not receiving — too— well.”
Collin covered his free ear so he could focus his attention on the earpiece. “It’s cool, Steve. We’ll be back soon, and we can just check ‘em out then.”
“Okay — be — careful.”
“Collin-out.”
Collin flung the rifle’s strap over his back and led the way, stepping on the chain and squeezing his body through. Michelle followed second, then Dan, both looking apprehensive. Save for a small portion of natural light, the inside was pitch black, so they clicked on flashlights and stuck close. There were signs of theft all around—empty food pallets and trash all over the place—but overall, Wal-Mart had been relatively unscathed.
As they passed by checkout stands, Collin stopped and huddled them up. “Okay, if we all split up, it’ll be a lot faster and we can get the hell out of here,” he said, looking around to make sure nothing was coming. “Let’s each grab a cart and meet back here in ten minutes, okay?”
Before the other two could argue, Collin had pulled over two nearby shopping carts and pushed them off. All three drew out their guns and chose random starting points. Collin headed left, Michelle took the middle, and Dan went right. As each headed deeper into the labyrinth of Wal-Mart, the abyss grew darker.
In his mind, Collin seemed to have chosen the best direction in which to start. His first aisle was packed with canned foods and hearty snacks. He filled his cart with an assortment of canned fruits, vegetables, meat soups, and tuna. Then he turned to the other side and grabbed pretzels, baked chips, nutrition bars, and a variety of healthy alternatives. Glancing at his cart, he guessed that he had probably grabbed enough for a two month supply for his family; it looked excessive, but that was the point.
Satisfied with his decision, Collin rounded the corner and collided with Michelle’s cart. Both were looking the other way and were a second away from blowing the other’s head off in surprise.
“Damn! You scared the shit out of me,” Collin said, regaining his breath.
“I know, me too! Hell, I almost done shot you,” she whispered, holding her chest.
They took a moment to laugh it off, and then continued their shopping. As they cut through the clothing and interior design aisles, the roll of their carts over a carpeted section created a low humming sound. Collin flashed his light upward to a blue and yellow sign dangling from the roof:DRINKS.
The shelves were packed with an endless row of bottled goods, filled with any and every type of drink, including water, sodas, sports drinks, energy drinks, and juices.
Collin loaded his cart with eight large pallets of bottled water, some Gatorade, and a few bottles of soda for the guys. He found packets of Crystal Light hanging off one of the shelves and tossed those in as well. Michelle’s cart was the opposite of Collin’s. She jammed in bundles of soda, energy drinks, and iced tea, and only had enough room for a few bottles of water.
What is she thinking? How does she think they are going to survive on Monsters and Diet Coke? Collin thought, shaking his head at her stupidity.
Collin waited as patiently as he could for Michelle to load the last 12-pack of Sierra Mist into her cart. The items in Collin’s cart were placed and stacked neat and tidy in order to maximize space. Michelle, on the other hand, had freely tossed whatever she wanted into her cart with no thought of efficiency, and now she was starting to see the sour effects of her lack of foresight. She tried placing the soda on top of her mound of liquids, but it slid off instantly. After five more failed attempts, Collin couldn’t take anymore.
“Michelle, either carry it or leave it,” he snapped, cutting off a sixth loading attempt. “We don’t have time for this shit.”
Unhappily, Michelle set the Sierra Mist on the ground and followed Collin out of the aisle. He stopped at the end and flashed his light from left to right, trying to decide where to go next. Michelle pulled up on his right hand side.
“I think that’s Dan,” she whispered, pointing to a faint light five aisles away.
Collin clicked off his light to make sure it wasn’t just a reflection. “Yeah, I think so. Come on, let’s go see what he found,” he said, clicking his light back on and leading the way.
Dan had chosen an aisle at random, which had led him to his version of heaven. Surrounding him on all sides were bags, cans, jars, and packages of every kind of junk food. Hurriedly, as though security might catch him, he tucked his gun back in his waistline and tossed in all sorts of high-fructose, high-sugar, and sodium-filled snacks, filling his cart to the brim.
After making sure he at least had one of everything, Dan proceeded to the next aisle. As he turned, he noticed a silhouette of a person, barely made out by his flashlight. Out of instinct, he stumbled back into a shelf of barbecue chips, lost his footing, and fell to the floor. Covered in chip bags, he pulled nervously for his gun and frantically snapped off all six rounds.
Both Collin and Michelle saw the muzzle flashes and tore off toward him.
They weren’t the only ones who heard the gun shots. In the warehouse, a creature in a bloodstained jumpsuit sprang to attention and quickly moved through the plastic flaps into the store.
As Collin and Michelle arrived, they looked down at Dan with faces of confusion.
“What’s going on? What’d you shoot at?” Collin asked quickly.
“It’s ov
er der,” Dan said, voice shaking with panic. “Is it dead?”
Collin grabbed his flashlight, walked over a few feet, and bent down to the ground. He gave off a quick chuckle and rose. He picked up a cardboard cutout of a Wal-Mart employee, with a voice bubble that read, “What can I do for you today?”
A one-armed, elderly woman with Parkinson’s would have been a better shot than Dan. The cutout had sustained only two wounds. One shot had gone through the voice bubble; a good ten inches away from any part of its body, and the other had nipped the side of its ankle. The other four shots had landed somewhere in the shelf beside it.
Collin decided to take the opportunity to relish in Dan’s brainlessness. He held up the cardboard cutout. “Hot damn, you got him good!” he exclaimed, gleefully making fun of Dan. “I don’t think he’s gonna make it!”
“Ha, ha. Very funny. Shit, you’d done been scared as me if you’d o’ been in my shooz,” replied Dan, obviously still shaken.
A broken radio transmission came through from Steve. “Collin — gun shots — everythi — okay?”
“Yeah, Dan’s an awesome shot, nearly killed a cardboard cutout. Everything is okay though, we’ll be out in a couple minutes,” Collin answered, not entirely convinced the call was going through. He un-pinched the transmit button on his walkie and continued to laugh as he tossed the cutout aside, returning to his cart.
Michelle picked up her boyfriend, consoled him for a split second, then gave out a mild shriek that blasted Dan and Collin’s eardrums. An aisle over, she had spotted the alcohol section. Pushing off from Dan, she rushed to it with her cart barely rolling on two wheels.
“Damn gurl! Why don-ya jus stab me in tha ear next time?” Dan said, pressing his hand to his ear.
While Dan and Michelle got a head start on the liquor, Collin took a minute and collected some junk food, as well as an assortment of batteries from the electronics section.
Being from the South, both Dan and Michelle went straight for whiskey and bourbon. They filled what little room they had left in their carts with whatever they could grab, and when both carts could hold no more, they stuffed their clothes.
The Longest Road (Book 1) Page 5