by Shaun Meehan
"You've got to be fucking kidding..." Clay said out loud incredulously.
"Clay? ... Is everything okay?" Mel shouted from across the store.
"Yes. I'm fine... Everything is fine..." he replied, grinning to himself.
Sitting there on the floor was exactly the item he had been praying to find. One of the essential tools that would make their lives tremendously easier. A twenty-two caliber, semi-automatic, rimfire rifle.
"Those fools... They took all the big guns, thinking you were just a toy..." he said, after approaching the firearm and crouching down beside it to get a closer look.
It was perfect. It had a ten round magazine and Clay was certain that if they left the gun, they surely didn't care about the magazines that might be nearby. It was smaller than a centre fire rifle, as well as lighter. Its black composite stock would blend in well during the night. Twenty-two's as they were affectionately called, were quiet and easy to shoot, while being reasonably capable of dropping infected with head shots inside of fifty yards. The ammunition it fired was diminutive and came in five hundred round boxes that could fit in a single hand, meaning an obscene quantity of ammunition could easily be carried. Prior to the outbreak, a twenty-two caliber rimfire rifle was good for squirrel hunting and prolonged days on the rifle range. But now... This little rifle would become a highly effective tool for dispatching the undead.
Clay scooped it up and after a short search found four extra magazines in a drawer across from where the gun had likely rested in the racking. He also found three five hundred round bricks of ammunition, a pair of scope rings and bases, and a quality fixed four-times magnification scope. Had that farmhouse been occupied by group of individuals wielding these, the outcome may have been vastly different. Assuming that a single headshot would suffice, Clay was certain that the deceptively small projectiles would be an unmatched asset.
Clay rounded a row of shelving and almost walked right into Mel, who was surrounded by items that she had scavenged from the store’s scattered inventory. Clay was gleaming about his found rifle, not even noticing how successful Mel had been during her own search.
"Find what you were looking for?" Mel asked, while tying her long dark hair into a pony tail; her bangs dangling in front of her face.
She had changed into new clothing. Her filthy slacks had been replaced with a pair of black leggings, while her torn blouse had been tossed aside for a wool shirt whose sleeves she had partially rolled up. The flip flops that Clay had lent her were now sitting atop the dry bag and Melanie had donned a set of black combat boots on her feet. A pair of grey woollen socks, poking above the top of her footwear.
"How do I look?" she said while attempting to pose in a manner that would mimic a fashion model.
"It'll do..." he replied nonchalantly.
Clay thought she looked awesome.
"Sheesh... Killjoy..." she said, hoping for a bit more enthusiasm from Clay.
"What did you find?" Clay asked.
"Um... Socks. Batteries. A headlamp. A knife. Clothes, obviously. No food. I found a few filter cartridges that had the same logo on the package as the water filter you have in the dry bag. Lighter fluid. A lot of things. Oh, and a backpack!" Mel answered proudly.
"Seriously? That's a pretty good haul, Mel. Good work." Clay was surprised by all of the things that had been left behind by the shops previous looters.
"What have you got?" she asked Clay, looking at his full arms.
"You'll see... Later though. I need the rest of the things we're looking for." he replied.
The pair began hastily repacking the two bags so as to fit everything they had found, and distribute the weight in such a way that they could both be comfortably carried by their respective wearers. It took them several attempts before they could get it right. Mel was a woman of average size, who wasn't exactly accustomed to carrying heavy loads on her back.
It wasn't long before Clay was boosting Mel through the basement window. They returned the dumpster back in front of the improvised entrance, intending to keep what remained in the shop safe from other would be looters. Mel wondered while assisting Clay, if it was her previous companions that had done this same routine, at this very same spot.
Clay had quickly grown to appreciate Mel's local knowledge. After leaving the ransacked outfitter's shop, she had led him to a set of railroad tracks that were flanked by deep ditches and heavy brush on either side. The tracks would provide them with a relatively concealed corridor of travel throughout the town, affording them a chance to somewhat relax while en route to their next destination. Along the way she had explained to Clay using hushed tones, that the town had recently begun expanding south of the tracks. Coincidentally, the rails ran along side the parking lot of a big box store that had just opened only a few months prior. In it should be the remaining items that they were searching for, and they could use the tracks to conceal their approach from any of the infected who may be wandering the city.
Clay knew nothing about Mel prior to meeting her at the gas station the day before. He hadn't revealed anything personal either and she had not asked. Clay was mostly uninterested, considering her past to be mostly irrelevant. He had however, made a few basic observations about her. She had been dressed in semi professional clothing and was obviously educated. While not likely at a university, but maybe a community college. She didn't have a wedding band, or a tan line indicating that she had once worn one. If she had any kids, her physique didn't let on to it and she had no sense of urgency about getting anywhere in particular. Clay placed her in her mid twenties. The way in which Melanie was jostling her pack around, trying to shift its weight was peculiar to Clay. It was obvious that she hadn't done any backpacking, but still maintained some level of fitness. After all, she had gone days without sleep, while running for her life and had proceeded to maintain Clay's pace up until last night. Granted, that fear and adrenalin are great motivators, this however, went beyond that. She seemed like the type who would enjoy running, or would maybe be a yoga practitioner. Although some educated people could still be relatively stupid despite possessing a piece of paper stating the contrary, Melanie appeared to be pretty sharp. The way she had sorted through the remaining inventory at the outfitter had impressed Clay. Hell, she had even grabbed a few things that he hadn't even suggested.
Like Clay, she was lucky in that she had survived the initial outbreak. However, only those who could adapt to these new circumstances would be the ones who stood a chance of surviving the coming weeks, or months, or years, before this mess got sorted out. In this she also shared common ground with Clay. She had begun to adapt to her new environment. But Clay recognized that Mel had a few hard lessons that she would yet have to learn, should she continue to survive.
Clay could begin to see the giant sign, designed in typical big box fashion, forming in the distance approximately one kilometre away. They slowed their advance and let caution dictate the pace of their approach. From a crouched position in the ditch along the railroad tracks, they began to look for any signs that would indicate any sort of activity around the building. Mel pointed out that the security gates were down, preventing any sort of entry through the front door. Other then scattered and overturned shopping carts, the parking lot was empty.
"Clay, I've shopped here before. The security is crazy and it doesn't look like anyone has even tried to get inside. There is no way we can get through those gates." Mel stated, with evidence of defeat in her voice.
"Don't be so sure..." Clay suggested. "Look..." he continued, while pointing to the rear corner of the building adjacent to the tracks.
"Oh come on... You don't really think?" Melanie replied, unbelieving in what Clay implied.
Three cars had been parked along the side of the building, close to a small door. Alongside the door and against the building was a bench with what appeared to be a weathered coffee can tucked underneath of it.
"Manager parking. And one of them was a smoker. Lets go see if he propped the
door open with something. I don't see a door knob on the outside and that kind of door is a pain in the ass to open with just a key and that stupid little pull tab." Clay said with a mischievous grin.
The pair continued slowly along the tracks until reaching a point directly across from the door. Only a narrow paved road and the ditch stood between them and the safety which would be provided by the building. Mel and Clay were both straining their eyes in the darkness, struggling to see if the door had been propped open with anything.
"Is that a... No... It's just a scuff mark on the door..." Mel said.
They sat there a while longer. Day time exposure was dangerous and they were too far from the islands to return there for rest. They would have to find shelter and fast, and their best chance lied within the walls of the massive department store.
"Fuck it. I'm just going to check... Stay here." Clay said.
Without so much as waiting for a response from Melanie, he was up and crossing the road. Clay looked to his right and then to his left before darting towards the door. To his relief, the entrance had in fact been propped open by a small rock, which had been only barely preventing the door from latching. Clay pried the door open with his fingers and while holding it open with his foot, waved Melanie over.
"Better lucky than good, any day..." Clay stated as she passed him and entered the building.
Mel was right. The place was untouched. People just aren't smart enough to survive the apocalypse, Clay thought to himself.
"Look..." Clay said.
"I don't want us splitting up. This place is too big and there are three cars parked out there. We don't know where the occupants of those cars are. We'll hit the departments we need as we come across them. Hardware, hopefully we'll find food, and then automotive." Clay instructed.
"Okay." Melanie replied.
"No stopping." he continued.
"I got it, Clay!" she replied insistently.
The pair moved silently through the store's wide, main aisle. Much to their delight, they first encountered a large grocery aisle. They immediately began grabbing up boxes of energy bars and bottled water.
“Clay, I'm not even sure what to take..." Melanie complained.
"Rice is good… These power bars are great. Don't worry much about water. We have the filter. Just fill your pack with as much as you can handle carrying and we'll eat what we can while we're here." Clay answered.
Melanie followed Clay's lead, as he opened his pack and began stuffing the essentials which he had moments ago outlined, into his pack. She watched Clay as he opened boxes of granola and protein bars, then proceeded to dump them into his dry bag. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Melanie watching him.
"Your bag has pockets. Mine doesn't. Try to fill the outside compartments as much as you can so we can avoid emptying my pack every time we want to eat." he told her.
"Sorry..." Melanie said apologetically. She was trying her best not to appear completely useless to Clay.
Although Clay had saved her life, they really knew nothing about each other. Melanie feared that he might be the type who would just leave her to the wolves if she couldn't keep up. He had not as of yet mentioned any long term plans.
"Don't be sorry." Clay said.
"I think we're both going to have to learn some new skills if we are going to survive this." he concluded while offering her a smile.
Melanie needed a long term plan. She knew that without help, she didn't stand a chance of surviving beyond a few days. What Clay had said to her had felt very reassuring.
With both of their packs now as weighted as they could handle, it was time to continue forward with their plan.
"That's enough. We're going to have two full meals before we leave here. Let's not load these things until the point that they become too heavy to carry." Clay said.
"Off to the automotive section then?" Melanie said, while lifting her pack onto her shoulders.
"Yep." Clay replied, while doing the same.
Clay again mounted his shotgun. Melanie grabbed onto the handle on his dry bag and the two were mobile again. The pair were quickly becoming familiar with the actions of the other. Everywhere that Clay looked, his shoulders turned slightly so he could maintain his line of sight along the top of his barrel. Clay was wondering where the owners of the cars that were parked in the manager's lot were hiding. He had not as of yet seen any signs that indicated they even remained in the building. Certainly if they were still alive, they would have used the store's supplies to survive the weeks since the outbreak. Clay had however, seen nothing to indicate any form of life in the building. His reasoning was quickly leading him to believe that those who remained here were likely to have been infected.
The pair arrived in the store's automotive department and Clay began searching the shelves for a long cylindrical filter. The item proved to be far more difficult to locate then he had anticipated. Without it however, his plan was essentially ruined. Sadly, that would be the case if any of the parts he required were to be left unfound. Fortunately, he was able to locate the appropriate component and soon after found the tap, die and a can of matt black spray paint.
"Is that everything then?" Melanie asked.
“Everything but the gas cans. We'll get those tomorrow. This takes priority." he answered.
"You still haven't told me what 'this' is yet..." Melanie stated.
"It's... Complicated. Let me get to work. Do you remember where the grocery aisle is?" Clay asked.
Melanie thought for a moment, silently attempting to recollect the path which they had taken.
"Yes." she answered.
"Okay. Well... I'm not trying to sound like a complete asshole or anything, but do you think you could come up with something for us to eat? We can cook with the camp stove." Clay said apologetically.
"Alright." she answered. Melanie disliked cooking. However, she knew she had to continue to contribute to the pair's efforts.
"Take the shotgun with you. If you can manage it, just run as fast as you can and avoid using the shotgun unless you absolutely must. Come back here and we'll sort out whatever is following you, together." Clay instructed.
Melanie nodded, and with that she was off. Clay began laying out the components which they had just gathered. He started by preparing the filter and lubricating the flat end with a generic lubricant he had grabbed from the hardware department. Then, carefully, he proceeded to use the tap, intent on cutting threads into an existing hole located on the bottom of the filter. Twisting the tap, then backing it out. Lubricating the tap, then twisting it again. He knew that he had only a few chances to get this right. There weren't very many of these filters on the shelf. After he was satisfied, he did his best to wipe the filter clean of oil. Then using one of the display hooks to hang the filter, Clay carefully painted it matt black with the spray paint he had previously procured. The next task was going to be a one shot deal and Clay took a moment to calm his nerves before moving forward. The completion of this tool could mean life or death for both himself and Melanie. Using the multitool that he kept on his belt, he taped the front sight out of the barrel belonging to the twenty-two caliber rifle. Clay soaked the rifle’s muzzle with the lubricant and picked up the die. This was it. He took a deep breath and performed a similar process with the die as he had done with the filter. However, it differed as threads were now being cut into the outside of the barrel's muzzle, as opposed to the inside of the bore. When he had finished, Clay carefully inspected the freshly cut, shiny metal.
"All done?" Melanie asked, approaching Clay from behind.
She had returned with a bag of dehydrated rice, sweet and sour sauce in a cylindric glass jar, and a small jug of water.
"Not sure yet. We won't find out much until the paint is dry." Clay replied.
After laying the rifle on the floor, Clay wiped his hands off on his pants. The two had squared away a bed for the night in the home decor department. Their packs were leaning up against the bed, while Mel
had begun rummaging through the dry bag in search of Clay's camp stove.
"So, it's not much... But it'll be hot." Melanie said in regard to the food.
"Anything is better than nothing." Clay said, sitting down in front of the rifle with his back against the bed.
Clay began installing the rifle’s optics which he had scavenged from the outfitter, while Melanie had begun to boil water. The two sat in mutual silence while they worked on their respective tasks. By the time Clay had finished mounting the rifle's sight, Melanie was dishing out the rehydrated rice into a set of tiny plastic bowls that she had retrieved from Clay’s bag. While they ate in silence, Clay thought back to the shitty camp food he had eaten for the past month. He hadn't had a good meal for just over four weeks now and wondered if he ever would again. However, as far as this meal was concerned, Melanie was correct. It was hot and the rice would provide them with enough energy for the following day.