by Joshua Gayou
He pulled the door open and we all stepped through, heads turning in an attempt to look everywhere at once.
“Uh…damn…” said Billy.
The interior of the store was just short of obliterated. There was still merchandise in the store but it appeared that an army of rearranging ninja elves had swarmed through the store with the sole purpose of taking everything off the shelves and placing it all on the floor. The merchandise itself was in various stages of repair, from entirely intact to completely pulverized.
I straightened up and squared my shoulders. “C’mon. There’s stuff in here. It’s just not easy to find and conveniently located.”
“There’s actually more than I thought there was going to be,” Billy said.
We started moving out among the aisles, picking our way carefully among the debris. I left the rifle light on and Lizzy continued to use her flashlight – the skylights helped but without the electrical lighting to back them up it was still too dim to see in any detail. I tried to take note of items that might be useful as we went but soon gave up as the total chaos of it all defeated the attempt. I struggled to reconcile the carnage as we went.
“I get why a band of looters would have passed on the Cuisinart Waffle Maker,” I said, nudging the unit over with my toe, “but what the hell? Why would anyone take the time to so completely trash the place?”
“Got me,” said Billy. “I’m still shocked how much stuff is still in here.”
“Maybe they thrashed everything because it was fun?” Elizabeth said while shining her light on a cascade of glass shards spilled across the floor.
Billy and I both stopped to look at each other. “Should I be worried that the idea of destroying the place in the name of fun makes sense to me?” I asked.
“Nah,” said Billy. “I always hated these joints when the world was still sane. Works for me.”
We rounded the outside corner and turned onto the front expanse of the store. I sighted down the aisle, lighting up an array of abandoned check-out stands and self-service kiosks.
“When you think about it, it kind of makes sense,” I said. “There was a lot of crap in these places…a lot of stuff that people wanted but probably didn’t need. Once everything went crazy, most of this stuff was rendered pointless. People don’t need game consoles and picture frames right now; they need food and water – survival supplies, the essentials. The window for the kind of rampant merchandise looting we used to see back in the world was short. I remember hearing about people raiding electronics stores after the Flare when the grid failed. By the time the Plague hit, all of that was over. People were just trying to survive; not score Blu-ray players. And it killed everyone so fast once it really spread…people were too sick to venture out.”
As if to emphasize my point, we began to pass what was left of the food aisles, which were absent of anything useful at all. Water, dry goods, any kind of canned food – even cereal boxes were all gone. What little was left of the perishable items like dairy products, fruits, and vegetables sat on the shelves and behind glass in isolated, rotting pockets.
We finished our rounds of the interior without event or further comment. Whoever it was that trashed the place was long gone by the time we got there. Billy located a couple of shopping carts and passed one over to Elizabeth. Pushing one cart himself, he was unable to handle his shotgun properly so he put the safety on and rested the barrel on his shoulder such that the muzzle pointed at the ceiling behind him. He set the stock on the handle of his cart, resting his right hand over it to keep it secure, and steered the cart with his left.
“You’re on point, Little Sis. Eyes open.”
“On point?” I asked.
“Push out in front of us and keep your rifle ready.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure thing.”
We made our way to the electronics section first because we assumed the packaged CDs would take up the most space in the carts. I started to pick my way through the CDs that had been left on the racks as well as those strewn across the floor. Billy, on the other hand, began to grab everything in great, sweeping arm loads and dumped it all in his cart. He must have felt my eyes on him throughout the racket he made because he stopped and looked back at me.
“Chop, chop,” he said, clapping his hands together lightly. “We can sort all this stuff out on the road.” He continued to scoop piles of cellophane-wrapped music unceremoniously into his shopping cart.
“Makes sense, I suppose,” I sighed, and followed suit.
It turned out he had the right idea – we had just about everything but the preschool toddler music loaded up into two mountainous piles inside of five minutes. As Billy finished arranging the piles before they could overbalance, I moved through the aisles on my own until I located a portable CD player and an AC power inverter that would plug into the Jeep’s cigarette lighter. Billy was good to go; his truck was old enough that it came with a CD player as standard equipment.
“You guys ready?” I asked when I came back to them with my two new finds tucked under my arm.
“Just about,” Billy said. “It’s a long shot but I want to go look at where they kept the batteries. If there are any left we should grab them.”
“Good idea,” I said. I placed the boxes for the CD player and power inverter into Lizzy’s cart; it wasn’t filled as high as Billy’s.
There were none of the standard batteries to be had in any capacity but we did manage to find a few of the more uncommon items. We found a few six and twelve volt universal lead acid batteries, a few rechargeable battery packs (which looked suspiciously like a couple of AA’s that had been shrink wrapped together and attached to a sophisticated cable), and literally fistfuls of alkaline button and lithium coin batteries (the last of which Billy said could be used to power our rifle optics, which would need a replacement sometime after two to four years – he was always thinking ahead). At one point, I saw Billy’s hand shoot out from the corner of my eye; when I looked in his direction I saw that he was picking up a cheap Timex watch.
The toy section was next. The area was just as thrashed as the rest of the store but we managed to find a selection of coloring books that Lizzy liked the look of as well as a large box of Crayons and one of the more expensive containers of markers. When I told her she could pick out whatever toys we could fit in the cart, she looked around herself for a few moments, face solemn. She finally reached out and selected a Barbie doll, causing me to suppress a gag reflex (my parents had not been able to afford Barbie dolls when I was little, which I think contributed to the fact that I’ve always loathed them).
“Is that all you want, Mija? There’s so much more in here,” I said.
“Just this,” she said with her small voice. “I don’t like it in here.”
I nodded and rubbed her back. “C’mon, baby. Almost done.”
We stopped by the Feminine Products area (Billy standing well outside of the aisle as though he was a vampire avoiding a church) and I executed a repeat performance of the CD shopping spree. I grabbed everything I could get my hands on including boxes of pads and tampons, razors, lotions, cleaning products, and deodorant. Whatever space was left in the remaining cart was quickly occupied and then some, with a mound of female paraphernalia that towered over the edges of the cart walls.
“Okay,” I said. “Are we good? I know this is my idea but this place is really starting to get to me.”
“Yeah, let’s call it,” Billy agreed.
We retraced our steps to the back of the store, through the customer service desk, and out the rear storage area. As we moved through the storage racks, I could see Billy’s inner packrat perk up as his head swung around to look at the various boxes that were still left on the pallets. I’ll bet that guy was a serious antique store hound in a previous life; his two favorite things to do were to relax by a fire at the end of a long day and scavenge.
Jake was where we left him outside, rifle couched in his elbow and scanning over the lip of the loading dock wall
s. “You guys find anything good?” he asked without looking back.
“Yes, come over and give us a hand,” I said back.
He turned and saw us waiting in line with two overfilled shopping carts at the top of the steps. “Holy…” he said and hurried over to help carry them down. “I didn’t think you’d be bringing back the entire store.”
“It felt really exposed in there,” Billy offered by way of an explanation. “I wanted to get out as fast as possible; we weren’t exactly discerning in our selection.”
“Well, let’s get these unloaded. We’ll throw them on the floor of the backseat in the jeep and sort through them as we go,” said Jake.
“You take that cart,” Billy said, pointing at the one Lizzy was leaning on. “I’ll take this one to the truck.” Unspoken was Billy’s desire to also listen to music as he drove; Jake and I hid smiles behind his back as he pushed the cart over to the rear door of the Dodge.
I started moving handfuls of items into the Jeep and Jake came over to help. “Mija, go help Billy please,” I said to Elizabeth.
She said: “Okie-doke,” and trotted over to him. She had evidently forgotten to be angry with me, for which I was thankful.
We finished unloading everything into the back row and stashed the batteries and toiletries in the back. Jake walked over to where Billy and Elizabeth were just finishing up and said, “You can’t be sifting through those while you drive. Someone better ride with you.”
“Oh, that’s nonsense,” Billy said. “I’ll be fine.”
“The truck is a manual, man. You don’t have enough hands. There’s no such thing as roadside assistance or emergency services. Let’s don’t get cocky and wreck a vehicle needlessly. We have a long way to go yet.”
“I’ll ride with you, Billy,” Lizzy said. She smiled at him and took his hand, which I truly believe put an end to any further protest. Billy could be a pushover for the girls.
I realized then how perfectly natural it seemed to me that she should be riding along with him in his truck. We had only been with these two men for a matter of days and I already trusted them both completely. They had both risked their lives more than once to protect us, had both killed for us, and I had done the same for them. I found myself amazed at how quickly we were forming into a family. I think the heightened danger, risk, and sheer adrenaline of what we had been through together certainly played a part in accelerating the process but it was definitely real. We had begun to find a home in these people. Billy said that we were “building community” between us and even knew a word in his people’s ancestral language, though I’m ashamed to say that I can’t remember its pronunciation anymore. I remember that it sounded like “Taxlis-something”. I really wish I had written it down now; I don’t think anyone can speak that language anymore.
Billy fished around in his jacket pocket, pulled out the Timex, and handed it to Jake. “Here, I bought this for you.”
“Well, thank you. That’s very thoughtful.”
“Yeah, well, let’s not start taking long, hot showers together just yet. Just put the thing on and we’ll call it even.”
Jake leaned his AK against the wall of the dock and put the watch on, fiddling with the plastic strap until it was secure. He retrieved his rifle with a nod and walked around to the driver’s side of the Jeep, at which point Billy stopped him. “Yo! You think you’re ready for that?”
“I do. I haven’t really felt fuzzy or dizzy since waking up this morning and moving around.”
Billy didn’t move and only gave Jake his best disapproving poker face.
“I’ll have Amanda with me,” he said. “If I feel wrong I’ll stop and she can take over. You saw me catch those keys, right?”
“Excuse me,” I interrupted. “I don’t recall you asking if you could drive my Jeep, fella.”
The look on his face was priceless: shock shifted to horror shifted to embarrassment in one fluid display. There are very few times I can think of since then where his face was so expressive. It was rendered both comical and pitiful from the bruising still evident around his eyes. He began to stammer, “Oh…crap…look, I…hey, I’m sorry…”
I couldn’t help myself; I burst out laughing at him. I was secretly proud at getting such a reaction out of him as he was usually so unreadable. I found it comforting to be able to crack through that armor.
“Calm down, Lancelot,” I coughed after the laughing fit had subsided. I threw him my keys across the hood. “I’m not angry. Just maybe a bit less assumptions going forward, huh?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said seriously.
We all climbed into our respective vehicles. Billy hung his arm out the driver’s side window to give his door panel two solid slaps with his open palm, put the truck in gear, and pulled away. Jake started the Jeep and followed behind him.
“Keep that rifle handy until we get moving along the 15, okay?” Jake said. I nodded and positioned the muzzle so that it pointed out my window. The whole affair felt a bit clumsy with my left hand on the grip but I was at least confident enough to spray a few rounds in the general direction of danger if required. We drove on in silence with tension building in our backs and shoulders as we passed buildings. My own back felt like it was trying to fold double onto itself by the time we reached the turnoff to the freeway; I spent every minute of that drive waiting to hear a gunshot signaling that we were under attack.
As we swung north up the 15 and left the largest of the buildings, houses, and stores behind us, I finally loosened up enough to talk.
“So, I’m pretty convinced now that this whole excursion was a horrible idea. At least that’s what my nerves are telling me.”
“I don’t think so,” said Jake. “Look, we’re going to have to get good at this kind of thing. It’s not like we get to Billy’s cabin and we’re suddenly done. We’ll still have to go out on a regular basis and scrounge for supplies. The more opportunities we get to practice, the better we’ll get. Think of today as a trial run.”
I contemplated diving into the experiences of that day on a regular basis. “Ugh. We’d better start collecting hard liquor. I’ll need to take up drinking just to keep my nerves steady.”
“Oh, you’ll see,” Jake said, waving my statement away with a hand. “You’re only saying that because you’re still keyed up from yesterday. It’ll get routine, I’m sure. You can get used to anything given enough iterations.”
“Iterations?” I said. I was wondering what kind of person used the word ‘iterations’ as part of their everyday conversation. “Jake, what did you do for a living?” It struck me that I knew next to nothing about him.
“This and that,” he said without offering elaboration. “So, what do we have in the way of music?”
“You name it,” I said. I noticed his obvious deflection but chose not to pursue it. “Bowie, Skynyrd, Taylor Swift, Eminem…there’s Prince, Starboy…”
“Starboy?” he interrupted. “What exactly is a Starboy?”
“R&B singer,” I said. “Let’s see…I’m not seeing any Cash in here. Oh, here’s some Elvis! Uh, Beatles…Radiohead, Mastodon, AC/DC…”
“Why don’t you just pick something?”
“Well,” I said while I thumbed through a few more cases. “Can’t go wrong with Black Keys, I suppose.”
“Yeah, they’re good,” Jake agreed. “Spin it!”
“Spin…it?” I asked.
“Nevermind.”
I pulled the power inverter out of its packaging and loaded it into the cigarette lighter in the dashboard. Following that, I got out the CD player, unwrapped the CD (struggling to get all of the annoying cellophane into an orderly ball) and loaded it up. The slow, distorted growl of Dan Auerbach’s guitar began to claw its way out of the speakers not long after I hit the play button and “All You Ever Wanted” filled the cab of the Jeep as we rolled up the 15. I had no idea what was coming next but the simple act of riding in a car with music playing helped to inject the illusion of normalcy back into
my life for at least a little while. I looked over at Jake and caught him grinning out of the corner of my eye. I could almost forget the rifle I had wedged between my seat and the door.
11 – Swap Meet
Amanda
We drove a steady and consistent pace for the next three and a half hours before Billy’s truck was pulling off toward an exit. Rather than taking the exit outright, he pulled over and slowed to a crawl in the middle of the highway. He stuck his arm out of the window and waved us forward. Jake complied and I rolled down my window so we could talk to him.
“What’s up?” Jake asked.
“I want to make a stop at this place here,” he said, hooking his thumb towards a large, square looking building a few hundred feet to the East of us. It stood by itself, alone in a vast field – about as middle of nowhere as you’d please. It had large, red letters on the front of it that read “BARNES”.
“What is it?” I asked. I felt my stomach tighten at the prospect of another building sweep. I had convinced myself we wouldn’t be doing this again until after we made it to Wyoming. My discussion with Jake had suggested that we may be at it again before we got there. I was utterly unprepared for the prospect of doing it only a few hours after the last excursion.
“They sold ammo and reloading supplies. I had this marked as a stop on my route since day one, just like the Vegas stop.”
I put my eyes forward and cursed under my breath. Ammunition of any kind was simply too important to pass up. I think Jake must have known what was going through my head because he said, “What do you think about sitting this one out? You got the last building. I’ll take this one. Gets boring standing outside, yes?”
I looked at him, trying to decide if I should be annoyed. The look in his eyes was perfectly serious and without guile; I decided to be touched instead. “You did say that I would have to get used to this,” I reminded him.