Zero

[8]

Chapter 8

(Sorry it's a day late! Merry Christmas!) 

 

            “Were you close to your father?” I ask over breakfast in the early morning light. The sun isn’t quite up yet and we’re about to get a move on, but are moving a little slower than I would like. I guess I was more tired than I realized last night because Hunter woke me up this morning, I can’t remember the last time someone needed to wake me up.

            “We had our moments,” he says with an uncomfortable shrug. Maybe there was tension between them.

             “Did he survive the initial outbreak?”

            I know the question is probably out of line, but I still ask. I can’t seem to help myself. I probably should shut up though, the more questions I ask, the more he’ll want to know in return and for some reason it’s difficult to blow him off. I blame the smile.

            “No,” he answers. “I don’t think he did. It was just my sister and I, and a friend of hers.” He says the word friend strangely and it has me wondering if they were more and why he would have a problem with it. Even I don’t have a problem with other people being in love, it’s silly and ill timed but not all together bad.

            “The man I killed…” I trail off realizing the truth of it all. His sister died, and recently. Yet somehow he’s holding himself together. Or he’s insane.

            “We should get goin’” he says, standing and dusting off his jeans that aren’t in need of any dusting.

            “Right.”

            I nod and stand to my feet.

            “We should go in,” he says when we’re standing at the door. “There might be a tent or sleeping bags somewhere, it’ll be safer than the open ground.”

            I agree, knowing he’s right even though I don’t want to waste the time. Together, we move the stones and boards barricading the front entrance. I let him lead the way in. I’ve actually never been in the store, since the men are physically so much stronger than I am, I’m always look out.

            Windows at the top of the building allow some sunlight to filter through but it’s still dim enough that we pull out our flashlights. So much is gone. A jewelry counter is smashed in, necklaces, rings or whatever sat in the display case have been emptied out. That probably happened in the beginning when enough people didn’t believe it was really the end of the world.

            When we pass the grocery aisles, I notice everything at eye level and below is missing, but tops of the shelves, the places hard to reach are still filled nicely. I wonder if Hunter lived around here, if this was a place he shopped, because he walks through it like he knows the store well and leads us right to the outdoor equipment.

            “How’re we going to carry it?” I ask lamely. It’s not that the small tent we’ve found is too heavy, but it’s awkward and would have to be carried in our hands. I’m not ok with not having my hands free to reach for weapons.

            “Hang on,” he says as he browses the aisle, looking for something. “Here,” he calls a minute later. I walk down to him and see what his light is shining on. It’s another backpack, larger than the one Hunter is already carrying. It’s obviously made for camping and can hold a tent and sleeping bag. But it’s on the top shelf, a good twenty feet up.