Keep Busy

22.

A gigantic red circle around a smaller red circle crested the tree line as they drove.

"Target! We've got to stop!" Jane said, bouncing in her seat.

"You know it's been emptied," Frank said. He'd taken over driving a few hours back, giving Emily a chance to take a nap in the passenger seat. She was out within seconds.

"Maybe, but maybe not. We're out in the middle of nowhere. Maybe there's some stuff left."

Frank couldn't think of a good reason to deny her—and then wondered why he wanted to deny her in the first place. For some reason he felt the need to be confrontational for confrontation's sake. He wanted to get under her skin. Maybe it was because she had almost killed him... twice... or maybe he was starting to like her too much. Maybe he was mad. Mad at her for being dead. Mad because she was the greatest woman he'd ever met and everything about her was... impossible.

He glanced at her big smile and nearly life-like eyes shining bright green in the dappled light. She adjusted the army blanket over her shoulder and softly bit her lower lip with ridiculously cute childlike anticipation. She raised her eyebrows at him twice, in quick succession—inviting him into her excitement. Even sunken and surrounded by heavy dark circles, her eyes gleamed.

Goddamn! She has beautiful fucking eyes.

Frank turned back toward the road. "Let's stop, then," he said, his voice cracking.

Emily rubbed her eyes and looked over at him. "What was that?"

"What?" he croaked defensively.

"Was that your voice?" she said. "Sounded like a chicken squawking."

"We ran over a chicken," Frank said, matter of fact.

"I love Target," Jane squeaked.

The shopping center was tucked away from the highway, nestled in the dense trees. It looked out of place surrounded by so much natural beauty, this huge, solid, angular structure. There was the Target, then three or four little sundry stores and a hair salon.

Everything was smashed. Even a few of the letters on the Target sign, at least thirty feet up, were broken. The parking lot was nearly deserted. Only a few cars, long since abandoned and torched dotted the massive expanse of asphalt.

The parking lot light poles had letters on them.

They parked the Suburban in the "A" lot.

"I can't believe you're still smiling—the place is trashed," Frank said throwing the shifter into park.

"Yeah, but you can always find something at Target," Jane said, hopping out of the truck and rushing ahead, her army blanket flapping behind her as her bare feet slapped the pavement.

Emily and Frank followed at a leisurely pace.

"There might be something we could use," Emily said, shrugging.

"Yeah, maybe."

"I always used to imagine what it would be like to have the world to myself," she continued, holding her filthy dress against her thighs in the light breeze. "I guess I never thought about everyone else getting to it first."

"Yeah." Frank kicked at debris as they walked. "What a goddamn mess."

"I hope you don't mind that I'm tagging along with you guys."