Dead Weight

1: Survivors

“There’s nothing left!”

Nick pushed over one of the empty racks that used to be filled with cans of food. It toppled over and took two more down with it, resulting in a crash that shook the ground.

“Hey,” said Ben from the opposite side of the room. “Calm down.”

“Did you find anything?” Nick asked as he walked away from the debris he just caused.

Ben was rummaging through box after empty box, tossing them on the ground until there was nothing left. He was younger than Nick and much less prone to losing his cool, but even his patience was beginning to wane now. Placing both hands on the shelf in front of him, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Nothing,” he said.

“What are we even doing here?” Nick was beside him now.

“This isn’t good,” Ben pushed himself from the shelf and stood upright. “If we don’t find anything…”

“Hey, it’s not our fault if there’s nothing left,” Nick nearly shouted.

He felt the familiar pangs of anger swelling inside his head as if his brain was being clamped down. He knew the others considered him a hothead, but he couldn’t help it. Every time something went wrong, he could feel his mind begin to shut down, become more animalistic and retreat to the basest form of fight-or-flight. His life felt threatened when things did not go as planned, and lately, nothing was going the way it was supposed to.

“This was bound to happen sooner or later.” Ben placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “We just need to explain the situation.”

Nick slapped his hand away and walked to the window. It had been boarded up long ago, back when people were still taking shelter there. He tried not to think about that time.

“I’ve been saying it for weeks now,” Ben continued. “We can’t stay in the same place forever. Eventually, the supplies will run out, even if we look throughout the entire city. I wouldn’t be surprised if every building is as empty as this one now.”

“We can’t go back empty-handed,” said Nick.

“We just need to explain the situation,” Ben repeated.

“You know what will happen if we don’t go back with something,” Nick shouted. He thumped his head against the boarded up window and sighed deeply, his shoulders seemingly taking on a huge weight. “Fuck,” he said and shook his head.

“Maybe we could break into one of the neighboring houses then. There’s probably at least one we haven’t searched yet.”

Still shaking his head, Nick opened his eyes and saw movement through the boards. He crouched down to get a better look and squinted his eyes.

“Did you hear something?” asked Ben.

Without looking away, Nick held up his finger to silence Ben and waved him over.

They peered through the crack at an old woman crossing the street holding hands with a little boy, probably about eight years old. The woman was carrying a backpack that seemed to be pretty heavy from the way she was walking. Nick and Ben looked at each other.

“What the hell?” said Nick.

“Do you think they used to be part of the community?” asked Ben. “Could they have survived this long on their own?”

Nick moved away from the window and towards the door. He placed a hand on the handle and looked at Ben, cocking his head to the side for him to follow.

“What are you doing?”

“Her backpack,” said Nick. He slowly pushed the door open. “We’re going to take it.”

“What?” said Ben. “And just leave them with nothing?”

“It’s them or us, goddammit,” Nick hissed. “Now come on.”

Reluctantly, Ben followed Nick out the door. They crept up to the corner of a building the old woman had walked around. Nick held up his hand for Ben to stop moving. He peeked around the building. The street was empty.

“Shit,” said Nick.

Ben tapped him on the shoulder and lifted his head, silently mouthing, “What?”

“Fuck this. Come on.” Nick stood up and turned the corner. He ran full speed along the street, his eyes glancing in and out of buildings as he passed them. He stopped when he got to the next corner and peeked to the other street. He spotted the old woman, but this time there was two kids with her. The other boy seemed a little older, probably about twelve, and had a backpack of his own. “This just keeps getting better,” Nick said, turning his head. “All right, on three. One —” He stopped.

Ben was still halfway down the street, jogging slowly. Nick furiously waved him over to hurry up.

“Keep the fuck up, goddammit,” he said as Ben crouched down next to him. He pointed around the corner for Ben to take a look. “There’s another kid with them now. He has a backpack, too. We can both carry one back now.”

“This is so messed up,” replied Ben.

Nick wanted to slap some sense into him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to restrain himself. Putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder, he said, “Think of it this way. In a few days, the three of them will be dead anyway. No way a group like that will make it for long. What good will their supplies do them then?”

“They would survive in the community.”

Nick sighed and shook his head. He did not even want to dignify that statement with a response. Ben knew as well as anyone why that wouldn’t be possible.

“Let’s just get this done.” Nick reached into the back of his pants and pulled out a pistol. Standing up, he said, “If they resist, you know what has to be done.”

Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. “Yeah…”

“Hey,” said Nick. “Don’t fuck this up.”