𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄! ᶜ ᵍʳⁱᵐᵉˢ

002. 𝐥𝐢𝐥' 𝐫𝐞𝐝

It feels as if there are weights tied to my legs as I take each painful step across the forest floor. Lately, the days just blur together- it's all running and hiding. And eerie silence. And that silence only ever broken by the bloodthirsty growls of the undead and my own footsteps beating against the forest floor- I hate it. Despite it, actually. Before, I'd always have music playing, or the television on. I guess I don't really have a choice now. 

I was drawn out of the woods by the sight of a small gas station with a red metal roof, and "Martys" sprawled across it in big, white letters. My stomach wouldn't allow me to pass it up- the hunger was so all-consuming, I'd been trying to catch squirrels without even knowing how to set traps.

So here I am, banging the handle of my axe against the glass gas station door. Tapping my foot against the concrete ground, I begin to get impatient. The anxiety eats at my growling stomach until I bang it again. A few minutes pass without any sign of movement. I take this as a sign that it's safe to enter.

I pull on the handle, but the door refuses to budge. I slam my head against the glass, defeated. Of course. Why would it ever be this simple?

I tug on the door once more to make sure it's not just my feeble attempt that's preventing the door from opening. Nothing. I creep around the back of the store to look for an alternative entrance- there's nothing but some old trash bags that should've been taken out months ago. Exhausted and willing to do anything at this point, I go back to the front of the store. I sit on the ground, relaxing into the cool concrete. My back aches with the invisible weight of the post-apocalyptic world resting heavily on my shoulders. I lean my head back against the bricks, close my eyes, and silently curse God.

What even caused this? It was only ever in movies- the dead rising and roaming the earth. Was it the accidental release of some man-made virus? Was this the rapture of God that my own parents were so determined to teach us? Whatever it is, I know it is our extinction event. If there's a cure, how is it supposed to be delivered to the remaining survivors? There's no means of communication.

I open my eyes, shaking the thoughts from my head. I smile in disbelief at the sight of (what used to be) a white frame of a window seal.

I breathe in deeply and stand up. I set my axe down and push the window upwards- the frame slides upwards without a fuss. I chuckle to myself in disbelief. It was almost too easy.

The setting sun tickles against my back as I toss my axe in first. After a fair amount of embarrassment and struggle, I manage to throw myself up and in the window. Thank goodness, because the open exposure next to the highway was beginning to make me uncomfortable.

I pick up my axe and peek above the counter. Looks pretty empty. Of people, that is. I sweep the store once, finding no survivors or ghouls. My flashlight delightfully led my eyes to the surprise of the store being chock-full of dusty snacks and hot sodas. My stomach growls, and I practically drool at the sight.

I immediately rip open a bag of salt and vinegar chips. The acidic flavor coats my tongue and I practically moan. I shovel the chips into my mouth, chewing and swallowing and repeating as fast as possible. The taste of food is so good that I can't stop, as much as I want to.

I do have to stop when I almost choke. I splutter my mouthful of chewed-up chips, and it splatters on the floor. I slam my fist into my chest, and I continue to cough. I take a deep breath, setting the chips down on a shelf. I wander around, looking at the selection of hot, dusty drinks. I select a blue sports drink. I also grab a dusty Dr. Pepper and a fancy bottle of water. I pick up my chips and pick a spot in the store to sit down and feast. I choose a spot in the corner, right between shelves of liquor and spirits.