Survival

Chapter 47 Clean up

Even though the tornado had missed the main house, it still did a lot of much damage. Gunnar spent the next three days using scraps of the trashed shed to patch up holes and cracks. Luck had kept him alive. His mind kept fixating on the crawl space and the strong underground shelter it offered. That was better than luck, it was smarts. The opening mechanism was busted now, not needing anything to break his way in, but also not giving him security from wind and intruders, should he need it. And he was sure he would.

A lock, cleaning supplies, bags and nails: he could and should add those to his list for his next visit to the shop. He dreaded getting rid of that body, tidying up life's passing like a murderer or a cleaning lady in a sketchy motel. His mom had done the latter for awhile, came home with the world's worst stories for he and Aida to hear. He'd usually have to send his sister off to bed and take another bottle away from his mother as she laughed away disgust at people's vulgar nature. The real death cleansing had been left to professionals who showed up to work to work sober more than once a week. Still, too much shit had rubbed off on her, on their family.

He decided to walk to the store, in case those cleaning buckets and liquids were real heavy. Hunter watched him from the front yard, but wouldn't leave his spot. He had sniffed away at the wagon that Gunnar planned to drag all the way there. It would have been great to have Hunter pull it like a sleigh dog, but the canine was not having that. Dog liked his home and wouldn't be leaving. In a way, it reassured Gunnar. If scavengers came, they'd have a grumpy guard to deal with.

The tornadoes had done damage to the road, tearing it up in places and blocking it off with trees in others. He set about clearing a path for himself and was thankful the hot sun had dried up most of the puddles in previous days. The last thing he needed was a pair of soggy shoes. Winds had torn fences down and flung the remaining road signs around. But the intense destruction only lasted a few miles past his place. The tornadoes travelled across the torn-up fields after that.

When he finally arrived at the store, exhausted and a bit thirsty, he took refuge in his regular look out shop for the night. The small business' drink supply had been spilled or scavenged since his last visit. Stupid call not to bring extra water. The weight would have been drunk on the journey.

Unease crept up his spine as he realized what a depleted supply could mean for his isolation. People knew about this place now. He could only find a thin beam, pried off a trashed shelving unit that had collapsed on packs of ladies products. It wasn't sharp but he could probably take someone out with it. First the water, then the hatchet left behind. How could he be getting so sloppy? The sooner he cleansed his home of the newfound death, the sooner he could be himself again.

He sat behind the counter, in the corner with no windows, clutching the bar tight. Every howl and noise made him jump up to a defensive position. Most were small animals or even the wind blowing debris around. Ever since that body... maybe something was coming for him.

Paranoid, Gun. Sit, relax, and let the reefer take you in.

He shook the thoughts from his head as fast as they entered. What had become of the psychopath? All he could hope for was distance or death. Rob wasn't smart enough to make it this long. He had too many vices, too many dangerous habits.

But, he was crazy, and the crazies outlasted the rest.

The sun came up, a reminder that he hadn't had more than twenty minutes of sleep in a row since he arrived. Might as well get the whole thing over with. He walked toward the store, and the light showed a cruel reality the night had kept to itself. Tornadoes had made it this far too, far enough to wipe out the whole side of the building.

The whole food section, wasted by the winds. Broken packages of flour, macaroni, and canned sauces, even mustard spray painting the parking lot bright colours. A few small animals and insects gathered to take advantage. His eyes surveyed the rest of the area. Desert, uprooted street signs, his convenience shelter and a busted up gas station; beacons of an abysmal future.