“I think it’s a good thing,” Niki continues. “Means he feels comfortable. Safe, maybe.” Her voice turns serious again. “Now, that doesn’t mean he can get away with talking to me like that. But it’s still kinda nice.”
“Hey, look.” Niki points ahead, past a tractor trailer parked across a sidewalk. There’s a big sign for a shopping center that lists all the stores in it. Big Lots, Kroger, and all the way near the top, Dick’s Sporting Goods.
Across the street is another shopping center. This one has several fast-casual food joints, two chain restaurants, a Best Buy, and a Kohl’s.
“Let’s check the Dick’s,” Andrew says. “Because, one, I’m immature and just wanted to say that—”
“Naturally,” Cara says with a frown.
“And two, they’re bound to have some stuff we can use. Ammo, camping gear, maybe even some freeze-dried food.”
“But the Kohl’s is going to have more clothes,” Niki says. “And we came for winter clothes.”
“You three head to Kohl’s,” I say. “Andrew and I will take the Dick’s.”
Andrew snorts and Cara rolls her eyes as Taylor shakes her head. But no one argues, and Cara tells us to meet back by the overturned truck when we’re done.
As we head for the Dick’s, Andrew smiles up at me. “Did you make the inappropriate joke just to cheer me up?”
“Did it work?”
“Maybe.”
“Then yes.”
The store’s automatic front doors have been smashed in by some kind of vehicle, but it looks like they must have been able to drive away afterward.
Inside, dead leaves gather in piles against endcaps and register aisles. Every once in a while, the breeze makes a leaf skitter across the floor. It’s dark since the only light comes from the broken front doors and the sun is behind a thick layer of low-lying clouds. I take out my flashlight, and Andrew and I head for the clothing. There are overturned racks of yoga pants, shirts, and shorts. The sports jerseys on the far wall have been ripped down and only a few less-than-stellar teams remain.
I can’t help myself and pick through a few on the floor, looking for a Phillies jersey or even an Eagles shirt. Of course they aren’t there,which means either they were never here in the first place or the people of this town had good taste.
There are pillars of dark television screens that have been smashed to bits, and old signs ripped and thrown about. Andrew finds an empty circular rack and shines his flashlight on the ground beneath it.
“Here are some jackets.”
I join him, picking up a bright green puffer jacket on top of the pile. Feathers tumble out and something moves.
No,severalsomethings move.
Andrew screams as a nest of rats the size of my forearm scatter, squealing and running in all directions. I shriek and jump as one tumbles over my foot. Throwing the jacket across the room, Andrew and I sprint in the opposite direction.
My flesh crawls and I jump up and down, groaning, as Andrew “yeesh”-es and clutches his arm to his chest.
“Shit!” I shout. “Ugh.”
Andrew laughs. “I fucking hate the apocalypse.”
“Hard same.” I cringe again as the rats continue to scamper somewhere else in the store.
“Do we go back and see if any of the jackets are salvageable?”
I shine my flashlight over to the pile of jackets and down feathers. “If even some of them are okay, it might be worth it. And we can always wash them.”
Andrew pushes me forward. “Cool, you go look. I’ll check over here.”
I shudder again and head back to the pile of clothes. I pick themup, one by one, examining each as I hold it between my thumb and forefinger. They’re tattered and gutted. Down litters the floor, along with rat shit and shredded nylon. Still, I might be able to stitch some of these together.
“Jamie! Over here!”
