From there, I moved to a nearby convenience store that looked half-looted. I took what was left, which was considerable, and checked the back storage, which usually held restock supplies. I found traces as if someone tried to forcibly pry the doors open but couldn't succeed. I briefly paused, thinking that whoever tried that could be nearby. I need to hurry, I thought to myself.
I fished for my lock-picking tools in my Inventory. A couple of minutes, and I was in. I was greeted by rows upon rows of neatly stacked boxes of supplies: canned foods, bottled water, soda, junk food, and female hygienic products. Each box was labeled and sealed, all of which I silently stored.
Next was a small hardware store that was surprisingly left untouched. Inside, I found spare tools, batteries, lighters, propane tanks, spools of wire, and such. At one store, I found a blood trail leading to the back. A couple of walkers were chewing on a half-eaten corpse. I ended them each with a knife to the head—no hesitation, no emotion, and no need to ring the dinner bell with a gun.
Ghost stayed close, quiet as a shadow. Every few minutes, he'd stop, ears twitching, giving me a half-second warning before trouble appeared. I trusted him more than most people I'd ever served with.
Next, I searched four different drug stores. The first two were looted thoroughly, save for some bandages here and there. The third one was only half-looted, with the back storage left untouched. Score, I cheered inside. The last one, however, looked completely untouched, though that was probably due to the couple dozen walkers blocking the front door. After almost two hours, I finally managed to kill them all, leaving me slightly winded. I carefully stored everything shelf by shelf. The back storage was where I found the jackpot: boxes of medicine that could last us for years.
Finally, I arrived at a comic book store that had seen better days. The inside was left largely untouched. I stored every comic I came across, including some rare editions that I'm sure Duane would love.
By late afternoon, I had acquired everything that was requested. The streets, however, were getting worse. I spotted them before they spotted me: a small horde, maybe forty to fifty, clustered near a crashed military convoy, some still wearing uniforms. Guess this convoy didn't make it, I muttered, filing the location for another time. I didn't have time for a fight.
I returned to where I parked the truck earlier, taking the duffle bags I stuffed full of weapons and ammo earlier, some crates of food, water, and such, as well as some comic volumes. I loaded the truck to the brim, covering the back with a black tarp I found earlier, and drove home.
"Almost home, Ghost." He barked once, as if agreeing.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, the sky was painted orange and red. Dale was on top of his RV, rifle in hand, giving me a small nod as I rolled in.
"Quiet day?" I asked.
"Mostly," he said. "A few walkers near the fence this morning. Morgan and Jim took care of them."
Jenny came out with a relieved smile, wiping her hands on a rag. "You made it back."
"Wouldn't miss dinner," I said, cracking a small grin.
Duane came running. "Did you get me what I asked?" he said eagerly.
Chuckling, I picked a smaller box from the passenger seat and handed it over to him. "Yeah, took a while, but I found you some awesome stuff."
"Thank you so much!" Thrilled, he snatched the box from my hands and went running back inside. Me and Morgan shared a knowing look, smiling, while Jenny shook her head in amusement.
Andrea and Amy appeared next, both curious. "How was the run?"
"Profitable," I said, pulling the tarp. Their eyes widened. "Guns, food, water, tools, meds—everything we'd need to survive and thrive," I said. "Now, help me offload this." Grabbing a box, I headed inside to the pantry.
It didn't take much for everything to be stored inside for later sorting. Pouring myself a glass of water, "Training starts tomorrow," I informed them.
Andrea's eyebrows raised. "You're going to teach us?"
I nodded. "Every one of you. Safe handling, marksmanship, control. You're no good to anyone if you shoot the wrong person or waste ammo."
Jim said, wiping sweat from his brow, "I ain't touched a gun since hunting season."
"I'll walk you through the basics first then watch over you correcting what needs to be corrected," i said.
That night, the firelight flickered against the farmhouse walls as we sorted the weapons. I assigned pistols to Morgan, Andrea, Jenny, and Dale first—the most level-headed in the group. Jim would get his once his hands stop shaking.
As I checked each weapon for functionality, Andrea muttered at one point, watching me strip a pistol with practiced ease, "We're not soldiers."
"No," I said, reassembling it smoothly. "But we're not victims either."
The fire popped softly. No one spoke after that. Ghost lay by my side, ears twitching. I stared into the flames. "We're building something here. We need to be ready to fight for it, when the world comes to take it away,"
"When?" Andrea repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, when." I locked eyes with her, then looked at the rest. "You need to understand something. The most dangerous things these days are not the walkers. They're just mindless husks that follow their instincts. It's the human heart. With the law all but gone, the chains that once restrained humanity are no longer present. Now, you'll be lucky if they let you go after robbing you if you're a man. Women will have it much worse. If caught, they'll get captured as pets, sex slaves. Dying will be a luxury they cannot afford."
Jenny, Andrea, and Amy paled, with the rest's faces darkened. Morgan placed his hand on Jenny's.
"Aren't you exaggerating?" Dale asked with an uncertain look on his face.
I turned to him. "You know how it was before the fall. Now it'll only get worse," I flatly said.
No one spoke after that. After eating dinner, everyone went in for the night while I stayed, staring at the dying flame, thinking about the future.
(To be continued...)