Day Fourteen

When she finally slept that evening, I spent the next hours jumping at shadows, convinced I heard voices in the darkness. I was terrified, and kept my fear to myself. By morning, I was exhausted, having not slept at all. The thought of sleep, however, set my heart racing.

I couldn’t continue like this.

We started out after washing up a bit in the river. My clothes were in terrible condition, and we agreed that we needed new supplies. Without any sterile bandages for her injury, I’d tied the cleanest length of cloth I could find around her arm. I told myself the continuing bleeding was a good thing. The injury would keep cleaner that way, I reasoned, though I had no real idea of that was true.

The road led through a small forested patch, between the cultivated fields, and we staggered into a small town just after noon, entering it before we knew where we were. We paused, listening. Insects and birds finned our ears with a constant chatter. Had they always been so loud, or had human society drowned them out? I peered at the still buildings as the heat of the day settled in. Nothing moved.

I wondered where the dead had packed themselves away, here. Was it possible we’d gotten lucky?

A general store stood open, shelves filled with goods. Julia, her face still pale beneath her suntan, went to a sink behind the counter and began to drink. I took stock. A toolbelt, and some basic hand tools would be a good idea. I had no idea when they might be needed, but I could imagine needing them and not having them. Lighter fluid, a metal flip-top lighter, and a handful of disposables, as well. Vitamin supplements, iodine, sterile bandages and band-aids. Toothpaste and toothbrushes. Floss. A pack of pencils and a manual sharpener, in case we wanted to draw a plan, leave a note, or a message. Folding lock-back knives, and combination tools. The store was a goldmine.

Bullets. Behind the counter, near the ceiling, a shelf displayed box after box of mixed rounds. I drew out the empty pistol, flipping open the cylinder and checking the last round. There were two boxes of sixty rounds each, and I emptied them both into one of the toolbelt’s snap-pouches. Julia crouched behind the counter, and drew out a second pistol, a large silver handgun, more of a threat than a weapon to carry around, so heavy was it. But we smiled, and took the rounds for it. Two guns felt better than one.

Backpacks, fresh socks, and sunglasses. We were on top of the world.

Keeping in mind the last time we’d lost all of our possessions, fleeing the rail yard, we stocked up once more, beef jerky and plastic soda bottles jammed into bags, and a few wedged into our backpacks, in case we had to dump the bags again. Not knowing what use they might be, I grabbed a couple of silver whistles, like a coach might use at a sporting event.

Loaded with our new gear, feeling optimistic for the first time in memory, we left the store and the town behind. I was chuckling at the turn our fortunes had taken.