Afterglow: An Apocalypse Romance (17 page)

They passed another burnt-out area, acrid ash burning their noses. Again he wondered if the fire was caused by the solar storm. It was impossible to tell, but the caustic smell filled their nostrils as they made their way through.

Luckily, they ended up on a strip of road lined with family restaurants and stores like Target and Walmart. Which meant they needed to be more careful, because other survivors would most likely be nearby. But which also meant there was a good chance they could find something to eat. Their last meal of iced tea and chocolate bars had left Creed’s stomach growling, and he was sure Nina was starving too.

The restaurants would probably only have rotten food left, so their best bet, decided Creed, was the Target, where he was sure they could find at least a few cans or boxes of food that hadn’t already been taken by other scavengers. Maybe some bottled water too. Creed’s only worry was that since the store was so big, it would be hard to know if they were alone. So many aisles and displays meant lots of spaces for people to hide. Still, there weren’t many options. They couldn’t survive without food, and especially without water.

“Ready to do some shopping?” he shouted to Nina as they pulled into the Target parking lot, making their way around cars, some of which were stopped in random places, not in designated spots.

“My favorite store,” said Nina as she got off the bike.

She knew the drill, and they entered carefully through the open doorway. Creed supposed the electronic sliding doors had been stuck in the open position, because there was no broken glass. Just a dark hole into the interior of the store.

“There’s a small comic book store next door,” Creed whispered. “It’s small enough to secure for the night. Let’s get what we can carry over there.”

“Got it,” responded Nina.

They headed first to the pharmacy, which had been broken into, bottles and pills strewn everywhere. “This is impossible,” whispered Nina. “Unless we knew what every single pill looked like, we don’t have any idea what these are for.” She gestured at the pills all over the floor. “I was hoping for some antibiotics, just in case.”

“Come on,” urged Creed, uncomfortable in the big dark store.

They were able to find enough materials to rebuild their first-aid kit: gauze, antibacterial cream, good Band-Aids, and a bottle each of Tylenol and aspirin. They’d both grabbed shopping baskets on the way in, and next they headed to the grocery area of the store, looking for anything nonperishable they could use. As they got closer to the food section, the smell of rotting produce and meat hit them hard.

“Gross,” whispered Nina, pulling her scarf up over her mouth and nose.

“Better than dead bodies.”

The groceries had been well picked through, but they found two unopened cans of Pringles, three cans of SpaghettiOs, and a bag of animal crackers. The bottled water was all gone, but a six-pack of Sprite had somehow been overlooked by other people passing through. It would have to do.

They checked the camping section next, looking for a quality sleeping bag. Everything good had been taken, but they found two child bags, one sporting Disney princesses, the other Spiderman. Bad quality. Worth next to nothing. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, thought Creed, as he slung them over his arm.

“Let’s get out of here.” Creed couldn’t explain the feeling of foreboding that was coursing through his body. His gut again. Instincts. Something was up, something was going to happen, but he didn’t know what.

They were almost at the exit of the store, just passing by the dollar bins near the checkout lanes, when Creed saw a shape dart behind the display of rotting watermelons.

“Down,” he whispered to Nina but she was already crouched low, her basket on the ground, both hands holding her gun to her chest. Creed couldn’t help feeling pride seeing her like that, so independent, so ready. It would serve her well after he left her at her grandmother’s and… He didn’t like to think about
then
.

They took cover behind a rack of Pokémon cards, and Creed looked out, watching for any sign of movement.

After a few minutes, the figure emerged, looking around then heading straight toward the trading cards, where Creed and Nina were hidden. It was a kid, and not a kid like he’d thought Nina was back at his garage.

This was a child, no older than eight, probably. What the hell was a kid doing in an abandoned Target? Possibly a look-out. Or bait. In this new world people wouldn’t hesitate to use a child as a lure to get unsuspecting concerned citizens close, then attack them. To what end, Creed wasn’t sure. All he knew was he couldn’t trust anyone. It could be a fatal mistake.

As the child got closer, Creed sprung, jumping out and grabbing the kid in one arm while covering his mouth with the other. He didn’t need the kid screaming out and alerting someone.

“Oh my god. It’s a kid.” Nina was next to him, gun still in hand, looking at the child. “It’s a boy, Creed. He’s little.”

Creed expected the kid to struggle—he knew he would have at that age—but instead the boy’s body was compliant and limp. Like he’d given up. Creed glanced warily around the dark store. He couldn’t leave the kid here; if he was a look-out he’d go right back to the others, and Nina and Creed wouldn’t be safe.

“We’ll take him with us,” he whispered to Nina. She grabbed both their baskets, and they headed out into the cold bright remnants of the day.

* * *

The comic book store was completely intact. Through the windows Creed could see everything neatly in its place.
Guess nobody’s looking for comics or trading cards in an apocalypse
, he thought. The door was locked, and he silently thanked himself for the hours spent teaching himself how to pick locks with his buddies in high school. Not for any specific purpose. Just because they wanted to be able to do it. His Swiss army knife was all the tool he needed, and within a few minutes they were in.

Nina held the kid while he did it, the child completely limp in her arms. She wasn’t even covering his mouth, and he wasn’t making a sound. It was like he was comatose or sick or something, and Creed inwardly cursed. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help this kid. But it was going to slow them down. Change their plans. That wasn’t what they needed.

Once inside he locked the door behind them, then got busy moving some racks of comics to block the door and front windows, both to keep people out and to keep anyone from being able to see inside. While he worked, he listened to Nina’s quiet voice behind him, talking to the kid, whispering soothing things, asking his name. The kid was non-responsive. After a few minutes, Nina came up to Creed.

“He’s skin and bones. Like really skinny, Creed,” she whispered.

“Did he say anything? Is he alone? Does he have a family?”

“Nothing. He won’t talk. He won’t even look at me. I’m going to try to get him to eat something, OK?”

Creed grunted his assent and finished blocking the entrance. While Nina opened one of the cans of SpaghettiOs, Creed explored the rest of the shop. There was a bathroom, which they could use for the night, even if the plumbing didn’t work. Not ideal, but it would beat going outside into the cold and potential danger to take a piss.  A tiny office housed a desk and a shelf with some odds and ends on it. Nothing they needed. His best find was a water bubbler in the back of the shop. The giant bottle of water on it was half empty, but a fully filled spare sat on the floor next to it.

In the store, Nina had turned on one of the flashlights and set it standing up on the floor, so it cast a warm glow in a circle around them. The boy was in a corner not far away, warily keeping an eye on Nina but eating from the can of SpaghettiOs with his fingers.

“I’m worried he’s going to cut his hand,” whispered Nina, “but he won’t let me close to him.”

Creed nodded, then sat next to Nina. She opened a second can, and they used the Pringles to scoop out the orangey red sauce and limp noodles. Rationally, Creed knew it was disgusting. But hell if it didn’t taste better than anything he’d ever eaten before.

When the boy set his can down, Nina whispered, “Do you want some animal crackers?”

The kid hesitated, then nodded. It was hard to see him well in only a flashlight-lit room, but from what little Creed could see, he guessed the boy was around six years old. Nina was right when she said he was skin and bones. His arms, as they stuck out of his T-shirt, were like sticks, his fingers bony as he reached out a hand for some cookies. He had black hair that hung in a shaggy mess, and his eyes looked huge in his sunken face.

“I found some water in the back,” Creed announced. “I’ll go get us some.”

“Would you like something to drink?” Nina asked the boy, and Creed stopped at the door, waiting to hear the boy’s response.

He nodded, a little more eagerly this time.

“We have water and Sprite. Which would you like?”

For a few seconds the boy was silent, but then he said, in the smallest voice possible, “Water. My mom doesn’t like me to drink soda.” Something about those words made Creed’s heart clench. Because most likely this boy’s mom was dead, and it no longer mattered whether he drank soda or not.

He muttered a curse as he got up to get water.

After the boy drank water from a paper cup by the bubbler, he seemed to fall asleep immediately, as though his body had needed food, and now needed to rest.

“Help me get him in the sleeping bag,” said Nina, spreading the Spiderman one out on the floor next to the boy. Together they slipped his body inside the bag, and Nina placed her winter coat under his head as a pillow.

“I guess we’ll have to share the princess bag,” said Creed, excited at the thought of being so close to Nina, but unsure of how two adults were supposed to share a bag meant for one pre-adolescent child. His momentary excitement was further erased when he realized they couldn’t do anything, not with a kid in the room with them.

“Creed, I might be a little, uh, stinky,” whispered Nina.

“No
might
about it, sweetheart,” he drawled, knowing it would get a rise out of her.

“Yeah, well, you don’t exactly smell like roses right now either,” she shot back at him.

“Look, sweetheart. Tomorrow we can clean up with the water in the bubblers back there. I’ll even help you wash your hair. And I’ll pick up some Axe fucking body wash, since you think I smell. But right now? We need to sleep.”

“Fine.” Nina crawled into the sleeping bag, and Creed looked at her, as small as she was, practically filling the thing.

“I am not going to fit in there,” he muttered. “I knew it.”

“It hurt a little, but you fit just fine,” Nina said, a lilting tease in her voice.

Creed growled. “Don’t start something we can’t finish, sweetheart.”

“Sorry. The kid. I know.”

Creed lay down next to Nina on the thin carpet covering the hard floor and pulled her against him. He wasn’t exactly warm, but he wasn’t freezing either. Listening to Nina’s soft breath, he settled into sleep.

* * *

Someone was wriggling against him, pushing him aside. Half asleep he thought it was Nina, but as he woke further he realized it was the kid. Forcing his way in between Creed and Nina.

The boy was shaking, whether from fear or cold Creed wasn’t sure. He wanted to tell him to get back in his sleeping bag. He wanted to push him away. Instead, though, he drew closer, hoping to share some of his body heat with the child. He was reminded of Kaylee, of how terrified she would be alone like this kid. The thought made him desperately afraid, and he knew that, whether he wanted to or not, he was going to take care of this boy, at least for now.

* * *

In the morning, the boy was up first. He’d moved back to his corner and sat staring at Creed and Nina.

“Anyone ever tell you staring at sleeping people is creepy?” muttered Creed. He felt like a jerk, but Jesus, that stare.  It reminded him of fellow Marines when they were shell-shocked with sound and fear, and it was a sight that brought up feelings he’d rather keep buried. 

The kid didn’t respond, just followed Creed’s every movement with his eyes.

“Hungry?”  Creed made his voice friendly to make up for his previous comment, but the kid didn’t seem to care. He hesitated, then nodded, more eagerly than he had the day before. Creed tossed him the package of animal crackers, watched while the kid stuck a skinny hand in and stuffed about seven into his mouth at once, crumbs falling down onto his shirt.

“You got worse manners than I do, kid,” said Creed, clearing his throat.

Again, no response.

Creed shrugged, headed back to the water cooler, and brought the boy a cup of water, setting it down next to him. The boy shuddered when Creed got too close to him, and it tugged at Creed’s heart to see a child so afraid.

“What’s your name?”

Creed was surprised when the boy answered, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Charles. But people call me Charlie.”

“Nice to meet you, Charlie. I’m Creed. This is Nina.” Creed gestured at Nina’s body, still curled into herself in the sleeping bag. He was glad she was getting rest, though he knew she was only half-asleep. Like him, she slept with one eye open.