Better Lucky than Good (Records of the Resistance) (6 page)

"We need batteries too. Grab them if you see them." Clay said.
 

"Can we figure all that out when we get inside?" Melanie replied, becoming increasingly impatient.
 

She didn't care much for idea of leaving their little island hideout to begin with, let alone having a conversation while remaining exposed as they were.

The moment his feet felt the floor, he reached up and activated his head lamp, bathing the basement in bright LED generated light. The room appeared to be clear of any infected. Clay turned and reached through the window, indicating to Melanie that she should pass the pack through to him. After it was inside, she sat down in front of the window and slid her own legs through, leaving them to dangle inside the basement. Clay assisted her the rest of the way into the subterranean room, wrapping his arms around her hips and gently lowering her to the floor.

"Now what?" Melanie whispered.

Clay motioned to the stairs by nodding his head in their direction. Slowly, they crept their way up the incline towards a door located at its apex. The old stairs creaked under the combined weight of the two and their heavy pack. Once they had reached the top of the stairs, Clay pressed the side of his head against the door. If something was in there, it would have been alerted to their presence by the noise caused by their ascent. The main floor sounded quiet. Clay remembered that the store front windows had pull down steel shutters, so the light from his head lamp was of little concern. Having heard nothing, he twisted the knob and rushed through the door, immediately scanning the room for movement.
 

It appeared to be devoid of life.

"It's empty." Clay said to Melanie, as she cautiously entered the store behind him.

Clay sighed aloud. The shop had been completely ransacked. The racking behind the counter had been almost entirely cleared out, as well as the display cases that would have likely contained ammunition at one time.
 

Melanie lifted a hand onto Clay's shoulder consolingly. Regardless of her jesting, she was aware of how important this part of the plan was to him.

"There must be something left that we can use..." she said, in an attempt to diffuse his frustration.

Clay lowered his pack to the ground and opened its roll top.

"You need boots. Look for anything that appears to be military surplus... Double-A batteries for the head lamp. Camp meals... They look like tinfoil bags and have pictures of food on them. Another headlamp for yourself. Anything that looks like it might be useful." Clay said, while not sounding at all hopeful.

Melanie took off for the shelving throughout the store, while Clay headed for the empty gun racks behind the counter. He began rifling through drawers, most of which were empty. Fortunately, he found himself two boxes of twelve-gauge, double-aught shells. The previous ‘shoppers' had either missed them, or had run out of room in whatever they were carrying off their lifted goods in.

While the shotgun shells were a good find, they weren't the item that he had been most hoping to find. The shop had an L-shaped counter, which Clay followed while continuing to rifle through drawers. He found only a few useful items such as gun cleaner and a slightly used cleaning kit during the remainder of his search. That was, until reaching the end of the counter.

"You've got to be fucking kidding..." Clay said out loud incredulously.

"Clay? ... Is everything okay?" Mel shouted from across the store.

"Yes. I'm fine... Everything is fine..." he replied, grinning to himself.

Sitting there on the floor was exactly the item he had been praying to find. One of the essential tools that would make their lives tremendously easier. A twenty-two caliber, semi-automatic, rimfire rifle.

"Those fools... They took all the big guns, thinking you were just a toy..." he said, after approaching the firearm and crouching down beside it to get a closer look.

It was perfect. It had a ten round magazine and Clay was certain that if they left the gun, they surely didn't care about the magazines that might be nearby. It was smaller than a centre fire rifle, as well as lighter. Its black composite stock would blend in well during the night. Twenty-two's as they were affectionately called, were quiet and easy to shoot, while being reasonably capable of dropping infected with head shots inside of fifty yards. The ammunition it fired was diminutive and came in five hundred round boxes that could fit in a single hand, meaning an obscene quantity of ammunition could easily be carried. Prior to the outbreak, a twenty-two caliber rimfire rifle was good for squirrel hunting and prolonged days on the rifle range. But now... This little rifle would become a highly effective tool for dispatching the undead.
 

Clay scooped it up and after a short search found four extra magazines in a drawer across from where the gun had likely rested in the racking. He also found three five hundred round bricks of ammunition, a pair of scope rings and bases, and a quality fixed four-times magnification scope. Had that farmhouse been occupied by group of individuals wielding these, the outcome may have been vastly different. Assuming that a single headshot would suffice, Clay was certain that the deceptively small projectiles would be an unmatched asset.
 

Clay rounded a row of shelving and almost walked right into Mel, who was surrounded by items that she had scavenged from the store’s scattered inventory. Clay was gleaming about his found rifle, not even noticing how successful Mel had been during her own search.

"Find what you were looking for?" Mel asked, while tying her long dark hair into a pony tail; her bangs dangling in front of her face.

She had changed into new clothing. Her filthy slacks had been replaced with a pair of black leggings, while her torn blouse had been tossed aside for a wool shirt whose sleeves she had partially rolled up. The flip flops that Clay had lent her were now sitting atop the dry bag and Melanie had donned a set of black combat boots on her feet. A pair of grey woollen socks, poking above the top of her footwear.

"How do I look?" she said while attempting to pose in a manner that would mimic a fashion model.

"It'll do..." he replied nonchalantly.

Clay thought she looked awesome.
 

"Sheesh... Killjoy..." she said, hoping for a bit more enthusiasm from Clay.

"What did you find?" Clay asked.

"Um... Socks. Batteries. A headlamp. A knife. Clothes, obviously. No food. I found a few filter cartridges that had the same logo on the package as the water filter you have in the dry bag. Lighter fluid. A lot of things. Oh, and a backpack!" Mel answered proudly.
 

"Seriously? That's a pretty good haul, Mel. Good work." Clay was surprised by all of the things that had been left behind by the shops previous looters.
 

"What have you got?" she asked Clay, looking at his full arms.

"You'll see... Later though. I need the rest of the things we're looking for." he replied.
 

The pair began hastily repacking the two bags so as to fit everything they had found, and distribute the weight in such a way that they could both be comfortably carried by their respective wearers. It took them several attempts before they could get it right. Mel was a woman of average size, who wasn't exactly accustomed to carrying heavy loads on her back.

It wasn't long before Clay was boosting Mel through the basement window. They returned the dumpster back in front of the improvised entrance, intending to keep what remained in the shop safe from other would be looters. Mel wondered while assisting Clay, if it was her previous companions that had done this same routine, at this very same spot.

Clay had quickly grown to appreciate Mel's local knowledge. After leaving the ransacked outfitter's shop, she had led him to a set of railroad tracks that were flanked by deep ditches and heavy brush on either side. The tracks would provide them with a relatively concealed corridor of travel throughout the town, affording them a chance to somewhat relax while en route to their next destination. Along the way she had explained to Clay using hushed tones, that the town had recently begun expanding south of the tracks. Coincidentally, the rails ran along side the parking lot of a big box store that had just opened only a few months prior. In it should be the remaining items that they were searching for, and they could use the tracks to conceal their approach from any of the infected who may be wandering the city.
 

Clay knew nothing about Mel prior to meeting her at the gas station the day before. He hadn't revealed anything personal either and she had not asked. Clay was mostly uninterested, considering her past to be mostly irrelevant. He had however, made a few basic observations about her. She had been dressed in semi professional clothing and was obviously educated. While not likely at a university, but maybe a community college. She didn't have a wedding band, or a tan line indicating that she had once worn one. If she had any kids, her physique didn't let on to it and she had no sense of urgency about getting anywhere in particular. Clay placed her in her mid twenties. The way in which Melanie was jostling her pack around, trying to shift its weight was peculiar to Clay. It was obvious that she hadn't done any backpacking, but still maintained some level of fitness. After all, she had gone days without sleep, while running for her life and had proceeded to maintain Clay's pace up until last night. Granted, that fear and adrenalin are great motivators, this however, went beyond that. She seemed like the type who would enjoy running, or would maybe be a yoga practitioner. Although some educated people could still be relatively stupid despite possessing a piece of paper stating the contrary, Melanie appeared to be pretty sharp. The way she had sorted through the remaining inventory at the outfitter had impressed Clay. Hell, she had even grabbed a few things that he hadn't even suggested.
 

Like Clay, she was lucky in that she had survived the initial outbreak. However, only those who could adapt to these new circumstances would be the ones who stood a chance of surviving the coming weeks, or months, or years, before this mess got sorted out. In this she also shared common ground with Clay. She had begun to adapt to her new environment. But Clay recognized that Mel had a few hard lessons that she would yet have to learn, should she continue to survive.
 

Clay could begin to see the giant sign, designed in typical big box fashion, forming in the distance approximately one kilometre away. They slowed their advance and let caution dictate the pace of their approach. From a crouched position in the ditch along the railroad tracks, they began to look for any signs that would indicate any sort of activity around the building. Mel pointed out that the security gates were down, preventing any sort of entry through the front door. Other then scattered and overturned shopping carts, the parking lot was empty.
 

"Clay, I've shopped here before. The security is crazy and it doesn't look like anyone has even tried to get inside. There is no way we can get through those gates." Mel stated, with evidence of defeat in her voice.

"Don't be so sure..." Clay suggested. "Look..." he continued, while pointing to the rear corner of the building adjacent to the tracks.

"Oh come on... You don't really think?" Melanie replied, unbelieving in what Clay implied.

Three cars had been parked along the side of the building, close to a small door. Alongside the door and against the building was a bench with what appeared to be a
 
weathered coffee can tucked underneath of it.
 

"Manager parking. And one of them was a smoker. Lets go see if he propped the door open with something. I don't see a door knob on the outside and that kind of door is a pain in the ass to open with just a key and that stupid little pull tab." Clay said with a mischievous grin.

The pair continued slowly along the tracks until reaching a point directly across from the door. Only a narrow paved road and the ditch stood between them and the safety which would be provided by the building. Mel and Clay were both straining their eyes in the darkness, struggling to see if the door had been propped open with anything.
 

"Is that a... No... It's just a scuff mark on the door..." Mel said.

They sat there a while longer. Day time exposure was dangerous and they were too far from the islands to return there for rest. They would have to find shelter and fast, and their best chance lied within the walls of the massive department store.

"Fuck it. I'm just going to check... Stay here." Clay said.

Without so much as waiting for a response from Melanie, he was up and crossing the road. Clay looked to his right and then to his left before darting towards the door. To his relief, the entrance had in fact been propped open by a small rock, which had been only barely preventing the door from latching. Clay pried the door open with his fingers and while holding it open with his foot, waved Melanie over.
 

"Better lucky than good, any day..." Clay stated as she passed him and entered the building.
 

Mel was right. The place was untouched. People just aren't smart enough to survive the apocalypse, Clay thought to himself.

"Look..." Clay said.

"I don't want us splitting up. This place is too big and there are three cars parked out there. We don't know where the occupants of those cars are. We'll hit the departments we need as we come across them. Hardware, hopefully we'll find food, and then automotive." Clay instructed.