The scavenger party’s car swerved and sped around obstacles. In and out of neighborhoods and down back roads they flew, until finally making it back to the shopping area of Tuscaloosa.
Rosemarie looked through the car window at the deserted roads and parking lots. The sight of abandoned cars with the doors left open, sent shivers down her spine.
“Yes,” hissed Randy.
He’s unusually quiet, thought Rosemarie.
“No,” said Neil. “They’ve probably wandered off. Biters do that most of the time. They follow sound.”
“We’re making sounds,” grumbled Randy.
“Hey, look!” said Neil excitedly. “A petstore!”
Rosemarie felt some relief at the sight of the store. The front doors looked intact. Going out of business signs hang on the windows of the shop. Neil pulled the car up to the store and parked in the firelane right in front of the doors. He and Randy got out of the car as if they were just going to go shopping.
“Don’t have to worry about firetrucks,” said Rosemarie cautiously opening the car door and stepping out onto the concrete. She walked up to the doors of the shop and waited a moment.
Laughing nervously, she said, “I was waiting for the doors to open.”
Randy sighed heavily and moved past her. “I’ll get it,” he said tucking the gun in his pants. He pushed on the doors, they didn’t budge. He swore and stepped back to the car. He popped the trunk and took out a tire iron. “Back up.” he said.
“The noise,” Rosemarie squeaked as she dashed to the side.
Randy growled as he took a swing, the glass door shattered. “Neil, watch the door. Rosemarie, grab a cart and stay close.”
“I think I should go with you,” Neil said.
“Just watch our backs,” Randy snapped. “We’ll hurry.”
Rosemarie was about to protest when Randy looked her straight in the eye and shook his head slightly. “We need to go.” He turned back to the dimly lit store and cautiously moved inside, aiming the gun in a sweeping motion.
Rosemarie glanced back to Neil, the look in his eye made her shudder. She quickly turned and went after Randy.
She read the aisle signs and found the first aid section. “There.”
He moved down the aisle, pointing the gun at the end. He had a hard look on his face as he walked forward. “Hurry.”
Rosemarie scooped a handful of stuff into her bag. “Dogfood,” she said in a small voice.
Randy nodded and moved on.
She was hyper aware of how the gun shook slightly in his hand. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
“No,” he said, sweat beading on his forehead.
Her eyes darted around, searching for whatever it was that was causing him to freak out. There was nothing but an eerie silence and shelves and shelves of pet food.
“There is something wrong here,” he said slowly.
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