"What?" he asked in a near whisper.
Instead of answering she pointed with the machine pistol, she had also raised, toward one of the vehicles in front of the store. Joe hadn't noticed when they had exited the truck, but the low rumble of the trucks idle suddenly came to him in the clear morning air. Stupid! I should have been paying attention. Before he could take the thought any further, a tall gray-haired older man stepped from the store, and, after seeing them frozen in position in the parking lot, quickly ducked back inside.
The sight of the man broke the paralysis that had held them, and they both quickly took cover behind an old station wagon parked in the lot. Joe continued to mentally berate himself for not hearing the sound of the running truck when he had gotten out of the Suburban. Stupid-Stupid-Stupid! He thought as he dropped to the ground and tried to crawl under the old car.
He couldn't get all the way under it, but he did get under it far enough to be able to look into the open doorway of the sporting goods store. What he could see of it was empty, and he could not see far enough into the gloom of the interior to see whether or not there was just the old man, or others waiting with him in the shadowy store.
"Hey!" a young sounding male voice called from within the store. "Don't shoot, okay? We don't want any trouble with you."
The voice let Joe and Becky know that there were at least two people in the store, and a few seconds later, they could hear the soft weeping of a woman coming from the store as well.
"We don't want trouble either," Joe called.
From under the car he could see a jeans-clad pair of legs separate from the shadows, and cautiously walk toward the open doorway. "What do you think, Becky," Joe whispered, "you believe 'em?"
"Only one way to find out," she replied, as she backed out from under the car and slowly stood.
A young man stood framed in the doorway, a shotgun resting in his hands. He saw her rise from behind the car, quickly followed by Joe. His shotgun remained in his hands, but he did not turn it in their direction. Instead he seemed to be purposely holding it away from them, and they could both see that he was frightened.
Joe and Becky both kept their guns turned away, but still they were on guard, as Becky spoke into the silence that had descended on the parking lot.
"Look, we really don't want any trouble either. We only stopped because we saw the truck running," she lied. She thought it probably wouldn't be a good idea to let them know they had stopped for ammunition. "We haven't seen any... many," she corrected herself, "people. We'll leave, if it’s what you want," she finished.
The young man’s grip on the shotgun seemed to loosen as she had spoken, and he seemed to be not as fearful as he had been.
"We haven't seen any good people," the young man said, "but we have seen a lot of bad ones." He seemed to be asking them which group they belonged to.
Becky and Joe both relaxed a small amount, and Joe spoke. "We've run into some of the bad ones ourselves," he said. He considered for a moment, and then moved from behind the old station wagon, and out into the open. "Can we talk?" he asked. He was careful to keep the machine gun pointed down as he had moved from behind the car, and he forced himself to keep it pointed at the pavement as the young man seemed to consider what he had said.
The young man had lifted his shotgun from the pavement as Joe had stepped from behind the old car, now he dropped it back toward the pavement, and answered. "Well, come on, I guess," he replied. The older man they had seen initially and a young red haired woman stepped out of the shadowy interior as he finished speaking. They were both armed, but both kept their weapons pointed down at the pavement.
Joe looked at Becky. "Well?" he asked. She nodded her head, and they walked slowly toward the front of the store. Once the two groups were facing each other, Becky spoke. "I'm Becky, and this is Joe," she said, pointing at Joe.
"Delbert," the older man said, stepping forward, "and this is Bill," he said pointing at the dark haired young man, "and Peggy." He paused for a few seconds. "Might've over-reacted a bit I guess, but we haven't seen nothin' but bad the last few days. Thought you might be some of a group we ran into yesterday... things is awful balled up, ain't they? It’s hard to tell who you can, or can't trust." With that the man seemed to consider them briefly, and then set his rifle aside.
The man’s fear, that had been so evident once Becky and Joe were standing face to face with him, seemed to melt away. Becky stuffed the machine pistol into her jeans, and Joe slung the rifle over his shoulder before he stuck out his hand. "Good to meet you," Joe said, "I think we were beginning to think we wouldn't meet anyone at all who wouldn't try to kill us." Becky stuck out her hand as Joe finished speaking, and the young man and woman put their own weapons aside and stepped away from the sidewalk and shook the offered hands.
"You from here? Maxwell?" Delbert asked, as he also shook their hands.
"Washington," Becky replied, "heading east, how about you?"
"Texas," Peggy, the young woman said, "You headin' east for the same reason we are?"
"Kind'a feels like we're drawn in that direction," Delbert said, "can't explain it a whole lot better than that
