Bretz rolled down the window, looking out to see outstretched arms less than a foot below him. There were a dozen creatures right there, with more headed his way. He carefully climbed out the window, pulling himself up onto the hood and climbing on top of the trailer. He strolled to the back, and watched Short kick out the front windshield to get out.
The Private stood on the front of the truck, a few feet away from Bretz’s, and tossed over his bag and a container of water. The Corporal held out his hand to help him climb over the rotted chorus below.
“One last check for a truck, I take it?” Short asked.
Bretz nodded. “Figured we’re here, might as well, right?” He spread his arm like a game show host, presenting the roof of the grocery store to his companion.
Short took a run at it, leaping the several foot height and pulling himself up. He turned around and reached down to help Bretz climb after him.
They walked towards the back of the store, the sun warming their skin as they strolled.
“I know we’re almost in November…” Short began, and then paused. “Or heck, we might already be. Kind of lost track of days lately.”
Bretz snorted. “No kidding.”
“But this weather reminds me of being back on the farm,” Short continued. “Bright sun, blue skies, and a nice breeze to keep it from getting too hot.”
The Corporal cocked his head. “Spend a lot of time on the farm, did you?”
“Oh, yes sir,” the Private replied. “Started helping my dad pick eggs up from the chickens when I was four years old. Every summer, every vacation and weekend, I was out there bright and early with him.”
“Well, I hope you took good notes, because when all this is over, we’re going to have a lot of mouths to feed,” Bretz replied.
“Dang, I hadn’t even thought about that,” Short mused. “Gonna be a long winter.”
Bretz shook his head. “Can’t have a long winter unless we get to it, first.”
They approached the back of the store, looking down on the loading docks and seeing nothing but empty pavement.
“Well, that’s a bit of a letdown,” Short said with a sigh. “Not sure how much we’re going to be able to block off with only one truck.”
Bretz shrugged. “Looks like we’re going to find out,” he said. “Come on, let’s get back to the truck and head out.”
As they walked, they passed by some skylights that looked down into the store. Curiosity got the better of Short, and he paused to look down inside. There were dozens of zombies roaming about, walking up and down the aisles like undead shoppers.
He let out a low whistle. “Man, it looks like a bunch of folks took refuge in the store,” he said. “And it didn’t turn out too good for them.”
Bretz turned and joined him at the skylight, staring down. “I feel bad for the clear teams,” he admitted. “Can you imagine how many buildings are going to look just like this after we clear the streets?”
“Thousands easily,” Short agreed. “Probably in the tens of thousands. Those boys are going to be busy for months.” He broke away from the window, but Bretz stayed put.
“Hang on a minute,” the Corporal said, raising a hand.
“What do you see?” Short asked, rejoining him at the skylight.
Bretz pointed to a big display of vodka bottles.
Short raised an eyebrow. “I’m more of a bourbon man myself,” he said.
“On that point, we’re going to get along just fine,” the Corporal said, pointing a finger at him. “But I do have an idea with the vodka. We may not be able to block off the other side of the interstate with a truck… but we can certainly take out a fair number of them as they try to cross.”
The Private perked up. “Molotovs?”
Bretz nodded. “Molotovs.”
Short grinned and then shook his head. “Wait, how we getting in, though?”
Bretz looked around and spotted a nearby hatch. He opened it up, finding a ladder into the top portion of the store. They quickly climbed down onto the catwalk, forcing their way to the end of it where there was an upstairs office overlooking the store.
Bretz climbed down the ladder, ducking his head into the office and shining a light, illuminating the small area and finding it empty with the door shut. He waved for Short to follow him down, and they descended into the office.
They stood at the small window overlooking the store, peering out. The skylights did a good job of lighting up the building, and the soldiers studied the two dozen aisles in the gigantic store.
“Okay, looks like the liquor section is directly below us, about two aisle over,” Bretz said. “From this vantage point, it doesn’t seem like there are too many of those things around.”
“How do you want to go about it?” Short asked.
Bretz cocked his head. “The display looked like it had full cases of booze,” he began, “so I say we get down there, each of us grab a case and haul ass back up here. If it works without drawing too much attention, we do it again. If we get too much heat on us, at least we can cause some trouble.”
“I’m game, Short replied. “Unless you’re feeling frisky though, I’d say we go silent.” He pulled out his knife, and the Corporal nodded, revealing his own.
They quietly crept through the door, slipping out onto the enclosed stairwell that led down into the main portion of the store. When they got to the bottom, Bretz peeked around the corner, seeing that there weren’t any zombies nearby.
He motioned for Short to follow him, and they darted out to head towards the alcohol. They stopped at the first aisle and he looked down it, seeing only a few ghouls. He motioned
