The bright-LED lights shone at the Chevelle as Sarah drove past. She glanced at the windshield for a split second and kept on. The two men in the front seats didn’t pay her any mind as they watched the street and pointed out the windows. They looked suspect from what Sarah could see of their stern looking faces and dark sunglasses, then again, most everyone did now.
Sarah ran the stop sign at the intersection, then cut around the curb, leaving the vehicle and the men inside in her rearview mirror. She watched the road ahead, then peered over her shoulder through the back window for the SUV, but didn’t spot it.
The pylon sign for Simmon’s Food Mart caught her eye on the side of the road, rising above the white-brick building of the tax office next to it. The other businesses around the store lining the main roadway had few vehicles parked in front of each building.
Only a few folks were spotted walking across the empty parking lots. The town seemed at peace for the most part with no visible fires or looting like she’d witnessed in Boston, then again, things had a way of changing from bad to worse in a blink.
Sarah pulled into the empty parking lot and crept toward the main entrance of the store. She studied the darkness behind the glass windows and the plywood mounted in place where the double sliding doors should be.
A roll of yellow caution tape stretched the length of the entrance to the grocery store. The wind blew the bright banner about. A sign hung on the front of the window near the damaged entrance. She couldn’t read it yet, she was still too far away, but she assumed it said the store had been closed.
The Chevelle stopped shy of the double doors. Sarah studied the plywood, then glanced out of either side of the vehicle’s windows for any curious eyes watching her. She killed the engine, then pushed the door open.
The air smelled as it should with no burning scent filling her nose. Silence loomed in the air. Gunfire or other sounds of distress remained absent.
Sarah turned and peered at the main roadway, then to the expanse of the parking lot and surrounding area. The people she’d spotted moments ago passing through had vanished from her sight, leaving her alone in front of the store.
She skirted past the open door of the car and walked to the front of the store. Glass from the doors crunched under her boots as she examined the twisted metal that used to house the sliding doors. Dents and holes populated the surface of the plywood. Some looked like bullets might’ve punched through.
The yellow caution tape flapped in the wind. She grabbed a handful, looked it over, then moved down to the windows. She skimmed over the buildings and streets for any movement, and listened for any grumbling engines or other sounds to indicate trouble approaching.
Sarah stopped shy of the rows of shopping carts that lined the front of the store. She squinted and looked through the windows to the inside.
The front portion of the store the light touched revealed rows of checkout lanes and more shopping carts. The isles set behind the registers sat cloaked in partial darkness, making it difficult to gauge how things were inside the food mart. She spotted items on the shelves that looked in disarray.
The sign on the window read that the store had been closed until further notice, and any trespassers caught would be punished to the full extent of the law. She gave little thought to the warning seeing as the police had all been scarce in the town as far as she could tell. That, and her growling stomach pushed her to investigate further.
Sarah made her way to the Chevelle and drove around the store to the back of the building. She pulled down the alley that ran the length of the businesses and parked near the receiving doors.
The muscle car idled. The vibrations from the throaty engine pulsated through her body. She studied the rear entrance and contemplated what she was about to do.
Sarah checked the area one last time around her, then killed the engine. She removed the keys from the ignition, grabbed the shotgun and pack from the passenger side seat, then opened her door. The keys went into the front pocket of her jeans. She hauled the shotgun and pack out, then closed the door.
The steel, gunmetal gray receiving doors looked worse for wear. Dozens of dents covered the surface of each door. One side sat partially cracked. Darkness lingered from the narrow opening.
Sarah secured the pack over her shoulders, then tightened the straps. The Glock stayed put in her waistband. She adjusted her hands on the shotgun. She pressed the stock to her shoulder and moved toward the entrance.
Get what provisions you need and get out, Sarah told herself as she neared the doors.
Her shoulder rubbed the wall of the store. She slipped outside of the steel door and stalked the opening. Her finger thumbed the button to the light mounted on the barrel.
The beam shone at the darkness.
Sarah crept closer, listening for any movement inside the store. She reached out, grabbed the edge of the door, and pulled it open.
It creaked as it opened. She held her breath, then exhaled through her nose. The side of her arm pressed to the dented surface of the steel as she peered around the closed door’s edge.
The light washed over the contents near the entrance. Boxes of various sizes laid scattered about on the floor. Cereal leaked from the torn open and smushed boxes.
A sour smell tainted the air, making her nose scrunch in disgust. An eerie silence loomed from the
