“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 again, and they silently moved up, dispatching the two corpses and gently laying them on the ground.
When they reached the alcohol aisle and worked their way up, Bretz took a knee when they reached the end cap he’d seen from the roof. He flattened himself against the shelf, and Short followed suit.
Several zombies shambled by the aisle, moaning and dragging their feet as they went. Once they were past, Bretz moved up alone, looking out into the aisle and seeing fifteen zombies hanging out within thirty yards. He pursed his lips and then crept back to Short, speaking into his ear softly.
“Way too many of them to take out with knives,” he whispered. “So it’s going to be a hit and run.”
Short nodded. “I got an idea,” he whispered back. “Follow me.”
He led them back towards the office stairwell, looking down every aisle as they went. After a few he stopped, giving the Corporal a thumbs up, and then pulled out a shopping cart.
“We load up as much as we can on the buggy, and get it back to the stairwell and unload it,” he whispered.
Bretz nodded. “I like it,” he replied quietly. “Question is, do you want to shoot or do you want me to?”
“Truth be told,” Short admitted, “I ain’t so good in low light.”
The Corporal smiled. “I’ll cover you while you load up.”
They shared a nod and leapt into action. Short grabbed the cart, pushing it along until they got back to the alcohol. Bretz carefully stepped into the main aisle, looking both ways to make sure the zombies were only in one direction. He readied his rifle and then nodded to his partner.
Short grabbed the first case of twelve bottles, gently placing it into the cart. When he grabbed the second one, it rattled the display clinking a few bottles together. The noise gained the attention of a few ghouls, who began moaning and heading their way.
Bretz held off firing as long as he could, allowing Short to load in two more cases. Then he squeezed the trigger rapidly, taking out three ghouls in a matter of seconds.
“How many more?” he asked.
“Two more!” Short replied.
Bretz continued picking targets, dropping them as his companion loaded the cart with seven cases.
“We’re full!” Short reported, and then began pushing towards the stairwell. They raced down the aisle, Bretz covering their retreat as they went, tearing around the corner towards the office. The noise had attracted a few zombies at the other end.
Short pulled out his weapon, but Bretz just pushed him forward.
“Get to the stairwell,” he said, “I’ll cover us.”
The Private raced back to the stairs, stopping the cart and grabbing a case of vodka, tearing up the stairs to begin unloading. Bretz stood his ground beside the cart, aiming down both directions and firing, picking off zombies one by one as Short sprinted up and down the stairs.
“We’re good to go, Corporal!” he cried as he grabbed the last one, and Bretz fired one more time, killing a zombie about fifteen yards away.
He cracked a smile before kicking the cart onto its side, blocking the stairwell and tearing back up into the office. Short slammed the door, and they pushed a desk against it to hold it secure.
“That went way smoother than anything else we’ve done today,” Bretz declared.
Short grinned. “Speaking of smooth, bet you didn’t catch my slick little move while running down the aisle, did you?” he asked.
Bretz furrowed his brow. “Apparently I totally missed it.”
The Private reached behind one of the cases of vodka and pulled out a large bottle of bourbon.
The Corporal barked
