She tossed another box on the ground behind her, hopingthat she would find some antibiotics soon.
"There are more coming," Clara said in amatter-of-fact manner. There was no panic in the statement. It was just somethingshe said. Joan threw another box to the ground. She could hear her heartbeat inher ears. Cold sweat had broken out in the small of her back, and for a second,she was tempted to scoop all of the boxes into her bag and sort it out on theride home... but that wasn't efficient. That meant they'd have to risk theirnecks again another day if she didn't get the right medication. That wasunacceptable.
She picked up another box... cortisone. She tossed thebox on the ground. She picked up another box... an asthma inhaler. That wouldhave been handy if Rudy was still around, but he wasn't, so she tossed the boxon the ground.
In the aisle, she heard Mort and Lou take a couple swingsat another of the dead. This time, she heard the splatter of blood and thethump of something heavy as it landed on the ground. Another head rolled. Ifshe didn't find the medicine soon, it could be their heads that would rollnext.
She picked up another box. Zithromax! Yes. She was inbusiness. She rooted around in the area she had found the Zithromax and pulledanother box free. Haha! Amoxicillin. Score. These were the big containers, theones that the pharmacist would use to count out the correct amount of pillsinto smaller containers. The boxes were heavy, the containers inside rattledaround as she shoved them into her bag.
"We got it!" she said, standing up andthreading her arms through the straps of the backpack.
"Way to go, Joan. Let's get the hell out ofhere," Lou said.
They worked their way back through the Walgreens. Mortand Lou chopping down the dead with brutal blows from the machetes. Clara andJoan packed everything that could provide calories into their bags. As theyreached the entrance, Clara ran back inside and came back out with her pocketsbulging, sharp corners pressing against the fabric in the rough shape of acigarette package. She had a smile on her face as they ran to the jeep,swinging at the dead as they went.
They piled in the vehicle, and Joan started the Jeepright up. Lou and Mort pulled the passenger seat forward and crawled awkwardlyinto the vehicle. The seat slammed downward, and Clara said, "Gimme asecond."
She held the rifle up to her shoulder and aimed down thesight, thumbing the safety catch off. "I wanna get a practice shot in,while we have the chance."
"Stop messing around, Clara," Joan yelled, inno mood for any further risk.
But Clara didn't care. If she was going to have thisrifle, she was going to have to learn to shoot it, or else when the time camewhere she really needed it, she might fail. She squeezed the trigger, and hershot appeared to go high and wide, as a cloud of concrete dust erupted off thecinder-blocked walls of the Walgreens. The dead woman, dressed in a redHighland Park Middle School sweatshirt, didn't seem to notice. Clara sighted inand pulled the trigger again. This time, a small hole appeared in thesweatshirt. The bullet punched a hole through the woman's chest, and a smallamount of gore and flesh plopped onto the pavement. The echo of the shot rangthrough the air, fading until it sounded like distant thunder.
"Hurry up," Lou yelled.
"Just one more," Clara yelled back. She aimedone more time, and then squeezed the trigger, ignoring the force of the rifleas it smashed into her shoulder. A small red hole appeared in the bridge of thewoman's nose, and a fine pink mist filled the air behind her. The woman fellbackwards, and Clara was filled with a sense of elation. As more dead filledthe parking lot, she hopped back into the rusted white Jeep, and slammed thedoor shut.
"Nice shot!" Lou called, patting her on theshoulder.
Joan spun the Jeep around, dodged a few of the dead, andthen headed back the way they had come. Mort began doling out some of the foodthey had taken. All in all, it had been an easy run. They had food, they hadguns, and now they had the medicine. Maybe things were going to be alright.
Chapter 22: A Fool's Errand
When they pulled up to the mansion, the door was wideopen. Around the house, a pall of silence hung. Though the sun shone down, itonly served to make the shadows darker. They stepped out of the car, and whenMort started grabbing their bags to bring inside, Lou said, "Leave it. Igot a bad feeling about this."
The mirth of the successful run was gone now. Claraclicked the safety off on her rifle, and they stalked up to the mansion,waiting to see J.B. or Rick come out to greet them. Lou used his tongue to worksome mashed up chips out of one of his molars. He had passed on the candy bars.Over the past week, he had experienced intense pain every time he had eatensomething sweet. He hoped it wasn't a cavity, but with their high-sugar dietand a constant shortage of toothpaste, he was beginning to suspect it was. Theonly way he could describe the pain was a white hot sensation that started inhis teeth and drove straight up through his jaw and into his temple. He hopedit didn't get any worse. The idea of post-apocalyptic dentistry made his skincrawl.
Inside the house, all was quiet. Lou was tempted to yell,"Hello!" But he knew it was just nerves tempting him to act stupid.In the silence, they could hear the sputtering of the generator. It's smoothhum was now more of a gasping chugging that meant that the fuel was low. As ifto prove the point, the lights began to fade a little.
"Should we refill that generator? I don't
