"Cuttin’ it close." Johnny replied looking down at the digital gauge that appeared to have stopped working long before they came into its possession.
"There it is!" Roosevelt said as the vehicle crested the top of a small hill that the road went over.
"Oscar's one stop" Johnny read aloud from the red letters that adorned the top of the building.
The building was small and made of mostly wood, the glass windows across the front were covered in stickers and posters advertising everything from fishing lures to Budweiser to Newport cigarettes. The writing across the top of the building promised Hot food, Cold drinks, and Live bait. A single gas pump sat in the middle of the parking lot and other than a rusty old pickup truck that was missing its tailgate, there were no vehicles in sight. The men rolled to a stop aside the far side of the gas pump and turned the engine off.
"It's quiet here. I'll pump, you see if they got anything good to eat inside. I could go for a big bag of Doritos. I'm starving!" Roosevelt said, rubbing his right hand around his stomach.
"Yea, that went well for Tyler, I remember. Better stick together." Johnny replied.
"Okay," Roosevelt nodded.
"Inside first." He said, holding his stomach and pretending to double over from his exaggerated hunger.
Johnny rolled his eyes, motioning for Roosevelt to follow, drawing his revolver as he walked toward the door. A strong winter wind blew hard across the parking lot, sending a shiver up through both men's bodies. A single glass door stood in the middle of the small building. A small sticker with the word pull rested just above the metal handle. Johnny grabbed it and pulled it open stepping back. A loud bell rang throughout the store triggered by the door opening as Roosevelt stepped inside, pointing his pistol side to side. Johnny followed him in, pistol raised and ready.
"Looks clear." Johnny whispered.
"Not many places to hide." Roosevelt replied.
"Hold on," Johnny said, stretching his arm out in front of his friend as a low growl caught his attention.
Roosevelt nodded, pointing his finger toward a small wooden counter. An old looking cash register sat open on one side. A rack full of rolls of scratch off tickets sat on the other. They watched as a thin hand appeared from behind the counter, grasping at one of the many shelves packed full of cigarettes that lined the wall. The rack fell, an avalanche of cigarette packs spilling out. Another hand appeared, this time grasping at the counter itself. The growling grew louder the corpse of an old man slowly pulled himself up with the counter.
The man stood up right, his white eyes penetrated the two men. Long thin strands of hair lay plastered to a bald spot atop his head with dried blood. He wore a dark blue button up shirt, the word Oscar emblazoned above its left pocket. He paused, motionless staring down the two intruders. His mouth curled, revealing only a handful of yellow, jagged teeth as he let out a deep guttural growl.
"Damn they got Oscar too?" Roosevelt exclaimed.
All at once, Oscar took off, racing around the counter and across the room toward Roosevelt. Johnny lifted his pistol and squeezed the trigger. The bullet slammed into the side of Oscar's head as he lunged at Roosevelt. A puff of smoke rose from the gun barrel and blood sprayed as the gunshot echoed throughout the building. Oscar's corpse retained some momentum, slamming into Roosevelt's chest, sending him stumbling backwards. His back slammed into a tall cooler full of soda as Oscar bounced off his body and fell to the ground in a heap.
"Figure out how to start the pump. I'm getting snacks." Roosevelt said, nonchalantly stepping over Oscar's body.
Roosevelt combed the small store for supplies. Most of the shelves appeared empty. Small bags of chips and candy bars littered the floor. In the far back corner, a small wooden counter sat, a Pepsi soda fountain perched on top with an Out of Order sign taped to the front. Beside the fountain a large black oval crock pot sat plugged into the wall. Roosevelt lifted the lid and picked up the ladle by the handle that protruded. He lifted the ladle high and tipped it over. The thick brown sludge poured back into the pot splashing the dark liquid out onto the counter.
"Hot food indeed." Roosevelt chuckled to no one but himself. Shattering glass sounded from the front of the store. Roosevelt spun around, shotgun raised and ready for a fight. Johnny stood up from behind the counter and waived him over.
“You need to warn me before you start breaking shit.” Roosevelt said.
Johnny shrugged and said, “found some decent looking knives. They aren’t anything like the KA-BAR’s we lost but they’re better than nothing.”
Roosevelt knelt and browsed through the selection of knives and Zippos. He spotted a wicked looking black folding knife with a spiderweb pattern printed onto it. He pulled the blade out and ran his thumb along the blade to test the sharpness of the steel. Shaking his head, he looked up to Johnny.
“These damn things are worthless. I bet this piece of crap wouldn’t cut through hot butter.” Johnny chuckled and took the blade from him.
“Like I said, not the KA-BAR’s but better than nothing.
“Not really.” Roosevelt said under his breath as he got to his feet and headed back to the snacks.
"Found a transfer switch back here!" Johnny yelled a little too loudly from behind the counter. A soft click followed, and the hum of a generator filled the room. A small light on the outside of the store came on, followed by a light atop the gas pump.
"Alright!" Roosevelt cheered, as he approached the counter, his arms stuffed with snacks. He released his arms and let the stuff fall to the counter.
"That's it?" Johnny scoffed.
"Slim pickings." Roosevelt shrugged, ripping open a Slim
