“People really thought this would be over fast I guess,” Chelsea said in a quieter tone, not wanting to disturb the silence.
“Apparently they were wrong.”
It was good for us, though. The looters took all of the useless expensive televisions and computers and cameras that wouldn’t be of any use but left the food. Mind you, the food section smelled like something died, or many things died. Since the refrigeration didn’t work, mold grew on the vegetables and the meat was spoiled and then some.
I raised my shirt above my nose, trying to quell the scent. “Try not to breathe,” I said through a muffled mouth.
“If this continues I might die, so don’t worry,” she replied.
After walking down aisles of excruciating smells of death, we finally managed to find the canned goods: beans, beans, soup, and beans. With a reluctant sigh, we pulled them as fast as possible off of the shelf and into our packs. We must have fit nearly twenty pounds of canned foods into our backpacks, which became significantly heavier.
“Can we please leave now?” Chelsea asked, eyes tearing from the putrid smell.
“One quick stop,” I said, directing her towards the pet section.
I moved down the aisle, looking for cat food. The smell was not so bad here. The combination of dog and cat food smell flooding the aisle canceled out much of that lovely dead meat scent. I found a big yellow forty pound bag with an orange cat on the front. It would work. I hoisted it over my bad shoulder. It hurt, but I was not ready to compromise my good arm if I needed to fight. I also snatched a cat toy of a little ball with a bell in it and a mouse that held catnip for Coal. She would play with little things around the house such as drinking straws and aluminum foil, but I figured she could use an actual cat toy to relax with, though I had no idea what a cat could stress about.
Chelsea practically sprinted out of the food section, bursting ahead to the register area where there was fresh air. I saw her as I exited the pet aisle and began to make my way over when a hissing rang out in the silence. We were so close to a clean and easy run.
I whirled around, flashlight flailing in the dark in search of what was making the noise.
“Turn it off!” I heard Chelsea yell. “The exit is just past the registers! Feel your way out so it can’t track you!” A loud hiss erupted from somewhere in the store but the echoing made it difficult to pinpoint the contaminated’s position.
I did as she said and pressed the button near the top of the flashlight to turn it off. Everything went pitch dark, but the exit glowed with a dimmed light of the moon and stars attempting to poke through the cloudy sky. It would not be as hard as I thought to get out, but that meant that the contaminated could also see the glowing from the outside.
I pressed forward slowly, my shoes barely making a noise on the flooring of the superstore. With each step my pack gave off a light clank and the bag of cat food crumpled. My leg suddenly collided with a painful pang against the siding of a register belt. I yelped and cursed more times in my head than I had in my entire life. Another hiss rang out and echoed across the store and off of the walls.
Chelsea’s barely visible dark figure passed my sight near the exit and I heard the doors of the store being forced open on their track. Another hiss rang out as another dark figure emerged into the poorly lit vestibule. The contaminated was searching for Chelsea.
I slowly took the bag of cat food and placed it on the belt of the register that I slammed my knee into followed by the backpack with the cans of food and the mouse cat toy. I shook the bell of the other cat toy lightly and the contaminated took notice, but could not tell where the noise came from. I rang it once more then threw it right above the contaminated’s head, passing over and into the vestibule.
The contaminated’s head jolted towards the ball colliding against the walls of the vestibule. It darted forward towards the sound of the jingling bell. I sprinted out of my hiding spot at full speed, bat in hand. My foot came to a sliding halt in front of it as its head turned around, but it was too late for the contaminated. My bat was already flying through the air and at the head of the monster. A loud pang sounded when the barrel of the bat hit the contaminated directly in the forehead, splitting its face in half. It sounded as if I was breaking a stick with my knee, but with blood and white eye goo shooting out at me from the force.
For some reason, I kept on swinging, smashing the bat into the head of the contaminated, then the body, then limbs. The rage and pent up fear that I had been hiding inside of myself for so long was coming out and in force, “This is for my family!” I smashed the shoulder. “This is for everyone who died!” I smashed the knee in. “This is for Chelsea’s parents-“ I caught myself,
