Her doctor had suggested she take potassium iodide to treat the hyperthyroidism. He recalled her saying at dinner one night that it would come in handy to block radiation. It was the same medication, she’d told the family, given to people who’d been exposed to radiation.
Peter was now on a mission to locate a GNC or other vitamin store that might be located in the mall. In addition to taking the potassium iodide, if he could find it, he would stock up on other basic vitamins and minerals to supplement his diet. He expected to be missing quite a few meals.
Stealthily, he ventured out of his demolished store and into the mall corridor. He’d wrapped a shemagh around his face. A shemagh was an Arab scarf adopted by many American soldiers when serving in the Middle East. It was an effective way to protect their faces and necks from the sun, wind, and sand. Apparently, hunters used it for protection in rainy and cold weather. Peter added two of them to his pile of supplies, as well as a couple of gaiters, to use as a preventive measure against ingesting fallout.
As he made his way into the center of the mall, he was astonished at how things had changed since the day before. A veritable tent city had been established in the center of Fair Oaks. Furniture had been pulled together, and sheets were stretched over it to create a sense of privacy for those who slept underneath. People were consoling one another, and some were passing out days-old food that had been found in the mall’s food court.
There were still looters, but their stores of choice—athletic shoes, jewelry stores, and high-end handbag retailers, had been emptied. Peter carefully made his way to an information kiosk in search of a vitamin and supplement store. There wasn’t a GNC, but he did see a listing for the Vitamin Shoppe. The kiosk map had a red sticker with an arrow pointing at the location with the word NEW written on it.
Peter smiled. He glanced around at the refugees, who seemed to be from all walks of life. They were most likely stranded motorists seeking shelter. Their eyes darted in all directions, partly out of concern for the threats from others and partly because they expected help to arrive at any moment. Peter sighed when he considered their fate. They had no idea. Help was not coming.
He casually strolled through the mall, allowing the dim light streaming through the skylights to lead him. The day before, the sun had barely shone through the clouds and smoke. Today, a layer of blackish soot covered the skylights, almost obliterating the sunlight. Peter closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief as he realized the sooty substance was a sign of things to come.
He reached the Vitamin Shoppe and cursed under his breath. Unlike the steel-grate roll-up door at Dick’s Sporting Goods that had been pried open, nobody had found vitamins worthy of the effort. He stood back from the entrance to examine the stores on both sides.
On the right was a store called BCBG Maxazria. He scowled as he wondered why any retailer would call themselves a name that nobody could pronounce, much less make sense of. Regardless, the BCBG store was certainly popular with looters. The women’s clothing store had been hit by a swarm of female locusts, who’d taken everything except the racks and a few hangers. The only clothing left behind had been trampled beyond recognition.
To the left was a hallway with the symbols for the men’s, women’s, and gender-neutral restrooms. Peter rolled his eyes and started down the hallway. He pulled one of the tactical flashlights out of his camouflage cargo pants and lit up the hall. He flashed it upwards and traced the drop ceiling full of square fiberglass tiles.
The first door was marked with the gender-neutral sign. Basically, it was the men’s sign with the women’s sign combined with the universal symbol for handicapped accessible. Inside, it looked like any other men’s restroom except everything was enclosed by stalls. He shrugged, not sure what the point was, and made his way to the toilet. He stepped onto the seat, and then after another step up, he was able to stand on the tank.
He reached up and forced the ceiling tile upward so he could take a look around. Using his flashlight, he lit up the enclosed ceiling and directed his attention toward the vitamin store. There wasn’t a block partition wall separating them.
Peter placed the illuminated flashlight in his mouth and grabbed the block wall to hoist himself up. He pulled his lean frame upward, and with a slight kick, he landed on his belly on top of the wall. He squirmed until he was sitting cross-legged on a steel I-beam.
With his fingertips, he pried up a ceiling tile over the Vitamin Shoppe. His flashlight allowed him a good look at the store’s checkout counter. He was in business. After he replaced the ceiling tile in the restroom, Peter dropped into the vitamin store and looked around. It was remarkably untouched and in the same condition as when the employees had left it the night before the nuclear attack.
Peter exercised light discipline by directing his flashlight away from the entrance so he didn’t attract any attention. When the time came, he’d manually roll up the steel-grate door so he wouldn’t have to play Spider-Man again. Besides, he planned on loading up on what he needed. These supplements might warrant picking out a duffel bag at Dick’s to carry them.
Like any shopper, he located a plastic basket with handles to make his selections. His first stop was the section offering mineral supplements. After a moment,
