“Look me in the eyes and tell me that they’re not alive.”
“I—”
“Look in my eyes,” Erik growled, “and tell me they’re not alive!”
“I don’t know,” Steve said, forcing himself to look into Erik’s bullet-hard eyes. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Think about. Jamie’s a soldier. Dakota’s survived just as long as you have, and so has Desmond. You can’t honestly think that something happened just because they’re not with us.”
“I don’t know what to think, Erik.”
“Erik’s right,” Ian said.
“Besides,” Erik continued, setting a hand on Steve’s arm, “none of us are about to lay down and die just because we got separated, right?”
“He’s my best friend,” Steve said, reaching up to wipe tears from his eyes. “I’d die if anything were to happen to him.”
“Jamie’s my best friend too, Steve. I feel the exact same way, but we can’t act like this, not right now. Until we know for certain, we can’t start thinking that any of our friends are dead.”
“How do you do that?”
“You just have faith,” Erik sighed, bowing his head. “That’s all you can do in a time like this.”
Steve closed his eyes. He’d never known himself to have faith, but at that moment, he knew he could have it in one thing. If he couldn’t, he didn’t know how he’d make it through the night.
He stood in a parka in the middle of the rain, hood drawn up to protect his face from the icy sheets that barreled down from the heavens like comets falling from the highest parts of the atmosphere. It felt like at any moment he would simply turn to ice, frozen amongst the dead cars and the long-forgotten businesses, but that wouldn’t stop him.
Cheeks burning and teeth clattering, he crossed the parking lot and made his way toward a run-down convenience store that looked to have been on its last legs even before the world went to shit.
Just get in, get out, he thought, shivering, stabbing his hands into his pockets. If there’s something that might be useful, bring it to the front. If there isn’t, just leave it.
“Can’t have yourself getting hurt by being stupid,” he muttered, drawing the revolver out of his pocket.
As he expected, the door hadn’t been locked before the initial owners and employees had abandoned it. Inside, masked in darkness and veiled in a thin layer of dust, remnants from the normal world lay toppled like statues. Glass from broken jars lay scattered across the floor, display stands hung from their last threads and change twinkled on the counter—it looked nothing like it should have, despite its ramshackle condition. What sent a tremble of unease through Steve’s chest, however, wasn’t the state of the store—it was the smear of blood on the checkout counter.
You don’t have to go in there.
“We’ve got nothing but cans. We need something.”
Stepping forward, he maneuvered around the shattered glass in front of the door and picked up a shopping basket, adjusting his grip on its twin handles before he continued into the darkened building. Eyes wary, heart beating hard in his chest, he crossed the narrow space that led to the cart section, then took a right and headed toward the far wall, where he saw racks perfectly suitable for housing chips and other bagged goods.
“You’re doin’ good,” he said, coaxing himself forward, despite the shadows that harshened with each and every step. “Keep goin’.”
At one point, he couldn’t even see where he was going. However, when he caught a glimpse of light piercing through part of a display, he stepped forward and let out a breath of relief when he saw a shelf full of chips, pretzels and other goods.
Thank God.
“Hey, Ian,” Erik said. “Where’s Steve?”
“Dunno,” Ian said, squeezing water out of his shirt. “I think he went across the street.”
“By himself?”
“Well…yeah. Neither of us are with him.”
Erik shook his head. He set two fingers to his temple and rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing when a bolt of pain lit the center of his face and began to expand across his vision.
“I’m getting a migraine,” Erik said, easing himself onto the floor with the help of his other hand.
“Shit, man.”
“It’s genetic. My dad used to get them all my time. So did my grandpa.”
“How could you stand being in the army if you get headaches?”
“I only get them occasionally. Besides, I usually have enough painkillers around to get rid of them.”
“I think I just saw Steve on the other side of the lot.”
“Good. I want to get the hell out of here.”
“Is he ok?” Steve asked, frowning as he took notice of Erik sitting near the door.
“He’s got a headache,” Ian said, unlocking the car and tossing the spoils of Steve’s trip into the backseat. “That means one of us is gonna have to drive.”
“I’m ok with that. I didn’t feel comfortable with him driving the whole time anyway.”
“Neither did I, but he’s a bullheaded bastard.”
“I heard that!” Erik called out. A groan followed shortly thereafter.
“Guess that means we’ve gotta be quiet, huh?”
“He’s gonna hate sitting in the car then,” Steve sighed, slamming the door shut. “Are we taking anything with us?”
“Like what?”
“Blankets, for one. We’re gonna freeze if the rain keeps up like it has been.”
“It doesn’t seem to be letting up any,” Ian agreed. He turned to face the building and shouted, “Hey Erik! You fine with us staying for a little while longer so we can gather some stuff up?”
Erik nodded. He bowed his head and covered his eyes with his hands.
“You didn’t happen to pick up any Excedrin,” Ian said, “did you?”
“It was near the front counter,” Steve said, “so I just shoved the last few bottles into the cart.”
“Good. His headache’s killing him.”
“I can tell,” Steve mused. He reached into the backseat, pulled the pills and a bottle of water out, then tapped the door shut with his foot, gesturing Ian back toward the building. “Anything else happen while I was gone?”
“No. Erik was worried about you going by yourself, but it’s not like we could’ve done anything. You’d already left and he couldn’t have been any use with his head. And it’s not like I could leave him alone like this.”
“I get you.” Steve pulled the door open, frowning when Erik barely tilted his head up before immediately dropping it again. “I’ve got painkillers.”
“What kind?”
“Excedrin.”
Erik held his hand out. Steve pushed the bottle into his hand and set the water at his side. “We ready to go?”
“In a few minutes,” Ian nodded. “Steve said we should bring some blankets along.”
“Don’t blame him,” Erik replied. “You care if I go get in the car?”
“No,” Steve said. When Erik started to stand, Steve pulled his parka off his shoulders and wrapped it around his friend’s body, taking care to pull the hood up and over his head in the process. “So you don’t get wet.”
Erik mumbled his thanks, pulled the door open, then stepped out into the weather. He took extra care to pace himself toward the car.
“Not much we can do about it,” Ian said, returning with an armload of quilts, blankets and sheets. “I figured we could put the sheets up over the windows and rig them up in the backseat so we can block the light out.”
“Has he mentioned anything about it being too bright?”
“No, but if it’s anything like the migraines my mom used to have, it’ll hurt to look at anything too bright.”