“I do,” Steve said.
“That’s the first one we’re gonna hit. It’s been a while since I’ve been there, but from what I remember, it’s always been pretty small. We can raid the whole thing pretty quickly.”
“How are we gonna do this?” Dakota said. “We’re not gonna have to pack all of it, are we?”
“The plywood, maybe. The concrete mix? I highly doubt it.”
“Whatever it takes,” Steve said. “Lead the way, captain.”
Steve pointed his gun and waited for Jamie to open the front door.
“Like I said,” Jamie spoke up, easing his hand toward the handlebar. “If you see something moving around in there, shoot it.”
“Got it,” Steve replied.
Dakota raised his gun. A glimmer of light bounced off the end of the barrel and reflected back at him from the display window.
Three, he thought, the silent code of conduct slowly beginning to tick down. Two… one…
Jamie thrust the door open.
Nothing but darkness greeted them.
“Told you you were jumpy,” Steve shrugged, letting his gun fall to his side.
“Good reason to be jumpy though.” Jamie kicked his foot around the door and held it in place, gesturing both Steve and Dakota forward. “There’s a little bit of light in here, but I don’t want any of us to go too far in unless we have to. Concrete mix should be up front, plywood a ways back.”
Dakota stepped forward. “You ready, Steve?”
“Whenever you are, kid.”
Dakota stepped into the store, gun raised and eyes scanning the darkness.
It’s gonna be ok. He made his way across the light-covered area until shadow began to flood his vision. It’s just a little dark. You can still see.
“Even if I can’t see everything,” he mumbled, grimacing as Steve bumped into him. “Careful.”
“I am,” Steve grunted. “I thought you’d keep going.”
“It’s right there,” Dakota said, pointing to the sheets of plywood in front of them. “You said you only needed sheets, right, Jamie?”
“To start,” Jamie said, “but if there’s extra panels of anything, grab that too. It won’t hurt to have extra.”
Sliding his gun into his holster, Dakota stepped forward and wrapped his hand around a piece of plywood. First testing its weight, then sliding a finger over the side to check for splinters, he bent forward and took the piece in his hands, grunting when he found it was heavier than he’d initially thought. “Heavy,” he managed when Steve gave him a funny look.
“You’re skin and bones. You’ve got no muscle on you.”
“I’m not some Greek gym god like you are,” Dakota chuckled, easing the piece toward the front door. “Jamie, open it for me.”
“Workin’ on it,” Jamie said, making his way out the door to hold it open for him. “If you can’t lift it, don’t sweat it. Try lifting the packs of concrete instead.”
“They look heavy.”
“I’m guessing they’re not as heavy as the plywood is.”
Dakota set the piece against the truck. He sighed, then looked up at Jamie, who had a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “What?”
“You.”
“What about me?”
“You’re just so good-natured and funny.”
“I’m gonna be good-natured and funny all over you if you don’t quit grinning at me like that.”
“Try the concrete bags,” Jamie laughed, opening the door wider when Steve stepped out. “Seriously, Dakota, don’t kill yourself trying to carry the plywood.”
“Let us handle it,” Steve said. “Besides, I know you can lift that concrete. It’s all light weight.”
“So you say,” Dakota grumbled, making his way back into the store.
He laughed out loud when he heard Steve and Jamie start joking back and forth to each other.
Most of the afternoon was spent moving concrete mix and plywood out to the truck. Once they had a full load—complete with nails, nail guns, staples and anything else that could be of use—they headed deeper into the heart of town, where Jamie said most of the businesses were located. It took little to realize how much the small town had been affected in the last two months. Buildings were destroyed, display ribbons in tatters, glass lay scattered along the sidewalks and cars were charbroiled like burnt meat at a shitty restaurant. It looked like a bomb had gone off, but had failed to destroy everything it was supposed to.
It didn’t end the world, Dakota thought. Only inhibited it.
Upon arriving at the town center, Jamie sighed, closed his eyes, then stopped in the middle of the road.
Steve started to speak.
Dakota pressed a hand to his side.
No, that touch said, as though silencing the world with one push of a button.
Once sure his friend would not speak, Dakota looked up.
Directly across from them, poised in the center of a ring of wrought-iron fence, was the city hall. Half of its roof had caved in and most of its grand architecture bore cracks or another scars. A sick memory from a lick of flame snaked down one side, then slithered across the parking lot until it came to a car depot. Here, it appeared, one car had been set on fire, only to explode and set its fellow machines ablaze. Twisted hunks of metal lay dozens of feet away, while the fence that had once kept people in now lay flat on the ground, useless.
“I didn’t expect it to be this bad,” Jamie said, raising his head after several long moments of silence. “It’s just a small town.”
“So was ours,” Steve said, reaching across Dakota’s shoulders to grip Jamie’s arm.
“We shouldn’t stay here,” Dakota said. “It’s getting dark.”
Jamie shifted the truck in gear and braced his hand against the wheel. “Let’s get what we need and get back home.”
Dakota took one last look at the remnants of city hall before Jamie turned and drove away from the broken heart of the small city.
“How’d it go?” Desmond asked, opening the door for them as they walked up the driveway.
“Went fine,” Jamie said, looking back at Steve. “Everything go ok for you?”
“I can drive that,” Steve laughed, looking back at the red truck behind them. “That big rig, on the other hand, not so much.”
“It’s not the easiest thing to drive, that’s for sure.” Jamie stepped inside the house. “I was talking about the trip back more than anything though.”
“Oh. That? It went fine.”
“Just making sure.”
Dakota caught sight of Erik lying on the couch, a rag pressed to his head, and threw a cautionary glance at Jamie before he stepped forward. “Hey, Erik,” he said, kneeling down beside the couch. “You feeling any better?”
“A little,” Erik said, cracking an eye open despite the faint light coming off the electric lantern on the end table.
“Really? You’ve been laying here for the past day.”
“It’s just a headache, Dakota, that’s all.”
“You need to sleep in our room tonight, Erik.”
“I’ll go fix it up right now,” Jamie said, heading toward the hallway. “Besides, me and Dakota can sleep in the master room.”
“Yours parents’ room?”
“Yes.”
Jamie didn’t bother to elaborate any further. He simply disappeared down the hall and into the bedroom.
“I didn’t want to say anything,” Erik said.
Dakota set a hand on the man’s arm. “You need to sleep somewhere dark anyway.”