100 Days in Deadland

“Don’t know.” He drove us around the store and down an alley alongside the building to the lower-level back entrance off the street. It only had one door, and it was closed. The small parking lot backed up to the river.

I grimaced. Two cars sat in spaces marked Employee Parking. At least the door to the pharmacy was still intact. “Looks like we may have a couple helpful smiles in the aisles,” I said, nodding toward the cars. “At least it doesn’t look like anyone else has been here yet.”

“Looters think short-term. The idiots will go for things like cash, booze, and electronics. The smarter ones will go for food, drugs, and ammo first. I’m surprised no addicts have hit this store yet for pain killers, so we need to treat this run as our only shot. The more drugs we can load up on now could save our lives when winter hits.”

That’s what I respected about Clutch. He was always thinking ahead. Not just a day ahead, but months and years ahead. Being a prepper, he already had a full year’s supply of food tucked away in his basement. Well, six to eight month’s supply now that he had me hanging around. The basement was lined with shelves, and every shelf was filled with food, water, and supplies.

His need to be prepared started with something he’d seen in the military, but I was thankful for his worst-case-scenario mindset now. “So what’s the plan?”

“I go in and check it out. You keep watch out here. Keep the doors locked and stay low. If that truck comes around again, lay on the horn, and we’ll cut our losses. If everything’s good, when I give you the all-clear, follow me in. Once inside, get to the pharmacy and load up on every antibiotic and any other drug you can find for sickness and injuries. When in doubt, throw it in the cart. What we can’t use ourselves, we can barter with. We won’t be coming back. I’ll hit the aisles for painkillers, Imodium, and other supplies. If anything happens, you run straight to the truck and lock yourself inside. I got a key and can unlock it from the outside. Got it?”

I nodded, though the entire time my mind was locked on the potential for caffeine. Clutch had to be the only trucker in the world who didn’t drink coffee. My life had done a one-eighty, and while I’d fallen into a new routine more easily than I’d expected, my brain hadn’t. It still craved its daily fix, and reminded me with a headache every morning.

Clutch checked the door, and it didn’t open. With the butt of his rifle, he broke the glass, unlocked the door, and disappeared inside.

Silence put every single one of my nerves on edge. I scanned the open lot, watched the door, and then repeated the process. After a couple minutes, my leg started to shake with nervous adrenaline. No zeds showed up in the alley or from another building. After five minutes, I was convinced we’d arrived without being noticed. After five and half minutes, I opened the door and stepped onto the pavement.

Come on, Clutch. Where are you?

I had taken four steps closer to the building, still looking out for zeds or looters, when the back door opened, and Clutch held up his hand. All-clear.

I closed the distance in a heartbeat. “Any problems?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”


I followed him into the building and up the stairs. He hopped over a bundle, and I stopped cold. A body wearing a white lab coat lay crumpled on the steps. The dark gore around its head looked fresh. Even though it had only been days since the zeds came out, I was surprised how quickly I was becoming desensitized to the sight of dead bodies.

I glanced up at Clutch. “Your doing?”

He looked over his shoulder and shot me a quick nod before continuing on. With my teeth clenched tight, I took a cautious step over the body, part of me afraid that it would twist around and bite me in the ankle, just like Alan had been. As soon as I cleared the body, I rushed up the remaining steps to meet up with Clutch at the top.

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