Once we got going again, it was only another hour or so for us to arrive at the heart of the city. My dad sent Victor and I off alone to look for vehicles and things of interest. We had a handheld radio with a twelve-mile range so we could communicate with him, but essentially, Victor and I were alone.
Victor spotted what appeared to be a department store, so we went towards it. The glass doors were shattered into sharp knives. Whoever had been here before us had done a fine job booby trapping the entrance; both of us almost severed a vein on the razor edges.
Amazingly, the interior wasn’t as disheveled as we’d expected. It was dark, but tidy all the same. The quiet of the place sang songs about the dead to us, even though Victor and I weren’t old enough to recall the Catrion War.
One of us was tentative to leave the other but who that was remained a mystery. As we scanned the shelves and isles, we kept a watchful eye trained on each other. When a raccoon knocked over a tin of popcorn our reaction, other than to gasp in fright, was to check for the other’s presence at our side.
Disbelief echoed between us in telepathic frequencies as we took note of the stockpiles of merchandise which should’ve been gone long ago. Most of the remaining food, now rotten rat rations, was still intact almost as it had been over twenty-four years ago. Suspended by hundreds of clothes hangers were the ghostly silhouettes of all shapes of humanity; many dust-covered shirts, pants, and other articles of clothing were still hanging on round curtain rods. What had once been a sale on toilet bowl cleaner was now a yellow-orange stain on the speckled concrete floor; the plastic bottles that hadn’t yet dissolved cluttered the walkway. In the toy department, vibrant displays of color and a zoo of plush animals decorated the shelves. Everywhere we went, red price tags still showed their numeric messages and bar codes. Time stood still here. Beneath the minimal decay, the store was exactly as it had been when the manager locked the doors for the last time. I guessed that the Catrions had hit this city hard and fast, resulting in such a perfect state of preservation.
In the back, in the area designated for employees only, we stumbled on a forklift, which after Victor toyed with for a few seconds, purred to life with the press of a button. Fumbling through my messenger bag, I found the radio.
“Dad, we’ve found a working forklift!”
“You did? Where?”
“We found a large department store which was almost untouched. We could make more money off the store than any vehicle.”
“Tell me about the forklift,” Crackled my dad’s voice over the radio.
Victor took the radio from my hand. “It seems to have a magnetic bi-wheel motor which looks like it could be adapted to run off solar power.”
“Do you think you could get it out of the store?”
“Yes sir, but I think getting it home would be difficult and dangerous. It’s too heavy for the cart and is probably so top heavy, it’s unstable on an unlevel plain.”
“I should be able to get a transport but I want to see if we can find any other vehicles first.”
“Dad, if you can get a transport, we should take some of the other junk here.” I said, pressing the talk button with Victor’s thumb.
“No, I think we should let the dead rest. I give you both permission to take what you want, but future people will need some of what you’ve found, and it would be disrespectful to the dead if we took everything.”
“I guess you’re right. Greed is no cause to strip this store bare.”
“When you two have found what you want to take with you and gotten the forklift outside, call me again.”
“Okay, we will.” I answered, putting the radio back in the bottom of my bag.
Victor and I spent the next hour maneuvering the yellow forklift to the front of the store. We’d tried to open the giant garage doors in the back but cat-sized padlocks prevented us from succeeding. Thankfully, we found a forklift and not a go-cart or dune buggy; we were able to move bulky items in the way that we couldn’t have otherwise moved. The simplest path we could find was through the craft department, down through the vehicle-department, in the pathway next to the fish tanks, and upon moving a cash register, through a checkout line.
Just as we were about to sit back and relax, my father came on the radio. “Préyhen, you and Victor have to barricade yourselves in the store somehow. A tribe tracked the horses here, and it’s not safe anymore. I don’t know what it’s like where you are, but where I am the streets are filled with savage nomads.”
“Dad?” That gremlin called panic was moving into my gut. “Dad, are you safe?”
“I’m fine honey, just shut yourself in and lay low. It’ll be okay.”
Victor was already starting up the forklift again, but I had to know where my dad was. “Dad, where are you?”
“I’m in a business district on the fourth floor of a building. Just stay there for the night and I’ll come find you in the morning.”
I had to convince myself that that was enough for me but it wasn’t. Wanting to keep his voice in the little speaker yet knowing I couldn’t, made me want to cry. For the father I barely saw six months a year, I had to be strong. Worrying about him would only make my situation worse but doing away with the worry that had already been glued to my mind was impossible. Part of me wanted to run to him, but I couldn’t. Daddy’s little girl would have to accept no seeing him for the time being.
Victor moved two drink machines in front of the broken door and placed a wide claw machine next to them in front of the locked unbroken doors. From the little we could see, there didn’t appear to be any people out there. Even so, Victor and I performed a perimeter check to ensure all possible entrances were sealed. All the employee entrances and fire exits were locked but we slid bulky objects in front of them anyways. Having our few measures of extra security calmed us, even with the legends about the tribes resurfacing in our minds.
If I had to have anyone with me while hiding from frightening barbarians, I was glad Victor was it. He knew what I found funny and could read my expressions flawlessly. The only person whose presence might’ve been more soothing was my father and his lust for survival. Victor was a suitable replacement, since he was a friend, not a father. I wouldn’t have preferred the company of any of my other friends over his in the present circumstances.
A distraction from the morbid fear we both had, were the contents of the shelves. As we’d not had a chance to sift through the junk, we busied ourselves looking at the former merchandise. An added, overly-optimistic benefit of the tribe roaming the streets outside was that we could take our time examining the eclectic collection without feeling guilty for taking time my father needed us to spend elsewhere.
We started in the back corner where the curtained entrance to the employee’s only section was. First came the crafts section, where Victor and I both felt fabric would be a thoughtful item to bring back, but our hopes were dashed when we discovered most of it had deteriorated. We did however uncover a dozen or so packages of sewing needles, which we dropped into our bags.
In the vehicle department, victor picked up a few parts which had the potential to make his life easier. He also wanted to haul away the enormous batteries, but I had to tell him not to. If he’d tried to take even one, he would’ve worn himself out on the trip home.
Behind the fish department were other pet supplies, which led me to believe it wasn’t merely a fish department, but a general pet department with the fish being what drew customers in. It wasn’t so appealing after many years had passed though. One of the display tanks was cracked and its water had puddle on the floor. In all the other display tanks however, fish skeletons could be seen on the gravel if one stared through the algae long enough.
Before we walked to the next department, I picked up a squeaky toy for my sister’s pet spider monkey.
Not surprisingly, in the sporting goods department, the weapons case had been broken into. There were still one or two boxes of ammunition, but the guns were missing. Victor found the only gun left, a short air rifle, and grabbed it along with the BBs that went with it.
“What are you getting that for?” I inquired.
“I feel bad for taking Harold’s rifle, so I’m making up for it.” Victor mumbled. “At least this way, he’s less likely to kill something.”
When we were walking through the house wares section of the store, we had an interesting conversation.
“What do you think of this?” I asked, holding up a plastic wrapped white doohickey.
“It’s a toilet brush.” Victor announced. “What good is a toilet brush in our village?”
“Well, for cleaning dirty toilets. There are a lot of them in our village.” I reasoned.
“Exactly, but who do you think will have to clean those toilets?” Victor hinted.
“Ah, I see what you’re saying. Bringing a toilet brush home won’t cause us any good when we have to scrub the bowl.” I tossed the brush over my shoulder.
“What about this?” I teased.
“It’s a plunger.”
“But it’s good for something.” I stated. “And this one won’t result in us doing icky work!”
Victor shook his head and started walking again. I placed the plunger back where I found it and hurried to catch up.
In many of the departments the stuff was either too rotted to be of much use or was stuff we already had access to. Some things, like rope were made from available materials or imported from Mars. Other things like toilet paper, crumbled at the slightest touch. On more than one occasion, we came to a part of the store where nearly everything was gone.
The jewelry case was one such example. The glass had been smashed and the jewelry stolen. The same could be said for the electronics department. I wouldn’t have known I’d found the electronics department if there hadn’t been signs hanging from the room that said the blank shelves were the electronics department. The food case was in a similar state of disarray, only there it was the rat droppings that gave it away.
The clothes department was where things got fun. Every child has played dress-up, sometimes using a parent’s clothes, but as a teenager in a jungle of clothing, it was easy to relive those happy memories. For some reason, apart from many layers of dust, the clothing was generally intact. I guessed it was in an isolated enough corner of the building that the moths and other decomposers left it alone. Then again, merely finding a department store that hadn’t been ransacked was rather inexplicable.
Neither Victor or I knew what the sizes on the clothing meant, so we tried on everything that caught our eye until we found the perfect fit. Poor Victor couldn’t find pants long enough for his tall lanky frame. Unlike earlier, when we were exploring the store, we didn’t think about our friends, families, or village; instead we focused on entertaining ourselves.
“Here, try this on.” I handed Victor a pinstriped suit.
“That? It’s kind of ugly, don’t you think?” He looked over the cloth on the heavy-duty hanger.
“Exactly, that’s why I want you to try it on!” I chirped.
He laughed. “Alright, but let me get something for you.” He rushed over to a waist-high shelf, grabbed something I couldn’t see, and then he disappeared behind a partial wall. When he reappeared, he handed me a baggy pair of jeans and a crazy orange top.
It was my turn to laugh. “You’re joking, right?”
He shook his head.
I chuckled again, took the clothing, and turned around so my back faced Victor. Trusting he would turn around also, I undid my trousers and slipped my legs and tail into the pants. Determining how the skimpy top went on however, took a bit more effort.
It was made of a strange-feeling fabric that was smooth to the touch. I’d never seen any fabric like it, much less an article of clothing like it. There was a thin strap holding two rounded triangles together and on each triangle thing, two more straps. The thing resembled a bra but was different; it was too bold to be underwear. Eventually, I concluded that by tying corresponding straps together, I could wear the thing like a bra. This discovery didn’t mean I instantly knew how to wear it though.
I had to get my tunic and bra off, hold the queer top on, and then attempt to tie the straps behind my back. Needless to say, it wasn’t easy. To aid my effort I undid my waistband enough to wiggle my tail out of my pants, all while informing Victor he couldn’t turn around. Finally after untying and retying the slender straps, I felt I’d made the garment sufficiently snug.
“How do I look?” I turned around.
Victor, being a gentleman, hadn’t turned around until I invited him to. When he saw me, he had to clap his hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter. He may have laughed but he couldn’t claim not to look like idiotic.
He wore the pants and jacket I’d given him. The pants were too short in the leg, barely stretching below his knees, but they made up for the lost inches in the waist; they were so loose he couldn’t take his hands out of his pockets without them falling. The coat he wore drooped low in the shoulders and the wrists were unbuttoned. He didn’t have a shirt on underneath the jacket though he had buttoned the three knob-like fasteners. Because of that, a single gold chest hair curled between his puny pectorals in plain sight thanks to the curved gap left open by the jacket.
For a few minutes, all we could do was gawk at each other. Victor, according to my past experience, looked positively ridiculous. I couldn’t say for sure how I looked, but I doubted that I was that bad off.
“Are you going to answer my question?” I wanted an opinion on what the orange top did to me.
“You look—there’s a mirror over here. Come see for yourself.” Victor walked between the wall and a shelf. Following, I noticed the mirror as tall as the average person that he was referring to.
The girl gazing back at me wore faded bell-bottom jeans which were a little loose in the waist but clung to her hips anyways. The waistline was slack enough to create some curious speculation about what was beneath that pretty belly-button, but not so loose her business was bouncing around the stock market. Her stomach was pleasantly flat, though not from starvation, but from physical activity. Closer to her head, but not all the way there, was a tiger-lily-orange top with a navy-blue daisy adorning one side of it. This garment did little to hide her figure but on the contrary, it highlighted the supple flowing beauty she had. Though that was all the clothing she wore, on her young face was a gently curving smile.
“You look different, but if you don’t mind my saying this, I like the way you look.” Victor commented
The girl in the mirror’s smile widened. “You’re sweet.”
“I’m going to change now, what about you?” He wondered.
“I don’t know, I think I’ll stay as I am for now.” I said. “Besides, it took me long enough to get this thing on, it would be a waste to take it off now.”
“Okay,” Victor walked back to his original clothes and I followed suit; I was going to take mine to our makeshift campsite. Once there, I plopped down on the bed I’d made out of soft clothing. Pulling my pants off again, I reached for my scimitar to cut a slit for my tail.
While I was working, Victor walked towards me, wearing a rather risqué lacy bit of lingerie. He was grinning from ear to ear, probably because the frock cut off circulation to his brain.
“Oh yes, that’s sexy” I joked.
“Isn’t it?” He stood very female-like. “Oh! I’m sorry!” He jerked away. “I didn’t realize you weren’t dressed!”
“It’s fine. It’s not like I wasn’t wearing anything.” I had on underwear and the gym shorts I usually wore for more privacy around my tail. My underwear, like every pair of pants I owned, had a slit cut for my tail, but the shorts were unmodified. This was because I could turn them slightly and my tail would fit comfortably in one of the leg holes. I did that as a sort of barrier, so people couldn’t stare at the slit in my pants and see more than I liked. “Could you show me where you got this top thing?” I stood up and pulled on my modified pants.
I couldn’t hear his reply because a sheer howling from outside drowned out his voice. Again, Victor and I looked to the other for comfort.
“We’re safe here,” I whispered yet I whispered it because I didn’t want the tribes to hear.
Perhaps I’d been too loud, or had bellowed the timid statement because our fear only escalated; the tribes seemed to defy our sad shelter. A violent pounding hammered at our eardrums as much as it hammered at the building. First came a metallic clanging from the general area of the restricted part of the store; many pairs of fists banged on the tan overhead loading-bay doors. We were both pale-faced but assured ourselves they’d need a battering ram moving at a higher velocity than they were capable of to bash through the doors. This confidence didn’t help much though; when a thud hit the emergency door behind us, we both jumped and I prayed I’d imagined the scream from the only girl around.
The tribes heard my startled weakness and abused the door even more. As if it weren’t comforting enough to have them pounding away mere feet from us, the crashing of glass from the garden section jerked our attention elsewhere. From every corner of the store, chaotic expulsions of pent-up rage began occurring. If we had been normal people, we probably would’ve been petrified, but no, we were merely frightened to concealed hysteria.
Victor ripped the erotic chemise from his chest, belted his swords back on, and cocked his brother’s rifle; he forgot about finding a shirt to put back on. Similarly, I felt better wearing a sword and clasping an arrow in my bow.
We were afraid of going near the fire door for fear it would fling open and some wild psycho would snatch us. Also, we were afraid to leave sight of the door in case they broke through while we were away. Ironically, it was this second fear that led us to abandon the clothes department. There were too many possible entrances into our sanctuary for us to just sit by and wait for them to come through any weak point.
Victor stayed in step with me as we slunk around the outer walls; every time we approached a door and a subsequent banging occurred, we froze, hands on our weapons. The fire escape doors looked safe enough but I wasn’t convinced. Real terror embraced me when we came near the main entrance; an unknown number of people shook the vending machines. If Victor hadn’t parked the forklift behind them, at least one of the vending machines would’ve flipped. Neither of us were crazy enough to peep through the side of the claw machine at the people out there, so we continued on.
It turned out the breaking sound we heard was the shattering of a clay pot; the rhythmic pulse of swinging arms vibrated it off a top shelf. That wasn’t the worst of our troubles though, no far from it. Victor had nailed a composite desktop to the wall, and stacked plastic containers filled with exercise weights behind it. Only four nails held the table top to the concrete brick wall, it was all Victor and I could get in and felt comfortable trying to get in when my father called, since we had other entrances to barricade.
Due to our rushed solution, the improper nails worked out of the wall. Where each nail had been, save the remaining one, the wall had crumbled. Only the pile of iron weights and the solid locks on the swinging doors kept the tribal people from coming in. It looked like the tribes could break through momentarily, which enticed Victor and I to reinforce the barrier.
While we were placing more obstacles behind the door, I stood up from a bent-over position to spy a bare-skinned Asian man using his one bloodshot eye to glare at me. He pressed his lips together in a hateful loathing scowl, matched only by the hollow eye socket on the right side of his face. For an eternity, the middle-aged man and I played stink-eye to the silent tune of fear and wonder. Victor spotted the man from an angle and his reaction gave me a chance to run.
The glass between the tribesman and I changed from transparent to opaque as a bullet splintered it. I hadn’t heard the gun fire and only the second shot woke me; Victor cocked his gun again and hissed for me to move.
They knew we were locked inside, thanks to my carelessness, and would soon invade. We didn’t bother checking the other doors; we knew they were coming in regardless of what we did. Our goal changed from keeping them out to staying alive when the first goal officially flopped.
Victor thought we should lock ourselves in the women’s room. He determined the aluminum door and corresponding deadbolt would keep us safe. The female restroom was cleaner than the other one—fecal matter didn’t carpet the floor—and it had the only working toilet in the store. Victor proposed we stay there, and sleep on the padded diaper changing table.
I had another idea. I suggested we stay in the open, hiding amidst the clothes. Only because our stash of treasure was there, and he didn’t feel like arguing, did he agree. We moved the racks of clothing to form a wall. From there, we made a shelter out of four racks of long coats and business suits. We gathered all our things beneath the four racks of suits and remade our beds in the center of the rough square. There was enough clothing scattered about, our camouflaged shelter didn’t stand out. As a last resort, we created a fake campsite in the office supplies department, feigned a trail to the bathrooms, and managed to lock the door to the men’s room by replacing the faulty deadbolt with a brass doorknob. From there, all we had left to do was hide, pray, and hope.
No comments:
Post a Comment