Ethan slowly pulled to a stop, setting one foot down as he balanced his e-bike. The trip from his apartment had taken almost an hour, simply due to how cautious he insisted on being. He’d only caught a glimpse of what he thought was one of the scuttlers, but he couldn’t be sure.
Now, as he scanned the parking lot of the massive sporting goods store, he looked both ways for signs of any monsters. His luck seemed to hold out as he set out toward the store.
Hopefully, I’ll be much better equipped to deal with the little shits once I’m done here, he thought with a savage grin.
The automatic doors parted for him, still functioning somehow. He made a mental note that some things still seemed to work even if his home electronics didn’t.
Riding directly into the store lobby, he flipped his bike around to face the exit in case he needed to make a hasty escape. He grabbed his hoe from the bike's cargo rack where he'd secured it along with a duffle bag of supplies and Joel. He'd brought Joel along because if everything went well, he'd be on his way out of town soon. Ethan turned to survey the enormous sporting goods store.
Trailhead Outfitters had been one of his happy places before the world ended, and he'd spent many hours fantasizing about the camping and hiking gear he'd pick up if he could afford it. The store itself was divided into sections such as camping, sporting goods, and firearms. There was an enormous two-story decorative display at the back of the store that imitated a rocky mountainside. It featured dozens of taxidermy animals with small signs describing each one.
He recalled coming here with Samantha, his ex-girlfriend, and her mixed reaction to the array of dead animals.
She'd been leaning over the railing of the display, considering a small furry creature that was posed in the act of standing on its hind legs while sniffing the air. A strand of her golden-brown hair had escaped her ponytail and had fallen in front of her eyes.
“Alright, this one is cute as hell,” she said, gesturing to a small rodent-like animal. She turned to him and smiled. “I’d keep one as a pet.”
Ethan returned the smile, admiring how beautiful she was, but not wanting to ruin the moment by being corny. He read the display. “It’s called an American Pika.”
“Oh! Like the Pokemon!” Samantha said, clapping her hands delightedly. “Now, you have to get me one.”
“Sure thing,” Ethan replied, looking around furtively. “Keep a lookout while I grab it.” He lifted a leg onto the railing as if to heave himself over and onto the display.
“Ethan, stop!” she hissed as she grabbed his arm and yanked him back. He stumbled into her and pulled her into a hug, laughing at her alarmed response. She gave him a playful smack on the arm.
"God, why do you gotta be such a freak?" she said, trying for a scolding tone, but the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth ruined the effect.
Now, months later, Ethan recalled how he’d burst into an off-key rendition of the Pokemon theme song. Samantha had tried her best to shush him, laughingly berating him for making a scene. The silence of the store now seemed deafening in contrast with the joyful memory.
As he looked at the display where they’d shared one of their last happy moments as a couple, he felt tears stinging his eyes. Samantha had gone back to Sacramento to live with her parents after their breakup, and he accepted the fact that she was probably dead now, just like everyone else in the world, apparently. That hurt him more than he thought it would.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and rubbed the tears from his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. Grieving her was a distraction he couldn’t afford. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
Ethan made a beeline for the first purchase on his list. Something he had been eyeing for a long time, but never had a good excuse or enough cash to justify. Despite his apprehension that a monster could pop out at any moment, he felt excitement as he wheeled the brand-new e-bike and accompanying bike trailer to the front of the store.
The VolteRider Titan was the most durable and powerful e-bike on the market. He admired it from multiple angles, noting it almost looked more like a motorcycle than a bike. Even with the fully loaded trailer attached, he would still have more range than his current e-bike. Throw in a few batteries and a new solar charger, and he could get about anywhere he could think of. He’d miss his trusty step-through bike, but this much-needed upgrade would make his flight from the city possible.
Ethan stepped back from the trailer that was now solidly affixed to the e-bike and couldn’t help but admire the setup he never thought he’d be able to afford. He could put up to two hundred and fifty pounds onto the trailer per the owner’s manual, and he intended to use every bit.
Rubbing his hands together greedily, he grabbed a shopping cart to gather the rest of the items on his list. He wasn’t sure everything would fit on the trailer, but he decided to gather as much as he could and remove items as needed.
The next stop on his list was one he was nervously excited for. Ethan had only been to a shooting range a handful of times and knew little about firearms in general, but there was one gun that had always caught his eye when he’d come into the store.
The gun in question was on display behind a counter containing dozens of handguns in a glass case. He reached up to grab the lever-action rifle, blanching at the three-thousand dollar price tag. The barrel of the weapon was non-reflective silver, and it had a matte black stock and barrel guard.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
The gunsmith had been eager to talk about the gun when he’d asked about it during one of his previous visits. He’d explained that this type of gun was used by fishing guides in Alaska for its ability to put down large animals. “Slap a red dot on this bad boy and even you couldn’t miss,” the gunsmith had said with a teasing grin during his explanation.
It better be able to kill monsters, he thought. Each bullet costs almost three dollars! He loaded the gun and ammunition into his cart. He grabbed a padded leather strap and red dot sight for good measure.
Next, he selected a nine-millimeter handgun he thought he’d seen at the range before. They all looked the same to him, but the SIG SAUER logo seemed familiar. He shrugged. As long as it shot straight, that was good enough for him. Several boxes of ammo and a black thigh holster that had room for extra magazines joined his stash. As he picked out additional accessories, he marveled at what his life had become in the last twenty-four hours.
This is more fun than it has any right to be, he thought, mildly chiding himself.
Thirty minutes later, Ethan stepped back from his plunder and surveyed it with a contented sigh. Camping rations, fishing gear, and a new tent were among the supplies in the trailer. He’d discarded much of what he’d scavenged to avoid overloading the trailer, but was quite pleased with his stockpile of items.
Everything was securely strapped down for his journey out of the city. He was nervous about how much it all weighed but decided he had no choice but to trust the owner’s manual. Now he was equipped with three extra batteries for the bike, and while he might not get there fast, he would get there. Wherever there was.
He felt a bit silly, like someone cosplaying as a soldier as he adjusted his new outfit and accessories, but he was pleased with how much more prepared he felt now. Ethan now wore warm hunting pants and a matching jacket, with more in the trailer. He’d strapped the thigh holster on with a loaded magazine and backups in the built-in compartments.
The rifle, strapped to his back, was loaded, as was the attached quiver — giving him the reassurance of having ammo close at hand in case he needed it. For good measure, he’d added a sinister-looking hunting knife with an eye-bulging price tag along with a camping hatchet to his belt.
Only the garden hoe strapped to his back looked out of place, but Ethan trusted the improvised weapon and had found a fabric strap to hold it securely on his back.
Even if I don’t feel like Rambo, at least I look like him, he thought derisively. I really have no idea what I’m doing, he thought, fighting back the panic that was lurking under the surface.
He took deep calming breaths, remembering what his mom would say when he’d wake up in the middle of the night screaming, as he’d so often done even after they left Dad. “No storm lasts forever. You’ll get through this. Just breathe,” she’d say in her steady, calming voice. Ethan suspected she’d had to tell herself the same thing over the years.
He unzipped a pocket on his new jacket and glanced at the photo of his mother he’d stowed there. Slowly exhaling with a slight shudder, he centered himself. He didn’t ask for this, but he wasn’t about to give up.
A piercing screech ripped through his introspection, startling him out of his thoughts. He ducked down behind one of the checkout stands reflexively — garden hoe at the ready. He cautiously poked his head out to see if he could see the monster. To his horror, the creature seemed to be attracted to the automatic doors to the store. He pulled his head back into cover, not daring to breathe lest the monster hear him.
His heart accelerated wildly as he heard the scuttler enter the store, its feet clacking on the hard tile and a chittering noise coming from its mandibles. Blessedly, the sounds of the monster moved off to the right, heading deeper into the store. Ethan thought of the guns now strapped to his back and the other on his hip, but he was hesitant to use them out of fear of attracting more of the monsters. He’d put a bow and arrows in the trailer, but he’d never used one in his life, and it would make noise retrieving it.
He weighed his options as he peeked over the checkout stand, only seeing the one spider-like creature. His e-bike would also make noise when he made a break for it, and he was sure it would attract the scuttler. He shifted the hoe in his hands, its now familiar weight reassuring him.
All these new weapons and I’m about to use this stupid hoe again, he thought as he decided his only option was to take down the bug-like abomination with the trusty tool.
The new boots he was wearing made no noise as he stalked the monster. He crouched down and moved closer, intent on getting the drop on it if possible. His hands trembled with adrenaline and fear, but the scuttler seemed to be passively patrolling and searching for any noise, and that gave Ethan an idea.
Grabbing a baseball from the nearby shelf, he rolled it toward the large taxidermy animal display. The sound of the rolling ball echoed loudly in the silent store, and the monster reacted almost immediately. Ethan could hear its mandibles clacking as it scuttled after the ball and away from him.
Capitalizing on the distraction, Ethan moved closer, positioning himself directly behind the beast. The scuttler was prodding at the ball with one of its many legs in apparent confusion. Carefully, but swiftly, he raised his hoe high in the air and brought it down in a mighty chop directed at the creature’s head.
Whack. The hoe connected, making a dull thud as it sliced into, then smashed the small head of his foe. To his utter shock, the beast fell to the ground without making a sound. Ethan stood there, stunned at not having to follow up his attack. As he considered this, another surprise presented itself.
The glowing orb that rose from the monster wasn’t red like he expected, it was a dark gray with a pitch-black center. It shot into his chest like the previous experience orbs, but the feeling that coursed through him was calm coolness. It immediately stilled his racing heart.
Interesting, he thought. Different types of combat give different types of experience.
He pondered this development as he walked back to his bike and supplies. So far he'd seen red, white, and now black orbs, and they'd all given him different feelings. He wondered what other kinds of orbs there were and what the long-term effects might be.
Ethan slung a long leg over the bike and strapped on his helmet. He looked back at his small hoard and smiled. I must have ten thousand bucks worth of stuff here, he thought.
He caught sight of Joel, nestled in a corner of the trailer and strapped down tight.
“Alright, buddy,” he said. “Let's get the hell outta dodge.”
What supplies would you prioritize in the Apocalypse?
