Bloody Knuckles and Shotgun Shells

Ashton’s POV

Allison and I make it to Target relatively unscathed. We are forced to use the manual doors because the automatics have been shut off in all the chaos. That’s definitely a good thing though. Wouldn’t want any zombies wandering in by accident. Nevertheless, the two of us push as many shelves and cases in front of the doors as possible. We’re smart enough to get out quickly if we have to.

“Where should we set up camp?” Allison wants to know, looking around the store.

“Probably back in the men’s clothing.” I suggest.

“Why?”

“It’s close to the bedding and food, away from the windows, the clothes will muffle our talking, and the cute guys on the advertisements are nice to look at, duh.”

“Of course. You would say that in a time like this.”

“Just trying to be realistic.”

Allison rolls her eyes and makes her way to the bedding section. I follow her, trying to keep up with her rushed steps. We walk down several aisles. Allison piles loads of bedspreads, blankets, and pillows onto my back like a mule.

“Giddyap.” Allison laughs maniacally, kicking my butt.

“I’m so abused.” I wheeze quietly.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Damn, right. Now, make a nice little bed for us while I go find some shoes. Those nasty fuckers got all sorts of shit on mine.”

“Yes, master.”

“Shut up.”

I dump all the stuff on the floor between two racks of pajama pants. I tear open several clear plastic bags and spread the comforters and blankets out, topping them with pillows. Allison comes back a few minutes later with a pair of dark blue Converse.

“I’m gonna miss these shoes.” Allison frowns, holding up her old pair in a plastic bag. There’s a pool of green, red, and clear liquid forming in the bottom. “You hungry?”

“Uh, not anymore.” I grimace, pretending to gag.

“Oh, sorry.”

Allison turns and chucks her old shoes over several aisles. We hear them land with a disgusting splash before standing up to find food. Back in the aisles, I start filling Allison’s arms with food as payback.

“We’ll need to take a few trips.” I tell her.

“We’re just looking for breakfast, dumbass.” Allison gasps, struggling to hold onto all the boxes.

“Right…”

I shove most of the food to the side. Allison sighs and grabs a jug of apple juice and a box of Pop Tarts. I snatch a carton of soymilk, a box of Reeses Puffs, and run over to the Halloween themed bowls and pick one with a skull in the bottom. I find a spoon and we make our way back to our campsite.

Allison leans against a shelf and tips back literally half the jug of apple juice. She sets it down forcefully, looks up at the ceiling, and exhales with a dreamy look on her face.

“Fuck yes.” She breathes out. “That was delicious.”

I giggle and make my cereal. While I eat, I wonder how long the milk and such will last. We don’t need it, but it’s going to stink like hell in a few days. Other than that little dilemma, Target seems to be the perfect place to hideout.

“What’s on your mind?” Allison wonders, poking me with her foot.

“Uh, pretty much everything.”

“Don’t sweat it right now. Let’s just eat. We can strategize later. Right now I want to crawl into some of these lovely pajamas and eat some Pop-Tarts.”

I shrug and watch her yank a pair of Family Guy pants off the hanger. I look away for a moment to let her change. When I look back she is curled up in a ball with a Pop-Tart hanging out of her mouth.

“Are you the same chick who was just beating the brains out of zombies a few minutes ago?”

“Yes, ma’am. Don’t judge. I’m on break.”