Page 50 of Hunted By Fae
Five months since the blackout, since all the power just stopped, and freezers died, and generators malfunctioned, everything in this long aisle is worthless, just like the fruit and veg stacked up on boxes to our left, so decayed that they are puddles now.
It’s left behind, fast, and we turn into the pantry aisle.
My heart sinks the moment we do.
Raided.
A few times.
Dried spaghetti litters the floor, and empty, torn boxes hang off the shelves—but then Bee lifts her torchlight and a slight breath unribbons from me.
Up on the top shelves, a few boxes are lined, untouched, out of arm’s reach.
The light washing over the shelves drops to mid-air, and Bee reaches out her hand to block the beam of the torch.
The shadow of her hand paints down the aisle.
She extends two fingers. Brings them back into her fist. Then extends two fingers again.
Groups of two.
My shoulder brushes Emily’s as I move down the aisle.
Bee watches me pass her by, a look that tells me not to go too far.
I nod in answer before Ramona follows me.
We spread out.
Practiced, organised.
We have done this so many times before.
I flick my flashlight on, then the others do, too, and in dusty light, we splinter off for different shelves.
I stop midway down the aisle.
I crouch, one knee planted on the hard floor, and slowly set the shotgun down at an angle, leaning on the metal barrier of the shelf.
The faint clatter of the same action comes from all over the aisle. We move as quietly as we can, but together, blended, and in this building of echoes, it’s too loud.
I cringe against it.
Then comes the climb.
I hate this part.
My lungs are still not recovered from the plague, and even something as feeble as climbing metal shelves in a Costco can turn my breaths raspy and bring about another fit.
So I take it easy, slow.
One shelf at a time, then I still, wait, breathe, before I move for the next one.
Ramona is working faster behind me, already rummaging around the upper shelves for food and packets left behind, overlooked in all the chaos.
She exerts herself too much. Doesn’t hold as much patience as she should. I always thought it was pride that made her that way, always got to prove herself or whatever shit fuels her.
My approach is unhurried.
