“I need to trade for it.” I look over each of my shoulders before softly telling him, “I have weapons.”
I don’t like being here. The interior of this store is bright and closed in. The shelves are lined with products that look wrong. Medicines in tiny containers without safety packaging. Bandages sold in small stacks tied together with twine. I passed a shelf of plain, unlabeled white plastic containers about the size of a two-cup measuring cup, a sign beneath them that just read “lube”.
The man behind the counter tips his head just slightly, indicating that he wants to take me somewhere else. My heart races as I follow him, an inner voice telling me to get out of here.
It would take me too long to get to my gun if I need it, but no one wears visible weapons here.
I take a calming breath. I’m desperate, so if this guy wants to see my tits in exchange for the medicine, I’ll take that deal. I still have limits—he’s not sticking his dick in me.
My body doesn’t even feel sexual anymore. In the woods, I spend most of my time just meeting my basic needs like food and water. I get so lonely that I spend a lot of time imaginingconversations I’d have with people if I could. It’s been more than two years since Ellery died, and our occasional hugs were the last human touch I experienced.
The man walks into a small room, flipping a light switch on the wall. Supplies line shelves on the walls and there’s a mop in one corner.
“Come in,” he says, annoyed.
I run a quick risk assessment. If it’s just him, I could overtake him. But he could call others in here, and I don’t like that.
I take a single step through the doorway, stopping.
He sighs through his nose, aggravated. “Either come in and show me what you’ve got, or get out. I’m busy.”
The painful, swollen welt on my back reminds me that I have to do this. I need to get in and out of this city as fast as I can.
I shuffle to the side, never turning my back to him. He closes the door. I pull my dad’s Bren Ten gun from my bag, still expecting him to jump me.
He takes a quick look and it and shakes his head. “Can’t get ammo for that.”
Damn. He’s right. This gun was obsolete before the virus, but Dad had ammo with it in his safe so I took it. Now it’s just a useless hunk of metal.
“What else?” He crouches down to my level, where my bag is, and the movement makes me shift backward.
He scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself, honey. You smell worse than an entire herd of cattle. I’m not gonna touch you. What else you got in there?”
The COP. It’s useless in a bad situation because it takes so long to reload. I’m digging for it when the guy says, “I’ll take that hunting knife.”
I freeze. He can see the Randall. It was Dad’s most prized hunting knife, and I’d never let go of it. Not for anything.
“No,” I say.
He stands back up. “Look, I don’t mess with guns. It’s too dangerous. Either trade the knife for what you need, or kick rocks.”
My head feels on the verge of exploding. The pain is intense. I just want to get what I need and get out of here, but I still need to get salt.
“Come on,” I plead. “You know that’s not a fair trade.”
He shrugs. “Everyone gets at least ten medical credits a month. What’d you do with yours?”
I huff, exasperated. “Maybe I’m not a law-abiding resident here, but you’re in a back room trying to make a deal, so that makes two of us.”
“The knife’s what I want. Let’s make the trade, or see yourself out.”
I tighten the drawstring on my bag harder than necessary, glaring at him as I stand up.
He’s outside the doorway now, and he could easily trap me in here. I don’t want to get close enough for him to be able to grab my bag, but I have to in order to get out of the room.
I duck my head and hurry out of the building, relieved when humid summer air hits my skin again.
Just the salt, then. I’m hoping that will be easier to secure. If I can find a beehive in the woods, I can make a honey poultice to apply to the bite. Vendors were setting up their wares at an outdoor market I passed on my way here. I’ll go back there for salt and a few food staples, and then it’s back to the forest, where I’m safe.
