A store this big always had something left.
Food.
Pain medication.
Ammo.
Stain kicked what was left of a body lying next to a broken flat screen television. “Dumbass risked his life for this?”
Rico spat onto the asphalt. “You smell that?”
Nash wrinkled his nose in disgust.
Rot and blood with something sour beneath it.
“Stay sharp,” he scanned the parking lot.
Something moved between two parked cars, and a man staggered into view. Gray film covered his eyes, a clicking sound coming out of his mouth as the deadhead lurched toward them.
Bull didn’t hesitate, as the pistol shot cracked across the lot.
The deadhead dropped, and the sound echoed across the empty parking lot as another shape moved.
And another.
Three more deadheads stumbled out from between the cars.
“Shit,” Rico muttered.
Bull fired again.
One went down, but another kept coming.
Nash stepped forward and drove a knife into its temple. The body hung there a moment before collapsing at his feet.
“Let’s move,” he slammed the heel of his boot into its head. “The shots are going to bring more, and I want to see what kind of shit is left in this store.”
The glass doors hung half open as Nash reached them. He pushed them aside. The store was dark, with only the red emergency lights burning. They cast an eerie glow over everything.
Rico made the sign of the cross, “Jesus…this place ain’t right.”
“Yeah,” Bull eyed the dark interior of the Supercenter. “This place gives me a bad feeling.”
Nash checked the pistol on his hip. “Only one rule counts now,” he said calmly.
“What’s that?” Rico asked, peering around the store.
“Stay ahead of the slowest man,” Nash smirked.
Rico and Bull each laughed halfheartedly. Neither found his words amusing, but they were too chicken shit to show a little backbone.
Stain looked at him with disgust but remained silent. He’d grown up with Beck, so he knew more than most what Nash was capable of.
Shopping carts were scattered everywhere, and the shelves were in shambles.
Boxes crushed underfoot.
And bodies.
