Finders Keepers

We set off into the hallway. I locked my apartment behind me. Everyone had fled, but we were still here. If there were other people, I didn’t want to encourage them. We picked through some of the stuff left around in the hall, but little of it was useful. Robyn grabbed a pair of sneakers as she went. She made the set out of two separate pairs. They were completely different looks, but both seemed to fit her well. She seemed strengthened by the find. She tore a shirt, took a strip of cloth, and tied her hair up in a bun. Then she found a leather jacket. She looked like she was out of a movie. We needed to get her some spikes and chains. Really build on this badass quality. It would intimidate folks.

“We should think about supplies. Canned foods, jugs of water. It’ll run out eventually. Batteries, light sources and of course medical supplies. There’s also another exit at the back end of the building that leads to the garage. I want to check to make sure that’s secure too. Oh, and a fire exit. I don’t know what you want to do next, if you want to stay here or leave, but we’ll have to be ready.”

“You don’t seem bothered at all,” she said.

“With all this? Sorta, I guess. I mean, I don’t want to see people get hurt, or chased by people in hoodies, but I can’t say I hate it. I mean, it does disrupt the routine, and who knows what we’re going to face, but right now we’re okay. Does it bother you?”

“Yes! This is fuck up. Where did everyone go? Who were those men in hoodies? What did they want? How are we, are you, supposed to survive?” She waved her hand indicated all of me. She was clearly indicating my disability. I felt indignant. I saved her. Sure, I couldn’t run. Sure, my balance was out of wack. Yes, I needed my meds. But I had played survival games damn it all! I knew what to do. Right?

“We’ll take it one day at a time. One situation at a time. This is fucked up, but we can either make a plan or give up. I am not big on giving up.” Death would come eventually. Old age, disease, starvation, zombie kaiju, whatever. I wasn’t about to give up. I could have eaten the damn French toast if I was going to just give up.

It suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t know my neighbors well. Now I wouldn’t know them at all. They were somewhere else. Maybe they were all dead or taken by those hoodies. Maybe they were the people in the hoodies. They weren’t here, and most of their apartments were left open or unlocked. We would have to break into the locked ones later. It was a good way to learn how tough the doors were, but people might be inside. Better to aim for the low hanging fruit first.

We were at my neighbors door. It was closed, but unlocked. She was a nagging woman who had always tried to entice me to assist her in carrying groceries or in other labors and she never seemed to have a shortage of friendly men at her back and call. I would politely excuse myself each time and avoid her. I thought about the callousness of the act, but she was clearly capable and only unwilling.

That was before the stroke. Now I was less capable. I could still manage. I did everything myself still. It was all just harder and slower. I could take nothing for granted and nearly everything had a new normal way of doing it.

Her apartment was mostly embroidery and quilting. Neatly placed dishes sat in a last century hutch. The table was set for a full six people though it seemed that only one ever seemed used. A singular fork and knife lay awkwardly on a folded napkin while the other napkins were folded and placed with a full array of serving utensils. Little seemed to be taken, but she was certainly gone. Her home was fastidious. I instantly felt embarrassed. My own bathroom was hardly this clean. I wonder what Robyn had made of it? There was a ring in the basin of the toilet from lack of scrubbing and hair on the edge of the bathtub where I had cleaned it from the catch, but not gotten so far as the wastebasket. I had been on my own. Nobody to judge me except for Ygor and Renfield and they didn’t seem to care.

We gathered a few odds and ends. We used pillow cases for bags. We took cans of soup, an umbrella, and a book of matches. Robyn tried the TV. There was the irritating squeal of the emergency broadcast system playing. She flicked through several stations with the controller and then turned it off and cast the remote aside. She was clearly irritated.

“There’s little of use in the cabinets. Anything in the kitchen?” I was in the bathroom. “No Tylenol,” I called out. No toiletries at all. She either lived frugally, or she cleaned the place out as she left. There was no chance to know her now. She was gone. There was barely a sign of a mess. The doily on the floor in the living room stood out because everything else was neat and clean. It was a stark contrast to my own lifestyle. She had probably lived alone too. Though she had a ton of men to do things for her. She likely wanted to keep the place clean for them.

“There is very little in the fridge. Half a casserole. Of course, tons of pots and pans in the cabinets. Dishes too. Dish towels. Spices, but no medicine.” she said. She sounded dejected.

“Um, maybe there is something in the bedroom? You should check in there.” I was standing at the bedroom door. It was partially open. I hadn’t tried to look in. I suddenly felt self conscious. She had probably bedded a lot of her helpers. I wasn’t a prude, but it felt like intruding. She was gone, maybe dead. She likely wasn’t coming back. She probably had really cozy blankets. It was early spring and still cold. Robyn could get them later for herself. They could keep her warm.

Robyn gave me a weird look as she pushed past me and entered the bedroom. Was I being sexist? Did having a woman enter a woman’s bedroom even matter, especially now? The room was disheveled. Clothes were strewn across the floor. The bed was unmade. The blankets did look comfortable though. She had clearly focused on packing clothes. Sensible, but impractical. Of course, I’m sure she thought she was just leaving for a bit. Maybe one of her many male friends had invited her over. It was doubtful she actually thought this was an apocalypse even if she knew it was urgent.

Robyn rifled through the nightstand. She looked at the contents, recoiled, looked at me and then continued on. I probably didn’t want to know what was in there. I kept silent while she rummaged through the dresser next. The first drawer was underwear, stockings, hosier, the second was shirts and bras. Robyn rifled through them discarding some of the contents onto the floor. She stopped when she opened the third drawer. I heard her move objects. It was something other than clothes. Robyn pulled out a hand gun.

“Can you not point that in my direction please?” I entered the room. What was this old lady doing with a pistol? Why hadn’t she taken it? “Is it loaded?” I had never fired a gun before. I hated them. But now seemed a good time to have one.

“How the fuck would I know?” She was staring at the firearm in awe.

It was a good find, but it would mean nothing if we didn’t have the basics. This was like, stage two gear. Safety stuff. The stuff you find after the stuff you need. Clearly, she knew nothing about guns either. “Does it have a clip or something? They’re usually at the bottom of the handle I think.” I waggled a finger at the weapon.

“There are lose bullets in the drawer just rolling around.” She glanced back into the dresser drawer.

I watched her turn the pistol over in her hands. She examined it like it was some artifact. It looked like it had a clip. How did you get to it? There was probably a button or something to release it. She stood. Then, with a wicked grin, she thrust it at the mirror. He arms extended. Well, she clearly had no problems with guns. A minute ago she was a damsel running from danger, now she thought she was an action star. She pretended to fire it. Three times. I wondered if she was imagining the men that chased her.

There was no question it would make a good deterrent. We would keep it unloaded until we figured it out. At least, I would suggest that. Clearly Annie Oakley had other plans. She could shoot me with it, but it didn’t seem like she was the type. I wouldn’t let her know it, but I was at her mercy. Especially now. She had a firearm now and a leather jacket. There was no point in dwelling.

“We should find those Tylenol.” I hobbled from the room.