Chapter 3: Society, Two-Point-Oh

Nathan observes a snippet of daily life in this make-shift fortress as he searches for Richard, the de-facto leader, who has asked to see him.

Tragedy has a strange way of affecting people. Sometimes, it brings out the absolute best in them. Other times, the absolute worst. As Nathan crossed the floor of the supermarket towards the door that lead out onto the parking lot, he was vividly reminded of both. Out the window, he saw two men working together to reinforce the fence they had erected around the supermarket and its parking lot. Honest, hard-working souls who were doing their best to protect their new family - the community. He saw an elderly gentleman break a piece off his miserly ration of chocolate and hand it to a wide-eyed baby who seized it with tiny fingers, wearing that huge, toothless smile that means 'thank you' in the language of those too young to speak.

But he also saw the ugly qualities the apocalypse had magnified in the ragged people. He saw a husband pacing back and forth in anger along an empty supermarket aisle, screaming obscenities at his wife, who lay sobbing on the floor at his feet with his hand imprinted in red on the side of her face. He saw a girl scarcely out of her teens sitting in a corner eyeing a razorblade between her fingers with fascination that would be alarming to most observors. Nathan knew better than to worry, though. It was now twelve months After Turning - if that young woman was going to slash her wrists and give up, she would have done it by now. By surviving this long, she had made a commitment to see this through and stick it out, even if she hadn't admitted it to herself yet.

"Mr Atwood?" came a croaky voice from somewhere to Nathan's left. He turned and saw little old Mrs Cheney hurrying toward him.

"Morn - I mean, afternoon, Mrs Cheney. And please, call me Nathan."

"If you insist, Mr Nathan," she relied, stubbornly clinging to the formal prefix.

In spite of himself, Nathan smiled.

"What can I do for you?"

"I'm to bring you to Richard, my dear. He's this way, follow me."

She gestured toward the front doors of the supermarket and began to walk. She had a peculiar, limping gait not unlike that of a mumbler. Even as Nathan made this comparison in his head, he realised how absurd it was. Kindly old Mrs Cheney was possibly the most human of everyone in the community.

As they approached the doors, Nathan hurried ahead and held it open for Mrs Cheney. His mother had raised a gentleman, and he would be damned if he was going to let the apocalypse put a stop to that. She thanked him with a nod, and the two of them walked out into the warm afternoon sun.

The parking lot was empty of parked vehicles, and enclosed by a barrier of burned-out cars, barbed wire and other scrap. The seven men who had pulled watch for this shift patrolled the perimeter with various weapons slung over their shoulders. Binoculars, whistles and walkie-talkies adorned their belts, and a strange mixture of determination and pure exhaustion graced their faces. A dozen or so children scampered around on the tarmac, kicking a semi-deflated soccer ball back and forth. It was almost heart-warming to see such innocence, such resilience. They called gleefuly to each other and shrieked with laughter, oblivious to 'grown-up' matters like the end of civilisation. Children still believed in happily-ever-afters, in heroes, and in the idea that all problems eventually solved themselves.

Nathan scanned the mob of waist-high imps for Benny, Michelle's son. After a moment he finally spied him - sitting in the shade alone with a sheet of paper and handful of crayons and pencil-stubs.

"He never plays with the others, you know. Always drawing," Mrs Cheney informed him in a matter-of-fact tone, noticing where Nathan was looking.

"Michelle told me he got along well with the other kids"

"He used to, Mr Nathan. But that was before... well, the incident with his poor mother. Now he sits there with his imaginary friend, 'Jason' he calls him, and he draws pictures. Such ghastly pictures, too. Horrible things no child should be thinking about."

"Well, he's seen more than any kid his age ought to 've," Nathan observed. He knew that 'Jason' was Benny's twin brother - the one who had been taken by a wailer. Nathan was always concerned about Benny, maybe even more concerned than he was about Michelle. But becoming a father figure to the boy to keep an eye on him seemed disrespectful to Michelle and to her late husband, not to mention a full-time occupation for which Nathan lacked the energy.

Suddenly, a child's cry of pain rang out. The patrolling men spun around with alarm, bringing rifles and handguns to bear and searching for a threat. The sound made Mrs Cheney flinch, and Nathan turned his head fast enough to crick his neck. The cry was soon revealed to be that of a young girl who had tripped while kicking the soccer ball. Mrs Cheney's motherly instincts quickly took over and she hurried over to the wailing child, who was cradling a skinned knee.

Nathan took this as a cue to leave, and resumed walking. He had spotted Richard standing at the far end of the parking-lot. He strolled past the throng of children who had resumed their rowdy game, past the injured girl being tended to by nurse Cheney, past the streak of whitish skin-flakes and scarlet flecks of blood on the concrete where she had taken her tumble.

However, his route never took him within twenty feet of Benny. He wasn't sure he wanted to see what the lad was drawing this time. A depiction of the wailer tearing out his father's throat? A detailed picture of the night Michelle had been raped, looking up at the horror from a child's point of view? Such horrific drawings by the hand of such a young child always disturbed Nathan, although he knew that nothing should shock him anymore.

Maybe his pictures will be less nauseating when he runs out of red crayon, he thought.

Author's Note

Any advice would be appreciated. I'm hoping to pick up the action in the next chapter, maybe include a fight scene or something to shake things up.

Reviews

[frakkevin]

I like it, the formatting is a bit too squished together for me but ignore my complaints. As for dumping action to shape things up, don't force it. I'm still entertained by this grocery story community you've created. It's a tour of the place and I'm still drawn in.

[AnonymousLad]

Thank you for your review. I'll tweak the formatting as best I can.