Gunning For It

I gave the bodies and their grimy loot a once over. A cash card laid beside the one who had a torn tuxedo.

"E-cash RIVTECH TRUST," it read on the front. The back had a counter for the amount it had, which was $171.53. This would be useful if I came across a vending machine.

The oxygen tank next to the hazmat zombie served no use for me. I pushed the bulky tank to the side, though its lacking weight surprised me.

The zombie by the front door on my left had nothing but its dress shirt, panties, and tights. Similarly, the zombie in the left room didn't have anything useful. Just the nasty knit scarf, tank top, and boxer briefs sat in a pile next to it, with an empty matchbox and a flier advertising Cuppatech Curie-G Coffee on the side.

'Pretty poor loot for my tastes,' I thought while dropping the flier.

I expanded my search to the room. The two dressers on my left had nothing, but the standing mirror in between them terrified me. I couldn't bear to look at what face I had. It gave me comfort to think about gearing up instead of self reflecting.

There was a queen-sized bed with a blanket in the corner, and two smashed windows on my left. Blood trailed to the half naked zombie at my feet. The window next to the dresser was open and I could see a brick house across the road.

I left the room and searched the other. A twin bed sat in the corner, with a dresser full of smaller female clothing. The desk and bookcase were both empty. I cursed my luck and went out the front door.

With blood on my flip flops, I stepped out of the now stinking house and into the heat of late spring. Two dead trees stood on my left. A picket fence surrounded the front of the wooden house, and a small concrete walkway led to the road. I would've admired the lovely flowers planted at its sides, but my focus turned to Anus busily looming over a body with a bloody machete.

With one final smooth motion, he swung his machete and the sleeves of his trenchcoat vanished. Anus pocketed two sizable rags and sheathed his now pristine machete. He wore the new-looking sleeveless trenchcoat. Then, he bent down and took some things near the body.

"Che. It's like cheating," I complained to myself.

I felt strange being undisturbed by the gorey mess, as he ignored the dirty motorcycle helmet, long-sleeved shirt, panties, and motorcycle boots in his search. The body across the concrete walkway had a dress and tights set aside.

I didn't see anything useful near the corpses by the window. I guessed he looted them already, since the paring knife was missing. There was another corpse by the mailbox at the end of the concrete walkway that once wore a sleeveless leather duster, sling pack, leather gloves, and jeans. That brought the body count to about ten, if I remembered correctly.

I didn't notice any other corpses, so I took a look around.

The road in front of me ended at a wooden privacy fence. A bashed up city car rested in front of the brick house on the left. I could see the tires were deflated, probably slashed or something. I read some news articles and saw some videos on the Internet in real life that cops did it to stop violence at protests. Perhaps law enforcement in this Cataclysm did the same, as well as to prevent car pile ups from the panic or to force people to stay in their homes. Or, it could be people going crazy.

In any case, the rioting, looting, and rampant destruction during an actual apocalypse scaled much higher. Even this place, which looked like a residential area, was affected. I left my wistful thinking.

I couldn't stay at a bloodstained and broken house full of stinking corpses. I also didn't want to see someone turn in front of me, and have to put them down. Most of all, I didn't want that crazy player to bring more zombies. My solution? Go looting!

Since I saw zombies on my right, I approached the front door of the brick house on my left. I walked up the concrete walkway and rattled on a locked door knob. I rounded the wall and quickly found an open window to a bedroom just right of the door. I saw no zombies inside, so I climbed in.

There was an armchair to my right with a bookcase that had the books, Nothing Burned and The Big Book of First Aid. I grabbed the first aid book and left the young adult novel. The queen sized bed in front of me had a blanket, and a quick scrounging of the desks on both its sides got me nothing.

I searched the dressers to my left. I put on the signet ring of gold and silver as an emergency fund for a future trade. It was aged and indiscernible. The undergarments and winter clothing didn't suit my needs, so I left them alone.

I took careful steps, listening for any noise. Hearing nothing, I slowly explored the brick house. There was a staircase leading to the basement just right of the doorway I left. Further right, two benches rested against the wall in the dim light, and a closed door presented itself next to it. I opened it a bit and saw the driveway, so I closed it again.

Diagonally across from the door, I found a small bathroom. It had a shower, toilet with water, and sink with dental floss, bleach, and the like. I took the dental floss and turned my attention deeper into the house. I saw a floor lamp against the far wall from the narrow hallway I stood in.

The interior opened up to a spacious living room, with two bookcases on both sides of the wall, several tables, an armchair, a long couch, desk, and coat rack. The three books in the bookcases were a crime novel, mystery novel, and a collection of norse poetry. The titles escaped my memory as soon as I looked away. They wouldn't be useful anyway.

I took the mp3 player from the table. I popped open its battery slot and found some batteries. I tried using them in my flashlight, and it worked! I had a viable source of light.

I ignored the bulky stereo system and TV on my left. Instead, I checked the rain coat and wetsuit hood on the coat rack next to the front door. They were too small, so I left them as well. I turned around and saw a large table and some chairs. A ceramic bowl and plate rested on top of the table.

What interested me was the kitchen. I moved around the counter and checked the cupboard near the sink. Jackpot! A candle, a hammer, a lighter about a tenth way full, scissors, pliers, screwdriver, X-Acto knife, battery charger, and five long strings!

As I stuffed them in my bag, I slowly realized they were almost useless to me. I didn't have a clue how to use them nor did I have a system that would automatically apply their uses directly. I rubbed my hair under my hunter cap and shrugged. I might as well bring them to the player so he could use them.

I moved onto the other cupboards. I took six steak knives and tied another knife to the end of my long pole. Satisfied, I checked the fridge. A slight chill wafted onto my skin as I moved around the condiment bottles and glass jars. From the fruit, vegetables, eggs, and butter, I took a plastic cup of pudding. I retrieved a plastic spoon from a cupboard and left the kitchen.

Sitting down at the table, I peeled back the plastic lid and enjoyed the vanilla and sugary taste. When I finished, I left the junk on the table. It'd been a long time since I had some. I survived through quarantine and beyond mostly on cheese sandwiches.

"Hell if I'm going to continue eating like crap again."

I went back to the kitchen. From looking outside the window, I knew the door on the left led to the backyard and forest. Instead, I checked the door deeper in the house. It was a small and sparse bathroom. I flicked my flashlight on and off. My efforts uncovered a soap dish and some cotton balls. The other door had a chair and a workbench. There was a note and a gallon jug of bleach.

The scribbled words raved about some dog not being real. It was nonsense that didn't help me, and I promptly forgot about it.

The next door led to the garage. It was empty and smelled slightly of gasoline. A window let in some light, shining on three racks. I already had a hammer, so I ignored the other two, along with the small cardboard box of detergent, and the two gallon jugs of ammonia. I took the long string and went back to the stairs.

I flicked on my flashlight and descended. A wooden door blocked my path. Luckily, it was unlocked. My heart thumped as I cracked it open and flashed in my light.

There, I found a rather comfortable recording setup, with guitar stands, an acoustic guitar, a banjo, a piano, headphones, two speaker cabinets, a laptop, a microphone and its stand, and the like. Green carpet covered most of the concrete flooring. Two tables and a long couch sat on the side.

"Nice…"

Around the bend and in the corner on the right, a dryer and washing machine wedged in. I found a compression top in the dryer, but left it.

On the left, a wooden walling conflicted with the concrete. I left checking the wooden door for after I looked around the bend behind the stairs.

I took down the three large cardboard boxes and collected two plastic bottles of clean water and a chocolate bar in its wrapper. I picked up the Spetsnaz Knife Techniques book from the utility shelf, though I left the rubber gloves. In the corner, I inspected a water heater about a fourth way filled and an empty furnace.

Having secured the rest of the basement, I took a deep breath and looked into the wooden room. I saw a long workbench, a chair, and a bookcase on the right. I got a crowbar and sandpaper from the workbench, and an FM 23-16 Army marksmanship manual from the bookcase. Another bookcase, though empty, was on the other side, with a long table holding .22 LR and 00 shot. There were empty magazines next to them, though incompatible except for the rotary magazine, which fit the .22 LR.

By some strange compulsion, they fittingly snapped in, like it was meant to be.

On the wooden rack, I spotted glorious guns. I almost couldn't believe it. Was I blessed to find this?

I inspected the guns for their names. A Glock 17. A Kel-Tec Sub-2000. A S&W 610. A Marlin 1895 SBL.

I put the Glock and Kel-Tec back when I realized they didn't even have magazines. I did discover the S&W 610 had a full six shots and the Marlin 1895 SBL had five shots left. Though limited, these guns would help me in a pinch.

I bagged the S&W 610, but I forced the Marlin 1895 through the backpack straps and carried it on my back as such. It kept dropping out for some reason until I jammed it in and held the straps tight against my body. It felt wrong, but I thought it should be right.

"Very nice."

I nodded to myself and my heart lightened up. I grinned as I walked up the stairs. So far, this brick house looked like a perfect base to set up in.

I started unpacking things I didn't need for exploring on the table by the couch.