We walk around a lake and to a trail that crosses a large creek. At least, the trail should have crossed it. When we get there, we see the bridge has collapsed. Falk debates crossing the water on foot but doesn’t want the supplies getting wet, so we make our way around to the main road to get to the building.
What’s left of it anyway.
The parking garage is still standing, but the building behind it is more rubble than structure. One whole side is completely flattened, but it looks like the building in the back is partially standing. Falk wants to check inside of it.
“If we’re going to be walking the whole rest of the day, I’d rather just hang out here and rest for a little while,” I say.
“Are you asking me to leave you alone?” Falk shakes his head slowly.
“I didn’t sleep and I’m wiped out. If I can just rest a little while, we’ll be able to get farther today. Besides, you can get in and out of there faster without me.”
Falk stares at me hard. I know he doesn’t like the idea, but we haven’t seen anyone along the way, and we’re miles from the camp where we started. It takes a little more convincing, and eventually I just sit down with my back against the concrete wall of the parking garage and cross my arms.
Falk sighs and scans the area.
“If you stay here between the parking garages and keep out of sight, I can be back in a half hour, tops.”
“I’ll do that.”
Falk drops his backpack to the ground, rummages inside of it, and pulls out a handgun with a small hip holster.
“Take this,” he says. “If you see anything, you use it.”
“Okay.” He helps me get the holster fastened on my hip and then spends a couple of minutes helping me get used to pulling it out.
“I’ll be back before you know it.” He kisses me quickly before running off in the direction of the hospital building.
I sit back down and close my eyes. My head feels swimmy. I lean my forehead against my knees, hoping to doze for a few minutes. If I can get in a power nap, maybe I’ll be able to keep going a bit more.
I wake with a start. I have no idea how long I’ve been out. The sky is overcast, and I can’t tell for sure how high the sun is. My arms and legs are cramped and sore from sitting too long, and I get up to stretch.
Falk is nowhere to be seen. I’m pretty sure I’ve been asleep at least an hour, and he said it wouldn’t take that long. It’s possible the building is in poor enough shape that he’s had to dig for the supplies he wants.
I look all around the area and see nothing of interest. I pace a little near the side of the building, staying out of sight of the main road but still loosening my muscles up. I lean against the wall and stretch, looking back toward the hospital, but I don’t see any sign of Falk.
I’m bored.
I lean against the cool wall and stare out past the flagpoles and across the street. A row of trees and hedges makes a barrier between the sidewalk and what I think used to be an apartment complex. It’s just rubble now, but some of the greenery survived. The trees have turned yellow, and many of the leaves have fallen off the branches.
Behind a utility pole, just under the hedge but slightly visible, is a body. There’s a lot of debris piled up around one side of it, but I can clearly see the legs sticking out from under the bushes, as if he might have dived underneath for cover. I scan the body and see one arm under the branches, grasping a collection of brown plastic bags from a supermarket. The bags flap around in the wind, and I wonder what might be in them.
I should go find out.
I hate the very idea of it, but I know if Falk was here, he’d get it himself. I consider waiting until he gets back but then decide I need to take some initiative. Being squeamish is no longer a luxury I can afford.
I walk out past the flagpoles slowly, checking left and right before running up to the edge of the street. Everything is quiet, so I venture farther out into the street, still watching. I place my hand on the handle of the gun on my belt just to be sure it’s still there.
A sound from behind me catches my attention, and I look off to the side of the parking garage but see nothing.
It’s your imagination.
I steel myself and head to the other side of the street and next to the body. I was right—there are three plastic grocery bags grasped in his hand. I crouch down and reach out to pull them away, but the man’s fingers are coiled tightly around the bags.
Closing my eyes and grimacing, I give the bags a quick yank, freeing
them from their original owner’s corpse. The smell of decay hits me square in the face, and I stumble back a bit but manage to keep my grip on the bags.
Inside, I find a carton of broken eggs, which smell only slightly better than the body itself, a container of cottage cheese and another of yogurt. I push that bag to the side and open the other one. Three cans of soup and a couple of boxes of ready-to-eat meals are inside. The final bag contains hand soap and a box of bandages.