by AJ Powers
As the truck slowed down, Aaran noticed a bay door on the side of the building slowly roll up. A forklift trundled out and was driving down a small ramp into the parking lot when the tractor trailer pulled into the driveway. The truck made a hard turn before kicking into reverse, then backed toward the approaching forklift. With about fifty yards of separation between the two, the truck stopped and the driver immediately got out, heading straight to the back. The driver opened both doors to the trailer and stepped out of the way just as the forklift arrived, the forks already high in the air. Aaran spotted three more forklifts trailing behind, each one perfectly spaced from the next. The first forklift grabbed a pallet, backed up, and returned to the facility while the truck driver hopped up into the trailer and operated a small control box hanging on the wall inside. Suddenly, a conveyor on the floor of the trailer whirred to life and the next pallet moved up to the doors just as the second forklift arrived.
Aaran was speechless while he watched the Webbers work in harmony to unload the truck. Efficiency wasn’t a bad thing, but it was unsettling to see just how in sync the entire operation was. It was a grim reminder of just how connected every man, woman, and child under the Nebula’s control actually was.
“What do you think is going on down there?” Hadas asked, stealing the binoculars back from Aaran.
“No idea. I guess it could be some sort of distribution center?” he said before he reached into his pack for his own pair of binoculars. “Collect supplies from the area, then house it there until the mother ship sends a request to move it out.”
Hadas shrugged. “I guess,” she said, not fully convinced on the theory, but didn’t have a better one to offer.
Aaran and Hadas kept tabs on the activity at the manufacturing plant for a couple of hours, collecting as much intel on the facility as they could. They weren’t sure how or if they would ever use the information they gathered, but there was comfort in understanding a bit more about how the Nebula worked. They felt like they knew their enemy better.
Three more trucks and a box of frosted animal crackers later, Aaran and Hadas decided to call it quits. They packed up their supplies and headed back down to ground level. They agreed to walk east for a few miles, giving themselves a wide berth from the flurry of activity before continuing their trek to the north.
Chapter 18
“Hi, everybody! Welcome to Frontier Freddy’s!” the overly-excited recorded voice shouted through a crackling speaker just outside the grocery store.
Hadas hollowly stared at the animal statues standing in the fountain display next to the store’s exit. Bears, moose, fish, and other molded figures showed signs of significant decay, and there were even a few creepers slithering up one of the moose’s leg. With nobody to maintain the small water feature in front of the grocery store-turned-tourist attraction, there was nothing to stop Mother Nature from reclaiming what man had made.
For Hadas, the iconic store was more than just an attraction to visit while driving through southwest Ohio. For her, it was the hallowed grounds of nearly-forgotten memories. Memories of life that no longer existed. Memories of better days spent with the people she loved, of people she profoundly missed.
Movement out of the corner of her eye caused her to turn her gaze away from the fake animals in front of her. Aaran was walking towards her, shaking his head. “I couldn’t find the power box,” he said with a total lack of surprise in his voice. He’d never expected to find one accessible from the outside, like he normally did with houses.
She looked away from him and back at the store. “Okay,” she said with indifference to Aaran’s concern before walking forward anyway.
“Hey,” Aaran said, lightly grabbing her arm, “are you sure about this? If the cameras in there are still active…”
“I know the risks. You can feel free to wait out here if you’re scared,” Hadas replied with a frosty tone before shirking her arm out of his grip.
She walked around the rows of carts and headed for the entrance around the corner. Going inside was a bad, if not downright stupid idea, but the determination in her eyes told Aaran that there would be no talking her out of it. Unwilling to let her go alone, Aaran trailed behind a few paces.
The automatic door screeched mercilessly as it moved itself out of the way for the store’s first customers in nearly a year. The sound, which was akin to a fork scraping across a fancy China plate, caused Aaran to cringe. It certainly didn’t help with the substantial amount of angst already flooding his body. Hadas, unfazed or undeterred by the shrill sound, walked through as if she hadn’t heard a thing.
Aaran was overwhelmed with the massive space inside. There were aisles as far as the eye could see, holding locally produced food from just down the road, to packages shipped from the other side of the world. Fun and colorful decorations filled his vision no matter which way he turned, and there were even some spinning spotlights projecting shapes and logos onto the floor.
Though he had visited a few times when he’d been a kid, it had been close to ten years since Aaran had last stepped foot inside the grocery spectacle. And if it was even possible, it was grander than he remembered.
Despite the impressive display surrounding him, the ominous signs of reality were not absent from the scene. The eerie silence that was only disrupted by their echoing footsteps. Abandoned shopping carts and dropped baskets every ten to fifteen feet. A thick layer of dust resting on top of cereal boxes, bags of chips, and virtually every other surface in the store. And then, of course, there was the smell. Even though Aaran had made it a point to avoid grocery stores most of the time, he had gone into a few smaller ones over the last year, and they had all smelled the same—a gagging combination of spoiled meat, rotten eggs, and soured dairy. But with patrons few and far between these days, expiration dates came and went while the food remained undisturbed on the shelves.
Aaran and Hadas were walking toward a set of aisles when a loud voice shouted from above.
“Why, hello there!”
“Holy crap!” Aaran shouted in terror as he swung his carbine upward, dispatching three suppressed shots in the direction of the enthusiastic outburst above. The giant box of cereal swaying on a swing that was suspended from the ceiling kept on talking about the different cereals, porridges, and syrups to be found in the aisle beneath him. Slowly, the distorted voice faded until it stopped moving and talking altogether.
Aaran vividly remembered being startled by the same giant, orange animatronic box of cereal when he had been a young boy. The box had been successful again, but the three nine-millimeter-sized holes across its front let Aaran know that this time, he would have the last laugh.
Hadas, who’d been more startled by Aaran’s response than the boisterous box of cereal, shook her head disapprovingly. “Nice job. If we’re ever being chased by an army of corn flakes, I’ll be glad to know you’ve got my back,” she said wryly.
Aaran shrugged off her snide remark and changed subjects. “So, what are we doing here anyway?”
“Just looking for a few things I’ve been craving.”
“Like what?” Aaran asked, his questions irritating Hadas.
“Just some stuff,” she snapped.
“So…We’re risking our lives walking through a store filled with deadly robots to look for some stuff that you’ve been craving?” he said, his voice getting more skeptical by the word.
“Yup.”
“Okay. Just making sure.”
Aaran let out a sharp, lengthy sigh. Hadas responded with another nasty glare that caused him to slow his pace until he was a couple of feet behind her. He really didn’t want to be in the store, especially after putting three in the chest of Cereal Man, but Hadas couldn’t be reasoned with. He didn’t understand it, but he forced himself to go along with it. She had stuck her neck out for him back in Loveland, so accompanying her on this shopping trip, no matter how risky it was, seemed like the right thing to do.
While Aaran kept alert for real thr
eats, his feet slowed to a stop when his eyes rested on an amazing sight.
Hadas, a good twenty feet ahead of him now, turned around and looked at him. “You coming?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said, a hickory-smoked glaze filling his eyes.
“Whatever. I’ll be over in international,” she said before doing an about-face.
“Okay,” he muttered, unable to tear his gaze from the shelfful of jerkys just in front of him.
He stepped closer to investigate the packages. They weren’t the typical slim sticks that you could get at every grocery store in the city. This was quality meat, some of which were more exotic. Refusing to let a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity slip through his fingers, Aaran dropped his pack to the floor and unzipped the main compartment. He grabbed a few bags of beef jerky, then the venison and elk jerkys. He grabbed half a dozen packs of the buffalo jerky and then, just for kicks, a single pack of the ostrich jerky.
Aaran could feel the giant grin plastered across his face as his pack overflowed with premium dried meats. He didn’t hesitate to leave behind several cans of food and a bag of chips to make room for the booty—the trade was unprecedentedly lopsided in his favor. “Totally worth it,” he said to himself, suddenly finding the reward of venturing through the store worth the risks.
Aaran slung his pack onto his shoulders and grabbed another pack of jerky off the shelf, quickly tearing it open. He was nearly euphoric when the aroma of the preserved game meat drifted into his nose. He pulled one of the sticks out and looked at it adoringly for a moment before he snapped a section off with his teeth. His eyes rolled back as the smoky taste was received by his palate. “Damn, that is good,” he said, a smile still stuck on his face. He finished the stick and jammed the package into his pocket—it would make a nice travel snack for when he and Hadas got back on the road.
Satisfied with the haul, Aaran left to go find Hadas. He walked leisurely toward the international food section while he scanned the shelves for anything else that might be worth the added weight to his pack. There were a couple of things that caught his eye, but nothing that amounted to the jackpot of smoked meats from before.
Unable to control himself, Aaran pulled out another stick from his pocket and took a bite while he walked toward the middle eastern aisle. “Oh, sweet mother, Hadas, you have to try one of…”
Aaran was caught short by the sight of Hadas when he rounded the corner. She was sitting on the floor, leaning up against a metal column that went all the way up to the ceiling. Her head was bowed and she cradled what looked like a bag of flour in her hands. She looked up at Aaran, tears swirling around her eyes.
“You okay?” Aaran asked, his voice soft and filled with concern as he quickly made his way to her side.
She shook her head.
Hadas sobbed as she stared down at the bag in her hand. “My mom would only use this brand for the Sufganiyots. I always got so excited whenever she reached for it, because I knew what we were having for dessert that night…”
Aaran sat down on the floor next to her, getting close enough to let her know that he was there for her, but not so close that she was smothered by his presence. He wanted to say something, but no words came to his mind. He didn’t have a whole lot of experience in consoling a grief-stricken girl, he didn’t have any one-line clichés to rely on. And truthfully, what words could he say to bring comfort to a girl who had lost her parents in the aftermath of a computer-controlled apocalypse? Having been through that himself, Aaran knew the answer to that question—there were none.
Slowly, he lifted his arm and placed his hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. After a few more sobs, Hadas leaned into Aaran’s body, burying her face into his chest. He held her as she wept loudly for several long moments, gently stroking her back. Despite her misery, Aaran felt a hint of joy—and guilt. It had been a long time since he had embraced another person, and it was blissful. But Hadas was hurting, so he didn’t allow himself to revel in his delight for too long.
“We actually came here just a week or two before the Nebula flipped the switch to get everything ready for Hanukkah…” she trailed off as she attempted to stifle more crying. It didn’t work.
After a few tear-filled moments, Hadas finally pulled away from Aaran and leaned back against the column again. She took several deep breaths and wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand. “I just really miss them, Aaran.”
Aaran slowly nodded. “Yeah. I know,” he said, his wavering voice barely above a whisper as he thought of his own family. The haunting images of their deaths permanently seared into his memory.
Hadas coughed into the crook of her arm and cleared her throat a few times while Aaran gently rubbed her shoulder. She fluttered her eyelids to blink away the remaining tears, then let out a cleansing sigh, as if a great weight had been lifted off her chest. The moment of vulnerability had been the release she’d needed for months, but had never allowed herself to have. Like a walking, breathing Chernobyl, Hadas had been headed for a catastrophic meltdown from a year of pent-up anger and sorrow gnawing at her soul.
The much-needed outlet had come at just the right moment.
Sounding like her normal, confident self, Hadas climbed up off the floor and reached her hand out to help Aaran. “Okay, time to get going.”
Chapter 19
Aaran kicked off his boots before he sat down in the small office chair at the back of the coffee shop they were calling home for the night. The pain in his feet, his right foot in particular, was approaching intolerable. If all went well, they’d be walking through downtown Hamilton by late tomorrow morning, and then, it was just a few miles to his friends’ place after that. He just hoped his feet could endure the journey.
Aside from the agony of his feet, Aaran had a dull ache encompassing his entire body. Even his teeth seemed to hurt, but that could have been from the excessive amounts of jerky he had been chewing on all afternoon. He couldn’t recall just how much he had eaten, but suspected he was approaching his recommended value of protein for the next week. So much so that he was feeling a little queasy from it.
The door to the office opened and Hadas walked in with two coffee mugs in her hand. “You look like crap,” she said as she shut and locked the door to the windowless room behind her.
“Please, don’t hold back, Hadas. Tell me what you really think.”
She ignored his reply and set one of the mugs down on the desk next to him. “So, you feeling a little adventurous?” she asked with a devious smile on her face.
The obvious answer to that question was no, but he went along with it anyway. “What’d you have in mind?” She reached into her pack and pulled out a small bottle of vodka. Introducing liquor into his already reeling body was not the adventure Aaran was looking for, and his stomach churned at the mere thought of consuming it. “Uh, well…”
“Oh, come on, now. Be a man and don’t make me drink alone,” she said. Hadas had a way of arguing him up against a wall.
Aaran quickly relented. “Yeah, all right. Just a little, though.” Hadas cracked the seal on the bottle of Aviv 613 and poured it into Aaran’s mug, filling it more than halfway. “That’s a little more than a little,” he said, earning himself a condescending look from Hadas, “but who cares, right?”
Hadas walked over to a small sofa a few feet away and plopped down before pouring herself some of the booze. She swished it around the cup for a moment and then gave it a sniff, causing her to recoil from the potent smell. She gave the liquid inside a dubious look. “My parents loved this stuff, so…” she said, raising the cup, “…here’s to another day alive.”
“Cheers,” Aaran said before taking a sip.
The room erupted into a torrent of coughs from both occupants as the 80-proof sizzled down their throats.
“Holy crap!” Hadas said, her voice hoarse with the sting of alcohol. “This stuff is strong.”
“No freaking kidding,” Aaran said through a f
ew coughs.
Hadas was still working through a series of funny faces as she stared down at her cup, deciding whether to subject herself to such torment again.
She did.
The fiery sensation did not improve much, but knowing what to expect made it slightly more bearable. But with each subsequent sip, it became less and less noticeable. Before long, Hadas was sporting a vibrant set of rosy cheeks, her speech was slurred, and just about everything either of them had to say was hilarious.
Aaran wasn’t much better off. Though it felt like he was drinking turpentine, he too, continued to nurse on the beverage until each gulp was no longer a traumatic experience. He soon found himself in that sweet spot between sobriety and inebriation. Intoxicated enough to dull the pain from the cards that life had dealt him, but sober enough to remember the cards still existed. Hadas was well past that point, but after the emotional beatdown she’d taken earlier, that didn’t surprise him. And Aaran would gladly be the “designated driver” so that she could drown her sorrows.
Hadas was lying on the couch, her feet propped up on the arm rest. She had put her drink down and closed her eyes. Her hands, clasped together across her stomach, rose and fell as she took deep breaths, seemingly preparing for sleep to come. Aaran glanced down at his watch, and after a few seconds of figuring out which combination of the duplicate hands and numbers were correct, determined it was only about 6:30 P.M. It had been a long day, particularly for Hadas, but even with the aid of the alcohol, he expected her to wake up sometime in the middle of the night if she fell asleep now.
“How ya feeling over there?” Aaran asked.
Nearly fifteen seconds passed before Hadas responded. “Pretty, pretty…Feeling pretty good. Wha’bout you?”
He pondered over the question more than he would have under normal circumstances. His body felt much better since Hadas had poured him the adult beverage. His muscles weren’t sore—or at least if they were, he couldn’t tell—and the general ache had ceased to exist. He felt relaxed, which was not something he’d experienced much since before the last terrorizing minutes at the trailer park. His stomach, however, was still a bit queasy which made him realize it was time to set the drink down.
