Love Charms

by Multiple

  It’s a package. A package of oatmeal; cinnamon raisin. I hate raisins with a passion but I grab the packet anyways and slip it into my cart. I might as well because if this is the only option I have, then what else can I do? I don’t need to eat it, but I’ll take it just in case. Maybe Evan likes this flavor.

  The store is dead, discarded, ransacked and rummaged through. It’s depressing in a way, but I also find it enlightening. It helps me remember. Outside is different and difficult. With the sun beating down, the others walking through the streets or sitting around, cars to the sides, I can almost imagine that nothing’s wrong.

  I’m cold, yes, but I’ve been cold before. This is very cold, true, but for some reason that never helps me remember what happened. In here, seeing everything in a mess, I can remember what a mess everything’s become. Not just the store but the city and me. I’m a bit of a mess, too. I laugh because it’s funny to me and no one’s here to say I shouldn’t.

  Interestingly enough, the wine aisle is still well-stocked. I imagine wine isn’t a very high priority when you’re living at the end of the world. Evan would dislike it if I said things like that, I bet, but Evan isn’t here and I don’t mean anything bad by it. I scan through the aisles, looking for something I’d like.

  Hogue late harvest Riesling. I carefully wrap my fingers around the neck of the bottle and squeeze. I watch myself, making sure I’m not going to drop the glass, then I pick it up and put it in the cart next to the packet of oatmeal. Honestly, what am I doing with a cart? I know it’s a little dumb, but I’ve grown attached to it since I took it. It’s been all of five minutes and this cart is important to me now.

  Nearby the Riesling shelves is a display stand. Somehow it’s managed to stay upright, probably because no one seems to like the wine aisle now. I like the wine aisle, though, and I like this display stand, too. There’s mead in it, which, according to the sign, is similar to wine.

  Moonlight Meadery, the sign tells me. Romance by the glass. The catchphrase has a trademark symbol and everything.

  I like that. It sounds nice. The bottles are smaller than regular wine bottles, but it looks like there’s enough for a few glasses of wine. Or, no, mead. I take one named Fling and another called Red Dress. They sound fancy and interesting. The mead goes into my cart next to the oatmeal packet, on the other side as the Riesling.

  I don’t know what the next few aisles are. The signs have fallen down and cracked into pieces, or else they’re missing entirely. I don’t know why anyone would want a sign, but then again I don’t know why I’m pushing a cart in a disconsolate grocery store, either, so I suppose it takes all kinds. The next aisle I come to has a sign, though. And items.

  Pets. Pet food and cat litter and everything of that sort. Dog bowls, toys, tiny tins of cat food. I don’t have a pet, but I like this aisle because it looks mostly untouched. If I escape here for a moment, maybe I’ll become untouched, too. I’ll be regular and myself, Sadie once again, back to normal.

  I turn my cart down the aisle and start to look through the things. It starts with cat litter and some cat boxes, which look nice enough. I don’t know much about those things, but I imagine they’re necessary if someone owns a cat.

  I stop before I continue on because something’s wrong. One of the large bags of cat food on the bottom of the shelf in the middle of the aisle is ripped open. Little nuggets of food lay on the floor, spilled out, almost like a small puddle. Hiding atop the bag of cat food is a tiny cat.

  The animal stares at me with slitted eyes. I stare back at it, but I don’t think my eyes are slitted. Do I look scary? I must. I’m one of them, afterall; not a cat, but a zombie. Does this kitten know that, though?

  It stares at me for half a second longer, then it jumps out and grabs a piece of food and skitters back onto the bag. It nibbles at the food, crunching loudly on it, all while watching me.

  I don’t know what to do. Do I leave? I don’t want to disturb the kitten, but I don’t think this is any place for a kitten, either. It, he, she, or whatever, has food for now, but then what?

  “Where’s your mother?” I ask.

  The cat stares at me oddly, meows, leaps for a piece of food, eats it fast, then rolls on the floor, heedless of the puddled cat food mess, getting itself dirty.

  This time it’s my turn to stare oddly. “What are you doing?”

  The cat keeps rolling and making a mess.

  “Here,” I say. “Don’t move. I’ll find you something good.”

  I leave my cart at the end of the aisle and then stumble forward. The cans of cat food are at the other end, a bit past this silly cat, and I make my way towards them. My feet shuffle on the floor and I try to stay to the opposite side away from the cat and its playing, but that doesn’t work so well. The cat startles as I cross its path and jumps onto the shelf, hiding in the back.

  “That’s not nice,” I say. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

  Not that the cat cares.

  I take a can of cat food from the shelves and turn it around in my hands. For everything that’s missing, this place seems quite well-stocked in both wine and cat food. This one looks good, I guess. Seafood dinner? If I were a cat, I think I’d like it, anyways.

  And cat food lasts forever, right? Maybe not forever, but I think the expiration date is a long time from now, at least. I pull back the ring on top of the tin then peel it open. The cat stares at me, craning its neck to watch what I’m doing.

  “Now you’re interested, is it?” I ask.

  The cat meows.

  “Come here and eat it, then.”

  I put the can on the floor, sliding it a little closer to the cat so I can distance myself and not scare the poor thing.

  The cat watches me, curious. I back away and sit down, leaning against the shelves. The cat slinks close to the ground, slowly making its way towards the can of wet food. Once it arrives, it stuffs its nose in the can, sniffs once, then gulps down chunks of sliced meat.

  “Are you a boy or a girl cat?” I ask.

  The cat doesn’t even look up; it’s too enthralled with wet food.

  Will my landlord be annoyed if I bring home a cat, I wonder?

  Wait, why is a cat in a grocery store in the first place? Won’t the manager be upset? I turn towards the front of the store and notice everything completely disassembled and in disarray. Blinking, confused, I look down at my hands and notice them colored a pale blue.

  This cat doesn’t belong here. I don’t belong here, either. If I try to take the cat, he’ll scratch me, though. Is it a he? If he scratches me, I won’t notice it. I’ll know and see, but the pain will be so dulled and diluted that I’ll think it’s nothing. I might bleed and have scars on my hands afterwards. I don’t want scars and I don’t want to bleed. I don’t want marks like that. I want to be regular again even if I know I’m not.

  The cat devours all of the food, then he looks at me. Creeping close, crawling along the floor, head tilted to the side, the cat approaches. He meows and rubs up against me.

  I pat him.

  He’s so warm! Not as warm as Evan, but a nice little heat. Warm and furry and soft.

  I stare at the cat, thinking. The others like me, do they know this? Do they know about cats? I could grab it by the neck and squeeze it, strangle it, hold it close, force its warmth into me. I stare at the cat and the cat looks so innocent. Wide eyes now, no longer slits. Curious and interested and hoping I’ll offer more food.

  I reach behind me and take another can of food from the shelf, but this time it’s one of the very small ones. I open it and lay it on the ground next to the cat and he starts to purr and licks at the top.

  “You can’t stay here,” I say. “It’s dangerous.”

  *

  Evan and Desiree walked arm in arm towards Alex’s office. It wasn’t even arm in arm so much as Desiree latching onto him, nuzzling tight against his body, and every so often kissing the side of his neck. He held her close by the waist, squeezing his finger
s into her side, gripping at the sexy curve of her hips.

  Turning to the side, offering her his lips, they kissed. She savored the press of their mouths together, licking at the undercurve of his lower lip and nibbling on it lightly with her teeth. Their noses touched and Evan looked at her with fierce passion, entranced by her eyes and her touch and their bodies clinging tightly together.

  They did all this while somehow managing to walk to Alex’s office. Evan knocked on the door and after a brief wait and a gruff grunt, Alex said, “Who is it?”

  “Hey,” Evan said, temporarily removing himself from Desiree’s greedy lips. “It’s Evan. I was wondering if I could talk to you about something?”

  “Yeah, come in.”

  Evan opened the door and let Desiree go in first. Alex stared at the pair of them curiously while Evan shut the door behind him. And when he went to sit in the exact same chair he’d occupied earlier, directly across the dining room office table from Alex, Desiree immediately took up a spot in his lap.

  She wrapped one arm around his neck and moved close against him, laying her other hand on his chest and caressing up and down atop his shirt. Grinning, gleeful, she snuck in and nipped at his earlobe.

  “Alright…” Alex said, half morbid and half laughing. “What’s up?”

  Evan grinned wide. “I wanted to see if your offer for a few days of R&R was still up for grabs.”

  “Change of heart, eh?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Sure. We’re good. You two go fuck like rabbits or whatever. Have fun. I’ll need you both back to duty in a couple days, though.”

  And, this was it. Evan nodded, then kissed Desiree deeply. Lips mashed together, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths, eyes closed. Quick, fast, passionate, and…

  They separated for a second. Evan snickered and pushed her away, groping her breast and squeezing for good measure.

  “I was thinking,” Evan said. “I’m fine in the woods, you know? Do you think it’s alright if we take leave from camp, Alex? I’m thinking that shack I found sounds a little more private than my tent in the middle of everyone. I haven’t gotten this out of my system in awhile and I’m kind of looking forward to it. A lot.”

  Desiree giggled. “Poor Evan. All worked up and frustrated. I’ll fix you right up.”

  Evan smirked and licked at her lips. “I bet you will.” Pulling himself away from Desiree, he looked back to Alex. “What do you say, though? Is that fine? I don’t want to bother anyone in camp, you know? I’m thinking we both might get a little loud… and often.”

  Alex leaned back in his chair, watching them both with a goofy grin. “You two. My God. You two…” He clapped his hands against the table and burst into laughter. “Wow! Evan, this is great. I’m glad you’re really getting into this. I think it’ll be good for you, too. Yeah. You guys can go to your place in the woods and shack up for a couple days. Just be careful, alright? Take a two-way radio with you in case you need to get in contact with the camp, but besides that, have fun.”

  Evan nodded. Desiree moved to straddle him before he could stand up. When he stood, she wrapped her legs around his waist and made him carry her. Putting his hands under her ass, pulling her up, Evan brought her to the door while she kissed and licked at his neck with Alex watching them, laughing.

  Outside, door closed, they kissed deeply again. Desiree sighed, clearly enjoying this. Quietly, speaking into his mouth, she said, “I think I like this plan, Evan.”

  Sounding far less fervid than his kissing, he said, “Yeah, I can tell.”

  She hopped down from him and snatched up his hand, pulling him along. Holding hands, arms swinging side by side, they walked eagerly towards his tent.

  “You have to promise not to tell anyone,” Evan said.

  “I told you I wouldn’t,” Desiree said, smiling.

  “I know, but…” He stopped speaking and walking. “This is really important, Desiree, alright?”

  She turned to face him. In the light of the bright afternoon sun, her eyes sparkled, happy. “I know, Evan. I know it must be because I’m sure you wouldn’t do this otherwise. Just let me pretend for a little bit, alright? We’re a couple until we leave camp and then you can tell me the rest.”

  He laughed and nodded. “Thanks. Think you can calm down a little on the affection, though?”

  “Well, I think you can just shut the fuck up,” she teased. “What do you think of that?”

  Evan rolled his eyes. “Go grab your stuff and meet me back at my tent in a couple minutes. I’m going to get a radio, then I’m good to go.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty to me, Evan,” Desiree said, licking her lips. “I’m good to go whenever you are, too.”

  Evan laughed and let her kiss him one more time before she left and he shuffled off to get a radio.

  Maybe this was a bad idea. Probably it was a terrible one. It gave him a couple days, though. And an ally. He needed that, he thought. He didn’t know exactly how this would work, but he trusted Desiree to at least hear him out, to listen to what he had to say. He already knew Alex wouldn’t, so this was his only other option.

  *

  Before I left the store, I hid the cat inside of a large, dome-shaped litter box. I wish they didn’t put those things on the top shelf. It’s really hard to reach them. I did it, though. I sprinkled a handful of cat food on the bottom of the litter box to keep the kitten amused, then hefted up a full bag and propped it against the entrance to trap her inside. I grabbed a bag of litter and did the same, and I stuffed my cart full of canned cat food.

  On the way out, I found a couple of cans of soup, too; beef and barley. They went into my cart atop the oatmeal packet, and then the cat and I left.

  We walk out of the store with the cart and into the open air.

  The others see us. I push the cart down the street, ignoring the signs in the grocery store parking lot asking customers not to remove carts from the lot. A man shambles by me, clothes torn. He turns his head to the side as I pass and looks at me funny.

  He can look at me funny all he wants, I think. We all look funny and we all do strange things now. At least I don’t attack people. Oddly, no one looks at anyone funny when they do that. It’s normal and allowed. They consider it acceptable. This is a new place with new rules and that’s one of them.

  Apparently, among the multiple new rules that exist—of which one is being allowed to loiter in the middle of the street and lay down where any car might run you over—hauling a shopping cart full of cat supplies, wine, two cans of soup, and a packet of oatmeal is unacceptable. I don’t know why and I don’t know who makes these rules and I think they’re dumb, but I keep pushing my cart anyways.

  People stare at me as if I’m the crazy one. It gives me purpose and hope. Yes, I think, I’m crazy. I’m trying to rescue this cat. I want her to like me. Is that so wrong? I don’t think so. Maybe the others would eat the cat or rip it apart for its heat or just ignore it altogether, but I won’t.

  I checked and my cat is a girl. I’ve named her Cinnamon-Raisin, or Cinna for short.

  Cinna gets antsy inside of the litter box and scratches at the sides. I shush her and keep walking down the street. Hurrying, feet scrambling faster than I usually go, we move quick to the outskirts of town. I hit a small hole in the road and the cart bumps up. Cinna meows, scared.

  No one is around me but someone ahead of me and to the side sees me. They glance at me, brows wrinkled, looking strange.

  We’re all crazy, I think. I know I walk the streets sometimes thinking I need to go to the doctor’s, even though I don’t. My doctor doesn’t exist anymore, nor does my manager. I don’t need to leave a note to explain that I have a doctor’s appointment next week, but sometimes I think it. I forget; I don’t remember.

  We’re all crazy and I meow. I howl out some simulation of a cat in heat, mewing my frustration at the world. I meow and hiss and act aggrieved.

  I’m crazy and this is normal and
the man who started looking at me funny accepts this and turns away. He goes back to being crazy in his own way, too. I rush out of town, run back to the safety of my woods. Now I remember the way to the house I’ve claimed as mine and Cinna and I go, cart and all, back to my home.

  *

  “Whoa,” Desiree said. “How’d you find this?”

  “It’s hard to explain,” Evan said. “It’ll be easier if I introduce you to Sadie first.”

  “Sadie?”

  “Yeah, she’s—”

  “Oh. You found a survivor, I guess? Is it safe here, though? Is that… Evan, is that why you’ve been acting so distant for awhile? Um, are you guys dating? I mean, I guess that makes sense. You wanted to come out here to see her, right? Sorry about before. I was just kind of happy, even though I know we were sort of acting. I won’t do anything around her, though. I promise.”

  “Yeah, um.” He didn’t know how to explain this. He needed to explain it, and soon, because they were standing in the driveway of Sadie’s home, but he didn’t know what to say.

  Also, if he’d been acting distant for awhile (which he would admit was a possibility), it couldn’t have been because of Sadie. He’d only just met her yesterday. He didn’t think he was acting too distant, either, but maybe Desiree saw it more. Maybe she understood him more and so it seemed more pronounced to her.

  At the end of the long, winding driveway he saw Sadie coming home. She had what looked like a shopping cart, pushing it in front of her, and… a dome? A litter box?

  “Hey,” he said. “Desiree? Wait here for a second, alright? There she is.”

  Desiree looked up, saw the girl with the grocery store shopping cart. “What the hell is she doing?”

  “I don’t know. Just wait here, alright? I’ll introduce you two, but please don’t… just please don’t do anything. Just listen to what I have to say first, alright?”

  He hadn’t told her about Sadie and her sickness. He hadn’t told her much of anything except that he needed to go somewhere outside of the camp and he needed a reason to leave. He should have said something as they walked since it took close to an hour to get here, but he didn’t. He didn’t know what to say and he didn’t want to startle her and scare her off.