Read Online Undone: A Dystopian Fiction Novel by Chad Evercroft - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Chad Evercroft
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disturbing. It also justified not helping anyone else, like that guy outside who had planned on begging for money.
“But what else can they do?” Tyrsa added, sounding hopeless. “How else do you control a crowd on the edge of panic?”
At least the store was still relatively well-stocked. That was another good thing that limiting the number of people in the store did. If things got worse, the truck services might shut down, which would mean no new supplies would come into town. It would be like an apocalypse movie where all the shelves are completely bare and the few ragtag survivors are picking through rubble. For now, we had some selection, and we needed to take advantage of it.
The first thing we needed was water. That was what was lacking in the store. We managed to snatch up two crates - which was all we could afford - and Tyrsa went looking for equipment to build some kind of rain collector in case we ran out of water before things got better.
“I didn’t think I’d ever look forward to snow,” she remarked when she came back with spigot and a packet of screws. “We can melt that and use the LifeStraws to drink it.”
Since we hadn’t been able to shower in a week and it didn’t look like we’d be getting our water turned on anytime soon, we stocked up on Wet Naps and even found some dry shampoo. We lingered in the body wash section for a few minutes, just opening the bottles and smelling them, the sweet and flowery fragrances intoxicating our senses. It felt so good to smell something besides trash and body odor.
“Okay, we should get going,” Tyrsa said, pulling us away.
“Aw,” Lawrence said, putting on a faux whine.
We found our way to the last checkout, where there was a long line of impatient, sad-eyed customers. In total, there were only three cashiers. They must have been really desperate for money to choose to work still. Or maybe they didn’t really have a choice, in the true sense. All three cashiers were middle-aged, in their late 40’s or 50’s. They worked impressively fast, scanning items one after the other, not looking up, and tapping their fingers so fast on the register, it looked like a blur.
“That’ll be forty-five dollars and fifty-eight cents,” the cashier told the man a few people in front of us.
He hesitated, his fingers in his wallet. He looked back at the line of people and then back at his wallet.
“Sir? Did you hear me?”
For a brief moment, it was like the world froze. Everyone stood staring at the man and cashier. Then like a rabid dog, he grabbed his bag with both arms and charged towards the doors. He didn’t make it far. A police officer stepped in his way, using his chest as a barrier. The man smashed into him, spilling cans everywhere, and was immediately thrown to the ground. He failed in his attempt to run, but he had caused a distraction. People who had been waiting in line started to run, too, and the police couldn’t stop them all.
“Hey! Hey!” the officers chorused.
Tasers were drawn and batons raised. People used their bags as weapons or shields, ducking behind them, hurling cans. Lawrence, Tyrsa, and I were thrust to the side in the commotion. We didn’t know what to do. We couldn’t run; we’d be caught up with the rest of the looters and tasered.
“Back here!” Lawrence cried, leaping over the cashier’s counter.
Tyrsa handed our basket over and climbed over. I followed, still grasping a pack of water bottles in my arms. I kept repeating to myself that whatever happened, I could not let that water go. Our lives might very well depend on it. Crouching, we could see over the counter and the chaos that ensued before our eyes. Police from outside had rushed in. Unfortunately, so had everyone else that had been waiting to be let in, some of whom would not have been allowed. I saw at least one person carrying a crowbar. I followed him with my eyes in horror, terrified at what he might do. He was soon lost in the swarm of bodies,
“But what else can they do?” Tyrsa added, sounding hopeless. “How else do you control a crowd on the edge of panic?”
At least the store was still relatively well-stocked. That was another good thing that limiting the number of people in the store did. If things got worse, the truck services might shut down, which would mean no new supplies would come into town. It would be like an apocalypse movie where all the shelves are completely bare and the few ragtag survivors are picking through rubble. For now, we had some selection, and we needed to take advantage of it.
The first thing we needed was water. That was what was lacking in the store. We managed to snatch up two crates - which was all we could afford - and Tyrsa went looking for equipment to build some kind of rain collector in case we ran out of water before things got better.
“I didn’t think I’d ever look forward to snow,” she remarked when she came back with spigot and a packet of screws. “We can melt that and use the LifeStraws to drink it.”
Since we hadn’t been able to shower in a week and it didn’t look like we’d be getting our water turned on anytime soon, we stocked up on Wet Naps and even found some dry shampoo. We lingered in the body wash section for a few minutes, just opening the bottles and smelling them, the sweet and flowery fragrances intoxicating our senses. It felt so good to smell something besides trash and body odor.
“Okay, we should get going,” Tyrsa said, pulling us away.
“Aw,” Lawrence said, putting on a faux whine.
We found our way to the last checkout, where there was a long line of impatient, sad-eyed customers. In total, there were only three cashiers. They must have been really desperate for money to choose to work still. Or maybe they didn’t really have a choice, in the true sense. All three cashiers were middle-aged, in their late 40’s or 50’s. They worked impressively fast, scanning items one after the other, not looking up, and tapping their fingers so fast on the register, it looked like a blur.
“That’ll be forty-five dollars and fifty-eight cents,” the cashier told the man a few people in front of us.
He hesitated, his fingers in his wallet. He looked back at the line of people and then back at his wallet.
“Sir? Did you hear me?”
For a brief moment, it was like the world froze. Everyone stood staring at the man and cashier. Then like a rabid dog, he grabbed his bag with both arms and charged towards the doors. He didn’t make it far. A police officer stepped in his way, using his chest as a barrier. The man smashed into him, spilling cans everywhere, and was immediately thrown to the ground. He failed in his attempt to run, but he had caused a distraction. People who had been waiting in line started to run, too, and the police couldn’t stop them all.
“Hey! Hey!” the officers chorused.
Tasers were drawn and batons raised. People used their bags as weapons or shields, ducking behind them, hurling cans. Lawrence, Tyrsa, and I were thrust to the side in the commotion. We didn’t know what to do. We couldn’t run; we’d be caught up with the rest of the looters and tasered.
“Back here!” Lawrence cried, leaping over the cashier’s counter.
Tyrsa handed our basket over and climbed over. I followed, still grasping a pack of water bottles in my arms. I kept repeating to myself that whatever happened, I could not let that water go. Our lives might very well depend on it. Crouching, we could see over the counter and the chaos that ensued before our eyes. Police from outside had rushed in. Unfortunately, so had everyone else that had been waiting to be let in, some of whom would not have been allowed. I saw at least one person carrying a crowbar. I followed him with my eyes in horror, terrified at what he might do. He was soon lost in the swarm of bodies,
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