A quiet neighborhood

Grant found himself looking at the streets of the town as the small caravan of vehicles made it’s way towards one of the tactical supply shops. He’d always thought that the people there, whether owners or customers, were a bit overzealous about their end of the world level of preparation. He couldn’t think that way now. Not when the very things he was sure would never happen was happening around him. About the only thing that hadn’t happened, yet, was crazy militia’s deciding they owned the whole world and started shooting at the cop cars.

It’d been all of two days since the mass text message, and somehow the word was just quieter than he had anticipated. It wasn’t like there was some sort of impossibility of people driving around, gas didn’t go bad that quick, and it certainly wasn’t like all the cars had stopped working. The quiet hum of the world around them, though, gave plenty of evidence that there jut weren’t many people driving. Whatever the reason for that was, it certainly gave plenty of evidence for the fact that the three car caravan of cop cars was going to draw attention. A lot of unwanted, attention.

When they pulled up to the tactical goods store, Grant stepped out of the vehicle and into the crisp cool air of the morning. Looking around, he couldn’t help but smile. End of the world or not, the feeling of a crisp fall morning always made him feel a little more alive. Like, no matter what was happening, there was at least a small spark of good in the world.

As they stepped inside he saw a small cardboard sign that looked like a recent addition. “No politics, no religion, no bullshit. Keep your hands to yourself.” Smiling to himself, Grant held the door open as his trio of guards filter into the store in front of him. Once they were all in, grant looked around.

O the left were tactical vests in various colors of green, tan, brown, and even a few black ones. There were ones with big pockets, long pockets, small pockets, and some with no pockets at all. Those were next to ceramic plates in various sizes.

On the right there was a wall of reinforced shelves, with box after box of ammo. Closest to the door were big boxes of .22, and the caliber went up as it got further from the entry way. The shotgun shells were a bit far back, but the 9mm rounds that Sarah was wanting for their pistols weren’t that far from the front. It was something that he hadn’t been too prepared for, having seen most ammunition behind locked counters when he went to pick up his hunting supplies.

“Hi, how can I help you?” A youngish looking woman greeted them once everyone was inside. Her blonde hair was slightly longer than shoulder length, and had streaks of brown in it almost like a reverse highlight.

“We’re looking to pick up some nine millimeter, full metal jacket if you have it, and some 12 gauge as well. Buck shot will be fine on that, but slugs would be preferable.” Sarah said, walking up to talk to the blonde with a smile on her face.

“We have some of both. Though, I have to warn you that as of last night, my Master says we no longer accept cash or any substitute of cash such as cashier’s checks, personal checks, or credit cards.” The woman behind the counter maintained her smile, but she stiffened ever so slightly. As if worried that there would be some objection to her words. Clearly, the idea of not being able to pay in cash had upset some people. Which in turn told Grant that people were waking up to the idea that the old ways of doing things, of being able to count on outside assistance, were gone. It was a useful tidbit of information, and from the way that the lady’s stance shifted, plus the sign on the door, Grant was more than willing to bet that there was a weapon within easy reach of the woman behind the counter.

“That’s fine, ma’am. I was honestly hoping to do some bartering anyway, if that works.” Grant said, stepping forward. Seeing the slight increase in tension that the woman had, he made sure to stop well outside of easy reach. That part about keeping his hands to himself made ample sense. Once he had stopped, however, the woman relaxed.

“Well, it depends on what you have to barter. Can you show what you’re offering?” She asked, as a second woman stepped from the back in an identical blue shirt, the store logo stamped across the front.

As Grant rode shotgun with Sarah, with Katie and Emma in the second car behind them, he couldn’t help but smile. Not only had they gotten all the ammo they wanted, but they’d gotten three more sets of body armor from the shop in exchange for the third vehicle. The man that had finally arrived had been a little skeptical at first, until Sarah had pointed out that not only were the police cruisers designed to be able to have contact with other vehicles, and came equipped with two way radios. Once he thought about that, the man was thrilled to do the trade. For Grant, he thought that the deal had gone splendidly. Not only did he not need that many vehicles, but by off loading the vehicles he was drawing a little less attention to his group. If he could have gotten the lights off of the cruisers, he’d have been even happier, but he knew that was going to take more time that he really wanted to be out and about. Besides, having one fewer vehicles meant that had fewer vehicles he had to maintain, and that was a good thing in his book.

As they sped back towards the house, Grant still couldn’t get over the feeling that their convoy, smaller now, was still too loud. Maybe things would change in the next few days when people got back to trying to make things a little more reasonable, but he didn’t think so. For all that some people wouldn’t be thinking of trying to **** the issue, he knew that all too many people, too many men, would be. Those that had, somehow, not gotten any women would be out for blood.