Story a Day: Grocery Run

Welcome back to Story a Day! Like the last story, I cheated on this one: I actually wrote it yesterday and spent today polishing it (in between making a cake for my mom for Mother's Day, which went...well, let's just say it probably would've been better to just go with store-bought).

This story came from a prompt I got during a livestream with Kammi Lutz: "supernatural apocalypse," "car," and "farm." I was in the middle of writing it when my computer crashed right in the middle of the livestream! Luckily I was able to get back on, but my progress on the story was completely wiped. Save often, people.

Anyway, I decided to re-do it, and this happened.

You can catch the replay of the livestream here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OoCA1zzhDGo

As usual, this is an early draft, just something we're doing for fun, and I encourage the other writers on here to share their Story a Day if they're doing it. Enjoy!

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Grocery Run

Julia cursed as she swerved, narrowly avoiding a fallen streetlight. She always forgot that was there until she was inches away from running it over. Her truck could handle a lot—had handled a lot—but these days it was better not to risk it. She was pretty sure the local mechanic had been killed a while ago. Or maybe he’d skipped town with the rest of the evacuees.

The streets were barren, but not bare. Busted streetlights weren’t the only obstacle. She wove through a forest of abandoned cars, a handful of which had been stripped of parts by scavengers. Some had brown bloodstains, but no bodies. Those were always picked away within a day.

She flipped through the radio stations with her gnarled fingers. Static, static, angry man yelling about the Bible, static, static, jazz music, static, ah!

“…reports of demon sightings in the Twin Cities Metro area, same with every other major city. We’ve got a few calls about a colossus near the strip mall, and the number of birdies out there has stayed steady since the military left. So to anyone heading for a supply run, you better keep your weapons close. Just a reminder that crucifixes, holy water, and other such stuff have proven completely useless against…”

As she drove past neighborhoods and the downtown district, she could see shadows of movement through the boarded up windows of one of the buildings. Hard to tell if they were people or demons, though. She didn’t want to deal with either. That was why she lived over ten miles outside of town, in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.

The downside to that was long, extended trips to town just to get some damn juice.

She turned into the supermarket’s parking lot. Empty, except for a couple of abandoned cars and an absolute bloody mess near the entrance.

Sighing, Julia parked her truck and checked to make sure her shotgun was loaded.

By the door, a trio of gray-skinned demons feasted on a corpse. Some sucker a little too slow running for cover. The three lucky demons were the small, winged ones. “Birdies,” the younger folks called them, which made Julia think of boring yard games at even more boring family reunions or bar-be-ques. Perhaps it was fitting; if she squinted at one of them just right, it kind of looked like her late Uncle Richard. Had the same dinner manners, too.

The demons looked up when she closed the door to her truck. One hissed at her through its sharp, needle-like teeth.

She fired. The shotgun slug blew its head open like a grapefruit.

The other two demons shrieked. Flapping their wings like bats, they flew up and away.

Julia discarded the shell and walked into the supermarket.

When the demons had first appeared from who knows where they’d gone after the big cities, first. Millions and millions of them. Like packs of wolves going after the biggest herds of deer. Places like Julia’s town had managed to be somewhat unaffected, until all the refugees showed up. The military arrived to herd everyone away to “safe zones,” most of which quickly turned into the demons’ buffet tables. Most people these days were nomads, traveling in small caravans with their cars, motorcycles, even their own two feet, many communicating to each other over radio, sharing demon sightings and new survival tricks, the signals fading in and out as they passed by.

The last military group had left last week, with the rest of the town who wanted out. They’d been followed by a fresh wave of demons looking for snacks. Now that that mess had died down, Julia hoped to fill her fridge and cupboards for the winter.

The store’s heater was busted. Julia tightened her jacket against the autumn chill and picked her way through the debris. Whole aisles had been knocked over in people’s repeated mad rushes to get food. The military had come with a re-supply, using this building to store and pass out their goodies to anyone willing to follow their evacuation orders. Hopefully Julia could find something leftover.

She grabbed a cart and started shopping. Ignoring the cold foods aisle—the fridges and freezers were also out, and she could smell the spoiled eggs from across the store—she hit the soups, pasta, and canned vegetables. She had a veritable mountain of food in her cart as she finally turned to the juice aisle. Orange, prune, cranberry, cran-apple, cran-grape, cran-fruit she hadn’t even known existed…

“Ah-ha!” She squealed when she saw the two-liter bottle of grape juice. Just one, though. Barely enough for a week. Maybe there was more in the back…

Click. “Hey! Put—put your hands up!”

Julia scowled over her shoulder. A young man who she vaguely recognized as one of the store’s clerks aimed a pistol at her, though it was hard to tell with the blue vest swapped out for a baggy sweater and backpack. “Man” was a strong word; she wouldn’t be surprised if he had still been in high school when the first demons showed up.

“Put that away before you hurt yourself,” she scolded. “I ain’t going to hurt you, and there is plenty here for the two of us, so you have no reason to hurt me. Now shoo.”

The boy frowned as she loaded the juice in the bottom of her cart. Her knees groaned at the movement, but she firmly told them to suck it up. They could relax when she got back home to her soft, brown recliner.

“Mrs. Vinegar?”

She gave him an unimpressed look. “My name is Julia Barnes. Don’t know who Vinegar is. Seems like a stupid last name.”

He turned bright red, finally lowering the gun. “That’s, uh…that’s the nickname me and my…other workers gave you.”

“How uncreative. You kids should’ve worked better at that; I’ve been called a hundred much better names.”

“Wasn’t my idea,” he said. “I’m Tom.”

“Good for you. You got more grape juice in the back?”

“Uh…maybe?”

“Don’t you work here?”

“Sure, but I haven’t been back since…” He motioned to the mess around them, turning a little pasty when he saw a hole in the ceiling. Sunlight streamed through it now, but Julia would’ve bet good money the hole had been created by a hungry birdie.

She grunted, motioning for him to lead the way. He stuck close to her, eyes flicking around every which way. They had to go the convoluted route, on account of her cart not able to jump over broken glass and fallen aisles.

“I thought you lived on a farm,” Tom said. “Don’t you grow your food?”

“It’s December 2nd. What the fuck do you think I’m going to be growing when we get buried in snow next week?”

He turned red again. He looked like a tomato when he did that. A tall, lanky tomato.

“Shouldn’t you be pushing a cart, too?” she found herself asking. “This food ain’t going to be here forever.”

“We’ve got plenty of food at home. Dad’s always been a ‘worst case scenario’ guy. Our whole basement is designed to keep us safe from tornadoes, pandemics, invasion…I’m here for medicine.” He patted his backpack. Something light and cardboard clanked against each other.

“Medicine?” She looked him up and down. He seemed fine, not at all like he was about to pass out from the flu.

“My sister has asthma. She’s just got the one inhaler left.” His grip on the backpack straps whitened, like he was afraid she was going to take it from him.

“Then why didn’t you go with the military? I’m sure they’ve got plenty of medical supplies.”

“Not really,” Tom said bitterly. “Besides, my mom’s in a wheelchair. They refused to take her because she’d ‘slow them down.’”

“Ah.” She didn’t ask about his father, why he wasn’t here instead of the teenager. Everyone had lost someone to demons or idiot humans reacting to demons.

Well, everyone who had anyone to lose.

“We’re here,” he announced.

Julia had never been to the back of the supermarket, beyond those black swinging doors that read employees only. All the lights were off and, unlike the front of the store, there were no big windows, forcing them to bring out the flashlights. Hundreds if not thousands of boxes greeted them. Some had managed to stay stacked on top of each other, especially the ones stored up high. Others had been ripped apart, bits of cardboard and plastic peanuts scattered everywhere. They were close to the dairy section, the scent of souring food cloying in her nostrils.

“This is why I have my own generator,” she grumbled.

Tom led her through the tall wooden aisles. “Shelved beverages should be over—”

Something skittered. Julia grabbed the boy and ducked for cover behind her cart, shotgun raised.

“What is it?” he asked. His handgun shook in his hand. “Birdies? Colossus?”

“A colossus would’ve just stepped through the roof,” Julia hissed. She peaked around her pile of groceries.

More skittering. A can fell over, clattering against the cement floor.

A rat twitched its whiskers at her.

Julia sagged. “False alarm.”

Tom groaned. “I’m not cut out for the apocalypse.” He curled around himself, knees to his chest.

She hesitated. “…you all right? Kid?”

“Grape juice is the next aisle over. Should be on your right,” he said to his knees.

Deciding to give him a minute, Julia left him at the cart and went hunting. She saw a few more rats and a puddle of what could’ve either been tomato sauce or fresh blood, she didn’t get close enough to investigate.

Finally, she saw it: a whole pallet of grape juice as tall and wide as she was. Enough to last her years.

“Oh, if only I could get you onto my truck,” she crooned, petting the plastic.

Unfortunately, she also had to get all the food on there. Promising herself that she’d come back next week, she peeled open the plastic covering and grabbed an armful of 2-liter bottles. It was a struggle, especially with a shotgun. By the time she’d staggered back to her cart, Tom had come to his senses. He helped her load them up and navigate back to the front of the store.

They cautiously poked their heads out the doors. Finding only an empty parking lot, they hurried to her truck and loaded everything.

“Can I get a lift back to my place?” he asked. “It’s just a few blocks over.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say no. She didn’t want the kid hanging onto her like an old dead goose. But he was giving her such a hopeful, puppy-dog look, constantly looking over his shoulder and at the sky as he helped her load everything.

“Fine,” she said. “Don’t touch my radio. And keep your feet off the—”

Thump.

They both paused, the last of the canned groceries in Julia’s hands.

Thump!

Tom’s eyes widened, the whites almost glowing.

Julia tossed the cans into the trunk and slammed the door closed. “Move!”

THUMP!

They piled in. “Start the car!” Tom hissed.

“Shh! Get down!” Julia shoved them both to the floor. A lone red M&M glared at her from behind her brake pedal.

THUMP!

They didn’t know how demons hunted. Some people said it was through smell. Others claimed it was hearing and motion, possibly even eco-location.

Everyone agreed that calling attention to yourself—by, say, starting a very loud truck engine with a colossus only a few feet away—was a bad idea.

Tom whimpered, curling into a ball on the floor of the passenger seat. Julia raised her head just enough to see out the window.

The first thing she saw was its chest, its navel clearing the roof of the supermarket by several feet. It had the same gray skin as its birdie cousins, massive fingers ending in claws. She shifted to see further up: the nipple-less pecs, shoulders, neck…

And clear white eyes staring directly at her.

She twisted in her seat, turned on the truck, and floored it.

Tom yelped, tossed around the car floor as Julia spun and went for the street.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

“It’s following us!” he shrieked, pulling himself into the seat.

“Shut your hole!” She swerved, narrowly avoiding a big gray foot. The impact of the colossus sent gravel spraying everywhere, almost tipping over the truck.

She spun and hit the emergency brake. The colossus passed right over them, momentum keeping it going until it managed to stop. By then, Julia had shot forward, going the other way, toward the downtown area.

“Where are you going?” Tom demanded.

“Parking garage.”

“We don’t have a parking garage!”

“I was in this town for decades while you were in your father’s nut sack. Shut up and let me drive!”

THUMP! THUMP!

Julia glanced at the mirror, giving her an excellent view of the green sheen of the colossus’s toenails.

She pulled a hard right, heading straight for the closed garage door of the strip mall, really just a collection of brick buildings squished together to form one block-long monstrosity. She braced herself for impact.

The truck smashed through the door. She barely got the headlights on in time to see the cement wall. She spun to avoid it. The entrance went down, into a small parking garage barely big enough to hold a dozen cars.

A big gray fist destroyed what was left of the door, trying to grab them. Julia shifted in reverse and backed the truck as far into the garage as she could.

The hand creeped closer, pushing further in. Dark green claws shredded concrete floors, each one almost as big as a person. Julia held her breath, trying to find the door that led up into the building. It was so dark, she couldn’t see anything except those claws. Was it to the left or right?

Bang!

The sound of gunfire made her jump. Tom had left the car and fired his tiny, puny pistol at the massive hand trying to grab them.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Four direct hits. The colossus growled.

Shocked out of her stupor, Julia grabbed her shotgun and followed suit.

BOOM!

A massive chunk of flesh blew away. It was only the tip of the colossus’s finger, but Julia had gotten up close and personal with the kitchen knives before—had the scar on her index finger to prove it—and knew how delicate that part of the body really was.

The demon roared, shaking the stones. Julia and Tom covered their ears, and she prayed that the vibrations didn’t bring the building down on their heads.

The hand withdrew.

THUMP!

THUMP!

Thump!

Thump…

After a solid minute of listening to the footsteps get farther away, Julia went back into her truck. Tom eventually followed suit. They were both pale and shaking.

Without a word, Julia took one of the closest grape juice bottles from the back and cracked the lid. She helped herself to several long draws before offering it to Tom. He drained half of it.

“I didn’t think guns would work on that thing,” she admitted. “Nothing short of a tank, anyway.”

“Me, neither,” he said. “I just panicked.”

“Good panicking.”

“How’d you know about this place?”

“Employee parking. I used to work in one of the businesses here.” She took the juice back and put it away. “Come on.”

“Hold up. We should make sure it’s gone.”

“That thing’s not exactly quiet.”

“Just…” He pulled off his backpack. “If I get eaten, make sure this gets to my sister.”

Julia blinked. “Kid—”

“It’s the blue house, intersection of Third and Washington. Thanks Mrs. Vi—Julia.” Before she could argue, he was gone.

“Dumb kid,” she grumbled, putting the truck back in drive. It was nice to see him grow some balls, but she did not want to have to tell a mother and sister that their idiot teenager got himself killed being the hero.

Tom came back a moment later, announcing an all clear. The drive to his house was surprisingly calm.

“I hate grocery shopping,” Julia said.

He burst out laughing, an edge of hysteria to it. “Waaay too much of a hassle, right?”

“Absolutely. This is you?”

“Yeah.” He beamed as she parked in the driveway. “Did you want to come in? You could even stay the winter if you want. Strength in numbers and all that.”

“Bah. We’d all kill each other in a week.” She eyed him. “Don’t bother me unless someone’s about to die.”

He shrugged. “Door’s always open. Thanks, Mrs. Julia.”

She watched him jog up to the front door, making sure he was inside and hugging his mom before driving away.