"Don't," a voice says, pained. "Shit, I think I sprained something."
She lowers her weapon, surprised to see another person. It's usually just her scavenging around these parts, excluding the occasional rats.
"Didn't think to announce yourself? I could've shot you!"
The stranger jumps back on his feet, his right hand firmly grasping his shotgun. "No, you couldn't. Obviously. You JUST missed me. I think I'm good." He brushes the dust off his face, then extends the free hand. "I'm Kashmir by the way."
"Vicki." She puts her left hand into his. He withdraws. "Oh, this?" Right. "The world is overrun by flesh eating creeps, but a metal arm freaks you out. That's a classic."
"For the record, I'm used to the creeps, you know. This freak show, not so much."
"Now that's just unnecessary. Suit yourself. No hands then. I can do unfriendly."
"This thing here," he says, pointing back and forth between the two of them, "this - this is unnecessary." He starts to walk down the aisle. "I'm here to gather food. You know, to eat. Is that a thing you do, even? Whatev-"
Something topples nearby. Vicki already has her eyes on the entrance, then around the store. Nothing. Yet. "Get down," she orders. "I heard something, and I'm pretty confident it's not gonna be another person looking for unwelcome pleasantries." She grabs the first and best cans nearby and stuff them into her backpack. Hopefully something edible. "Let's get out of here before it turns into a real shit show."
"Oi, you're not the boss of me. Ugh. Fine. Let's go." He mumbles something under his breath, inaudible to anyone but himself, and walks ahead of Vicki. "Every man for himself at this point."
She shakes her head. "You talk too much. Less words, more not getting eaten."
They creep out of the supermarket, walking along the outside walls, until the building ends and they're soon back out in the open. Looking around the corner, they're met by gurgles and moans. Kashmir rushes out, emptying his barrels, Vicki coming in second, firing steadily, aiming at the undead's heads. No wasted bullets where she's from. Always aim for the head. Always double tap. No stragglers. As the bodies fall to the ground, Vicki pauses for a moment, reloading, checking if the ruckus has drawn out any more. One suddenly appears from inside the supermarket, and she swings her gun, the knife severing the head in half. Kashmir points his shotgun at the mess on the ground, firing, blowing the head right off into tiny pieces scattering around them.
"I think we're done here," he says smugly, walking onwards.
She sighs, looking around her. "Yeah, I guess. For the next few minutes, if we're lucky."
"We? You and I: not a 'we'," he says, doing the back and forth with his finger again. "I have a 'we', I don't need any more to keep an eye out for."
"Semantics? Really? Whatever, man. I've got places to be, a ' we' to feed, so I'll see you around. Maybe." She shrugs, turning to walk back home, back to Severine, coincidentally the opposite direction Kashmir's headed. Luckily. "Let me know if you ever get that stick out your ass, maybe we can benefit from knowing a few more Actual People in this hell hole."
He doesn't even bother to look at her, only just barely glaring over his shoulder. "How do you suppose I'm even going to contact you?" He laughs softly at the absurdity.
"I don't know, maybe we both get the same idea to come here again," she says, then nods in his general direction, and walks off, hoping to make it back to base before sundown.
art
Graveyard Cadogre
hermes
ennui
