Sure enough, the weather folks were predicting another storm to hit soon, though it was expected to be less intense, albeit lasting longer. Finishing up in the shower, I hopped out, flipped the phone over to some music, and dried off. With another storm on the way, I wanted to go ahead and shore up some more supplies, getting down there before the rush hit this time. I dressed, put on a heavy coat, and checked the cooler for what I needed.
Every morning, I would go fill a couple Ziplock bags with snow and pack them in the cooler, emptying ones that had gone liquid and refilling them. Between stacks of packed snow, the meat was dwindling. I had gone a little crazy making big heavy meals when Desiree had been here, and while I had plenty to survive on in the cellar, I’d rather have the things I liked in abundance so I could enjoy the meals rather than just survive through them.
Putting on my hat and boots, I went out to the truck and started it up, doing one last look around the cabin before hopping in and heading into town. As soon as I got close to the grocery store, my anxiety, which I didn’t even know was building up and making me clench my shoulders, relaxed. It was relatively empty in the parking lot, and as I pulled in, I could see a line of carts available. That was good. Fewer people meant less claustrophobia, less hurry, and fewer chances I would forget something important.
I went in, grabbing a cart and heading to the bathroom supplies first. Desiree had turned what would normally be a couple of weeks of shampoo into a couple of days left in short order. On top of that, I wanted to make sure I stocked up on the other toiletries just to have them around. It only took one hike through Afghanistan with one roll of cheap, military-grade toilet paper with you to make you paranoid about ever running out of it.
As I entered the aisle, my cart rammed into the end of a cart coming the other way, and I backed up immediately, apologizing. The other person apologized at the same time, and the voice made me look up into their eyes. Desiree was standing there, as dumbfounded and embarrassed as I was.
“Desiree, hey.”
“Fancy running into you here,” she said. “Stocking up for the next storm?”
“Yes, actually,” I said.
“Oh, I was just kidding. Is there another storm coming soon?”
“Next week,” I said. “What are you up to?”
“Oh, just kind of filling out the house with stuff I need,” she said. I glanced in the cart to see a cadre of household items one wouldn’t necessarily think of as essentials until they didn’t have them: a scale, a bathroom mirror, fingernail clippers, and emery boards, a couple of bottles of various pain relievers.
“Ah,” I said. “Would you like some company?”
I cringed at myself inside, wondering what in the hell implored me to ask such a thing. Desiree surprised me by smiling wide and nodding.
“I would like that, actually,” she said.
Sidling up beside her, I walked with her as we perused the aisles. I grabbed a bottle of shampoo and noticed a sheepish look come across her face, her cheeks brightening a bit. I grinned and tossed it in without saying anything toiletries aisles, we headed to the grocery where I grabbed a few extra packs of ground beef and pork along with a few extra packs of chicken breast. I was surprised to see how little Desiree put in her own cart.
“You know, the storm that’s coming in is supposed to last for a good bit,” I said conversationally. “I’m stocking up on some of the meats and stuff in case it takes a while.”
“Oh really?” she asked. “I figure if I’ve got enough pasta, I can survive an apocalypse. Enough flour, eggs, and water and I can make it myself.”
“You make your own pasta?”
“I said I could, not that I do,” she laughed. Her laughter was cute, but there was something behind it. Like it was almost forced. As soon as it came out of her mouth, she seemed to shut it off and look over her shoulder, as if she were embarrassed someone would hear it.
Slowly, it started to dawn on me that she was acting a little strangely. Not that I had much room to talk—I often made sure corners were clear when I entered rooms and refused to go to bed before I walked a perimeter with an assault rifle half the time, but I was a soldier. I had reasons.
As we got the groceries up to the registers and paid for them, I decided to see if I could figure out what it was that was bothering her. We got our carts out to the cars, and I stopped by her trunk. As she popped it, I grabbed a bag for her and put it in.