***
We were a sorry looking lot dressed in our new robes. We looked like a bizarre group of poor aliens completely decked out in the silver cloth who couldn’t afford a proper tailor. But better to look weird, than be dead. “We’re not safe yet. Let’s get out of here,” I ordered, and without any hesitation, our troop headed for the doors. Having squeezed through the inner glass panels, we approached the outer ones. It was dark now, well past sundown. We scanned the parking lot for signs of the invaders using our newly acquired night vision goggles. The area nearby was clear, but the sky was filled with unusual lights darting this way and that, almost like a meteor shower. We were reasonably sure that the store was completely deserted, but remaining there forever was not a logical option and the thoughts of a possible cannibalistic, alien species lurking in the grass or behind every piece of trashed sheet metal was cause for concern. We voted to move out. There was only one word of caution. If spotted, we would remain still, just like the surviving vans and hope for the best. If necessary, Bruce and I would empty our shotguns into whatever was out there before they had a chance to fire at any of us.
Like wild rats, we edged our way along the periphery of the building, checked the side and then moved along the edge of the parking lot until we were lined up across from our transportation. We took one, last, careful scan and darted for the vehicle. When we slid the door open, we found a terrified Dr. Manning ready to bean us with a tire iron she had dug out of a pouch in the back.
She'd been afraid to move, having been able to see a little of what was going on. She'd been resting with the front passenger seat back when she was startled awake by a huge explosion. Her first thought had been to get out of there, but she noticed that I had the keys. Checking all directions carefully, she quickly realized that on foot, she wouldn’t have made ten yards. The swarm of creatures had been attacking all the parked vehicles. As they approached our van, she'd slid into the back and retrieved the tire iron, for self defense. Little did she know that it wouldn’t have helped. As she heard their steps come closer, she slunk down lower into the carpet, trying to hide as best she could. Then they seemed to move away. She hadn’t moved a muscle until it began to get dark and heard us unlocking the doors.
***
We determined that our best course of immediate action was to get clear of the city, but before we did, we needed to get some food supplies. This we decided to gather at a club type store that was just up the street from where we were parked. But first, we decided to check out the other van in the parking lot. There was no one there, leading us to assume that probably the owner was inside the building and if there, he would not be needing this van. We could use the vehicle however, only if we could find a key. Bruce decided to check the clothing scattered in piles around the asphalt for keys. He came back with three sets, one of which fit the van. Carol and Bruce would drive this second acquisition.
As a precaution, we smashed out the lights. These vehicles had automatic headlights and we didn’t want to broadcast our presence to anyone. We waited for the sky to clear of traffic and made our way slowly to our next stop. The lot looked about the same as the tire store, junked cars and trucks, some piled on top of one another in random heaps, twisted metal, clothes scattered on the pavement. The building was badly damaged, but there were no alien ships parked anywhere nearby, so we assumed that they probably were done with this place as well. However, we didn’t just rush inside. It was pretty dark outside, so we used the night vision glasses to make our way around. We took turns moving ahead, stopping, listening, moving some more, until we were certain that it was safe. At the door, we had to make a decision whether to use the night vision glasses or flashlights confiscated from the tire store. Seeing no one, we entered the building. If anyone had survived, they would've been crushed by the weight of the shelving and the goods packed on them. Having shopped in this store regularly, I'd seen fork lift Jitneys removing heavy burdens from the third storey shelves. I'd also heard horror stories about kids climbing on this type of shelving in other stores, in spite of constant instruction from the management for parents to keep their eyes on their children. Just in case, we checked under every crack and crevice for signs of other human beings.
We grabbed some carts and began our shopping. Going was difficult, as most of the aisles were closed off due to the damage. Breads, particularly the kind that lasted, rather than the healthy types that contained no preservatives, were the grains of choice. We didn’t know how long this situation was going to last. Fresh fruit would be a treat, but again, we couldn’t take too much because this would soon spoil. This was of particular interest to Tammy who seemed to love every kind of fruit imaginable. She would just have to satisfy herself with dried ones. There were so many meats to choose from, but we knew that unless we were willing to eat it raw, that it too, would spoil. We weren’t about to build a fire and draw attention to ourselves. We were forced to make the most of precooked, canned, dried and salted foods. These we found in abundance. One type of meat that would keep, besides Montreal style corned beef, canned ham and fish, was salt beef. This we found in small plastic containers. We planned to hold on to it, not knowing if or when we could eat it, but we also knew that it would keep.
I'd purchased a container of this many years before, thinking that I would impress my young wife, with my culinary skills. The Newfoundlanders called it Jigs dinner and I am sure that many a housewife from that neck of the woods did a very fine job of preparing it, but my first experience trying to cook it was my last. After boiling it for two or three hours and still finding it as tough as a shoe, I traded the pot for a pressure cooker. That trick finally broke down the fibrous materials, (an understatement), that held the meat together. But by this time, the meat was tasteless. Fortunately, the vegetables that had been cooking with it in the original pot were soft and delicious.
Cheese too, was chosen as something to eat with the bread. Pickled eggs and UHT milk finished off the dairy wants. There were other liquid requirements though. We picked up bottles of juice for one camper, but I preferred water, as did most of the others. The store had a lot of it and so we stocked up.
One thing I noticed was that although much of the store was turned upside-down, this was not true of the refrigerated section. It appeared to be mostly intact. Inside the cooler there were many cases of eggs, butter, and deli meats such as hotdogs and sliced beef, ham and turkey. We took some of this, but knew that unless we could find a working fridge that we would never be eating it all. It would do for a day or two. We had no idea how long our visitors were planning to hang around.
I wasn’t looking forward to what we were going to forced to dine on. I was used to a diet rich in vegetables, with a small amount of meat for dessert. Probably my favorite food, aside from mushrooms, was greens, greens of all kinds. It was a preference that irked my wife who hated anything that tasted like spinach, but I managed to have them at least once a week, albeit, I mostly ate them alone. But then I thought that perhaps this wasn’t going to be a permanent situation. As soon as these whatever-they-were disappeared, we could get our lives back to normal. I mean, a lot of people were killed judging by the monstrous amount of clothing we saw scattered everywhere, but surely there were others, survivors. There had to be. Our loved ones were waiting for us somewhere safe. We knew that. But we couldn’t go home yet. It was too risky. These were the lies I kept telling myself, what my heart wanted to hear, but my realistic grey matter never succumbed to this wishful thinking.
On the way out, we stopped by the food court and help ourselves to cold pizza and hotdogs, items that were always on sale at the store. We had tried to get a soda, but realized that without power, all we might get from the machine might be some soda water as that was under pressure. We plastered the hotdogs with whatever condiments that were still sitting in the metal pans or dispensers set out for the customers. As everyone was chowing down, I realized an important necessity that no one had thought of. “Kids, tooth brushes and paste, and don’t forget the soap and deodorant. And it’s right over there,” I said, pointing to where I knew the supplies could be found. Get some for me too, if you don't mind. As we left the building, we were just as cautious as when we entered. There was always the possibility of a welcoming committee with guns drawn, waiting for us on the outside. We had probably been inside for about an hour, so we were surprised to see that there were even fewer lights in the sky. Maybe it would soon be over.
The van hatches were opened, the seats flipped forward and the backs of each vehicle were stuffed with food. We wouldn’t starve, at least not for a few days, anyway. Maybe in that time, the enemy would be long gone and we could go back to our families. That became the plan.
We were no more than a mile or two from town, hiding out in the woods, the only thing between us and the enemy aliens, a thin piece of silvery cloth turned into ponchos. So, here I found myself, seated beneath a tree several days later.
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