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smackenzie"Wanna go to the store?" she asked. She knew he couldn't hear her but it made her feel better to talk to him. "We're going to the store. If we're lucky, we'll see some more people."
Marya put Oscar's harness and leash back on and hustled him into her van. She'd bought the van four years ago when it became clear that if she wanted to be a drummer in other people's bands, and if she wanted to play gigs with those bands, she was entirely responsible for getting her drums there herself. The van was six years old then, which made it older than Oscar now, and it was an embarrassing metallic blue - at least she thought it was an embarrassing color - it couldn't be a nice respectable black? - but at least it didn't have a big-chested, big-haired, bear-riding, fur-bikini-wearing warrior princess painted on the side - but even with a row of seats retrofitted into it, it had enough room in the back for her drum kit and a six-pack of bottled water and even a couple of friends. And it could have been worse - her only choice could've been a VW bus.
Now she let Oscar in the front, climbed in the driver's side, and checked out the window to make sure there wasn't anyone or anything behind her, even though by all evidence there was no one and nothing left on the street.
Well, the little old lady and the Cujos next door were probably still there.
There were a few cars out, Marya was glad to see, and even a city bus. The bus looked mostly empty, though, which was weird. She didn't see any cabs. She didn't see any trucks or delivery vans. There were still cars in driveways and lots and parked on the side of the street. It was like driving through a ghost town. She turned up the van's radio and all she got was static.
Oscar hung his head out the window and barked happily like nothing was wrong. Marya kind of envied him.
The parking lot of the grocery store was half-full, as if people were still inside shopping and running the registers and slicing meat in the deli. The store itself wasn't as empty as Marya had expected, although it didn't have nearly enough people in it to justify all the cars out in the lot. The place looked like a tornado had hit it - a tornado and a plague of locusts - but there were still bottles of water and cans of soup and bags of dog food and boxes of cereal. Marya tied Oscar's leash to the handle of a shopping cart, afraid to leave him in the car but worried about him running after something or someone in the store. She didn't think anyone was going to mind a dog in the grocery store, not with all the other things people had to worry about.
She stocked up on water and orange juice and things in cans - fruit, green beans, chili, Chef Boyardee - cereal, dog food, soap, toilet paper, flashlight batteries, Parmalat. She'd never drunk unrefrigerated milk, but she was willing to try now. She turned down the frozen foods aisle and immediately turned around to avoid a woman hitting some guy with what looked like a bag of frozen peas. She put cookies and goldfish crackers in her cart and had to grab Oscar by his collar to get him away from the meat counter. She stopped in front of the fish counter and for about ten minutes seriously considered how she could get herself a pound of cooked shrimp. The fish still lay in neat overlapping rows behind the glass, their scales shiny from the melted ice underneath them. They hadn't stared to smell yet. Marya wondered if she'd be able to climb over the counter and find a nice salmon steak or some sea bass. Oscar jumped up, put his front paws against the protective glass, and whined. Marya pulled him back down.
"I can't get to it," she told him. "I'm sorry. It's such a waste of good fish." She wondered if any local cats would find their way in here, if they'd smell the unclaimed fish and think they'd wandered into kitty heaven. She hoped so.
The produce section was a disaster area like the rest of the store, but Marya managed to find some unbruised, almost-ripe apples, a bunch of bananas, some tomatoes, and two bags of carrots. If they were supposed to be conserving power and water, she wanted things she didn't have to cook. She'd even eat the carrots unpeeled. She picked out about half a pound of green beans for Oscar, and broke a piece off a head of cauliflower when he gave her the begging puppy-dog eyes. She couldn't stand cauliflower, but her dog was weird and liked it raw.
There was no one at the registers, of course, even though some of them were on and some of the aisle numbers were lit up. Marya had a brief pang of guilt as she pushed her cart down an aisle and started bagging her groceries, but how could she pay for something when there was no one to take her money, and every indication that there wasn't ever going to be anyone to take her money.
words: 865
total words: 3585
Marya put Oscar's harness and leash back on and hustled him into her van. She'd bought the van four years ago when it became clear that if she wanted to be a drummer in other people's bands, and if she wanted to play gigs with those bands, she was entirely responsible for getting her drums there herself. The van was six years old then, which made it older than Oscar now, and it was an embarrassing metallic blue - at least she thought it was an embarrassing color - it couldn't be a nice respectable black? - but at least it didn't have a big-chested, big-haired, bear-riding, fur-bikini-wearing warrior princess painted on the side - but even with a row of seats retrofitted into it, it had enough room in the back for her drum kit and a six-pack of bottled water and even a couple of friends. And it could have been worse - her only choice could've been a VW bus.
Now she let Oscar in the front, climbed in the driver's side, and checked out the window to make sure there wasn't anyone or anything behind her, even though by all evidence there was no one and nothing left on the street.
Well, the little old lady and the Cujos next door were probably still there.
There were a few cars out, Marya was glad to see, and even a city bus. The bus looked mostly empty, though, which was weird. She didn't see any cabs. She didn't see any trucks or delivery vans. There were still cars in driveways and lots and parked on the side of the street. It was like driving through a ghost town. She turned up the van's radio and all she got was static.
Oscar hung his head out the window and barked happily like nothing was wrong. Marya kind of envied him.
The parking lot of the grocery store was half-full, as if people were still inside shopping and running the registers and slicing meat in the deli. The store itself wasn't as empty as Marya had expected, although it didn't have nearly enough people in it to justify all the cars out in the lot. The place looked like a tornado had hit it - a tornado and a plague of locusts - but there were still bottles of water and cans of soup and bags of dog food and boxes of cereal. Marya tied Oscar's leash to the handle of a shopping cart, afraid to leave him in the car but worried about him running after something or someone in the store. She didn't think anyone was going to mind a dog in the grocery store, not with all the other things people had to worry about.
She stocked up on water and orange juice and things in cans - fruit, green beans, chili, Chef Boyardee - cereal, dog food, soap, toilet paper, flashlight batteries, Parmalat. She'd never drunk unrefrigerated milk, but she was willing to try now. She turned down the frozen foods aisle and immediately turned around to avoid a woman hitting some guy with what looked like a bag of frozen peas. She put cookies and goldfish crackers in her cart and had to grab Oscar by his collar to get him away from the meat counter. She stopped in front of the fish counter and for about ten minutes seriously considered how she could get herself a pound of cooked shrimp. The fish still lay in neat overlapping rows behind the glass, their scales shiny from the melted ice underneath them. They hadn't stared to smell yet. Marya wondered if she'd be able to climb over the counter and find a nice salmon steak or some sea bass. Oscar jumped up, put his front paws against the protective glass, and whined. Marya pulled him back down.
"I can't get to it," she told him. "I'm sorry. It's such a waste of good fish." She wondered if any local cats would find their way in here, if they'd smell the unclaimed fish and think they'd wandered into kitty heaven. She hoped so.
The produce section was a disaster area like the rest of the store, but Marya managed to find some unbruised, almost-ripe apples, a bunch of bananas, some tomatoes, and two bags of carrots. If they were supposed to be conserving power and water, she wanted things she didn't have to cook. She'd even eat the carrots unpeeled. She picked out about half a pound of green beans for Oscar, and broke a piece off a head of cauliflower when he gave her the begging puppy-dog eyes. She couldn't stand cauliflower, but her dog was weird and liked it raw.
There was no one at the registers, of course, even though some of them were on and some of the aisle numbers were lit up. Marya had a brief pang of guilt as she pushed her cart down an aisle and started bagging her groceries, but how could she pay for something when there was no one to take her money, and every indication that there wasn't ever going to be anyone to take her money.
words: 865
total words: 3585
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no subject
Date: 2007-11-03 04:02 am (UTC)Oscar remains adorable. I'd be feeling vaguely guilty in that weird way, too, even if there was no one to take my money.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-03 09:58 pm (UTC)i admit i owe a huge, huge visual debt to the beginning of 28 days later, and i was thinking about the scene in the grocery store, where brendan gleeson leaves his credit card on the belt as they breeze out with all their food. except he didn't seem remotely guilty, but more kind of amused.