Survival

        I jammed the crowbar between the two automatic doors, pulling with all my might against the built up rust in the gears. These doors hadn't seen use in over a decade, and they refused to give without a fight. Finally, after much effort, the left door gave way, the screech of rusted  steel separating filling  the air.
         I stepped inside the dark store, the stench of death hitting me like a slap to the face. The mixture of blood, shit and exposed flesh caused me to recoil. I pressed a bandanna to my nose in a futile effort to weaken the smell.
         From the second I entered the building, I knew I wasn't alone. The sounds of tearing flesh and blood dripping to the floor were obvious. I drew my revolver, checking the cylinder for sufficient ammo. Four of the six .44 caliber cartridges still had unstruck primers.
         I continued through the store, keeping my gun at the ready. As I was walking through the isle, I stepped in something slick. It only took a glance to realize it was blood, fresh blood. I followed the crimson trail through the isles, making an effort to keep it off my already filthy boots.
         I rounded the corner into the snack isle when I saw them. Crouched in an inhuman position around a mutilated body, blood splattered across their pale flesh. They feasted on the man, the sicking sounds of tearing flesh and breaking bones echoing throughout the store.
         I raised my gun just as the first one glanced up at me. Its empty eyes burning into me. It dropped its jaw, a piece of bloody flesh hitting the floor with a splat.
         I squeezed off a shot, the hollow point tearing a gaping hole through the creatures skull. This alerted the others to my presence. They lost all interest in their meal and turned their attention towards me. Two more shots, each tearing through the flesh of the creatures.
         The world was silent, save for the ringing in my ears. I emptied the gun into my hand. One bullet unspent. I dropped the empty casing on the cold floor, digging five new cartridges from my pocket.
         Now that I was alone, I could finally get what I had come for. I dropped my bag to the floor, setting my worn carbine next to it. Crouching down so I could get to the canned goods, I was dismayed at how little was left. A can of beans here, some corn there. I dropped each can into my bag, the only sound in the empty store being the metallic thud of the cans as they fell into the bag.
         When I came to a can of fruit cocktail, I unsheathed my knife. The well worn steel shined against the small amount of light in the store. I jammed the blade into the lid, using the serration to cut through the flimsy steel. I finally got the lid off, tossing it to the side. The lukewarm fruit juice was refreshing, the chunks of peach an added bonus.
         After finishing my snack, I went back to the job at hand. All in all, I was able to find ten cans,  enough to last a few days. Just as I was about to leave, I heard footsteps. Two strangers in the store. It was a girl that spoke up first.
         “Who the hell opened this door? I thought you told Jase to come in through the window!”
         “I did, Ash. He must have forgot.”
         “Fuck it, it don't matter. Jase! You in here? You see him anywhere, Max?
         I ducked down behind a display case, keeping a firm grip on my carbine. The two strangers walked into sight. I didn't like the look of them. They both wore ragged clothes, with bandoleers crossing their chests and blood staining the fabric.
         “Oh shit! Ash, come look at this!” They both walked over the the mutilated body of their friend.
         “Fuckin idiot.” Ash said.
         “Looks like he dropped a few of 'em.” Said the stranger, Max.
         Ash looked around at the dead bodies, then down at the empty casings.
         “No, Jase ain't got a .44. Someone else did this.”
         “Think they're still in here?”
         “I hope so, I've been looking to get my hands on a new gun.”
         I ducked back behind the display case, gripping my gun even tighter. I was racking my brain for a way out without them seeing me. They were blocking the only way to the exit, and the closest window was a good ten yards away.
         I would have to make a break for it. I flicked the safety off my gun and prepared to  run for it. Just as I was about to go, a can slipped from my bag. Time seemed to stop as I watched the can tumble through the air.
         Ash jerked her head in my direction, her short, red hair whipping through the air. She stared right at me, raising her crudely made gun to her shoulder.
         I was caught in a hail of fully automatic fire, bullets whipping past my head and slamming into the wall behind me. I waited for a break in the fire before popping out and squeezing off two shots from my carbine.
         Max joined in, sending two groups of buckshot my way. I waited until I heard him break open the sawed off before I popped out of cover again, sending another two shots downrange.
         At least one shot connected, and Max crumpled to the floor, letting out a pained cry.
         Ash didn't seem affected by her wounded partner, as she slammed another magazine into her zip gun before sending a hail of hot lead in my direction. I exposed myself once again to send a few shots at my foe. All of the shots connected with the shelf Ash was behind, sending wood splinters through the air.
         Ash took a second to reload. This was the chance I had been waiting for. I dove out from cover, sprinting with all my might toward the shelf adjacent to Ash. My heart was pounding from my chest as I covered the distance as quickly as I could.
         I slammed into the case, knocking several items to the floor. Now I had the upper hand, I was close enough to get a good shot in. I waited for Ash to leave her cover, to give me the opportunity I so desperately needed.
         The second she stepped out of cover, she was met with three .30 caliber bullets, flying at two thousand feet per second. All three tore through her chest, splattering blood across the room and throwing her to the ground, dead before she hit the floor.
         I slung the carbine over my shoulder, making my way to the exit, when a howl of pain reminded me of what I had forgotten. Pulling my revolver from its holster, I towered over the wounded Max. He looked up at me with eyes full of tears. Terror filled his face, as he knew these were his last moments.
         Something, maybe his helpless expression, maybe his obvious sorrow, made me unable to pull the trigger. I could see the joy in his eyes as I lowered my gun, placing it back in my holster. Before he could speak, I delivered a swift kick to his ribs, feeling the bones snap under my boot.
         That was it, just another day in this new world. There was nothing special about it, people died every day. Some of them deserved it, some of them didn't. That's just the way it worked.