Haven by Laury Falter Page B

knew we were only throwing out cravings to keep our minds off what was outside and why we couldn’t simply leave for a quick trip home or to the store. Considering what surrounded us, I’d be surprised if anyone, besides Beverly, had the stomach to eat. That didn’t seem to matter much, though. By the time we reached the cafeteria, we’d covered all common breakfast meals. We entered through the main doors and collectively stopped in our tracks. The lights were on, and seemed to be programmed never to turn off, but other than that, no sign of life existed. Not even a fly hovered around the trash cans, which made the room seem unavoidably morgue-like. It was a far cry from the normal loud volume we were used to. Being separated between two floors with stairs on one side leading to the second level, the room was vast. Plastic chairs and circular tables covered the first floor and lined the railings of the second, which, of course, were all empty. The hot line, where food was usually steaming in large metal tubs, was empty and polished to a high sheen. The salad bar was bare.
    The room gave a new meaning to the word ‘deserted’.
    “Did you check this during the night?” Doc whispered.
    “Yes,” Harrison replied at full volume, confident that it was empty of everyone but us. And I believed him. “It’s clear,” he asserted, stepping forward to prove it.
    Weaving around the tables in a single line, we made our way to the food prep area in the kitchen. Midway there, Doc looked back at Mei and me, preparing to mention something when a screech pierced through the room, jolting each one of us.
    “Sorry,” Mei muttered in embarrassment while scooting the chair she’d kicked back in place.
    It was a mistake, nothing more than that, but it reminded me that our nerves were frayed. What we’d experienced yesterday and the weight of our situation now had taken a toll on us.
    In fact, Doc never did say what was on his mind. We quietly finished our walk to the storeroom and stood inside it, staring at what our parent’s tax dollars had gone toward. Most of it was boxed or canned. Good resources in emergencies. As we surveyed the shelves we found school staples; macaroni and cheese, dehydrated mashed potatoes, black beans, fruit salad, cookies and tortilla chips, which Doc grabbed a bag of and tore open. Some of it even had an indefinite shelf-life, like honey, salt, tea, cocoa, vegetable oil, white rice, and dried corn. What surprised me was the number of containers storing dehydrated and freeze-dried food. They had stockpiled large cans of eggs, ground meat, milk, cornmeal, oatmeal, wheat, broccoli, peas, green beans, chicken teriyaki, beef stew, chicken Alfredo, chili, diced chicken, diced ham, and diced beef. They looked like emergency preparedness cans, which I instantly attributed to Mr. Packard.
    “Huh,” Doc’s voice broke the silence booming from behind us. He stood at the door, staring at a piece of laminated paper clipped to the inside, his body leaning toward it, his expression curiously confused. “We were supposed to have Spicy Chicken Sandwich with Tortilla Chips today. Hmmm…” He shrugged without looking at us and threw another chip in his mouth.
    Beverly scoffed, rolled her eyes, snatched a bag of bagels from the shelf, and marched out of the pantry. She went directly for the silver doors which were marked either ‘Refrigerated’ or ‘Frozen’. She pulled up the metal pin on the one marked ‘Refrigerated’, hauled open the door, and disappeared inside. When she exited, her arm was wrapped around a big tub of cream cheese, which she dropped in a not-so-delicate way on the metal food prep counter. As she went about making herself breakfast, the rest of us did the same. I got my oatmeal, Mei opened a can of fruit cocktail and Doc nuked a frozen burrito, cinnamon roll, and an egg muffin. This was after finding the cold walk-ins filled with all you’d expect…frozen pizza, frozen lasagna, pre-made