break room. Kevin sat down in the padded swivel chair behind the desk and laid his head down on the cool metal desk top. “What the fuck?” he moaned aloud. “What the fuck!”
The clerk's name was Harry. He waited until Kevin had rested and was beginning to talk coherently again before telling him. He was an ex Marine who had been discharged in 2005 for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Oh fucking great, Kevin thought to himself.
As if those fucking aliens outside weren't scary enough, now this. Harry must have read his mind because he said hurriedly, “It's not like that man,” I won't go ballistic on your ass or anything, I just saw some bad shit over in Iraq.”
Kevin was ashamed of himself for what he'd been thinking and held his hand out to Harry. “I'm Kevin, nice to meet you dude.” Harry grasped his hand and shook it. “Same here man.” he said, adding with a grin, “now let's get some shit organized in here. It looks like we're going to be stuck in this hole for a good minute.”
“A convenience store isn't the worst place in the world to be stuck though, we got everything we need.”
Kevin nodded his head in agreement as they went to work piling up food and water supplies to last them for their stay.
Kevin looked at the pile of canned food, chips and candy, along with an entire rack of snack cakes, beside of the counter. It was enough food to feed at least five people for a few months.
After looking in the back, the two discovered even more boxes of supplies. They wouldn't be running out of anything anytime soon. “Now we just gotta chill until those assholes leave.” Harry said, lifting a box of bottled water up to carry it to the back.
“We also have to guard against anybody trying to come in on us and steal our stash.” he added. Kevin hadn't really thought about that scenario, until now. It put Kevin's mind in a dilemma. On one hand, if someone came in, they would be just as desperate as he and Harry were to stay alive, why not help them? On the other hand, he and Harry needed everything they had, and who knew how long those alien fucks were going to actually be out there?
The paper could always be wrong about the time frame. He just hoped that he wouldn't have to face the decision to help someone else or watch them die. He didn't know if he could make that decision. Harry did though. Harry had made that decision many times before. It was why he was all fucked up in his head now.
The days passed by, as relentless as a slow death, as Kevin and Harry became adjusted to their new routines. Harry was clearly in survival mode, his eyes constantly scanned the sidewalk in front of the store for intruders. His body was taut and poised to fight. When he wasn't standing watch, he exercised ceaselessly. He dropped to churn out pushups. He jogged in place. He did sit ups, and he paced restlessly when he wasn't catching a few hours of sleep.
Kevin watched Harry warily, still not altogether sure this man's noodle wasn't baked. Kevin hated exercising, he'd never been the physical type, choosing instead to retreat from reality in a good book or science magazine. The many magazines and paperback novels, that adorned the stands of the store, were his retreat, now, as he faced each new terrifying day of hiding with Harry.
Harry set up a watch schedule of eight on and eight off, handing Kevin a revolver with five bullets in it that he had fished out from behind the counter. It wasn't for the Grays that were zipping back and forth through the skies though, even Kevin had heard that they weren't affected by the primitive weapons of Earth.
The revolver was for any crazy ass human who tried to come in on them.
Week three had passed as monotonously as the first two weeks at the store. Kevin lay on the floor in the back office reading one of the paper backs. It was noon and the place was sweltering hot. Kevin sipped a bottle of water and mopped his sweaty face with a wad of paper towels he had pulled off the
The clerk's name was Harry. He waited until Kevin had rested and was beginning to talk coherently again before telling him. He was an ex Marine who had been discharged in 2005 for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Oh fucking great, Kevin thought to himself.
As if those fucking aliens outside weren't scary enough, now this. Harry must have read his mind because he said hurriedly, “It's not like that man,” I won't go ballistic on your ass or anything, I just saw some bad shit over in Iraq.”
Kevin was ashamed of himself for what he'd been thinking and held his hand out to Harry. “I'm Kevin, nice to meet you dude.” Harry grasped his hand and shook it. “Same here man.” he said, adding with a grin, “now let's get some shit organized in here. It looks like we're going to be stuck in this hole for a good minute.”
“A convenience store isn't the worst place in the world to be stuck though, we got everything we need.”
Kevin nodded his head in agreement as they went to work piling up food and water supplies to last them for their stay.
Kevin looked at the pile of canned food, chips and candy, along with an entire rack of snack cakes, beside of the counter. It was enough food to feed at least five people for a few months.
After looking in the back, the two discovered even more boxes of supplies. They wouldn't be running out of anything anytime soon. “Now we just gotta chill until those assholes leave.” Harry said, lifting a box of bottled water up to carry it to the back.
“We also have to guard against anybody trying to come in on us and steal our stash.” he added. Kevin hadn't really thought about that scenario, until now. It put Kevin's mind in a dilemma. On one hand, if someone came in, they would be just as desperate as he and Harry were to stay alive, why not help them? On the other hand, he and Harry needed everything they had, and who knew how long those alien fucks were going to actually be out there?
The paper could always be wrong about the time frame. He just hoped that he wouldn't have to face the decision to help someone else or watch them die. He didn't know if he could make that decision. Harry did though. Harry had made that decision many times before. It was why he was all fucked up in his head now.
The days passed by, as relentless as a slow death, as Kevin and Harry became adjusted to their new routines. Harry was clearly in survival mode, his eyes constantly scanned the sidewalk in front of the store for intruders. His body was taut and poised to fight. When he wasn't standing watch, he exercised ceaselessly. He dropped to churn out pushups. He jogged in place. He did sit ups, and he paced restlessly when he wasn't catching a few hours of sleep.
Kevin watched Harry warily, still not altogether sure this man's noodle wasn't baked. Kevin hated exercising, he'd never been the physical type, choosing instead to retreat from reality in a good book or science magazine. The many magazines and paperback novels, that adorned the stands of the store, were his retreat, now, as he faced each new terrifying day of hiding with Harry.
Harry set up a watch schedule of eight on and eight off, handing Kevin a revolver with five bullets in it that he had fished out from behind the counter. It wasn't for the Grays that were zipping back and forth through the skies though, even Kevin had heard that they weren't affected by the primitive weapons of Earth.
The revolver was for any crazy ass human who tried to come in on them.
Week three had passed as monotonously as the first two weeks at the store. Kevin lay on the floor in the back office reading one of the paper backs. It was noon and the place was sweltering hot. Kevin sipped a bottle of water and mopped his sweaty face with a wad of paper towels he had pulled off the
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