UNEXPECTED COMPANY

You push your cart through the automotive section, comparing windshield wiper packages and trying to figure out which one fits your car model. The store feels like a tomb—too quiet, too empty, with that constant fluorescent hum overhead.

“Twenty-four inch, driver’s side,” you mumble, squinting at the fine print. “Or was it twenty-six?”

“It’s the twenty-four.”

You nearly jump out of your skin, spinning around to find a man standing behind you. Scraggly graying hair, wearing a dirty red Camp Hawk-a-Ptooie t-shirt that might have been bright once. His eyes have that unfocused quality of someone who’s seen too much, or maybe just someone who wasn’t quite right to begin with.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, extending a grimy hand. “Name’s Earl. Been here since… well, since they left without me this morning.”

You shake his hand cautiously. “They left without you?”

Earl nods vigorously, a little too enthusiastically. “Oh yeah, yeah. Eight AM sharp, just like the notice said. Every bus in town—school district, city transit, even some church buses they commandeered. Whole convoy of ’em.” He taps his temple with a crooked finger. “Me, I was… well, let’s just say I had some bad chicken last night and was spending quality time in the bathroom when they came knocking. By the time I got myself together, all I could see was taillights.”

“Where did they go?” you ask.

“National Guard station up in Millerville, about forty miles north. They got a whole setup there, I hear. Temporary shelters, medical tents, the works.” Earl’s grin reveals several missing teeth. “Course, that was twelve hours ago. Who knows what’s what now, right?”

He gestures at your cart. “Whacha shoppin’ for?”