CHECKING OUT

You wheel your cart up to the self-checkout station and start scanning items. Beep. Tennis racket. Beep. Windshield wiper. Beep. Duct tape.

Earl watches with obvious amusement, shaking his head. “You’re actually gonna pay for all this? When there’s nobody here?”

“It’s the right thing to do,” you mutter, scanning the cans of refried beans. “Just because everyone’s gone doesn’t mean I should steal.”

Earl chuckles. “Well, I’ll be damned. An honest person in the apocalypse. That’s refreshing.”

The total comes to $247.83. You swipe your credit card, wondering if the payment will even process properly with everything that’s happening. But the machine chirps cheerfully and prints your receipt.

“There,” you say, pocketing the receipt. “Now let’s get this stuff loaded.”

Outside, you and Earl work together to transfer everything from the cart to your car. The generator is indeed a two-person job—heavy and awkward, but you manage to wrestle it into the back seat. Earl proves surprisingly helpful, organizing the smaller items efficiently in the trunk and passenger areas.

“All set,” Earl says, wiping his hands on his dirty shirt. “Mind if I catch a ride with you to Millerville? Been stuck here all day, and forty miles is a long walk.”

You consider it. He’s been helpful, knows where everyone went, and traveling together might be safer than going alone. Plus, what’s the alternative—leave him stranded?

“Sure, hop in.”

Earl grins and climbs into the passenger seat. You start the engine, pull out of the parking lot, and head north toward Millerville and whatever’s left of your evacuated town.