SHOPPING WITH EARL

“I’m not sure, exactly. I could use the help,” you say, though something about Earl’s intensity makes you keep your guard up.

Earl claps his hands together. “Oh, I’m your man! Now, you’re gonna want to think smart here. Not just food—survival gear.”

You work your way through the store together, Earl proving surprisingly knowledgeable about what’s left on the empty shelves. Your cart fills up quickly:

The windshield wiper (and extra wiper fluid, obviously.) A couple more tennis rackets from the sporting goods section (“Never know when you’ll need to swat something,” Earl grins). Several cans of refried beans, some beef jerky, and a few bottles of water. Underwear. Socks. Duffle bags. Blankets. Towels. Toothbrushes and toothpaste.

Earl suggests some less obvious items: duct tape, a handful of lighters, batteries, a small camping lantern, rope, and a first aid kit. “Always need rope,” he mutters, tossing in a fifty-foot coil.

“And this—” He holds up a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Disinfectant, fire starter, all sorts of uses.”

You grab some energy bars, a manual can opener, and a folding knife from the camping section.

“Oh, and this,” Earl says, pointing to something bulky near the back of the store. “Portable generator. Gas-powered. Might come in handy wherever you’re heading.”

It’s heavy—probably a two-person job to get it to the car. But with the power grid potentially unstable, it could be invaluable.

“Good thinking,” you agree. “Help me get this loaded?”

Earl’s grin widens. “Absolutely.”

As you push your overloaded cart toward the self-checkout lanes, you’re hit with an unexpected moral dilemma. The machines are lit up and functioning normally, waiting for customers. Do you scan everything and pay like normal? It feels like the right thing to do, but with the entire town evacuated and no telling when—or if—anyone’s coming back…

“What are you doing?” Earl asks, watching you hesitate at the self-checkout station.

Do you pay at the register? Or just walk out of the store?