#jerseydevll

He was careful and quick, eyes scouring each shelf for what he could and couldn’t use, pulling things that others might have looked over. They could be reworked into other things. Two knee braces, grinning to see a few bottles of iodine overlooked. Picking through the supplies, he’d ventured out quite a ways to get into this place, having meticulously picked closer places clean.

He pulled the crowbar from his bag, keeping an ear out for any movement before he pried open the bars gating the back stock. It too was a mess, but he was able to pick through a lot of bottles, reading each label carefully, looking for a few very specific bottles. He was able to find two bottles of oxycodone, a bottle of diazapam, and a bottle of levaquin. Honestly, they were great finds, and he was shocked to have found what little he did. He scooped up a few more bottles he’d put into the stock to barter, and climbed back out, crowbar in hand.

Ray almost kicked himself when he spotted two epipens on the way out, and stashed them up as well, stuffing them in his bag. He moved through the aisles, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He’d be coming back for more when he felt safer, but he’d already been out for a while and his bag was full from the last place he’d picked some essentials from.

Freezing in his tracks, he stared out from the dark of the little pharmacy at a form outside in the street. It wasn’t a walker, he knew that from the way it held itself, from how it moved. Swallowing hard, he shifted forwards a little. He didn’t see a gun, not strapped to its back, not in its hands. He could make a run for it and hope it didn’t see him.

He watched it for another moment before he decided, what did he have to lose, honestly? He could outrun most shit. He vaulted over the window, taking off up the street back towards his hideout. He could hear his shoes on the pavement, and his blood rushing in his ears, and nothing else, and when he skirted into his abode, he knocked the cans around in his haste. They rattled with loose nails and glass, banging against each other, his own little alert system for intruders or wandering walkers.

         ❝ He’s not for sale. So back off. ❞

She growled at the individual, glaring at them as she wrapped an arm around Michael’s waist. When the person fled, she snorted loudly.

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