Chapter Fourteen
Fortunately, we didn’t run into any more zombies, probably because food was slim pickings for everyone, living or dead.
“You find anything?” asked Henry, who was resting in one of the old vinyl booths. He was an old geezer with a lot of fire, but even he wasn’t immune to arthritis, which I guess was now flaring up in both of his knobby knees.
“Unfortunately, everything is spoiled in the cooler. Good news, however, there is plenty of canned food,” said Mary.
“I found several bags of chips and pretzels, too,” I called out from behind the counter. “Oh, and some bottled water.”
He nodded, looking weary. “Let’s stock up on that stuff and get rolling. Mary, you might have to drive; it’s going to be dark soon and my eyes don’t particularly work their best at night.”
Mary ra
