H1Z1 - Chapter 6

As I headed for the truck, I called the boy over, watching the dogs carefully as they turned toward me and we all met.

"How long has Mom known I'm teaching you to shoot, Son?" I asked, pulling the drop down tailgate of the SUV open.

"It's no big deal Dad, I promise!"

"No, no. You're not in trouble. I was just wondering." As I talked with him, I was methodically pulling out the objects I felt I would need to use on the trip back in to the store. My shooting vest, which had a pocket that held more than 30 shells. A pair of leather gloves, I didn't want to touch someone affected and catch the virus that way. The box of 12 gauge shells we had just left the store with.

"Take these," I handed Bill a pair of gloves, too. "We have to go back in. You keep the dogs with you because they'll protect you."

"Why are we going in again, Dad?"

"Mom wants me to get you a gun. I think we may need some other things, too."

"Mom said that? Really?"

"Yes. And I think we need to pack for the cabin."

I was forming a plan in the back of my mind. We had a cabin up in a pass in the mountains. We had canned food and supplies there all the time, so that all we'd need for a quick weekend away was a few fresh supplies and to load all the kids into our two cars. It was almost a hundren miles from any large concentration of people, so there would be much less possibility of infection. There was wood nearby for fires and there was wildlife should we have to stay so long that hunting became necessary. Yes, I thought, this would work.

But it meant that we needed to bring about two cart-loads of supplies out of the store with us, not just a second shotgun.

I began explaining my plan to my son.

"OK, Dad, but what do we do for the dogs?" Another large, bulky object. Dog food. We'd have to grab some.

"What about paying?" I had worked hard to ingrain a sense of responsibility to all the children, and he knew I was talking about a high-speed raid through the store, filling the cart with what we thought we needed as quickly as possibly, then simply taking it, not trying to stop and pay a clerk who would most likely be trying to attack us, not assist us.

"I don't think we need to worry about paying, Bill. I don't think anyone in there really cares."

"That still doesn't make it right, Dad."

"No, Son, it doesn't."

Finally, I realized I had forgotten something.

"Bill, have you heard any sirens? Have you heard any police?"

"No, Dad. We should call."

"Yes, we should."

I could see our escape to the mountains becoming more complex, but I could also see that, if we were to do things right, we had to try to make sure we followed through with every option, and the next civilized option we had was to call the police and see if there was any hope of not only some help, but some kind of official word on what was really going on.