Earth: 2168 AD

Matthew looked over the hill at the boarded up Seven-Eleven convenience store below. There was no one around as the sun hung low and bloated in the hazy California sky. He nodded to Mike, the boy next to him.

Both young men sprung to their feet as they grabbed their nap sacks and bolted down the low hill and across the parched grass. Picking up a rock, Matthew threw it at the front door, shattering the glass front before he slammed his shoulder into the plywood nailed to the other side while using the knapsack to protect himself from the shards of glass. Pain lanced through his shoulder as the wood refused to give. A second later, the wind was knocked from him as Mike collided with his other shoulder, and there was a sharp screech of metal and wood as the plywood finally gave way. The two boys tumbled into the convenience store.

With a groan, Matt got to his feet.

“You alright?” he asked Mike.

“Think so,” replied his friend as he also got to his feet. “Wooh,” uttered Mike as he looked around at the food piled on the shelves. “Ain’t that a feast for hungry eyes.”

“Your eyes’ll be the only thing’ll be feasting boy,” growled a voice from behind them.

The two turned to see a grizzled man in a wheel chair holding an old riffle on them. Matthew almost laughed at the sight; it was only a .22. He quickly sobered himself, a .22 could kill a grown man just as dead as anything else.

“Sorry sir,” said Matthew. “Didn’t know no one was here.”

“Well, there is. Now git.”

“Couldn’t ya spare something. Even a pack a Twinkies would be shinier than a new nickel.”

“Don’t think so boy. Find yer own stash.” The old man jerked his gun at the broken door. An expression of anger, fueled by hunger, flashed across Mike’s face.

Matt put his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Come on Miky. Pleanty more places to hit before the day’s done.”

“That ain’t but a pea shooter,” growled Mike but he allowed Matthew to drag him back toward the door.

“Grandpa,” said a new voice. “Is something wrong?” A young woman appeared at the top of a staircase at the back of the store. She had dark hair and slightly asian features, but spoke with no foreign accent.

“Stay downstairs, Lily. Just some hoodlums,” barked the old man.

Seeing a chance, Mike jerked free of Matt’s grasp and lunged at the old man. There was a gunshot, and the old man was knocked from his wheelchair. The woman screamed as both Mike and the old man where knocked to the floor.

“You shot me!” screeched Mike as he slugged the crippled man. “You old ****er! You shot me!”

“Mikey! No!” yelled Matthew. “Get offa him.” It was too late though. Mike had grasped the old man around the neck and overcome with shock and adrenaline, refused to let go.”

“Grandpa!” screamed the woman, as she rushed over. Between her and Matt, they managed to pull Mike off the old man. But it was too late. The old man’s eyes stared sightless at the ceiling.

The woman screamed again as she knelt by her grandfather, shaking him.

“Shit Mikey,” ground Matthew trough his teeth as he grasped his friend by the collar. “They hell’ve you done?”

“What I had ta,” rasped his friend, with a cough. “Sunofavich Matt. I don’t feel too good.” He coughed again and blood splattered on his hands. “The hell,” he exclaimed in fright. “Don’t hardly hurt no more, how the…” But Mike had to put a hand out to the wall to steady himself.

Matt caught his friend just before he fell and lowered him to the ground. “Mikey. Hey, Mikey. S’all right. I’ll get some bandages.”

“Hey lady!” called Matthew to the sobbing woman. “You got a first aid kit?”

The woman ignored him, and continued to sob over her dead grandfather. Matt repeated himself.

“**** off! You murderer,” screamed the woman.

“God dammit,” mumbled Matt as he got up and ran down an aisle till he came to first aid. Grabbing the biggest packages of bandages he could, he rushed back to his friend. When he returned, he found Mikey’s face a pale white and his eyes unfocused. His breathing was raspy and shallow.

Hey, Mikey,” stay with me. “Cant be leaving me. Hey, look at me! Mikey, listen to your old friend Matt; remember what we always used to say before the drought came. The two of us, we’re to pretty to die. Mikey… Mikey….” Matt shook his old friend, but he was gone. “Aww shit no Mikey.”

There was a long period of silence, while the two living mourned the two dead. After about an hour, Matt heard a scraping and looked over to see that the young woman had retrieved the small rifle and pointed it at him.

“You gonna kill me too,” asked Matthew.

“Does it make a difference?” asked the girl.

Matthew pondered the question. He thought about the last few years with the drought, the plagues, the resource wars and riots. “Guess not,” he replied. “Prolly be doing me a favor.”

“Get the hell out,” she said coldly.

Matt looked down at the two bodies. “Should do something about them. You got a working cooler?”

The woman snorted. “You think I’m stupid enough to put this thing down.”

“You actually think I’d use my best friends dead body as an excuse to get the jump on you?” said Matt incredulously. Despite his dire situation, his mother had raised him a decent Christian person.

“Jump me, rape me, kill me,” considered the woman. “Yeah. Scum like you’re like hyenas. You don’t give a lick for the dead, not even your own.”

Matthew sighed. He supposed from her position, she had to consider the possibilities.

The standoff lasted another half hour as they offered various options to each other that would not put one or the other in an overly compromising position. Finally they just sat at opposite ends of the convenience store, looking at each other in silence. Then, finally, they both fell asleep.

The next morning, Lilly woke to find Matt puttering around the store. When he noticed her awake, he offered her a cup of coffee he had made.

“You didn’t kill me.”

“Not the type,” replied Matthew.

“Not like your friend then.”

Matt frowned. “Lets not talk about that.”

Lilly noticed her grandfather’s body was gone, and the other young man’s as well. “Where are..”

“Ice cooler in back,” replied Matt. “Be getting… well, unpleasant in this heat otherwise.” There was a moment of silence while Lilly digested this.

“So your names Lilly,” said Matt. “Mine’s Matt. Matthew Reynolds. Used to live on a ranch due East of here before the dust bowl.”

“Lilly Serra,” said the woman. “My grandfather used to own this store after he lost his leg in the Venezuelan oil war. As if it makes a difference.”

Just then there was the low grumble of distant motorcycle engines.

“Uh oh,” said Matt as he looked out the window at the approaching plume of dust.

“Bikers,” Lilly went pale. “Oh god, do you think its..”

“The Cobb Gang,” completed Matt.

Author's Notes:

I'll be honest. I dunno if I'll have time to really go anyplace with this. Life's been really hectic lately and I just needed to escape reality for a bit and in the process just kinda farted this out without too much editing.