Everyone musta always been scavenging for food and water, typical supplies, but I was looking for the hidden stashes and bongs. I wanted medical grade marijuana, not that pharmaceutical junk. What they didn’t know was I had found a stash a few houses back, and I was still on the fence on whether I wanted them to know I had been looking for it. I had enough stress. My pain levels were at their max. I had grouped up with six others 2 nights ago, presumably most from the same neighborhood as I, or more importantly, mentally sound. Some had mentioned being vets, I could no longer trust anyone, and even my small group was suspect.
Here’s what we know. About 2 weeks ago an attack happened in the city, power was lost immediately following, cell communications down, radio and television silence, emergency service null.
So anyway, a couple days back I found a flavor jar under some kids bed, probably a teenager sixteen or 17, judging by the room. Signs of a struggle were seen throughout the condo, I fathom to ponder what has become of the owners of the unit. We lived and shared a fairly big neighborhood, yet barely lifted a chin of recognition when driving or walking by. But the kid had good taste with classic posters on his wall. When I saw the Floyd tapestries, I had hoped that there’d be some bud stashed away. And there was. I quickly pocketed it before the others could catch me.
To be continued…
© Delia Ross. 2020
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