B.O.W.s of Walmart || closed with simactire
@simactire
Years ago, before all this happened and the world became one big, writhing cesspool of death and destruction, Matthew Addison would never have set foot inside a Walmart. Aside from the somewhat rude and often scantily clad clientele, Walmart simply did not have the array of organic foods and eco-friendly products that he valued. But Matt Addison was gone now, along with his lips and ears and nose and right eye… and Nemesis wanted cookies.
Not that he didn’t eat plenty of cookies before Umbrella turned him into a mutated train wreck, but he’d been very particular about the ingredients. Right now, he’d eat just about any cookie. Chocolate chip was his favorite, but he’d settle for some oatmeal raisin or peanut butter or hell, he’d even eat Oreos right now. What difference did preservatives, sugar, fats, and xenobiotics make now? It’s not like I’m wining any beauty pageants with this body, so who cares?
The shelves were picked pretty clean, with bags and packaging ripped open and a mess laying on the floor of just about every aisle. It didn’t smell half bad in here either. It just smelled stale, like old books. That meant no one had died in here in at least six months or so. He didn’t even see any undead or shriveled corpses of them laying around either, although there were plenty of brown, dried blood smears on the floors and shelves that might have suggested a struggle took place here at one time. Sometimes, Nemesis made up stories in his head of what happened inside the buildings he explored. Like a forensic detective, he took in the sights and attempted to piece together what had taken place. It gave him something to do.
Water was also high on his preferred acquisitions list for the day. He was overjoyed to find bottles still lingering inside ripped open packages. Stopping suddenly, he noticed a twenty dollar bill laying on a shelf where there was an empty slot for one of the big packages of water bottles. He didn’t know how to feel about the fact that, in the face of what was probably a frighteningly dire situation when this person had come to the store, they had bothered to leave money for what they were taking. He might have felt happy to know that honor still existed in the world, if he was sure that this person was still alive somewhere. But… actually… he was more sure that they weren’t, whoever they were.
Sighing, he reached into one of the ripped open packages and took out a water bottle. Unscrewing the cap, he poured it into his open mouth as he tilted his head back to make sure it didn’t just trickle out between his huge teeth. Four water bottles later and he was satisfied, but he stuffed the rest of what was there into the duffel bag he wore on his back like a backpack. They were for later… or for any survivors who might stay long enough for him to give them out. His tentacles adjusted themselves around the bag, helping to keep it from falling off.
He had all but given up his dreams of cookies until he saw…
Wait… I know those tins! He’d found the gifts section, overlooked by people searching for food. Several large blue tins of sugar cookies could be seen, and Nemesis wasted no time. “Cooooo-kiiieeees!” he exclaimed happily, grabbing a tin and ripping it open. The cookies were a bit hard - no match for his big chompers, though - and stale, but he didn’t care at all. They were amazing. He ate an entire 4-lb. tin of them, little paper cups and all, and then shoved the remaining two in his duffel bag. Ah, the small joys in life. Find them where you can. And hey, my breath will be a little nicer for a while. So that’s something.
Of course… the cookies would provide him little nourishment. Meat was the only thing his body craved and utilized, but the cookies fed his soul, and there was value in that. He’d have to search for his old standbys when he was done, canned cat food and dog food, for actual food. Better than eating the few uninfected animals still left in the world. Even now, after everything, Nemesis was an animal lover, just like Matt had been all his life.
But then he thought he heard a dog barking. “Hmm?” he said, poking his head above the shelves to look around. It was in the distance, outside the store, and it had sounded like a happy bark. Infected hounds didn’t usually bark that way. They howled and growled and snarled… but they didn’t bark like happy pups. Remaining as still as he could, Nemesis watched from a decent distance away from the front doors as a redheaded woman and a black dog wandered cautiously in.
He didn’t know what to do. If he made noise – and certainly if she saw him – they were liable to run away. That was fine, it had happened a lot when he found survivors. Usually they threw things at him. Sometimes they shot him. He understood, it was alright. But there was some seriously good shit in this store, and he wanted the woman to benefit from it. If he scared her now, she might leave before she could get any of the water or food or whatever else she was looking for. He’d… he’d even share his cookies… if she wanted some…
So he stayed still, hoping maybe she wouldn’t notice him. He was concerned about the dog, though, because he would probably smell him a mile away and wouldn’t be happy about it. At least I’m not contagious if the dog bites me…
