The Enthusiasts

14

The pair rushed around the convenience store like the looting bandits they were, each of them making knee-jerk decisions while trying to determine what precious commodities would best aid them in their immediate future. An unspoken tension had risen in the air between them.

They could gauge by the way the shadows stretched and fell across the street outside the storefront that they were left with somewhere under an hour to get back to camp in the safety of daylight. Moving cautiously — as Emerson always demanded — would be impossible if they wanted to make it home by sunset. Emerson opened the doors and was startled again by the security chirp heard from somewhere inside the building. The noise seemed to do nothing but announce their arrival and self-dismissal to the unmanned cashier's desk. Sasha followed him, rushing out of the store while holding several overfilled shopping bags. Each bag bulged to its maximum pressure threshold, stretching its plastic-woven seams to their limit. She called out for her new pet to follow them outside. Emerson put The Tablet back into the zippered compartment of his pack once he had pinned their GPS location. To his still spinning logical sensors, yet another block of evidence was adding up that this place did in fact exist. He had tasted the chips and the chocolate milk, and both felt very real. Now the GPS was showing the actual location on Earth where they stood via hijacked Soviet satellite. Still, more investigation was needed to prove that what had just happened had actually happened, he thought.

They said nothing as they began jogging northwest, their own safety abandoned. The dog seemed to want to follow them as he ran alongside, his furry head and long snout turned toward them for direction. He seemed to be wondering what all the fuss was about. Perhaps he wondered why they hadn't stayed to at least finish all the jerky before leaving. The dog stopped to sniff certain areas of the street for a moment, but with his two new companions moving at a quick pace, he realized there was little time for him to stop and smell the roses with this crew. Or, in his case, the dried puddles of urine, chockful of hormones for his inquisitive mind to detect, enjoy, and cover up with his own. He didn't ask any questions. He just felt drawn to the mystery couple and did what he always did: he followed his instincts.

His instincts told him to not be left behind, and to conform to whatever they were doing. Be just like them. He didn't even think that. It just happened naturally. His instincts overtook the urge to stop and smell things. He sprinted to catch up to the couple, running through intersection after intersection of vacant street crossings like they'd gone mad. Both humans were carrying six bags each, and the man also carried a large backpack and a rifle. It was easy for the dog to know where the man and woman were with all the racket they made. They stomped down the light snow-covered streets and through the odd puddle while the thin plastic bags shook up and down with each step they took. The dog looked up at both of them, noticing their eyes were focused on where they were going. They moved quickly, so he did his best to do the same. They passed some people sitting and laying on the street, but the man and the woman paid no attention. He kept pace with the female, who was keeping stride just behind the man. She kept making low sounds with her mouth, and he thought they may be for him, and that made him enjoy this run even more. They finally stopped, turning into an alleyway between two buildings. The man crouched down between a car and the brick wall of the next building over. The man was tired and breathing heavily. The woman looked concerned for him as they stopped. This is probably the place we are going, the dog thought. This car is important, he thought. The dog decided to sniff things out around the car, as he could tell there were interesting smells in this area for him to investigate.

"These bags are too much," Emerson said, panting out his words and clearly exhausted from the near sixteen-block run with extra baggage.

"Well, we have to try and take as much as we can. There's too much good stuff here."