Chapter four: Supplies.
There will come a point in time when you and your group are running low on supplies. Hungry people will make for a much more hostile working environment. Try not to let it get to you, don't take everything to heart. Don't disregard threats, either, though. Example, if someone has been traveling non stop for three days and hasn't eaten in two, your left leg might seem really appetizing to them; if they're threatening to eat you and aren't even trying to hide it, you should probably defend yourself against them. They will probably eat you.
Sammy was digging through her bag as she walked at the back of the group. Her stomach growled painfully, but she ignored it and continued digging. She managed to scavenge four granola bars out of it, smiling at her accomplishment. Then she started counting heads.
Sammy, Carla, Aaron, James, Glenda, and Mark.
Deciding to make it easier and conserve food for later, she dropped one back into her bag. "Hey, guys," she called quietly. Everyone was still on high alert, so their eyes all darted to her. "I found some food. If we split it equally, everyone gets half a bar."
James moved first, stepping up to Sammy and snatching one out of her hand.
"She said half, you over-grown ape," Carla hissed.
"Just try and stop me," James said, venom dripping from his voice as he glared Carla down.
The Latina woman felt for the gun that rested at her hip. She slipped her hand around it, ready to pull it out if James made a move at her.
"It's fine," Sammy said quickly, holding her hand out to keep Carla still. She sent a small smile to the burly man in front of her. "He can have my half. I'm not that hungry."
James scoffed like a primate who had just won a battle, taking long strides to his place at the front of the group. The others were much more compliant, breaking the bars in half and sharing.
"Shoulda' let me shoot the asshole," Carla muttered as she took her half from Sammy.
"Not worth it," Sammy stated, glancing at James. He was an ass, sure, but he could hold his in a fight. He was useful.
"Would've just shot him in the foot," she continued, looking disappointed at the fact that her new friend was against her shooting the brute.
Sammy laughed quietly, pulling out the fourth granola bar from her bag. "Like I said, not worth it."
Carla giggled as Sammy opened up the bar, making sure that the man at the head of the group heard the crinkling of the extra wrapper. She took a bite with a satisfied smile when she saw James turn to glance back at her. He looked livid but, like Sammy, he knew it wasn't worth it.
"I can't even be mad at you for that, you deserve that extra half," Carla said, trying to contain her giggles.
If your group is less than fair with their distribution of food, and you're not getting enough to keep your energy up, you can pull the lion tactic. In a pride of lions, the weaker males in the group will turn to trickery to get a little extra food, or a more desirable mate. It's actually a common occurrence in a lot of group-based animals. The point of the lesson is this: if you have more brains than brawn, use that to your advantage. Not just the physically strong survive.
The group stumbled upon a farm. The fields were mostly bare, the crops still not far enough along to show more than the occasional sprout. They walked slowly along the fields, keeping their eyes open for any movement.
"This might be a nice place to stay," Glenda thought aloud, rubbing her arm as though a chill had hit her. With the heat of the desert sun beating down on them, she doubted that the temperature was a factor. "You could grow crops. They're already planted. And I'm sure there are farm animals nearby." Her bright hazel eyes scanned the area, looking akin to a doe scouting the perimeter for predators.
Sammy observed their surroundings. It was a relatively safe place, the large expanse of land surrounded by barbed wire. And the smell of manure hung in the air, meaning cows or horses couldn't be to far away.
"We don't know what kind of crops are planted," Sammy stated her doubts, gently kicking dirt near one of the sprouts. "Barbed wire fence doesn't take a lot to break. It'd have to be reinforced. Livestock might have been killed."
"As long as there aren't any zombie cows," Mark joked, the boy sending Glenda a goofy smile in hopes of getting a reaction out of her. The girl just offered a small, nervous smile in return before looking away.
Their walk continued in silence until they reached the house. James reached for the doorknob, but Sammy stopped him and checked the windows by the door for movement. When she was met with nothing but the stillness of the dark house, she gave him the okay.
They filled into the house in single file before splitting up. James, Sammy and Carla ventured through the house while the other three made a B-Line for the kitchen.
Sammy saw James walking through the hall. He threw opened doors with no reserve as he walked, and the noise gave Sammy an uneasy feeling. She followed after him, ready to lecture him on his noise level, when a zombie fell onto the brute.
Loud curses spilled from the man as he held its face away from him. He pulled an arm back in preparation. Sammy rushed toward him, her knives at the ready, but one solid punch to the face was enough to send the elderly zombie to the ground. It groaned, trying to crawl it's way toward them with its jaw hanging limply. Quickly, Sammy went to stab it in the head, breathing a sigh of relief when it went limp. She looked back to James to make sure he was okay, seeing him wipe the creature's blood off of his hand and smearing it along the bottom of his shirt.
Without a word, she walked into the room, and the brute followed her.
In the center of the room, there was a large bed, an old lady laying on it. She had a bullet hole in her head, and most of the bed was covered in blood. Sammy stood there, taking in the sight.
"The elderly were more prone to contracting the virus," Sammy stated, feeling the truth in her words more than knowing them. She stuffed her hands into her pockets, staring at the body of the old woman. The coarse cover of her notebook met her fingers, and she rubbed it absently. "Just like normal viruses, I guess."
She went silent again when James lifted the body off of the bed and took her to the hallway. He laid her against the wall, then proceeded to do the same with the man's body. When he finished, he stood at the door and looked at Sammy expectantly.
"This is my room, get out."
Sammy didn't argue as she scurried passed him. The door slammed behind her, causing the house to shake in response. Sammy stared at the wooden barrier in disbelief.
"Ass," she muttered, heading to the second floor, where she heard the thud of footsteps. She strode through the dark hallway as silently as she could, clutching at her knife. She opened one door, quick to scan the area before relaxing again. She turned to leave and jumped as she saw Carla standing there.
"I almost killed you," Sammy breathed out, her knife at the ready. Slowly she lowered her weapon and willed her heart to slow down. "Don't sneak up on me like that."
"Sorry," Carla said with a laugh as she put her gun away. "I covered the second floor, there's no one up here."
Sammy nodded in response, going on to double check the rooms for zombies and supplies. "We found two on the first floor. Old farmers. That's probably all we'll find here." She descended back down the stairs, heading to another uncleared room. The den was the next area, complete with a fireplace. Hanging above the mantle was a sword. It was a thin double blade with a sleek white and gold handle. Sammy quickly rushed over, grabbing the item and pulling it off of its mount with ease.
"Dibs," she called, hearing Carla approach behind her. She grabbed the sheath, securing the item around her belt loop and smiling as she adjusted to the new weight on her hip.
"Nice sword," Carla said with a roll of her eyes. "Shall I start calling you 'Sir Sammy of the round table'?"
Sammy laughed, rubbing at the hilt of the sword. "Just 'Sir Sammy' will do." She vacated the room as Carla gave her a small chuckle in reply, circling back through to the kitchen.
"We hit the jackpot," Mark stated when the two girls joined them. They had jarred and canned foods spread over the counter tops, with a few meats and breads. Most of the items looked homemade, like pickled plumbs stashed away in a mason jar. Definitely food to last a while, and plenty that wouldn't go bad within the next week.
"Sweet." Sammy grinned at the pleasant surprise, her stomach seeming to communicate with her through a loud growl. "Why don't I start on dinner? Anyone want to help?"
"I will," Glenda offered, seeming relieved at the chance to do something normal amidst all their traveling and fighting.
"Alright," Sammy cheered. "How about you, Carla? Wanna make it a sexist event with just the women cooking?"
"Nah, I'll leave the stereotypes to you," Carla laughed. "Unless you want enchiladas, I can't do much else."
"I love enchiladas," Mark replied with a laugh as he and Carla headed into the living room to wait for food.
Sammy laughed quietly at the irony in her friend's words as she looked over their new food supply, separating it by what would go bad soonest. "Got any idea what we should cook?" She questioned the quiet girl.
"A soup would probably be best," Glenda replied, going in to grab something. "They have plenty of noodles."
"Chicken, noodles, veggies. Easy recipe for chicken noodle soup."
"Sounds good to me." Glenda said with a nod.
Sammy grinned as she started on the meal. "That's because it's a comfort food."
If it's not claimed, it's fair game. That's the rule I go by. Stores and such are good for searching for supplies, but they'll be the first to be cleaned out. The best place to scavenge would likely be deserted places in the middle of nowhere. Farmhouses, for example. Low population of people living there before the outbreak, means less zombies. Being so far out, it's unlikely that (if the original owners vacated) the area was ever found, meaning a higher likelihood of finding supplies or shelter.
A friendly reminder; never let your guard down.'