The difference between the pharmacy and a barren wasteland was purely aesthetic. Jagged cracks in the desert earth were instead the broken tiles of the pharmacy floor, scattered items on the largely empty shelves the sparse vegetation dotting the land, expired liquid antibiotics the tempting, and treacherous cacti.
Still, the optimism on Omid's face as they traversed the desolate building could make anyone think they had found the promised land. Surely, he thought, there had to be SOMETHING left for a baby. And why shouldn't he be hopeful? At the general goods store they visited before the pharmacy, they had found some canned goods, chips, and even a little book for Omid Jr about . It was their lucky day.
"All clear," Nia said as she and Clementine checked the last row. "There are only two ways in. Latch is busted in the back, so the door won't close. We should keep someone back there as a lookout. We can block the front with my ax for now."
"That's smart," Omid said.
"The ax was Clementine's idea," Nia said as she handed the ax to the young girl and headed towards the back entrance.
"I got it from Lee," Clementine replied, slipping the ax through the bars of the door to keep it shut. "We used his dad's cane to slow down the walkers in Macon."
"Alright, Clem," Omid clapped his hands together. "Let's spread out and look for some supplies, especially stuff we can use for Omid Jr."
The aisles in this particular store weren't labeled with words like one would expect, but instead used images to depict the items. The owner seemed to want their store to stand out amongst other pharmacies with this choice, but had a morbid sense of humor if the cartoon of the screaming infant was any indication. The aisle for the pain medication was particularly morbid. The image of a cartoonishly miserable man with a busted lip, missing teeth, a bulbous, black eye, an arm cast, and a backwards leg indicated the aisle had been designated for pain. And yet, Omid tread happily towards the baby aisle, completely ignoring the one before, hopeful that there would be something he could use for the baby there. Omid had decided not to focus on the pills for Christa just yet. Not because they didn't need them -he certainly wanted this birth to be as easy for her as possible. It was only that being optimistic was a bit harder in that regard. The reason it was easier to believe he'd find diapers, pacifiers, and unspoiled formula than to believe he'd find pain medication was something Omid refused to focus on.
"I don't think we're gonna find much here," Nia called from the exit, ever the optimist.
"Oh, come on," Omid replied as he turned the corner into the baby aisle. "There must be something." And there was. An oasis in this desert. Seemed the shelves were fully stocked with diapers, pacifiers, little blankets, and toys. Why there was so much here, one could only guess. But Omid decided not to speculate, not to think about the obvious. There was no reason to consider that there were no children to loot for.
Omid filled his bag with some essentials: formula, diapers, pacifiers. By this time, he could hear giggling from the back of the store, which likely meant Clementine had joined Nia in keeping watch. Made sense given how empty the store looked. He went into the aisle with the mother on it and didn't find much, just some chewed gum stuck on the shelf, an empty bottle of painkillers, and dust.
What would have been helpful that day was a bell, something that would make a noise when the front door opened. Unfortunately, it wasn't until one of the men cocked his handgun that Omid realized the pair had entered the store.
"Hands up," a gruff voice said from behind Omid, prompting him to drop the duffle bag and raise his hands up.
"You alone," another voice, this one lighter, asked.
"Look, guys," Omid said cautiously as he slightly turned his head to try to see the two behind him. "I don't want any trouble."
"Don't turn around, boy," the gruff voice said. From his periphery, Omid could just barely make out tan skin and peppered hair. "Miguel, check the bag."
"Yes, sir." The younger man knelt down by the bag, and Omid could see him clearly. Shoulder-length, dark hair, tan skin, a flannel shirt, jeans, and most importantly, a rifle on his back. The young man, Miguel, opened his duffle bag and rifled through, tossing the baby stuff out and grabbing a can of beans. "What's all this?"
"It's just for when I make it somewhere better, you know." Omid didn't want to say he was already expecting a kid because he didn't want the men looking for his traveling party: Clementine and Nia. He had seen movement through the gaps in the aisles and assumed the girls must be getting into position to ambush the guys robbing him.
"You one of them Wellington folk? Idiot. There's no more society. We're all gonna die, and then get back up and eat each other." The man gave a dark chuckle. "Well, you won't be getting back up."
"Wait, Hector," Miguel said. "We don't have to-"
"You don't leave survivors, Miguel. You know that."
"Hold on, man," Omid began. "You don't have to-
"Shut up," Hector said, his finger moving toward the trigger.
"Wait, Hector, don't-"
A gunshot rang out, and a sickly warm liquid splashed against the aisle, a gaping hole in Hector's eye marking a perfect shot. Nia stood at the end of the aisle, gun raised. A gamble of a shot, Omid thought. Miguel reached for his rifle, but another gunshot brought him to his knees, and his rifle slid across the floor. Clementine ran up from the other end of the aisle.
"Wait, Nia," Clementine said, having downed Miguel. Nia had her gun trained on the man and had been about to shoot. "We don't have to kill him."
"Are you crazy," Nia said. "He's gonna kill us now. Look at his partner."
Before Omid could make an input, he noticed Nia's eyes widen. He looked towards the front to see through the cracked and broken windows to see walkers heading toward the building. Clementine had started putting the discarded supplies back in Omid's duffle bag.
"We have to go," Clementine said.
"Not before this," Nia replied, once again training her eyes on the man crying on the ground. He seemed to not even notice the group anymore as he repeated a single question to no one: Why?
"No," Omid said. "Leave him be."
"But Omid-
"No, let's go. Now."
"Fine, but I'm keeping this," Nia said as she picked up Miguel's rifle. "Clementine, take any ammo he's got." Clementine did as she was told, and the girls headed toward the back door.
Omid looked down at the crying man and dropped his hunting knife for him. Then, he headed to the back door, wondering how this day got so bad. He hoped Miguel got out alive. He would get that wish. In the coming months, he would regret leaving him like that. He should have listened to Nia.