Glen Tate - 299 Days - The Community

God, the situation was getting worse, Wes thought. The milk runs back in Pow’s neighborhood just yesterday were nowhere as dangerous as this one. Things had really gone downhill in just twenty-four hours.

The long walk to the truck with two bags of heavy groceries was starting to wind Drew. He never did things like this in his retirement. Well, former retirement. Drew realized that he had a job now: surviving. Easy things like going to the grocery store were no longer easy. He’d have to work for things like food, but he was so glad he was with his family and could be there to help them. He started to ponder how much things had changed and wondered what life would be like in the next days or however long this went on. But his main goal was to get all the food into the truck and get out alive.

Wes was briskly walking without any trouble. He was scanning all around, especially to the rear. He knew that was the most likely avenue of attack. He could feel that he was walking much more confidently than the average person. He had an AK-47 and a pistol, which helped increase confidence. He knew that bad guys would sense who was confident and who was scared, and they targeted the scared.

They got to the truck and Wes put his bag in the cab. He motioned for Drew to do the same. It was crowded, but it wouldn’t make sense to leave the bags in the bed where anyone could steal them.

“Let’s go try to get a little closer to John,” Wes said. “You can go and lead him back to where we are. I’ll follow you and keep my hands free,” Wes said patting his AK. “I’ve got you covered, Drew.” Drew had never had anyone say that to him. At least, not in reference to being covered in a gun sense.

They moved as close as they could, which was a block from the parking lot. Drew got out and went over to the store entrance to get John. Between the two of them, they got all the bags of groceries in their hands. They were glad to see Wes coming up behind them. They noticed how much more confidently Wes moved compared to everyone else in the parking lot.

They got to the truck. Wes motioned for them to put the bags in the bed. Wes moved the bags in the cab to the bed.

John said, “I know where we can get some staples, but we might not be too welcome.” He pointed a direction for Wes to drive. Off they went.

They went about six blocks to a rundown part of town. Wes looked around and didn’t see a grocery store. “Where’s the grocery store?”

John smiled.

John pointed to a Mexican tienda, a neighborhood store about the size of a convenience store.

“There?” Wes said. “Do they even sell to people like us?” Wes had a bad feeling about this.

John nodded, “Yeah, I buy stuff here all the time. The best tortillas in the world.”

Drew motioned that he’d stay with the truck. He was tired and had the least shooting experience, by far.

John and Wes went in. For the first time in this whole ordeal, they were scared. When they walked in, everyone stopped talking. The other customers, all young Latino men, stared at them. The Latinos weren’t gangsters, just young men.

John said, “Hi. You guys open?” The store owner just looked at him. John pointed over at the fifty-pound sacks of red beans and the twenty-five pound sacks of rice. “How much are those?”

“We’re closed,” said the store owner in a thick Mexican accent. He looked mean.

“We have cash,” John said.

That seemed to insult the store owner. He raised up his hand and the young men started walking toward John and Wes.

Wes instantly drew his pistol with his right hand. With his left hand, he quickly undid the two buttons on his hunting shirt, just as he’d practiced a few times before they left. There was his AK. Out for the whole world to see. Which was the point.

This stopped the young men cold, and they instinctively put their hands up. None of them were armed. John fumbled for his revolver and clumsily pointed it at the store owner.

It was silent for a few seconds.

Wes finally said, “I think it’s time for us to go. Sorry to have troubled you, señor.” Wes was sincere. He realized that the beans and rice in that store were for the store owner’s family and friends. Maybe those young men were a gang, although they didn’t look like gangsters. In the past few days, “gang” had come to mean a group of people connected in some way protecting themselves. Neck tattoos, baggy pants, and gold teeth were no longer a prerequisite. Hell, Wes and John were part of a “gang” now. Who were the well-armed ethnic outsiders in the tienda? John and Wes.

Everyone was still silent. Wes was walking backwards very slowly and deliberately, keeping his pistol on the young men. Everyone in the room could tell that Wes knew what he was doing. John was in shock and walking backwards, too. Wes felt enormous relief when he went out the door and back onto the street.

Wes covered the door as he yelled to John, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Drew had been scanning the area and saw Wes and John walking out of the store with their guns out. What was going on?

Wes and John jumped in the truck and took off.

“What happened?” Drew asked.

John looked down, obviously embarrassed. “I went to the wrong store.”

“We need to be out of this part of town,” Wes said. “They’ll be looking for us. We didn’t make any friends today.”

Wes was pissed at John, but when he thought about it, he shouldn’t have been. John had not foreseen that the Mexican store would only sell to Mexicans, but he should have realized it. Wes had a feeling not to go in there and should have listened to his gut. Having a pistol and an AK probably made him feel invincible, so he wasn’t trusting his intuition. He wouldn’t do that again. Wes felt like he was making mistakes. He knew what happened when mistakes were made in an environment like this.

They had failed. They didn’t very much get anything on their list. They had to draw guns and now people were out probably trying to kill them. Great. At least they had some cash left over.

Wes got on the CB. “Limit of $200 on groceries. We have cash left over. We’ll be staying out of the Mexican part of town. Anyone need us to go get something?”

“You could try the hardware store for some gas cans,” John said. He pointed the direction to the hardware store.

Wes was silent. He was trying not to be pissed at John because they’d be working and living together and needed to be on good terms. Wes lightened up and started to chat with John and Drew as they headed to the hardware store.

On the way, they saw some graffiti. “Don’t Tread on Me” was in yellow spray-paint on the wall of city hall. Interesting.

They found the hardware store. Wes said, “I’ll stay in the truck with the stuff.” John and Drew went into the store.

Drew asked where the gas cans were. The clerk laughed and said, “We sold out two days ago.” Drew and John decided to get all the miscellaneous things they could think of. Things were pretty picked over, but there were still some items. They got duct tape, rope, nails, screws, nuts and bolts. They found some Coleman fuel and some small propane canisters. There were a few packs of batteries left; they got an assortment of every kind they could think of. They didn’t have a list, so they were just guessing what they might need.

John found some work gloves. He put as many pairs as he could into the cart. “You can never have enough gloves,” he said to Drew. “These could save your hands and you’ll need them.”

They went to the checkout line, which was pretty long. They paid for their things. No surcharge there, probably because all the good stuff was gone. They had a little money left over, but not much. It was weird: money didn’t have the same feel it used to. The things in the store were much more valuable than the money.