Chapter 8

In stark contrast to the bustling energy of the high school gym, two figures slinked through the deserted streets of downtown. The only light came from their flickering flashlights, casting eerie shadows on the abandoned buildings and alleys. Their tense footsteps echoed loudly in the stillness, punctuated by their raised voices that seemed to bounce off the buildings. It was clear that these two were out of place in this criminal underworld, struggling to find their footing in a world they did not belong in.

"Ain't this some shit, we luckier than a man with a golden horseshoe up his ass, ain't we," The younger of the two spoke, in a hushed voice, trying to keep his tone low and unnoticed in the quiet streets.

"If only Ma could see us now, bless her dead heart, she'd be happier than an uncooked clam," the elder sibling communicated with his younger brother as they moved forward towards their intended objective. The older one's voice echoed down the street as he asked, "Are you certain this plan is going to work?"

"I dreamed it, didn't I, and the second the truck started what happened?" The young brother asked rhetorically, "You bet your ass, the whole town went dark," the younger brother continued, slowing down his steps as they reached their destination.

"You also dreamed about free power, you know them all haven't forgiven us for cutting the power line yet, and it's been well over many years." The older brother said, stopping behind his brother as they looked over the large door preventing their entrance.

The door was old and worn, its heavy wooden panels straining against the rusted metal lock. A wiry man with a determined expression pressed his hands against the door, grunting with effort as he tried to force it open. His younger accomplice stood nearby, his similar build and tense posture showing his eagerness to get inside.

"We should just smash a window," the younger man suggested, eyeing the storefront across the street. But the older man shook his head stubbornly.

"Can't risk making too much noise," he replied through gritted teeth as he gave another shove at the door. Finally, he stepped back and looked around for something to use as a battering ram.

His eyes landed on an empty metal trash can lying on the sidewalk. "This'll do," he muttered, hoisting it onto his shoulders. He nodded at his partner, who shifted his position against the brick wall of the store they were about to rob.

"You sure this is worth it?" he asked, doubt creeping into his voice.

"Hey, we could use some extra cash," the younger man reminded him with a shrug. "And besides,

nothing wrong with selling the people Tylenol."

The older man rolled his eyes but couldn't help letting out a chuckle. "Alright, let's hope your dreams come true then." With that, he lunged forward and slammed the trash can against the door of the pharmacy store. The impact of his body against the metal door sent a shockwave through his limbs, contorting them in unnatural angles. A pained grunt echoed from his lips as he lay sprawled on the unforgiving sidewalk outside the store.

"Should have just broken the window," The younger brother chided, casually picking up the nearby trashcan with surprising strength. With a hoist above his head, he wielded it like a weapon, the metal glinting under the moonlight. He hurled it towards the window, the trashcan reflected on the glass right along a new advertisement for a new back pain medication etched upon it. Shards of glass flew everywhere as they hastily climbed through the broken window and began their search for valuable medication.

"Think of the money, we steal all the Tylenol the town has, charge them up the ass, and sell it back to'em." As he spoke, the younger man's worn leather jacket creaked with each movement. He carefully wiped away the remaining shards of glass from the window, using his jacket as a makeshift glove. "Not like selling Tylenol is against the law, and ain't no way Bobby gonna find out where we got it, we just gotta drive the truck up and down the street playing that shitty metal y'all like. Gives me a headache right quick, imagine what I'd do to people who ain't use to hearing it." His baggy jeans caught on the remaining shards as he struggled to climb inside. "Come on," he grumbled, already halfway inside the store.

The old Sheriff's truck rumbled to life, its rusty engine chugging as it tore out of the high school gym parking lot. A low hum escaped Bobby's lips, his subconscious singing along to his favorite song. The truck's headlights pierced the darkness, illuminating the winding dirt road that he had driven countless times before. Having lived here his whole life, he knew every shortcut and back road like the back of his hand. His fingers tapped against the worn steering wheel, keeping time with the beat of his hum. He was making his way over to Pete's Farm, a familiar journey for him in this small town where everyone knew each other's business.

He knew that old coot had an extra generator to spare, and probably bought it when the Y2K happened, fearing for the end of the world. Probably got some extra supplies too, heard him yapping about that Mayan Calendar a few years ago that stopped marking down the days, pushing people to panic thinking another end-of-the-world story was here. A soft chuckle escaped his lips thinking about Pete's crazy theories.

"God I love this town," he muttered to himself as he turned the steering wheel, making a hard right with the truck. The road loomed over the downtown area and was a place where he constantly caught the same teenager making out with his girlfriend.

"The shit is that," Bobby's voice reverberated off the walls of his cramped two-seater truck, filled with adrenaline as he raced through the quiet streets. His eyes caught a glimpse of flickering lights in the distance, drawing him closer to downtown. With determination, he pressed down harder on the gas pedal, causing the truck to roar in response.

The air in the otherwise silent pharmacy was suddenly shattered by a loud ripping noise, causing the younger brother to jump in surprise. The sound echoed off the sterile walls and shelves, filling the room with a jarring discomfort. "The fuck you doing Kieth," the younger brother's voice rushed, his head swiftly turning around to stare at his older brother who was just about to bite into a candy bar he opened.

"Howard ain't gonna miss a Snickers, he gonna be worried about the Tylenol." As he took a bite of the chocolate bar, his older brother spoke, bits of melted chocolate clinging to his teeth.

"Sides, we gonna need the energy to finish this ain't we," he continued, his words blurred as he chewed on the nougat of the piece of candy in his mouth. The younger brother chuckled at the logic,

"First right thing you said all day," his younger brother nodded in agreement as they strolled past shelves of cough syrup and allergy medicine, making their way towards the tempting array of snacks at the back of the store. "I've been meaning to grab me a bag of chips for awhile now," the younger brother gripped a bright LED flashlight in one hand and scanned the chips aisle, his eyes squinting in concentration. He reached for the familiar black bag of Barbecue Lays and slid down the shelves, leaning against them as he plopped onto the floor.

"Keith, grab us one of them orange sodas, the ones in a glass bottle, we drinking like fancy gentlemen tonight," he ordered as he tore open the bag of chips. Laughter peeled off of Keith, as he dropped the Snickers wrapper on the floor and made his way over to the cooler, his hand gripping the neck of the orange bottles.

"They still cold," Kieth hollered to his brother with a smile. Only for the smile to tuck away, as both brothers heard tires tearing down the once-empty road, followed by a beam of headlights that flooded through the store.