Hanish strolled down the aisles, attempting to determine what was still good and what had gone bad. He broke some of the rules he had set for himself by stealing things from the shelves. He returned to the gun section and examined an Ithaca 37.

  He snatched his shirt and tore off some of the material, then tightly wrapped it around his hand. He tightened his fist, contemplating breaking the case and stealing the gun.

  “Oh my God, just do it!” Hanish looked up, but it wasn’t Janice. It was a vision of his brother Leon. “You still hide from what you want to do!” He spoke to him, gleaming in the light of the afterlife.

  Hanish whispered, “I don’t think you understand. It’s not right.” He looked back at the case, running his hand across its length.

  “Brother, you’re being foolish.” Leon was taunting him. Hanish had a deep sense that his brother was right.

  He was by himself in a building that had been abandoned, with a strange woman at the end of the world. He was uncertain if he would wake up tomorrow or if the divine would just destroy the Earth. Was he the last man on the planet or just in the state or city? He didn’t know. Hanish felt sick to his stomach, but he felt that if he just kept it easy, maybe he would find his way back to Aleaha. He just knew she was out there, still alive. She would come back to him. “You have to give up on her. She abandoned you.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Hanish leaned over and smashed his fist into the glass. It broke all over his hand, shattering around the gun. His heart pounded, and he scurried down to retrieve it. He could hear the beat pounding in his ears. He glanced toward his brother, but the ghost had disappeared.

  “What happened?” Janice said, standing before him, holding a can of Spam. Hanish took hold of the gun, catching his breath. “We can use this,” he said, showing her the gun. She dropped the can and raced to remove the gun from his hands. He retracted it. “Are you hurt?” she asked, worried for him.

  He stood there shaking, his hands dripping with blood. “No, I am fine,” he said, walking away from her, still cradling the gun. As she followed him, her face became worried. She reached for his shoulder as he dropped to the floor. He screamed in pain. Janice covered him with her body to comfort him. He cried and shook as he came to terms with his shame.

  She had him sit down in front of her to clean up his wound. She stared at him as he told her what to do: clean the wound and stitch it up. She didn’t do a good job, but it was good enough to keep the wound together.