The Death Thief

Shopping Trip

I wandered around for most of the morning, seeing what my options were before investing the little money I had. At least it felt like a little money when told I'd only be getting a tenth of it for the rest of my time there. So I wandered up and down the main street, which only had a few off shoots into what appeared to be neighborhoods and nothing more.

It was what I typically pictured when I thought of small town rural America. There was the mechanic dressed in his oily overalls fixing a tractor. There was a pharmacy with knick knacks decorating the window. There was a small grocery store that was maybe half the size of the ones I saw back home. Nothing was name brand, which made sense considering they didn't want ties to the outside world. Of course, someone must have regulated their internet and they had gas stations, which needed to be refueled.

I thought about approaching someone every now and then to ask how exactly things worked. Did they cast a spell on the fuel tank drivers or did they contract with a werewolf run company? In the daylight, it all seemed less scary and far more intriguing. They had a whole little world, completely operated by supernatural beings, yet no one knew it existed.

However, whenever I thought to approach someone, they'd turn away and increase the gap between us. Pedestrians, who looked as normal as any family I might see strolling to a library or store in a typical town, made a concerted effort to cross the street when they saw me coming. The deli, however, was more than pleasant to me.

"Not going to the hotel for lunch?"

A squat man with a shiny scalp and a ring of curly black hair, built me a turkey and ham sandwich on flatbread, while a young woman dusted with freckles took lunch orders over the phone.

"No, I just want a little something. I had a big breakfast."

"Yes, with the sheriff," he said with a wink. "Do you want mustard?"

"No, just mayo. How did you know I was with the sheriff?"

"Small town. Lettuce?"

"And tomatoes. I just didn't think word would travel that fast."

"You're a hot topic." Another wink and this time I turned to hide my blush. I'd never been a topic before, much less a hot one. "You have your card?"

"Yes," I said, handing it over to make my first purchase.

"You bought any clothes yet? Have you been to Hearth Home?" He wrapped up my sandwich and swiped my card before handing them both over to me.

"I saw it." It was hard to miss. Besides the hotel there was only one other building over two stories in Whisper Valley. At the center of town was the single break in their main street. There it diverged into a big roundabout with a lovely, little park in the middle. There some of the bigger businesses resided. There was the town's only bank, the town hall, the library, and the three story department store, Hearth Home.

"They got all the clothes on the second floor. Not as nice as the stuff in some of the shops, but Lord Antonov will surely take you there for gifts at some point. No need to waste your allowance there. Save it up for treating yourself to little things, like our fresh baked cookies." He waved his hand over to a container and waggled his eyebrows. The young woman, whom I noticed had a similar boxy tip to the end of her nose as my server, looked at the old man from over her shoulder and then to me before rolling her eyes and returning to her phone call.

"I'm good for now, thank you," I said, raising up my sandwich to remind him he'd already sold me my lunch. "And I think I will go to the department store. I don't need anything fancy."

"Well, you just remember, we're always happy to have you here next time you are looking for something to do in town."

He gave me an enthusiastic wave as I left with my sandwich and headed over to the park to eat, and though everyone vacated the picnic tables once I arrived, I enjoyed the warm sun sprinkling down on me through the blooming oak trees. Perhaps I should have scorned their sideways glances and curled lips, but I blushed at their whispers. I wondered what tales they told about me and my thoughts drifted into ever more elaborate speculations.

After lunch, I first hit the personal care section, grabbing various hygiene products to stock my bathroom. I considered getting myself my own sheets, but decided it might be best to stick to the necessities and figure out what I needed after I spent a couple weeks actually living in town. I may have been a prisoner, but as long as I was allowed to, I was going to live in a nice cell.

After I took care of those few little things, I spent the remainder of the afternoon combing through the racks of clothes on the second floor. As they probably didn't have a steady supplier, since it would have required outside contact, there was no cohesive rack with all the same clothing in different sizes. Instead it was a mishmash of pieces lined up by size then color. After several trips to the fitting room, I managed to snag myself a couple pairs of pants, several tops, and even a dress. On my way to the register, I reminded myself of just how old the underwear I was wearing was and made a quick detour to fix that problem.

With a brimming shopping basket and my arms loaded with clothing, I approached the register, where a slim, middle-aged woman with an impeccable bun, waited for me with a smile.

"I suppose you'll need someone to deliver this back to housing for you," she said with a nod.

"Is that extra?" I asked, my eyes rigid upon her cash register, fearful I may have done my math wrong.

"Of course it is," she smiled, while waving someone over without waiting for my response.

"Well, I don't know...how much does this come to?"

"You've got $89.72 left on your card. It will be $5 for delivery."

"$5?" It didn't seem like much, but this was all the money I had left for the week and I really needed to save up for the set of soft cotton sheets I saw on the floor below.

"Delivery Mrs. Undine?" asked a youthful male voice from behind me.

"Yes, these will need to go to Ms. Cross's room at housing," she answered without my agreement.

"Del?"

I turned and found a zombie, hunched with a shy grin on his round face. A zombie that I still wasn't sure hadn't murdered Calista.

"Hello Bungee," I said with a stiff smile.