The Groceries

Conner stumbled into the house very late in the evening. His face was streaked with rust brown liquid and his shirt had three distinct rips where a REborn had gotten too close. Looking around on the ground, he found the remote and turned the TV on. 

“And just why were you out so late?”

Conner rolled his eyes, pausing the TV. “If you must know, Dad,  I was getting yeast. Those baguettes aren’t going to rise themselves.”

He pulled out a long line of connected packets and shook them in the air. After a few moments of silence from his father, he unpaused the TV and fast forwarded through a commercial. 

“Your mother and I are worried about how this new addiction is affecting you. Maybe you could stay in tonight? We could all have a chat over dinner?”

“Dad, we’re having a chat right now. Look, baking isn’t an addiction, I’m just a provider now. It’s necessary if I want to avoid the outside world as much as possible.:

He was met with an uncomfortable amount of silence. He hated when his dad got like this. 

“Son, how have things been at school? Did you make any new friends today?” 

“Oh hey Mom,” he said, smiling a little. “Yeah things are good. I mean, the REborns burned the school down to the ground three months ago, but I think that’s made a massive improvement on the homework load. Although Jessica Thompson was still inside when that happened so that kinda su--”

“I think your father’s onto something. We should talk about...the people you’ve been hanging around.”

Conner threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “People I’ve been hanging around?! I’m literally the last kid on earth, what people?!”

“Louis, we just want what’s best for you. And we know you’ve been feeling empty inside, but weed isn’t going to fill that hole.” she continued. 

Conner looked up, confused. “Louis? Oops, forgot to edit that part out.” he said and paused the TV. 

His mother for the day, Laura Banks from TV’s family drama “High Clouds”, froze with her mouth open, pointing a finger at a blond boy Conner had neglected to cut out of the scene. Beside her stood his father for the day, Kendall Marsh, with his eyebrows furrowed and the evidence of a half-finished blunt presented in a ziploc bag. Conner sighed wearily and switched the TV off. 

“I’ll get it right next time, guys. Then it’ll be like everything’s normal again.” he promised. 

He strolled into the kitchen, where Reginald was sleeping curled up on a towel. Conner smiled faintly and ruffled the spot between his ears. Time to make dinner for the both of them. He opened the fridge, rooting around for ricotta and a block of parmesan. The only way to make up for this lousy day was some good, family recipe lasagna. 

Behind him, Reginald rose his nose to the air to sniff, not fully awake. If he were to open his eyes, Conner might try to make him go outside. Conner, at the moment, was preoccupied in the cupboard now, searching for sauce and spices. 

“Hey wait,” he said to himself, pushing aside jars of olives and boxes of crackers. “, where are the noodles?”

Reginald whined and buried his head under his paws. Oh no. Oh not this again. Conner put his hands on his hips. 

“I was sure we had some more noodles behind the sardines. Reginald, did you get the noodles?” 

Reginald whined. He didn’t even know what noodles were. All he knew was a routine that happened every time they ran out of food. Conner snapped his fingers. 

“Well , it’s only dusk. And we can’t very well have lasagna without lasagna noodles, can we?”

Reginald did not reply. 

“Well, its settled then! We’ll pop in, pop out, easy breezy, and have lasagna on the plate-or in the bowl for you Reggie- in an hour.”

Reginald wondered, for the thousandth time since this whole fiasco has started, if he could refuse. If he dug his nails hard enough into the floor, if he whined and barked, maybe Conner would be forced to stay home and make something they had enough of, like kibble or maybe even wet food from the can. He looked up hopefully at his master’s face. 

No such luck. There was nothing that could stop Conner from his cooking. Not even an apocalypse. Unbeknownst to many, dogs actually have a good memory and Reginald remembered the good old times fondly. When his worries were solely dedicated to chasing red balls across grassy fields, chasing squirrels, and making sure his food bowl was never empty. Not like now.

Conner knew all about the apocalypse, and he reflected on it as he stuffed his bag with supplies. It had all started two years ago, with a man named Gary Sonnet of Sonnet Agriculture. Sonnet was an idea man, a constant cattle-prod to the slow goings on modern society, to quote the advertisements. He had just invented what he called the pinnacle of industrialized farm labor, the Reborns. 

Using a special set of computer generated sounds, he could “reanimate” the living by mimicking brain signals and tricking the body into following orders again. Reborns were technically people, or used-to-be people, but they had no human needs like eating or sleeping.At once, his invention was the talk of everyone. Whether one thought it was unethical, a disgrace to humanity, or if it was logical and the best move one could make, everyone was talking about it. 

The Reborns became so popular that Gary sold them to other companies, assembling cars, cleaning bathrooms, sewing clothes,and painting houses. People were given the option to donate their bodies to Sonnet United Companies in exchange for a good deal of money upfront. After all, it wasn’t like they were going to be around for the rest of the work. In people’s eyes, it wasn’t much different than signing up to be an organ donor. And in this case they would be paid for it. 

But of course, as with every human experiment, things went wrong. It was uncertain what really caused the REborns to go insane, but Conner knows that it happened very, very fast. One day, Sonnet got too cocky. They tried a new set of sounds, ones that were supposed to make them work faster and harder. Instead, the Reborns gained some manic form of sentience and went on a murderous rampage. 

Hundreds of thousands of Reborns across the world all suddenly had the same goal. To destroy anything and everything in their path. Humanity didn’t stand a chance. The Reborns killed without regard or mercy, using their steroid-induced strength to rip skin and break bones. Gary Sonnet was one of the first to be killed, having surrounded himself with an elite team of REborn bodyguards. Even Conner’s parents eventually met their fate as they tried to escape their REborn infested office. 

But Conner had figured out something. The REborns, in order to function, needed the rhythmic computer-based sounds constantly playing. The installed chip in their brains made that happen easily enough, but Conner had acquired anti-trackers that jammed those signals.  These could incapacitate the REborns. 

Now Conner’s whole world was his house and his dog Reginald, and about a million more REborns just waiting for the moment to tear him from limb to limb. That kind of constant stress is enough to drive anyone crazy. So Conner learned to adapt. He’d found new people to talk to from TV, and he found comfort in going through his mother’s recipe book. 

And that was enough, most of the time. When he had enough ingredients, that is. Reginald whined to himself as he heard Conner turn to get the leash for Reginald. That was really less for the dog and more to keep them together. if  Conner had to run suddenly, he had to make sure they were both heading to the same place. 

Reginald knew that he was precious to Conner’s sanity. He knew he was the only thing with a heartbeat for miles. He got up to meet Conner halfway across the kitchen and nuzzled into his open palm. The things he would do for this boy. Conner smiled, clipping the leash on. 

“Come on, boy. It’ll be a quick trip this time. I promise.”

…

The walk down Gardenway Boulevard was the easy part. There the path was wide, not too congested by REborns. Those that did try wandering their way soon lost interest thanks to the signal disrupter Conner kept safe in his pocket. 

Down the sloping hill they went, past the duplicate rows of suburban houses that nearly looked normal if you crossed your eyes. Past Mrs. Valentine’s former prized front lawn was now decimated with broken bottles and scraps of grayed flesh. Whether that was from the REborns or from Mrs. Valentine herself was unclear. Conner shuddered and pulled Reginald along. 

At the shopping district, Conner looked both ways at the crosswalk out of habit. Not that it mattered. Most cars had broken down after REborns took one too many a joy ride. They could afford to be reckless. After all, who cared about broken bones when one couldn’t feel pain?

Conner could see the Sunshine Mart in the distance, with a happy cartoon sun smiling on the sign. It had seen better days. The automatic glass doors had been broken into a long time ago, so Conner merely stepped through the locked metal frames, kicking glass pieces out of the way for Reginald. 

Inside, the store was dark, the last bit of sunlight glowing pink through the front windows. Conner crept forward and strained his ears. No music. No music, no REborns. He sighed with a little relief and went down an aisle. 

Reginald followed his master quickly with his ears perked and swiveling like satellites. At the moment’s notice, he would bolt to the front and Conner would just have to follow, noodles be damned. 

Conner scanned the shelves, or at least what was left of them, for any sign. Everything had been picked over more than a few times when there had been more survivors, and everything else had been left to rot. He felt through some tipped over boxes, but those all turned out to be empty.

He looked down the aisle forlornly. All that was left was a few boxes of the world’s worst cereal, Quinoa Crunch, and a whole lot of rat droppings. Conner sighed and looked down at Reginald. Reginald gave him a hopeful tail wag. 

“Come on boy, we’ll have to make do without them.” he said, starting to turn back. 

Reginald could’ve howled with joy. Finally, his master was gaining the sense! They could simply eat the ingredients all mashed up in a bowl! Then he took a step outside of the aisle, towards the checking station, and his heart dropped. 

Conner stopped when he heard Reginald give a faint growl and peered out. Standing at the door like sentries were at least five REborns, mingling about and adjusting the controls on a handheld radio they took turns passing around. 

Conner backed up, his heart in his mouth. They’d have to go around the back. Gripping Reginald’s leash tightly in one hand, he turned on his heel to retreat to the employee’s only exit. Reginald whined as softly as he dared, wishing that Conner would both go faster and quieter simultaneously.

They were nearly down the aisle when Reginald’s ears perked and he nipped desperately at Conner’s heels. Conner flinched and looked back. 

“What?” he stage-whispered, just before some boxes rustled of their own accord on a shelf. Instantly, Conner hit the ground. 

A second later, the boxes parted like a curtain and out stuck an ashen gray hand. The hand felt the air a bit before the matching head joined it, a female REborn with greasy black hair. Reginald was about to whine again when Conner clamped his hand over his muzzle. 

Together, they waited with bated breath, until the clearly bored REborn gave up and wandered down the canned foods section.Reginald looked up, praying that the exit would be a clear path forward from here on out. His master had his eyes trained somewhere else, transfixed. Another Reborn? Reginald worried, following Conner’s eyes. There, a mere ten paces ahead in a pile of discarded food wrappers, was a box of Bartolotti’s Pasta Creations: Classic Lasagna. 

Conner, much to Reginald’s chagrin, began to army-crawl/slither his way towards the box, leaving him with not much choice but to follow. The silence was so tense, every clack of Reginald’s nails on the linoleum made him cringe. Conner looked around quickly, then stood up to his full height and grabbed the box. 

“Yes! Ah, wait, whole grain, gross.” he remarked, reading the label. Reginald curled his lips at him in an annoyed growl. 

Conner grinned sheepishly. “Alright, sorry boy. Can’t be picky in times like these.” 

Gently, he slipped the noodles into his backpack and zippered it shut. Good. Now they could finally leave. Conner took three steps forward and then hurriedly backpedaled. There were REborns at the back as well. 

“Hello!” chirped the first, a woman in a waitress’ uniform. Her hands were poised like she had a pen and notepad in her hands. “My name is Stacy and I’ll be your server for the night! How can I get you guys started?”

He blanched, stumbling into the solid chest of another REborn, this one dressed in a safety vest and hard hat.  Conner whipped around and felt desperately for the signal jammer he’d stowed in one of his pockets. To his horror, they were empty. He had dropped it when he had hidden under the shelf!

“Hey, this is a construction zone! You need to get off the premises kid!” the REborn barked, pointing at the door. 

“Gladly.” Conner said, and dodged before either of them could grab him, slipping around in any opening in the cluster he could find. Behind him, Reginald was nearly strangled by the lead, barking and nipping at any REborn that dared get too close. REborns couldn’t feel pain, that much was true, but sometimes habits were hard to break, and they flinched away all the same. 

Conner and Reginald broke through the door not a second too soon, pursued by a group of REborns. At the sudden widening of the path, Reginald galloped forward, forcing Conner to stumble into a sprint or risk eating concrete. Behind them, the chirping songs of the radio grew louder and louder. Neither boy nor dog knew if this meant they were getting closer or if they had turned the volume up higher. Neither turned around to confirm. 

“This way!” Conner suddenly shouted, veering left into an alleyway. In front of them was a car with its doors hanging open, having clearly been abandoned in a haste. For the second time that day, Conner dropped to the ground and crawled under the car, scraping his back on the metal undercarriage. 

Reginald scrambled in after him, making a tight squeeze. Both held their breath as the REborns’ music grew louder and louder, their shuffling steps closing in on the alley. Conner screwed his eyes shut, hearing the music knock around his head and rattle his teeth. 

“Hi, I’m Stacy! I’ll be your server for the night. What can I get started for you?” repeated the REborn from before. 

Conner didn’t dare breathe. 

“Alright, and is that gonna do it for you today? Oh how am I doing today? Well it is a Monday, I’ll tell you that.” someone else said with a laugh. 

Conner felt queasy under the car. Reginald kept breathing hotly in his face, and something browned was dripping from the car onto his pant leg. 

“All children must be accompanied by an adult in the play area!” someone shouted in a cartoony voice, and suddenly Conner was dragged out from under the car by his ankle. Reginald growled and barked erratically, trying to free himself from the position. 

Conner was held up by one arm a foot above the ground by a REborn dressed in a fluffy, unicorn mascot costume. Obviously Stella the Unicorn from the themed pizzeria down the street, who was giving him a condoning finger wag with her free hand. 

 Conner kicked and screamed as the REborn inside brought him closer inside to bite him. 

Reginald howled behind him and rushed Stella, knocking her off her fluffy hooves and to the dirt. One REborn dressed in nurse’s scrubs rushed to help her. 

“Here, let me take your vitals.” she fretted, mesmerizing the other REborns. 

Conner and Reginald scrambled out of the alleyway and didn’t stop running until they were safely inside, leaning against the quadruple-locked door with a sigh of weary relief. 

...

An hour later, Conner was busy in the kitchen, spreading sauce here, sprinkling spices there, all while humming to himself. Reginald sighed, the oven made the kitchen pleasantly warm by his towel bed. Conner finished the pan off with a generous covering of cheese and basil and popped it in the oven.  

He slid down to the floor next to Reginald, patting his head. 

“You did good today, boy. I don’t think I’d have made it out alive without you. I know I can get a little...crazy sometimes, with no one else around. But I guess I forgot I had you. I guess I managed to forget what really mattered in all of this. You and I are sticking together.”

Reginald gave Conner’s hand a satisfied lick, finding the remnants of ricotta still clinging to his fingertips. Tomorrow surely there would be chaos and missions and close calls, dead batteries and splintered baseball bats and overcurious REborns. But tonight, there were just the two of them, sharing slabs of pasta and meat under the halo of oven light.