Read Wormwood Dawn (Episode III) for Free Online

man.” Dan said.
    He could see Vincent nod in the rear-view mirror.
    “At least he went out in a blaze of glory,” Jake added.
    Vincent finished the whiskey, tossing it out the window. “Fuck it,” he said. “He don’t have to live through this shit no more. Lucky him.”
    “You gonna be alright?” Dan asked.
    Vincent pursed his lips, nodding. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll be alright.”
    “Well, then, let’s roll.”
    The group exited the Hummer, checking their weapons and grabbing plenty of ammo. Dan left the keys in the ignition in case they had to run again. No point in pocketing them; no one was around to steal the Hummer.
    The pharmacy’s doors were locked. Dan motioned for the others to stand back, then busted out the glass with the butt of his rifle. He reached in and turned the deadbolt, and looked in through the darkness.
    The store was dimly lit by the moon coming in through the upper windows, and by the nearly dead security lights that were on each wall. The store was small enough to see most of its layout, and there appeared to be no one—normal, or otherwise—anywhere in the store.
    “Looks clear,” Dan said. “Watch out, though.”
    As they entered, Vincent went straight for the beer cooler, and Drew headed toward the racks of wine.
    Jake shook his head, looking at Dan. “Priorities,” he said. Dan chuckled.
    Jake headed toward the first aid supplies, and Dan went to the pharmacy counter. He hopped behind it, shining his flashlight on the rows and beautiful rows of prescription meds. There were bottles of just about everything, all there for the taking.
    And take he did.
    He stuffed his pack full, going by alphabetical order and sweeping his arm over each shelf of meds that started with whatever letter of the alphabet he knew that drug names started with. Jake appeared at the counter then, looking in to get his attention.
    “If they have it, grab Metformin,” he said. “And check that cooler for insulin.”
    “Are you diabetic?” Dan asked.
    Jake smiled and nodded. “Only when I eat. I’ll find the syringes.”
    Shit, Dan thought. He never would have guessed. Jake always seemed cheerful, no matter what the situation. He even found the serial killer story amusing. Maybe Jake was a sick fuck, too, and just didn’t give a shit that he had a chronic illness. He chuckled at the thought.
    “We’re all sick fucks,” he said out loud.
    “What?” Jake said behind him, plopping a case of syringes on the counter. “I’ll take these you sick fuck.”
    Dan approached the counter, scratching his chin. “I’m gonna have to see some ID, sir.”
    Jake held up his repeater. “Is this good?”
    Dan grinned, turning to the small cooler on his side of the counter. It was full of meds that needed refrigeration; penicillin, amoxicillin, Zithromax, and other things Dan had never heard of. In the back were smaller vials of insulin, Novalin, and Novalog.
    “What kind of insulin?” he asked. “There’s a ton of shit in here.”
    “Just grab it all,” Jake said. “It’s all good.”
    “Grab a cushioned bag or something,” Dan said. “These are all glass.”
    Jake set a small six pack cooler on the counter. “One step ahead of ya, brutha.”
    Dan grabbed it, stuffing it full of the tiny bottles and cushioning it with some icy gel packs. He then zipped it up and handed it back. Jake stuffed it in his pack, giving Dan a strange look.
    “You okay?” Jake asked.
    “Yeah,” Dan said. “I’ve just never met someone who actually needed stuff like this.”
    Jake rubbed his bald head. “What, Rogaine?”
    Dan chuckled as he came around the counter. They split up again to gather other supplies. Dan realized then how much he liked Jake. He was a good friend, and he would have to make sure that Jake had a good supply of insulin; no matter what the cost.
    That’s what friends were for.
    Right?
     
    “ Awwww, damn!” Vincent growled from the refrigerated section.
    Dan made his way over,