Free Mistakes I Made During the Zombie Apocalypse by Michelle Kilmer

consumed must be documented for reimbursement to the company at a later date. Please use the back of this list. Additional paper can be purchased if needed.”
    “Whoa, what?”
    “That’s crazy.”
    Grant pulled on a strap of his backpack. “We’ll use our own supplies first. I don’t even have any money on me.”
    “Rule number four: No underage smoking, drinking or sex out of wedlock. This is still the real world.”
    “Ha! Who wrote these?” Ian asked.
    “From the look on Edith’s face when I said the ‘eff’ word, I’d guess she did.”
    • • •
    “I could deal, but Grant especially didn’t like the list.”
    Number four.
    “Yeah. Grant smoked off and on since he was ten. He didn’t like being told how to behave.”
    Sounds like someone else I know.
    • • •
    “So, if you agree to the rules, I’ll introduce you to the others.” Edith shifted her weight from one foot to the other, eager to begin introductions.
    A quiet and clean place to sit was all either of the boys wanted. They nodded and followed her deeper into the store.
    “This is the group!” Edith exclaimed as she gestured to four people sitting and standing around the aisles at the center of the drugstore. She offered no names to either party.
    Three women and one man nodded lazily. Not out of disinterest for the boys, but seemingly out of annoyance with Edith’s excitement over them.
    “I’ll let you all get acquainted. I have some business to attend to.” She hurried off into an isolated corner of the store, down an aisle with the detergent and other cleaning chemicals.
    “Does she maybe have a few screws loose?” Grant asked, directing his gaze at the one adult male, thinking he might be the most willing to share the dirt on “Em.”
    “She’s addicted to smelling the detergents, especially the Tide. And sometimes she disappears down the Greeting Card aisle and cries over the sappiest ones.”
    “Why do you stay here with Em?” Ian asked.
    “First,” one of the women said, “We don’t call her that. She wants us to call her that. And second, have you been outside? She might be a little nuts, but she isn’t going to try to eat me.”
    “Wait until the food runs out,” another of the women said, sending a hearty chuckle through the small group.
    Grant was correct about the man, for he had more to spill on the wacky, self-appointed leader. “She took all the coupons out of the newspapers at the front. She thinks they’ll honor them when things go back to normal. I believe she has a rewards card too. But she tracks it like everyone else. She had to get a new notepad ‘cause she ‘ran out of room.’”
    “Coupons expire, you know,” Ian pointed out.
    “I guess common sense does too. Anyway, I’m Andy and this is Rosie, Brenda, and Jean. Pick an aisle, make yourselves at home.”
    • • •
    The boys spent two peaceful days with the Walgreens survivors, playing Yahtzee the man had “purchased”, tending to small blisters that had formed on their overworked feet with a first aid kit one of the women shared, and slowly and carefully dipping into their own food supplies, all while avoiding interacting with Edith if it could be helped. On the third day, however, Grant couldn’t handle the monotony anymore. He pulled a copy of the last Rolling Stone magazine to be published from the rack. He thumbed through it and was putting it back when Edith came rushing down the aisle. It was though she sensed when the products on the shelves shifted.
    “Did you add that to your list?” she asked, pointing at the publication.
    “No, I don’t want to keep it. I’m done with it.”
    “It doesn’t work that way. This isn’t a library. This is aisle 15 of the Northgate Walgreens. You’ve bent the pages; gotten your greasy fingerprints on the pictures. They won’t be able to sell that to someone else when they reopen.”
    “You’re kidding me, right?” He knew she wasn’t. Her face was deadly serious, but it only