The inside of the steel box was stacked with a variety of supplies. Canned food, bottled water, ammunition, healing autoinjectors. Besides all that, there were a couple of other things that attracted Jake’s attention: a rolled sleeping bag and a tactical belt with several pouches for carrying spare ammo and other stuff. Inside the supply drop were also a new weapon and a few grenades. He glanced up and down the street to make sure there were no enemies nearby that could jump him while he was distracted. He then scanned the new weapon with his PDA to see its stats.

It was a semiautomatic shotgun of common rarity, holding fifteen shells in the magazine. Its damage was somewhat lower than that of his pump-action shotgun. It had a wider spread too, which was a bad thing. He had killed the stranger with a single shotgun blast from some distance. Had he been armed with this semiautomatic shotgun, he wouldn’t have been able to accomplish that, because most of the pellets would’ve missed him.

Brow furrowed in thought, Jake studied at the semiautomatic shotgun in his hands. He could fire this weapon as fast as he could squeeze the trigger. It held fifteen rounds and was much easier to reload than his pump shotgun. Against mutants, the new weapon should prove to be quite effective, but against human enemies, the good old pump-action shotgun was probably much better. After giving the matter some thought, Jake decided to keep both of them for now.

He took the tactical belt from the steel box and fastened it around his waist. He then slid his spare mags, shells, and grenades into the pouches on the belt. He proceeded to take all the supplies from the steel box and store them away in his rucksack. After all that, he straightened up. Between what was already inside his pack, the loot he’d taken off the dead stranger, and the supplies from the steel box, his rucksack had gotten much heavier. He even had some trouble heaving it onto his shoulders.

Gotta find a place where I can stash some of my stuff.

Besides the supplies, he also carried too many guns. He had lost his second pistol somewhere in the building and hadn’t bothered to find it, but the first one was still holstered at his right hip. Besides the pistol, he had the submachine gun hanging from its sling around his neck and the pump-action shotgun slung over his left shoulder. The semiautomatic one was held in his hands. And he also had some grenades and plenty of ammo on him. He really needed to lighten his load.

Jake then picked a direction and set off. He roamed the city for a little while looking for a place where he could stash some of his stuff. He wasn’t eager to carry all his supplies and weapons on him all the time. All the exploring and fighting he’d done during the day was taking a toll on his body. He was dog-tired and hungry. His legs had grown so weak they could hardly carry him anymore. After he put some distance between himself and the street where the now-empty supply drop was, he stopped beside a building.

Shouldering the semiautomatic shotgun, he stepped to the entrance, listening carefully. Except for small pieces of debris crunching underfoot, all was quiet. He entered the building and surveyed the space, always pointing the shotgun where he looked. No mutants were in sight. On the other side of the room opposite the entrance was a staircase. He climbed the steps to the second floor. He couldn’t climb higher, because the rest of the staircase lay in ruins. Jake found himself in a corridor lined with doors on both sides. He opened the nearest one and looked inside. The room was barren except for a layer of dust covering the floor and spider webs clinging to the corners just under the ceiling.

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A few windows were set in the wall opposite the entrance. Jake walked over to one of them and peered outside. The windows overlooked the street. Aside from the wind rustling the grass that pushed through the cracks in the asphalt, there was no other movement outside. Jake took off his rucksack and placed it on the floor under one window. He then unslung and put down the submachine gun and the pump-action shotgun. Jake planned to rest in that building, but he had to make sure there were no mutants in there that could attack him while he slept.

Holding the semiautomatic shotgun in his hands, he left the room and walked down the corridor, opening all the doors and looking into the rooms. Now that he lightened his burden, it was much easier to move. It took him some time to explore all the rooms on the first and second floors. After making sure no mutants lurked anywhere inside the building, he was finally able to relax. He returned to the room on the second floor where he’d left his things. Crouching down next to his rucksack, he took the tin cans from it, examining each one and placing them on the floor. Beans with bacon. Beans with pork. Rice and stew, which looked pretty good in the picture on the outside of the doubly-layer tin. Each can had a plastic spoon in a paper covering loosely glued to its outside.

Jake detached the spoon from one of the tins and unwrapped the covering. He heated the can, waited the required three minutes, and then opened it. Steam rose from it.

“Ugh. Looks like shit,” he muttered to himself. “Probably tastes like it, too.”

He used the spoon to sample the food. It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. He poked at his stew, bringing large portions to his mouth. When he was done, he immediately opened another can, the steam from the self-heat misting the air, the aroma filling the room. Jake ate his fill, devouring three medium-sized cans before he felt satisfied. He then opened one of the water bottles and drank its contents, emptying the entire bottle in one go.

After he satiated his hunger and quenched his thirst, he looked at the remaining food. He had enough self-heating meals to last him a few days. It looked like he wasn’t going to die from hunger in this world. Well, at least if finding fresh canned food would be as easy as it had been so far. He then laid his sleeping bag on the ground and unrolled it. As he smoothed out the wrinkles, he unzipped the bag and turned the flap to the side, revealing the inviting interior.

However, before climbing into the sleeping bag, he wanted to close the door to the room. He stood up and crossed the dusty floor. After shutting the door, he spotted an iron sliding bolt attached to it. He slid the bolt into place. Sure, if some mutants by chance got into the building and decided to crash through the door, the bolt wouldn’t hold them for long, but if he kept quiet, an uninvited visitor wouldn’t have a reason to try to force the door open.

Jake returned to the sleeping bag and planted his butt beside it. He placed his semiautomatic shotgun on the floor within easy reach and climbed inside the sleeping bag, feeling its warmth and comfort embrace him. For a moment, he stared at the dirty ceiling above him, his mind devoid of any thoughts. He was so tired he couldn’t even think about anything.

As soon as Jake closed his eyes, he immediately fell into a deep sleep, and the dangers of the new world around him melted into sweet oblivion.