so look around and see if there is anything else,” Red said, slowly making her way to the back area.
It wasn’t as easy for her to just step on the piles of medicine boxes like everyone else. She always had to be careful of her balance, so she kicked the detritus out of her way as she went, clearing a path until she reached Adam.
Their parents wandered away to another side of the store. She saw them in the mirror that ran all around the ceiling perimeter. They were looking at (and apparently debating the merits of) a mangled display of gel insoles for shoes. It wasn’t a bad idea, really, since Mama wasn’t much of a walker, but it probably wouldn’t matter anyway. Because Mama was going to get sick. Red’s mind turned away from that thought, put it in a closet and shut the door.
Red carefully went to one knee and rummaged in the piles of medicine. “More amoxicillin,” she said. “And . . . yes! Azithromycin.”
“Is that your superhero drug?” Adam said. “When are you getting your medical degree, by the way?”
“Maybe if you cracked a book open at college now and then you might learn some things besides how to do keg stands,” Red said.
“Only white guys do keg stands,” Adam scoffed. “I am a connoisseur of craft beer.”
“You’re half white,” Red said.
Adam glared at her. “Okay, only all-white guys trying to prove something about their masculinity to other all-white guys do keg stands. Better?”
“I think that’s one of the most perceptive things I’ve ever heard you say. Of course, there is the problem of antibiotic resistance,” Red said, frowning at the boxes.
She was the kind of person who actually read the fact sheets that the WHO put on their website. She’d lost about half a day once scrolling through all of them. “It’s possible these won’t do a thing. And I do wish I knew more about how long you’re supposed to take them, depending on your condition. I know that a lot of times people feel better right away but they’re supposed to keep taking medicine a few days longer to make sure everything bad is snuffed out.”
“So we won’t be saved by antibiotics? Make up your mind, Red,” Adam said.
“Just take these,” Red said, handing him several boxes. Better safe, she supposed. If one of them contracted an antibiotic-resistant strain of strep or pneumonia, there wasn’t a lot you could do about that anyhow. Red was sure that doctors in hospitals would know what to do about it, but there would be no hospital staff handy. She put a half-dozen boxes in her bag, along with three bottles of amoxicillin.
There were still several containers left, and Red debated whether to take them all. If something happened, if one of them got sick . . . there was no telling what they might need. But then she thought of someone like her, maybe someone alone and sick, maybe hoping like hell that there were a few packages of antibiotics left in the abandoned pharmacy. So she didn’t take everything, and hoped that a person who needed the drugs would find them.
Adam stood up. “I’m going to get some candy.”
Red shrugged. “It’s not the most nutrient-dense choice for a long walk, but whatever.”
“I’m not getting it for the walk. I’m getting it because I want Twizzlers and there are a shitload of them in a pile over there.”
Red didn’t like to waste her sweet tooth on most candy, which was filled with scary-sounding chemicals and fillers and thickeners that made her disease-paranoia antennae go twang. She didn’t want to catch a virus, and she for damned certain did not want cancer. Artificial colors might be perfectly safe, but then everyone thought it was okay to put arsenic in wallpaper once upon a time and she didn’t think that had worked out too well.
She followed her brother anyway, because there might be some other useful thing lying about. “Did the folks who trashed this store take anything? Or did they just pull it all off the shelves?”
“They took the money and the beer,” Adam said. He pointed to the