"Are you sure you want to do this?" Matt's voice trembled as he stood beside Hunter with their two wagons. Their LED flashlights, clipped to their black caps, illuminated the night in front of the grocery store marked with the Venner's sign.
"We have to steal; otherwise, we'll starve," Hunter replied coldly, his voice muffled by the mesh mask as he grabbed a rock on the ground and smashed the window. They cautiously slipped inside, avoiding the jagged glass that threatened to tear their black pants.
While Matt nervously snatched two bags of flour from a shelf, Hunter's flashlight beam landed on a coat slumped over on a stand. He plunged his hand into the pocket and pulled out a ring of keys, a triumphant smile flashing in the dark.
"Found these," he jangled them softly. "Now we can use the front door instead of crawling out that window."
He unlocked the main door. Matt slipped out with the flour, glancing over his shoulder.
Hunter sprinted to the cashier counter. With a small key from the ring, he opened the drawer—it popped out with a mechanical snap. He grabbed the loose bills and stuffed them into the deep pocket of his trench coat.
It would be enough to cover application fees, textbooks, and training. Enough to start becoming a sergeant.
"What are you doing?" Matt's cheeks were flushed with anxiety.
Hunter dropped the keys to the floor with a soft clatter. "Nothing," he lied, effortless and calm.
"Stop dicking around. We don't have time to waste." Matt hissed.
Hunter ran to the shelf and grab a bag of apples. They spent ten minutes looting the grocery store before they took off with their wagons.
Matt's shirt clung to his back with sweat. "I feel bad about this," he panted. "Maybe we should go back—return the stuff."
"We already broke the window." Hunter's voice was flat. "There's no going back."
Matt swallowed hard. His pulse throbbed in his temples. For the first time, he understood—they hadn't just stolen food.
They'd crossed a line.
And Hunter wasn't looking back.