Earth: 2168 AD

Matthew looked over the hill at the boarded up Seven-Eleven convenience store below. There was no one around as the sun hung low and bloated in the hazy California sky. He nodded to Mike, the boy next to him.

Both young men sprung to their feet as they grabbed their nap sacks and bolted down the low hill and across the parched grass. Picking up a rock, Matthew threw it at the front door, shattering the glass front before he slammed his shoulder into the plywood nailed to the other side while using the knapsack to protect himself from the shards of glass. Pain lanced through his shoulder as the wood refused to give. A second later, the wind was knocked from him as Mike collided with his other shoulder, and there was a sharp screech of metal and wood as the plywood finally gave way. The two boys tumbled into the convenience store.

With a groan, Matt got to his feet.

“You alright?” he asked Mike.

“Think so,” replied his friend as he also got to his feet. “Wooh,” uttered Mike as he looked around at the food piled on the shelves. “Ain’t that a feast for hungry eyes.”

“Your eyes’ll be the only thing’ll be feasting boy,” growled a voice from behind them.

The two turned to see a grizzled man in a wheel chair holding an old riffle on them. Matthew almost laughed at the sight; it was only a .22. He quickly sobered himself, a .22 could kill a grown man just as dead as anything else.

“Sorry sir,” said Matthew. “Didn’t know no one was here.”

“Well, there is. Now git.”

“Couldn’t ya spare something. Even a pack a Twinkies would be shinier than a new nickel.”

“Don’t think so boy. Find yer own stash.” The old man jerked his gun at the broken door. An expression of anger, fueled by hunger, flashed across Mike’s face.

Matt put his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Come on Miky. Pleanty more places to hit before the day’s done.”

“That ain’t but a pea shooter,” growled Mike but he allowed Matthew to drag him back toward the door.

“Grandpa,” said a new voice