After a brief stint of more monotonous walking, Neale arrived at his next target; the remains of a sprawling supermarket. At least, Neale assumed it was. Again, it's incredibly difficult to tell things apart when everything is smashed into pieces.
What was left of the mysterious building seemed to suggest that it might, maybe, be a supermarket. For one, it had the largest foundation of any of the wrecks on Neale's list to check out. Most of the roof was still present as well, so Neale could see that it was only one, maybe two stories tall back when it was used. Neale could even see a large space of relatively flat space, with only small pieces of accumulated debris across its surface, which Neale thought could be a deceased parking lot. It was unfortunate that no one would use it now, for it was mostly intact too.
The most important thing Neale could see though was the door. More importantly, the open space just behind the door which presumably lead to stuff. Glorious, glorious stuff.
The hoarder within awoken, Neale started striding towards the entrance. If he could find an intact clothing section, most of his problems would be solved. He wasn't sure what food would still be edible right now, but it would be a relief to find some. Neale wasn't hungry yet but there was no guarantee now. Dream, fantasy, hallucination or not, Neale would rather assume that hunger would be a problem rather than wait and find out. Plus, stuff was stuff. The more he had, the happier he'd be.
After entering the building, Neale was confronted with a rather disappointing sight. There was nothing to be seen. Apart from the dusty shelves which clearly used to hold food and assorted produce, and some tills to his right, Neale saw nothing else. Which was strange, really. You'd expect at least some trash on the floor, but there was nothing. If it wasn't for the thick layer of dust on the floor, Neale would've assumed someone had-
There was someone here.
A single set of footprints, leading on from where Neale stood, into the store. It was hard to see, especially in this shady interior, but they were definitely footprints. Following them, Neale could see them trace a narrow trail through the various aisles. At various points, they condensed and turned towards the nearest shelf, assumedly to grab something off of them.
It was unnerving, really, how easily Neale could see what the person was doing just from the traces left behind. See, that trail on the top shelf means that they dragged it off, instead of lifting it. Maybe they were short? And it looks like they were looking for specific items, since they didn't bother to enter some aisles, and went straight to the canned food. Though, Neale could see why laundry detergent wasn't a high priority. Where would you wash clothes out here?
They'd found quite a lot of stuff as well. From what he gathered, the mystery person had completely raided all the non-perishables, wandered around the men's clothes section (There were clothes!), and then searched around the rest of the store before the trail ended before a plastic door, on which the words 'Em--oye-- ---ess only' were visible.
Finally, something interesting! This was Neale's big break. Hopefully, there was someone behind that door, who'd gotten some food and clean clothes. For some reason, there was nothing useful for Neale in the women's and children's clothing aisles, so they seemed to be his best hope getting anything for use as bandages. Plus, it was a person! He could finally talk to someone, unload about everything, maybe even get to know them. Admittedly they were likely just his imagination as well, so they wouldn't have anything new to say, but the human interaction would be nice.
This would be great. It was an adventure, after all.
Slowly, so the mystery person wouldn't be alarmed, Neale slowly opened the door. It creaked incessantly, but that didn't matter too much. Neale wasn't trying to be sneaky. Once inside, Neale could see rows upon rows of shelving, likely for bulk storage, and the footprint trail, leading onwards. Neale snuck forwards, forgetting he wasn't trying to be sneaky originally, along the trail.
The wind didn't reach into this part of the building, so the dust seemed almost like a physical weight upon the shelves, and one even seemed to be bending under it. He could see other relics scattered about. Propane tanks were stacked in a corner, hidden under a crumbled partition. Some cleaning equipment was scattered across the floor too and a forlorn mop left in Neale's path, propped between two shelving units. It seemed the mystery person had ignored it, so Neale would too. Eventually Neale reached the true end of their trail. Yet another closed door stood before Neale, this time clearly a bathroom stall.
At this point, Neale became a little worried. Should he disturb them right now? It would be rude to just walk in on them, and Neale wanted to make a good impression. But he also really wanted those clothes... maybe he should knock first? Yeah, that seemed like a good plan. He'd knock, then go in.
With his one free hand, Neale readied himself for a moment before giving a clear rap at the door, twice in quick succession. Then, opening the door, he had about a second to get a glimpse of a dark-haired youth, with bags under their eyes and draped in an unzipped sleeping bag before a crude spear began to fly towards his face at rapid speed.
Oh. This isn't good.
Time seemed to slow for Neale as he saw the sharpened metal point edge inexorably towards his eyes. He couldn't really imagine how things turned out like this. This was a little mystery, a fun adventure. He even knocked on the door to announce himself. How could he be about to die now? In his own dream? This wasn't how he wanted to go, not when he finally found something to do.
Then Neale remembered to duck.
As the glorified stick flew over Neale's head, he could see the sheer terror in his opponent's face that mirrored his own. Their eyes dilated as they pulled the spear back for another thrust while Neale, just as terrified as his aggressor, began backpedaling as fast as he could from his crouched position, arms and legs flailing desperately as he tried to make distance.
The youth, after seeing Neale flee from him, seemed to freeze for a moment before he, shaking slightly, asked,
"Are you human?"
Neal paused and stared at the boy for a moment, weighing up the meaning of the question. It seemed an incredibly obvious question, but something about the boy's expression demanded that he take it seriously. Unfortunately, when he began to speak, he suddenly felt that his throat was completely clogged with dust, and began coughing uncontrollably, trying to clear it before they snapped and went for a second stab.
Looking at Neale's strangled expression as he tried to answer, the boy started to laugh, in a strangled, muffled tone that haunted the abandoned room.