Inside the grocery store, the shelves were picked mostly bare long ago.
The produce department seems to be where the greatest volume of organic material rotted away, and there are even indications that things tried to sprout in the decaying vegetables; however, the potatoes and onions that seemed to have briefly thrived are liquefied now, their foliage desiccated. Rodent spoor litters the floor and displays, and the few remaining plastic bags of nuts have all been chewed into and urinated on by said rodents; trying to find any edible morsels remaining amid the shells would require a strong stomach and cheerful disregard for the notion of hantavirus.
In the meat department, there are suggestions of styrofoam trays here and there beneath patches of sticky liquefaction, but nothing useful remains on the customer side. Back in the staff area, the prospects are slightly better - most of the knives are gone, along with the more expensive equipment like the grinder and slicer and meat saw, but a seemingly forgotten cartilage knife and cleaver are on the floor next to one of the shelves; a stack of stainless steel trays rests above the sink, next to a few styrofoam meat trays; and while the remaining few rolls of plastic wrap are shredded and covered with rat piss, the damage seems to be confined to their exterior. Rooting around in the cabinets yields not only an unexpected bounty of rodent nests, but, in one that was apparently too well sealed for them to invade, large containers of salt, paprika, dry mustard, and oregano, which still seem to be in usable condition, a bottle of worcestershire sauce, and a roll of aluminum foil. There are also a number of wheeled racks - stainless steel, plastic, and wire - which could somehow prove to be of use.
The most profound horrors the store possesses are in the fish department. Fish is, after all, hardly the first thing one grabs in the event of whatever sort of calamity befell the city, and a great deal of it seems to have rotted away here; what was the lobster tank is a pit of tarry, black, evil stench, and a sticky layer of decayed matter covers the bottom of both the display cases and the bins out in front of the display which once held ice and fish; some of them contain oyster shells as well, visibly gnawed by the rats and mice. A few plastic containers of fish seasoning remain intact on the shelves, however, and back behind the counter, there are a handful of undespoiled large plastic bins, some of which even have latching plastic flaps for closure. As with the meat department, the knives are gone, but here, a motorized drum fish scaler remains. No sane soul would open the freezers.
In the grocery department, the shelves are largely bare, picked clean long ago; most of those things that weren’t taken have been chewed into by rodents. On the shelves, gutted boxes of dry goods are steadily decomposing, and all of the labels have been removed from the handful of cans that remain, a few of which have succumbed to corrosion after years of being urinated and defecated upon by rodents. The few remaining jars have fared better, and while the jellies have gained a suspect hue and the seals on some of them are broken, the pickled onions and peppers and cucumbers and olives seem to still be edible. There are even two or three jars of honey, crystallized with age, but honey never goes bad. Other than the cans and jars, what’s left is mostly useless: lightbulbs, boxes of trash and sandwich bags which the rats have already partially shredded for nesting material, toothpicks, a few bottles of seasonings, a bottle here and there of antacids or vitamins or fiber pills. In the cold cases, a handful cartons that used to hold milk or juice are decomposing on the shelves; the frozen dinners and packages of vegetables were long ago emptied out by rodents. Here and there, the detritus appears to have been disturbed by something larger than the rodents, and a few badly decomposed rat carcasses litter the shelves and floor.
In the bakery and deli section, there are more wheeled racks remaining, along with a number of plastic clamshell trays and stainless steel food trays; the interior pots of the soup warmers might even be worth taking. There are a few palette knives and other blunt implements remaining, and even a metal spatula; there’s also a deep fryer that was never drained, and the grease beneath the surface layer of mold emits a nauseating stench that seems also to hint at the number of rodents that lost their lives trying to drink from it.
The back warehouse seems to have suffered fewer depredations, both by humans and rodents, though the pickings in it are slim. Here and there are a few ignored cases of canned goods, some even with enough of their labels remaining to discern their contents - most of them are canned vegetables, but a few are chicken, fish, soup, chili, beans, or dog food. All told, there are perhaps two hundred cans. Most of the boxes are empty, but one still contains two bottles of canola oil. There’s also a pallet of Quaker products that was wrapped well enough to avoid large-scale rodent depredation; there are a few dozen intact boxes in total of Rice-a-Roni, dry oatmeal, and oatmeal health bars.
Grocery Store
The produce department seems to be where the greatest volume of organic material rotted away, and there are even indications that things tried to sprout in the decaying vegetables; however, the potatoes and onions that seemed to have briefly thrived are liquefied now, their foliage desiccated. Rodent spoor litters the floor and displays, and the few remaining plastic bags of nuts have all been chewed into and urinated on by said rodents; trying to find any edible morsels remaining amid the shells would require a strong stomach and cheerful disregard for the notion of hantavirus.
In the meat department, there are suggestions of styrofoam trays here and there beneath patches of sticky liquefaction, but nothing useful remains on the customer side. Back in the staff area, the prospects are slightly better - most of the knives are gone, along with the more expensive equipment like the grinder and slicer and meat saw, but a seemingly forgotten cartilage knife and cleaver are on the floor next to one of the shelves; a stack of stainless steel trays rests above the sink, next to a few styrofoam meat trays; and while the remaining few rolls of plastic wrap are shredded and covered with rat piss, the damage seems to be confined to their exterior. Rooting around in the cabinets yields not only an unexpected bounty of rodent nests, but, in one that was apparently too well sealed for them to invade, large containers of salt, paprika, dry mustard, and oregano, which still seem to be in usable condition, a bottle of worcestershire sauce, and a roll of aluminum foil. There are also a number of wheeled racks - stainless steel, plastic, and wire - which could somehow prove to be of use.
The most profound horrors the store possesses are in the fish department. Fish is, after all, hardly the first thing one grabs in the event of whatever sort of calamity befell the city, and a great deal of it seems to have rotted away here; what was the lobster tank is a pit of tarry, black, evil stench, and a sticky layer of decayed matter covers the bottom of both the display cases and the bins out in front of the display which once held ice and fish; some of them contain oyster shells as well, visibly gnawed by the rats and mice. A few plastic containers of fish seasoning remain intact on the shelves, however, and back behind the counter, there are a handful of undespoiled large plastic bins, some of which even have latching plastic flaps for closure. As with the meat department, the knives are gone, but here, a motorized drum fish scaler remains. No sane soul would open the freezers.
In the grocery department, the shelves are largely bare, picked clean long ago; most of those things that weren’t taken have been chewed into by rodents. On the shelves, gutted boxes of dry goods are steadily decomposing, and all of the labels have been removed from the handful of cans that remain, a few of which have succumbed to corrosion after years of being urinated and defecated upon by rodents. The few remaining jars have fared better, and while the jellies have gained a suspect hue and the seals on some of them are broken, the pickled onions and peppers and cucumbers and olives seem to still be edible. There are even two or three jars of honey, crystallized with age, but honey never goes bad. Other than the cans and jars, what’s left is mostly useless: lightbulbs, boxes of trash and sandwich bags which the rats have already partially shredded for nesting material, toothpicks, a few bottles of seasonings, a bottle here and there of antacids or vitamins or fiber pills. In the cold cases, a handful cartons that used to hold milk or juice are decomposing on the shelves; the frozen dinners and packages of vegetables were long ago emptied out by rodents. Here and there, the detritus appears to have been disturbed by something larger than the rodents, and a few badly decomposed rat carcasses litter the shelves and floor.
In the bakery and deli section, there are more wheeled racks remaining, along with a number of plastic clamshell trays and stainless steel food trays; the interior pots of the soup warmers might even be worth taking. There are a few palette knives and other blunt implements remaining, and even a metal spatula; there’s also a deep fryer that was never drained, and the grease beneath the surface layer of mold emits a nauseating stench that seems also to hint at the number of rodents that lost their lives trying to drink from it.
The back warehouse seems to have suffered fewer depredations, both by humans and rodents, though the pickings in it are slim. Here and there are a few ignored cases of canned goods, some even with enough of their labels remaining to discern their contents - most of them are canned vegetables, but a few are chicken, fish, soup, chili, beans, or dog food. All told, there are perhaps two hundred cans. Most of the boxes are empty, but one still contains two bottles of canola oil. There’s also a pallet of Quaker products that was wrapped well enough to avoid large-scale rodent depredation; there are a few dozen intact boxes in total of Rice-a-Roni, dry oatmeal, and oatmeal health bars.