The first Home Depot sat at the outskirts of Atlanta—a suburban location looked partially intact. I stepped out with my suppressed rifle slung low, the morning quiet broken only by the wind rattling a loose sheet of metal on the garden center fencing.
I took down six walkers drifting aimlessly through the entrance; no alarms, no echoes. Inside was dusty, dim, but navigable. The air smelled of dust and stale lumber. I went section by section, sweeping down the aisles, brushing my palm along the building materials that will be crucial in the near future: drywall sheets, bundles of lumber, roofing rolls, concrete mix, rebar rods—gone in seconds.
The hardware section was next: bins of screws, anchors, bolts, hinges, door handles, and cabinet hardware all tossed into the inventory. Next came the tool section: power drills, wrenches, socket sets; although I had collected some early on, no harm in stocking on more. Next was the lighting and electrical section: LED fixtures, wiring spools, breakers, switches, batteries—anything that could serve the settlement long term. The back storage had generators, welding kits, industrial hose reels, shop-vac tubes, heavy-duty extension cords, and epoxy packs; all found their way inside my inventory. By the time I rolled out, the truck was quarter full, but my inventory was richer.
The second Home Depot was deeper in toward Atlanta proper. The parking lot was a graveyard of abandoned cars and sun-bleached tarps. This one was a warzone. The front doors were smashed in; scattered debris carpeted the floor. I could hear walkers shuffling before I entered. Inside, the air smelled of rot and copper. At least twenty walkers were trapped between aisles, some pinned by fallen shelves, others shambling freely in the dark like half-blinded predators.
I took out my silenced pistol and went about clearing the walkers aisle by aisle. Flooring materials, pallets of laminate boards, tile boxes cracked open but intact, and rolls of carpets all went to inventory for later use. The electrical department was stripped bare. Plumbing was mostly intact: copper pipe bundles, PVC fittings, gaskets, faucets, and valves. Hardware had been hit by looters—only scraps remained. Home and garden netted me patio furniture, gardening tools, soil bags, and hoses; but the treasure was the industrial-grade carts, heavy-duty dollies, and a surprisingly intact pallet jack.
The third location was the jackpot and a nightmare: a massive Home Depot distribution center designed to resupply half the state. This one looked… wrong. Doors bent outward, black scorch marks on the walls, hundreds of abandoned carts strewn like battlefield debris. I approached cautiously. Inside was a hive. Walkers shuffled through broad aisles, dozens of them—maybe more. Shadows twitched deeper in the building where sunlight didn't reach.
I exhaled slowly. "Alright… we're doing this the hard way." I found a fire exit door that led to the back logistics section. I wedged it open with a debris block, then took aim with my suppressed rifle and fired into a cluster of walkers. The horde reacted instantly, groaning and stumbling. Echoes inside, then the walkers started coming out in droves. I took aim and fired in bursts to the head. It took the better part of an hour before walkers stopped coming. I shouldered my rifle and took my silenced pistol and went inside, clearing the stragglers.
Finally, I got to looting. The logistics cages netted me industrial fuel containers, heavy steel tow chains, boxes of welding electrodes, reinforced gloves, double-thick hoses, and high-grade ratchet straps. The construction section had the bulk of supplies: stacks of plywood, hundreds of pounds of nails and screws, industrial-grade adhesives, and brackets. The electrical section had pallets of spools of commercial wiring, voltage testers, breaker panels, fuse boxes, etc… batteries, parts, more platform carts, pallet jacks, and dollies rated for 2,000 lbs. I kept two visible to be hauled back to the farmstead; the rest I tossed inside my inventory. In the garden center, I found bags upon bags of soil, pallets of seeds, and farming [supplies].
The fourth location was in Midtown. This store had taken fire damage—half the roof had caved in, but the back sections survived. I navigated the charred interior carefully. Chandeliers, LED panels, lamp kits, boxes of batteries and car batteries of different sizes in the electrical section. Drawer sliders, knobs, and soft-close hinges in the cabinetry and interior hardware. Pots, planters, and more seed packets in the garden center, as well as crates of respirator masks and spare filters.
I paused for a bit and looked up. There was about three to four hours before the sun sets; I had time for one more location. The last Home Depot was at the edge of the industrial zone and had survived mostly intact. The first thing I noticed was the absence of walker noise. It was quiet—too quiet. My instincts flared—but it wasn't walkers; it was simple abandonment. Inside, I hit everything efficiently. This one had major appliances intact: stoves, fridges, washers, dryers, TVs, cooling units, etc… all went inside my inventory aside from a big-screen TV I left aside to strap to the top of the box truck. This will be the main TV for entertainment and educational purposes.
The tools section was also intact. "Seems like this place was spared from looters," I thought to myself. Floor polishers, trench diggers, compactors, and jackhammers I loaded into the truck. Spare batteries, industrial-grade siphons, hose reels, welding kits, tow straps, reinforced crates, and empty drums. I strapped the TV on top of the truck while everything went in my inventory.
The sun was dipping behind the tree line when I finally turned into the long dirt road leading to the farm. The box truck groaned beneath the weight it was holding. I hadn't even fully braked before people started emerging from the structures. Dale was the first to wave at me from on top of his RV. Morgan followed, stepping into the yard with a smile. Glenn jogged over. Daryl, who was helping Hershel repair the door hinges, lifted his chin and gave a nod. Rick came out of the main house tugging off work gloves, his eyebrows climbed as I stepped down and opened up the box truck doors.
"Jesus, Zephyr… that's one hell of a load."
"Home Depots," I said simply. "Some intact, some not."
Daryl came over and whistled low. "Damn, looks like you emptied the whole thing."
"Atlanta's full of them," Glenn said, excitement leaking into his voice. "Atlanta is the company's HQ city. There's a ton of big stores with some distribution centers."
"Exactly." I nodded. "We're going to need every scrap we can get."
(To be continued...)