[ WP ] Villages are laid to rubble and countless lives are ruined ... all over a bag of chips

Last year, before the war, it could have been purchased for a dollar or two in a convenience store or a supermarket. Last year, before the war, a child might have eaten it as an after-school snack. Now, though, now it was precious. 
 
 Ian Weiss, graduate student turned survivalist by necessity, grasped his pump-action shotgun tightly, glad that the men across the house's living room from him could not see his white knuckles under his gloves. Four of them, but only two had guns. To his left, Maxine stage-whispered to him: 
 
 `` Give it up, for God's sake - they're even offering to pay more than it's worth!'' Which was true, they were. Three whole rats, big ones and freshly caught, plus an onion. All for a single one serving bag of ( probably stale by now ) Doritos. They were definitely offering a more-than-fair deal, and the chips were Cool Ranch Doritos, not even his favorite flavor. But this was his last bag of Doritos, his last pre-war food. If he gave up this bag of chips, then he would have to resign himself to a lifetime ( however long that was ) of rat meat and whatever else he could scavenge or find. Besides which, it was a matter of principle - they might be offering a more-than-fair deal, but they'd made it clear that they would not take no for an answer. Which meant that it was really a matter of theft, and he had learned to hate thieves with a passion. 
 
 The leader of the thieves, a big brute with horrific facial scars who looked like he would have made a good linebacker, grinned at him: 
 
 `` Come on, man, the lady has it right and we both know it. Just give us the chips and we'll be on our way.'' He was carrying a large-caliber revolver plus a frightening assortment of edged weaponry. Ian could remember surrendering his wallet without complaint to a nervous teenage with a knife, back when he'd been mugged before the war. Back when a bag of Doritos cost a dollar or two. He considered accepting the deal... 
 
 `` Okay, fine. Lay out the rats and we'll make the exchange.'' The leader smiled at him, momentarily showing relief. He turned to one of his friends... and Ian shot him in the face. Maxine screamed in startled horror as blood and brains went everywhere, but Ian was already lining up his second shot, putting buckshot into the other bastard with a gun. The other two tried to run, but he got one of them in the back and took out his spine. Fucking horrible, the way the crippled man screamed and flopped around on the floor. It made Ian hesitate for just a moment too long, so that the last one got away. In the end, he took the leader's machete and used it to finish the wounded man. He'd try to aim more carefully in future, or something. The leader, he'd blown his head off and the second man he killed had taken buckshot right through the sternum. Cleaner kills, than what he'd gotten on the third. 
 
 A year ago, he'd been a graduate student studying poetry at a third rate state college. A year ago, he'd never fired a gun unless video games counted. A lot had happened in that year, but still... he started to shake, and his eyes filled with tears. He'd just killed three men rather than give up a fucking bag of Doritos which were not even his favorite fucking flavor. What the fuck was *wrong* with him? He noticed that Maxine was cursing at him, but he could n't make out the words for another moment. Maxine, she'd been a nursing student before the war. Lovely woman. 
 
 `` What the hell were you thinking, Ian? What if they'd killed you, what if they have friends who come back to kill us, eh? What then?'' She continued in that vein, clearly extremely uncomfortable, and he could not blame her. What if they had friends, good question that. Especially when he'd just let one of them get away. On that note, he went to the door and looked outside - the house was fairly isolated at the edge of the former college town. No sign of the runner, he must have kept moving. Was he heading for their car? Ian wondered what to do, remembered how much simpler things had seemed in the morning. They'd gone out to work in their garden, and then this weird sort of Mad Max type buggy had come rolling up - they must have noticed the smoke from their breakfast cooking fire or something - and Ian had gone running for his shotgun. But they'd just wanted to trade, and that was OK. But then he'd gone and fucking shot them... 
 
 
 It was later, long after dark, when Adam Tremper led his brothers back to the site of the ambush. A year ago and they'd been fraternity brothers bonding over beer pong and Halo. Now they were brothers in a truer sense than he had ever imagined before. It had been just like Justin to fixate on those damn Doritos. Cool Ranch Doritos, bringing back memories of the good time. Bowls full of snacks on the coffee table while they'd laughed and shot each other during game after game of Halo or Modern Warfare. Good times. Tyler had to make an effort not to cry when he thought of those pleasant memories at this particular moment. 
 
 `` This is the house, bros. This is the place where they killed Justin and the other two. Killed'em over some damn corn chips.'' His brothers nodded, and prepared their fire bombs. They had planned this operation back at the old fraternity house, and now they carried out their simple plans. Surround the house, then throw two Molotov cocktails so that they hit opposite corners of the roof. The fires took hold and burned nicely enough, and they waited to see if anyone would come out so they could shoot them and have revenge... but no one did. 
 
 When the house had collapsed into a pile of burning rubble, they got back into the battered Ford F-150 and prepared to head back home. They'd taken the time to dig up the garden here, so at least they'd gotten some onions and other vegetables out of their effort. There was a general agreement both that it would have been nice to be able to loot the house... but none of them had wanted to risk letting that maniac ambush them. He'd killed three of them earlier that day, the man was clearly dangerous. 
 
 
 Ian watched the bandits leave with their loot, hiding in a tight cluster of trees. They'd burned his home, and destroyed his garden. He'd been right to wait for retaliation a safe distance from the house, but still... he wished that there had been something he could have done. There had been too many of them, clearly too many of them, and too well armed on top of that, but it would have been nice to kill a few of them. Not nice enough to justify his death, but still... 
 
 He sighed, then opened his last package of Doritos. Cool Ranch, and stale to boot. He chewed each one carefully, while he watched the fire die down. At least the burning had n't gotten completely out of control. His life was n't ruined, he'd rebuild somewhere else even if his home had been laid to rubble, but he'd certainly ruined the lives of those poor bastards he'd killed. A home laid to rubble and lives ruined... all over a bag of chips. 
 
 Ian collected the bag's crumbs in his palm, and ate those too.
