by Michael Bray
“I mean, shit like this doesn’t happen in real life. This is the kind of thing you read in books. But with books when you have had enough, you can fold the corner of the page over and put it down and carry on with your life. This kind of thing can’t happen, can it? I mean not for real?”
“I won’t pretend to know any more than you do. To be perfectly honest, I’m kind of going with the flow here. All I know is whatever this place is, whatever the intention of the staff, we’re here, and we have to find a way to get out.”
“Do you think we can save everyone?”
The hope in his voice was painfully optimistic, and Garrett didn’t quite know how to say it without causing any more distress or upset than necessary.
“Honestly? No. But I like to hope we can at least get some of us out of here. Truth be known, I just want to get home to my wife and forget this place even exists.”
“That’s good enough for me. I’ll go see what I can find just as soon as I check on Leena.”
Mark broke away from Garrett, flashing Bernard a disgusted glare as he passed him. Garrett couldn’t help but smile a little as he walked towards Mr. and Mrs. Harwell, who were sitting on a wooden bench pretending to try on shoes with the same ‘going through the motions’ mentality as Garrett himself had done earlier. They looked right together. It was the kind of life he imagined him and Stacey to have when they were older. He buried that train of thought completely, knowing how easy it would be to spiral into self-pity and depression if he thought too much about the wife he may never see again.
“Mr. Harwell—”
“–Donald, son. You can call me Donald.”
Garrett nodded. “Could I have a quiet word?”
The older man could see the tension in Garrett’s face, and stood without argument and followed. They moved to the far end of the store away from most of the other people.
“What can I do for you, son?”
Garrett looked around to make sure they were unobserved, and was pleased to see nobody was paying them the slightest attention, and were altogether more concerned with finding their own way to deal with the situation.
“That man, Bernard,” Garrett said quietly.
“Oh, him? That son of a bitch has been stirring the pot, all right. You and the kid seem to be quite the popular topic.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Now, you know what’s going on here, right?”
“Actually, no, I don’t,” Donald said. “But I know enough to see things aren’t looking too good for us right now.”
“I know what you mean. Now Mark and I are looking at ways to get out of here, but he—”
Garrett nodded towards Bernard, who was still talking to his audience.
“—Worries me. If he turns enough people on to his way of thinking, we could be facing two problems instead of just one.”
Donald rubbed the back of his neck, and to Garrett at that moment, he looked incredibly old and tired.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing directly. Just sit close by and listen to him, find out what he’s saying. More importantly, find out if the others are starting to believe his drivel.”
“I can do that easily enough, son. Then what?”
“Nothing. Just keep me up to speed. I’ll catch up with you when I get back.”
“Back from where?”
Careful, Ray. You don’t know how this guy might react.
He hesitated, perhaps a little too long, and then found the words he wasn’t even sure he wanted to say.
“Mark said there’s an on-site butcher in the store. For obvious reasons, I’d like to know exactly where he is and what he’s doing.”
A flash of fear appeared in Donald’s eyes, and he subconsciously looked towards his wife.
“What do you intend to do?”
“Only what I have to.”
“I take it from the tone in your voice you don’t mean idle threats or anything quite so… pedestrian.”
He found he wanted to tell Donald his plan. Something compelled him to trust the old man, and if something as monumental as his intentions towards the butcher didn’t send him running and screaming for Garrett’s head, then there was perhaps one more person in the store he could rely on.
Here we go, Ray. Cards on the table.
“No. In this case, I think it needs to be a more… permanent solution.”
Not for the first time, Garrett was surprised at just how calm the words sounded when he said them and wondered if it was a sign of being on the first step towards insanity.
“Son, have you thought this through? What you’re suggesting isn’t something to be taken lightly.”
Garrett felt his face twist into a smile which felt as awful to him as it must have looked.
“That’s the thing. I don’t think they’re human at all.”
He regretted the words as soon as he had said them, and was about to explain what he meant when the old man nodded in agreement.
“No, I don’t suspect they are. I saw it too.”
“Saw what?”
“The manager, when he took that man into the room down there. I saw his face when he grinned at you. I wish to God I hadn’t, but I did.”
The image flashed up in Garrett’s mind in sickening detail. The eyes. The teeth.
“You can’t tell the others, not yet,” whispered Garrett, checking over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t overheard.
“I understand. That’s exactly why I decided to keep quiet. The last thing we need is a stampede for the doors. The fewer people who know about this the better, but people are already on the verge of panic and if that happens, the slim odds we have are down to virtually zero.”
“Agreed. We need to—”
Garrett was distracted by Mark, who was hurrying towards them. His eyes were wide, and his lips pursed tightly together.
“She’s gone,” he blurted, attracting a few nervous glances from the people milling around. Garrett and Donald exchanged worried looks.
“Hey, relax, okay? Calm down.”
Garrett’s words went unheard. Mark's eyes darted and flicked as he looked around him. Garrett thought he was just a half step away from that black, carefree oblivion that already affected so many.
“Leena’s gone. I left her back there, and she’s gone.”
“Take a breath, son, and try to relax. Now she couldn’t have gone far,” Donald said, putting a reassuring hand on Mark’s shoulder.
“Donald’s right. She can’t be too far away. Just calm down,” Garrett added with no real confidence.
Mark did as he was asked, but Garrett still didn’t like the way his eyes flicked, rolled and danced around in his skull.
“She might have just needed to stretch her legs and taken a walk,” Donald said as he locked eyes with Garrett.
“She wouldn’t go out there, not on her own.” Mark’s voice cracked as he spoke, and his eyes continued to loll and roll. “She was scared.”
He’s about to break.
Garrett knew it, and a morbid part of him wanted to see it, to watch how it happened perhaps in preparation for when it was his turn to make the transition from blind terror to never ending numb calm. Instead of observing, he heard himself speaking, his mouth going into business for itself and running on autopilot.
“Come on, let’s go and find her.”
Mark allowed himself to be led from the nervous, watching eyes of their fellow shoppers. As they moved away, Garrett looked at Donald, the old man’s face stony and neutral.
“That thing I asked you to do for me…”
“Consider it done. You can count on me,” the old man said.
“Thanks, I appreciate it. Just be careful. I don’t like that guy.”
“Son, you just go ahead and leave it to me. I’ll find out what the idiot is rambling about.”
Garrett nodded and set off with Mark to find Leena.
BO
The first few aisles were empty apa
rt from the ghoulish shells of people still walking their endless circuits of the store. Mark’s earlier description of ‘gone’ was as accurate as any. They looked without seeing, some still picking up random items as if on some level they were still compiling their weekly shop.
Others had gone deeper into themselves and walked in never-ending circuits. Garrett saw one middle-aged woman filling her cart with jars of pickled human eyes, the milky, floating orbs glaring sightlessly as they tumbled and bobbed in the murky liquid.
Another man in the next aisle had fouled himself. Even from some distance away; Garrett could smell his awful stench. Mark didn’t seem to notice. He was half a step ahead, hurrying as fast as he dared without breaking into a run. He froze at the head of the pharmaceutical aisle, his eyes flicking hopefully to Garrett as he flashed a relieved grin.
Leena was in conversation with one of the staff. Her eyes were half lidded and heavy. She had several assorted packages of painkillers in her hands. Garrett’s eyes went to the man she was speaking to.
He was short and greasy with narrow eyes and full cheeks. As he spoke to her, Garrett saw his teeth seemed too many and far too small for his mouth. He reminded Garrett of a villain from one of the James Bond movies. He couldn’t remember the name. It was the one with the razor-tipped bowler hat which he threw at his victims in order to decapitate them.
The portly little beast was listening intently as Leena spoke, his lecherous face contorted into a delighted grin. Mark tried to dart forward, but Garrett put a hand on his shoulder.
“Easy, keep it casual. Remember where we are and what happens here.”
Mark paused and took a deep breath as Garrett led them towards Leena.
“Good evening, sir,” said the too-many-toothed man in broken English.
Garrett nodded. Mark remained silent.
“The young lady just ask which pills were to make sleep.”
Odd-job.
That was the name of the character from the Bond films this man was so reminiscent of, and as Garrett listened to him chew his way awkwardly around the English language, he couldn’t help but feel a bristle of discomfort.
“It’s okay,” Garrett said, forcing himself to look the baby-toothed man in the eye. “We can take it from here.”
“It no trouble, sir, we here to help.”
Garrett looked down to the name badge on Odd-job’s not-quite-white shirt. It was neatly embroidered under the logo— the same Grueber’s logo in a swirling red font that had been plastered on the pre-packed human feet— it read ‘Bo’. Garrett thought it was apt that his name matched the slightly pungent smell that drifted from the unpleasant individual.
“Bo, is it?” Garrett asked, forcing himself to remain neutral as he pointed to the badge on his chest.
“Yessir,” Bo said it all as one word and held out a fat, filthy nailed hand towards Garrett.
“Please to meet you,” he said, still struggling to wrap his tongue around the native language. Garrett didn’t want to shake his hand. He could just imagine how it would feel. It would be soft and sweaty. He couldn’t help but look at his fingernails. They were overgrown and black with filth. Garrett wondered what kind of company would employ such a despicable little man in the first place, let alone allow him to mingle with the paying customers.
One that sells human flesh, of course!
He heard himself say it in his head and was suddenly sure he was about to burst into fits of giggles. He knew he couldn’t let it happen, because if he did he didn’t think he would ever stop. Instead, he went ahead and shook Bo’s hand. It was just as he had expected—like shaking hands with a hot-water bottle. Mark put a comforting arm around Leena’s shoulder and led her away, leaving Garrett and Bo alone.
“You no shop?” Bo asked, watching Garrett with eyes that were sharp and devious.
“I only need a couple of things. I can carry them easily enough,” he said, wondering why he was even bothering to keep up the pretense he was anything else but a prisoner.
Bo nodded. He seemed disinterested in Garrett and was focusing all of his attention on the back of Leena’s jeans as she was led away.
“What time does the store close?” Garrett asked loudly, trying to regain Bo’s attention.
With what seemed to be a considerable effort, he managed to tear his eyes away from Leena’s ass and back to Garrett.
“Oh, don’ you worry about that, sir. We open very, very long time. We never close. Our customers like to stay long time in store, eh?” Bo smiled as the words oozed from his lips. Garrett went cold, and it took all of his determination to keep his voice even.
“Maybe I’ll just forget the shopping and go home.”
Bo grinned, his tiny, yellowed baby teeth framed by his plump, liver-like lips.
“I think sir might stay a while. Lots of good things to eat here."
Garrett didn’t like the way Bo said those words. He liked even less the way he stared at Leena as he did it. His eyes devoured her greedily where she waited with Mark. Garrett felt a protective rage well up inside, which he somehow managed to control.
“Thanks for your help,” he said as Bo again took a long, leering look at Leena.
“Welcome, sir. It nice to eet you.”
Garrett was certain—almost certain— Bo had meant to say nice to meet you, and it was nothing more than a language barrier issue, but it still made him feel nauseous. The thought of that horrible, fat little man chewing on Garrett’s flesh with his tiny mouthful of baby teeth repulsed him. He managed a weak smile at Bo, then turned away and made his way back to Leena and Mark.
“We need to hurry this along and get out of here,” Garrett said under his breath.
“Agreed. Let’s do it.”
Failed Escape
Garret and Mark were in the home goods aisle. They had been walking in silence, and Garrett was surprised at how quickly his mind had managed to adjust itself to the horrors that presented themselves amid the regular goods. After a time, such gruesome things as lampshades made from human skin or ashtrays carved from upturned skullcaps became viewable without the reflexive gag or urge to scream. Of course, the items still horrified—after all, how could a person fail to be disturbed by such un-natural things. However, Garrett knew if he were to have any hope of survival, then he would have to push aside the repulsion of his surroundings and concentrate all of his efforts on escape.
At first, it seemed they would have a bounty of potential weaponry to aid them, but on closer inspection, the things they hoped would help— the kitchen knives and such— were plastic replicas and of no real practical use. So far, they only had a handful of wooden sweeping brushes. Garrett tossed a length of wire into the basket and continued to look for anything else that might come in useful.
“This isn’t going to be enough,” sighed Mark, now calm but also dejected.
“We have to try. We can’t just give up. How’s Leena?”
“I gave her some more sedatives. She’s sleeping for now. Mrs. Harwell is keeping an eye on her.
“It might be for the best. The less anyone has to experience this, the better.”
“Shit, Ray, you should have said something earlier, maybe we could have all taken a handful of pills and had a slumber party.”
Garrett laughed, a sound that seemed to be from another lifetime.
“I have an idea,” Mark said suddenly.
“Shoot.”
“What if we rushed the doors, all of us, I mean? Surely, they couldn’t stop all of us from escaping.”
Garrett shook his head. “It would never happen. People might say they would go along with it, but they would never do it. It’s just too risky.”
“Then what do we do? We’re gonna need more than brooms and wire to fight our way out of here. All this stuff is fucking useless.”
“Maybe,” agreed Garrett, looking in dismay at their pathetic potential arsenal. “Like it or not it’s all we have. We’re going to have to make the best of it.”
&nb
sp; “I just don’t see how any of this can help us. I hate just hanging around here and waiting to see what happens.”
“I hate it too. Right now we can’t afford to rush into anything.”
They walked without speaking, the pleasant tones of the easy listening supermarket music and the squeaking wheel of the trolley the only sounds as they scoured the shelves for anything that might help them.
“So, tell me about your life outside of here, Ray.”
Garrett picked up a pack of mop heads and placed them in the basket, not quite sure how much use they would be and even less sure if he wanted to answer the question that had been asked.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” he said reluctantly.
“Come on, man. Don’t go all Clint Eastwood on me. Spill it.”
Garrett grinned.
“I’m married. We’re expecting our first baby in June.”
“Shit, man.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, you don’t need me dragging this up. I should have kept my mouth shut.”
“Really, it’s fine.”
“I feel like a dick. I don’t know if I should congratulate you or apologize for bringing it up.”
“It’s okay, you don’t need to stress over it, we have bigger things to worry about,” Garrett said as his brief smile faded away. “Besides, I’ve accepted the possibility I might never see the outside of this store again, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do everything I can to fight.”
“Well, that’s something we agree on. So, what do you do? For work, I mean?”
“Why the sudden interest?”
“Sorry,” Garrett said. “I’m just feeling the strain a little, and I’m not all that used to talking about myself.”
Mark shrugged. “It’s fine. I didn’t mean to pry. I was just curious.”
“It’s okay, really. I don’t mind talking about it.”
“Fair enough. In that case, I’ll ask you again. What is it you do for a living?” Mark said with a grin.
With the tension broken, Garrett found himself relaxing a little.
“I’m a school teacher.” “Bullshit you are.”
