by David Menard
“Shoot him now!” screamed Guy as he was fighting for his life. Anthony took aim; this was very difficult because both Guy and Stanley were moving like they were dancing. His focus could not be broken, even with Jeff screaming in the background. If he did not get a clear shot he could wind up blowing Guy’s brains out. He had no more time to hesitate; he aimed and fired. The shot hit Stanley in the middle of the back, making him jerk backwards. This gave Guy the time he needed to grab Stanley’s neck and snap it. The sound was a bone chilling.
“What were you thinking, if you waited any longer I would be- aaaaahhhh” As he was talking the crowd of undead stumbled their way close enough to Guy to attack. Two assailants descended onto his neck, while a crawler ripped out his achilles tendon, sending the officer to the ground.
“Guuuuy! No! Fuuuck!: Anthony wailed as he shot the first of his partner’s assailants. Anthony had forgotten about the mass of undead barreling towards them, his senses were focused solely on his partner’s struggle. All he had cared about was saving Guy, but his death was inevitable. The three remaining officers opened fired at the horde of cannibals. Their bullets had no effect, they just kept coming.
“Aim for their heads, that seems effective” Anthony told his fellow officers. Glenn and the first survivor both stopped their desire for flesh when a bullet entered their brains. Stanley moved no more once his neck was snapped; Anthony figured the brain was the cause for the madness. They reloaded and started aiming for the heads. The creatures were dropping as soon as they were hit, unfortunately it was too late for Guy, he was being devoured while Anthony and his partners continued to shoot.
While they were firing of dozens of rounds, they couldn’t hear the walking corpse coming up from behind them. The dead’s once clean white coat was now covered in congealed blood and his face was now marooned in color. The wave of dead scientists was overwhelming and the sound of gunshots deafened the ears of the three officers. Jeff Lyons did not have any time to react when the reanimated body sank his teeth into his neck.
“FUUUCK! ARRRRGH!” Jeff Lyons cried as he tried to fight off the savage. The other officer was so frightened that he turned around and tried to back away from the creature attacking his partner. In doing this, he was actually walking towards the horde. Before the officer understood what he was doing, he was surrounded and being torn apart by the very same monsters he was trying to avoid. “Stupid mistakes will kill you” that is what Guy would always say to new recruits; apparently the officer had forgotten that rule.
Anthony turned and shot down Jeff’s assailant, and ran to his aide. All Anthony cared about now was to save at least one man and escape the nightmare. His neck was pouring blood, much like Glenn’s. Anthony knew Jeff was going to die, but not in a place like this. He glanced up and fired into the skull of a woman who was closing in on their position.
“Come on we have to get out of here, it’s not safe,” Anthony said terrified beyond belief. The monsters were drawing closer to them every moment that Anthony hesitated. He repeatedly tried to pick up Jeff but it was no use, he was too heavy. Jeff no longer could control much of his body, he was going numb.
“No leave me, I will turn just like the rest of them, go,” said Jeff, accepting his fate. His shirt was now covered in blood.”Take my car I have a bunch of extra ammo in the trunk, now go!” he added as he fired three shots at the oncoming wave, whether they hit Anthony did not know; he was transfixed on Jeff’s fatal wound. He glanced at Anthony and threw his car keys and placed the gun to his head.
“No wait!” Anthony exclaimed. He was too late; Jeff Lyons ended his life rather than transforming into a soulless monster. It happened so quick, first there was six of them, now just one. Anthony looked around and ran for the door, shooting the ghouls on his way. Three on the right, four on the left and an army behind him. He dispatched the seven on the way with 8 quick shots. He missed a shot on the run, hit the attacker square in the chest, then fired one into it’s left eye. He was upon the door in seconds, most of the hoard feeding on his fallen comrades. “Guy had the fucking key card!” he shouted as he shot down another attacker. What do I do now? There is no way I can get to his body through all of this. Fuck!
Anthony saw the hoard fast approaching. He was just about out of time. He had one chance, one last option to save himself. He turned back towards the door and unloaded his clip into the door. It did not shatter, but the door was significantly compromised. He started banging, but to no avail. He needed more time. He looked to his left and saw a bench near the doorway, he picked it up. The bench was heavy, but manageable, it was made of metal. He used the bench to push over a handful of attackers and cause a portion of the wave to trip and fall over themselves. With his precious few extra seconds, he started slamming the bench into the door, breaking it on his third try. He sprinted out of the door, not looking back.
He juggled the keys in his hand as he ran to Jeff’s car. When he got to the car he quickly opened the door and tried to put the keys into the ignition. His hands were trembling uncontrollably, making it difficult. The creatures were stumbling out of the door, if he could not get the car started soon he would not be able to get away. The monsters would surround it and he would not be able to drive through them. By miracle he managed to start the car, he threw the shifter in drive and sped away.
He had escaped but he was shaken to the core. He had lost friends, partners, and now there was an army of monsters wondering around the institute, and into the surrounding area of town. He thought about using his radio but thought it would be too dangerous because of the state he was in. If he reached for the radio he would likely drive off the road, he needed both hands locked on the wheel. Anthony took one last look at the radio and decided to just tell the sergeant in person, when he looked back at the road he saw a child run into the street. He swerved to avoid hitting her and ended up driving into the woods. He avoided three trees before he collided with one. The terrified officer was knocked unconscious from the whiplash, deep in the woods.
Chapter 4: End of Shift
The clock read twelve o’clock, a motivation killer for Cindy. In her mind she had been working for six hours already. As anticipated earlier, a customer came to her line with much more than ten items. All of the items were citronella candles; the woman was arguing with Cindy that it was only one item. Cindy gave in because the woman would not relent. It was much easier to scan extra items than argue with an ignorant shopper.
“See, was that so hard?” the woman asked Cindy. As she walked away Cindy heard the wicked woman hiss something under her breath. “Guess they let any asshole work here.”
Fucking douchebag! Cindy let out a sigh and began cleaning up her area. With the exception of that one customer, her day had not been so bad. She actually even enjoyed talking with a few customers. A good conversation would always break up the monotony of retail.
“Hey Cindy, I’m here to cover your register while you go on break,” said a voice behind Cindy. She glanced over and saw Wallace standing there looking cheerful as ever. Wallace already took his break and was now five hours away from his long awaited vacation. In his vest pocket he had stuffed a packet of crackers, no doubt a snack for in between customers. Most people kept their cell phones in their pocket, but she knew Wallace would never break company policy, the rules were strictly black and white for him, no gray area in between.
“Thanks Wallace,” Cindy replied and left her post. She left quickly and went to the employee break room. She approached her locker, entered the combination and grabbed her purse. She couldn’t stand to stay in the store longer than she had to; eight hours was more than long enough for her. She was going to relax in her car for a bit before suffering through the rest of the day.
She walked across the large parking lot, heading towards her car. She noticed seagulls flying around and fighting for scraps of food left by customers. The seagulls occupied the parking lot, but today there seemed to be more. She finally reached her car and placed her pur
se on the roof. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by John Stenson, the owner of the sporting goods store.
“Cindy Drawstring! What are you doing around here?” asked John Stenson in a cheery voice. John Stenson was a hunting addict. Every fall he would go on elongated hunting trips. Against all odds he killed the largest deer in the woods each an every year. He enjoyed boasting about his conquests, false in nature, and was so well liked that no one called him out on it. The only reason his store held other sporting equipment was to draw in more customers. Hunting was not all too popular in the town, like most towns the trio of major sports reigned supreme, Baseball, Basketball and Football. Although his store primarily consisted of hunting and camping equipment. He had a small section with baseball paraphernalia and sports apparel, along with anything else that would net more income.
“I am going to my car, I am on break,” she replied. Her little placid green car was small enough for her to put her elbow on the roof while she talked. She felt somewhat cool as she did this; it reminded her of the popular kids in movies hanging out by their sport cars. Her car however was definitely no corvette, it was a little shit box that she got a good deal on.
“Why in the hell are you parked down here?” John asked confused. He was a nice fellow, but always insisted on making small talk. He would make comments about the seagulls if the conversation was dry enough, and actually had in previous encounters. Cindy wouldn’t have minded except she was on her break and needed some time to herself.
“Well, there were no parking spots near the store. Besides a little walk won’t kill me,” she responded. She wished she had her own spot, instead of fighting for a good one every day. It was the elderly people who insisted on shopping early that took all the spots; it was no stereotype, it was true. Most of the customers before two o’clock were in their golden years.
“Haha, lord knows I could use a walk or two!” John jested indicating his large stomach. Being in his forties, with high cholesterol, he was advised at every doctor appointment to exercise. A warning he always ignored. He lifted his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow, “Alright I won’t keep you. Later!” he added as he left Cindy and returned to his business. He was currently putting up a sign that read ‘Purchase a hunting rifle and save 50% all ammunition purchases made in October’. It seemed like a bold move to customers, but John knew what he was doing. Cindy then got in her car and gazed out the window towards the sky; the harsh sunlight was gone and replaced with ominous gray clouds. Those clouds made her think of her mother, and she remembered December 11th.
***
Mr. Sanders’ intro to creative writing was the worse class she had ever decided to take. The course description proved to be a clever ruse to subject young English majors to one minded biased opinions from the oldest professor in the college. Cindy tried to make the point that ‘deus ex machina’ was a writer’s escape for details they failed to look at when creating the resolution to the plot. In definition it was an outer force that rectified a situation through surprising and unforeseen means.
For a college sophomore, Cindy held a strong argument. Mr. Sanders, however, believed that ‘deus ex machina’ was a necessity. He stated that in all writing there are missed details, and sometimes they cannot be corrected through conventional means because it would defeat the richness of the tale. It was because of his bias, that he dismissed Cindy’s valid argument. He announced to the class that even a child could understand such a simple plot resolution technique and that Cindy had no idea what she was talking about. Cindy was the hot head of the family, the whole class figured that out when she flipped off Mr. Sanders.
“Take your biased, naïve assumptions of literature and shove them up your ass!” she bellowed and stormed off. She walked briskly through the hallway with tears of anger in her eyes. She was used to this kind of treatment; back in grade school, she would be called stupid by her classmates anytime she asked a question that was obvious to the rest of the class. The teacher assured her that there were no stupid questions, but the other students indicated otherwise. Her intelligence was not the issue; she merely wanted to fully grasp subject material.
She took a hard right, almost walking into a student listening to their mp3 player. She hated kids with their headphones on, they never paid attention. After avoiding a possible collision she walked through the door and crossed the parking lot to the admissions office. She was going to drop Mr. Sander’s “I am right you and you are wrong class”. She opened the door she saw her brother, Darren.
He stood at the Administrators desk trying to find her. Darren was an inch taller than Cindy but he had always seemed to tower over her. He sported the same buzz cut hair as usual, which complimented his long narrow face. He wore a heavy winter jacket that concealed his massive build, he was a workout enthusiast. Darren stood there patiently waiting, until he looked back and saw his younger sister standing in the hallway. He quickly approached her.
Cindy was ecstatic to see her brother; she had not seen him much over the past four years since he graduated college. Her excitement was short lived when she saw his face; his usual handsome face was now afflicted with lines of stress and a pained look that started from his tearful eyes, to his tightly pursed lips. It looked like he was struggling to try and tell her something but the words would not come out.
He embraced his sister and led her outside to the benches that were located in between the Admissions and Academic buildings. The weather was frigid with grey clouds looming in the sky but Cindy did not take notice, her concern was on her brother. They sat down and Darren spoke softly. “Mom is dead, I went to visit her this morning and found her on the living room floor with an open bottle of pills,” A tear fell down his cheek as he told Cindy this.
A punch in the stomach. Cindy’s eyes started to water, she went into hysteria. Darren held her against his jacket to comfort her. Cindy had known her mother had been depressed since her father died, but not to this extent. They had spoken the previous day about spending Christmas together. She was in shock; the death of her father had left Cindy devastated and full of hatred but now her mother was gone too. Her father was killed two years prior by a drunk driver and she still had not gotten over that loss. Cindy did not say anything, she just cried in her brother’s arms.
After a few weeks of grieving she was able to return to her normal life. Darren had moved to California to advance his career and Cindy continued to pursue her degree. She did not see her brother again for the rest of her college career and was able to block out the painful memories of her parents deaths.
***
She had not thought of that day in a long time, perhaps it was a longing to see her brother; she sure did miss him. They spoke a few times on the phone over the years but have not seen each other since the funeral. She inherited the house; and immediately sold it at a below market price to avoid the constant reminder of the unthinkable tragedy that ripped her family apart. With the money from the sale, she bought her small little home where she currently resided. Darren went off to bigger and better things, being an architect. He was definitely the success story of the family while Cindy was working retail. She imagined his lavish life as an important architect. His house was triple the size of hers and probably had a built in gym. She smiled. Definitely a homemade gym. She glanced out the window, pensive. Maybe I will call him tonight.
When she returned to work, things were the same as before, busy. Over the next few hours she experienced the same routine of a rehearsed greeting, scanning merchandise and saying “thank you” to the customers. If it were up to her she would silently scan out their merchandise and have them on their way, but that is not how Quincy's operates. Monotony at it’s best.
“Bro are you okay? You have looked like shit since that stupid cat attacked you,” said a teenage boy to his friend. The boy was showing a red mark on his hand that looked infected. The kids were no more than thirteen years old, waiting to hang out with friends and catch a movie at the theater down the road. Ci
ndy did not care much about their conversation, all she cared about was the fact that she was going to leave work in forty minutes. The clock read five twenty and Wallace shut off the light above his register. He ran late because of a huge influx of customers. Wallace was good like that. Cindy resumed her work and was pleasantly surprised when she heard the voice of Drew Finley. She enjoyed talking to children at work; they were usually pleasant and friendly. It was the majority of adults that made her long for silence at work.
“Hi Cindy!” exclaimed Drew when his mother walked him up to the front of the line. New outfit, still mismatched. Cindy chuckled to herself. He reached up to the conveyor belt, peering over it. His smile was hidden as he was short,
“Drew! Hey, Sharon,” Cindy replied. She was tired, no doubt about it, then again all Mondays were tiring for her. The fluorescent lights gave her a slight headache, causing her to feel rundown. She had found over the years that retail was an exhausting job due because of this and the repetitive routine.
“We just wanted to say hi before we left.” Sharon said. She was holding a shopping bag, which no doubt had Jason’s gift in it. She had no idea that the gift that lay in that bag would never reach its intended owner. “Well, have a good night!” she added as she walked away, it was a quick greeting but an appreciated one. Cindy watched as they walked away and laughed a little when Drew dropped his toy. He always dropped things, as all kids do.
She resumed working when she heard an ear splitting shriek. Everyone in the front of the store turned at once to see what all the commotion was about. Multiple screams followed, and now there was a terrified look on customer’s faces. Cindy instinctually ran towards the screams. She saw Wallace was running along with her to try and help in any way he could. They heard the screams coming from the Electronics department. Neither of them knew what to expect, but they did not imagine seeing the surreal image of horror.
