by Angie Morel
One of the girls lost the battle quickly after she kicked out and a banger snagged her foot. Falling to the ground, her piercing scream cut off abruptly when a boot stomped on her head. The kicks and stomps didn’t stop at that point, they increased, delivered to all parts of her body.
I had a clear view of her between the many moving legs, and saw the dazed look and fetal curling of her body after that first devastating blow, indicating brain trauma. She was utterly defenseless. The girl barely flinched when a kick was delivered hard enough to shatter her cheekbone. Unfortunately I wasn’t quick enough to look away before another foot stomp came, this one cracking her skull, giving her head a misshapen concave appearance.
Swallowing the bile in my throat, I was glad she was dead. At least she wouldn’t feel any more pain and fear.
The bangers seemed to know when their duty was done because after a few more kicks they stopped, and then collectively made their way over to the other girl. She was still upright, which was pretty amazing under the circumstances. I counted seventeen bangers total, ten of which were female. As their circle tightened, they punched and grabbed, and then began pulling on her arms in a tug-of-war fashion. The only sound she could make was an AH AH AH sound—until fingers found her throat, cutting off the air. I couldn’t watch anymore, envisioning her head popping off as her arms were torn from her body.
Looking over at D and Mary, I saw they both had their hands cupped on the rough asphalt, faces buried in them. Their fingers were trying to plug their ears, the noise of the event being almost as bad as the sight. For some reason their reaction bothered me more than what was actually happening.
It seemed like forever before it ended and the legs moved away. After waiting an additional ten minutes, Rolo scooted out, verifying the area to be banger free. Our eyes avoided the bodies in the parking lot as we made our way out as fast as possible. The fate of the two girls was a devastating reminder of what could happen if we let our guard down.
We made it ten more blocks, moving single file through the dim outlines of buildings, before deciding we needed to find shelter for the night. Dusk was imminent, and there was no way we wanted to be caught outside after dark.
Rolo and I decided the 7-Eleven convenience store up ahead and to the right would be a good place to hole up for the night. That way we could grab some medicine and other supplies needed. It would also serve as a decent place to keep watch once we made it dark inside. Positioning ourselves directly across the street, we watched the storefront for a few minutes to make sure there was no movement inside. Detecting none, we scanned the area for bangers before hustling across the street to the entrance, wincing at the bing bong bell that sounded when the door opened. Entering in a quick manner, we closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. And smelled death again.
We couldn’t escape it, it was everywhere.
The only dead body in view—and she was hard to miss—was a woman crumpled in front of the counter, a pack of smokes still gripped in her hand. She was wearing a tight orange t-shirt and neon green leggings, both of which seemed to enhance the multiple rolls of fat they contained. They were the loose droopy rolls that usually indicated a large amount of weight being dropped in a short amount of time. Lying on her side, her hips and shoulders were humped up, forcing gravity to pull the soft tissue down where it expanded it on the floor. Fluid puddled around her torso, which reflected the colors of her clothing, bringing to mind a couple of scoops of melting sherbet.
What the F, I thought, feeling queasy in my stomach. If I continued making food comparisons whenever I encountered death, I’d never be able to eat anything again.
“Get away from the windows. And find how to turn off the lights,” Rolo whispered as we skirted the dead sherbet woman and made our way to the back of the store, regrouping in the aisle containing shelves of cheesy poofs—as Mary liked to call them—pork rinds, and other fabulously unhealthy snacks.
Rolo and I broke away from D and Mary, leaving them to sit on the floor while we searched for light switches. I was nearly to the “employees only” door when a crinkling sound met my ears. Glancing back towards the source of the sound, I saw D ripping into a package of Ho Hos with a smile of pure rapture on his face. Shaking my head, I was surprised to feel the first genuine smile, in what seemed like weeks, pull at my face just as the lights winked out.
Rolo emerged from behind the cash registers, stepping over what was probably the corpse of the cashier behind the counter. When he noticed me looking, he gave a thumbs-up. Hopping over the half door located at the end of the counter, he made his way towards me.
“Did you lock—” he started, but stopped, cocking his head. The sound of running footsteps could be heard from outside. I didn’t lock the door, and obviously Rolo didn’t either, otherwise he wouldn’t have been asking me. What a stupid mistake for us to make. Luckily we were close enough to the aisle and able twist ourselves out of site just as the door jerked open.
Bing bong.
D froze with the second Ho Ho two inches from his open mouth, afraid to move. The sound of heavy breathing filled the store, amplified by our hyper-awareness. Rolo gently pulled his blade out—which he’d retrieved with the guns—and motioned for me to do the same, then curved his hand towards me and to the right. I nodded, indicating that I understood. He wanted me to go around the end of the aisle, moving up towards the front of the store.
Putting a finger to my lips, I looked down. Mary looked scared but nodded, while D, still frozen, bounced his eyes between Rolo and me like he was watching a tennis match, his poised-to-eat Ho Ho the net. Finally he closed his mouth and nodded, lowering the treat.
As I pulled my knife out and started to turn, a loud click sounded. I paused and cocked my head at Rolo, what was that? my silent question. He mouthed “lock” and twisted his hand in the fashion of someone locking a door.
Another set of running footsteps sounded from outside. Rolo and I stared at each other. This made the problem marginally bigger. One person could be dealt with much easier than two. But why did the first intruder lock the door while the other was still outside?
There was a quiet tapping on the glass.
“You ain’t gettin’ in my store, sucka,” said the intruder’s voice, which was male. There was a smug edge to his words.
“Hey, let me in,” said the faint male voice from outside.
The first intruder chuckled. I looked at Rolo, putting my hands out, palms up, in a what do we do gesture. He held up a finger, just a minute.
Tap, tap, tap. “Come on, let me in please!” A note of urgency was added.
Rolo gestured for me to stay put, and then pointed to himself and then to the front of the store. What??? I wasn’t able to verify his intentions before he turned away. What was he planning on doing? And then he stepped out.
“Let him in,” Rolo said to the intruder.
Ah shit, that’s what I thought he was going to do. In two seconds I was standing beside him. By the set of his mouth, he wasn’t too happy with my decision. I focused on the front of the store. The intruder was a blond kid wearing a dumbfounded expression.
“What the fuck?” He wasn’t chuckling anymore.
“Unlock the door and let him in, shitbag. You wanna be drawin’ a bunch of unwanted attention to us?” Rolo said, moving towards him. I trailed behind.
The kid hesitated only a second before unlocking the door, paying no mind to the kid outside. He kept his attention locked on Rolo.
“Oh, thank God,” said the tapper, stepping in and then turning to lock the door behind him. His next words were directed at the kid who locked him out. “What’s your problem? Why did you do that?”
“Who’re you?” the blonde kid asked us, ignoring the question.
“Don’t worry about who we are, worry about getting’ away from the fuckin’ windows.” Rolo nodded towards the back, indicating they were to go first.
Tapper kid noticed the woman’s body on the floor. “Oh man, that’
s…yuck.”
I couldn’t have agreed more, making sure not to look at sherbet woman again as we moved back behind the junk food shelves where D and Mary were waiting. D’s half-eaten Ho Ho was on the floor and he was standing in front of Mary, ready to protect her if needed. My chest grew warm at his willingness to defend my sister. I gave him a slight nod before turning to our “guests”.
The tapper spoke first.
“Thanks for making him unlock the door for me.” He shot a glare at the other boy, and then looked back at our group, trading the glare for a smile. “My name is Jimmy, but everybody calls me Snick.”
“I was just playin’ with ya, I was gonna let ya in,” the blond kid said defensively.
Yeah, right. We ignored him.
“So what about you guys? Pretty crazy stuff, huh?” Jimmy, aka Snick, said, shaking his head. He was tall and thin and I’d put him around my age. With a prominent nose, circles under his eyes, and dark hair that hung to his jaw line, he looked like a war refugee. Of course, in a way I guess he was. I was about to look away when his head turned and I saw him straight-on. Ah, perhaps not so much a prominent nose than a broken one, and maybe not dark circles under his eyes so much as bruised.
“No doubt about that,” I said and paused for a moment before continuing, “I’m Asha, by the way, and that’s Mary, D, and Rolo.”
Rolo gave Snick a slight up-nod before sliding his eyes back to the other kid, pinning him with his stare. We all looked at him. Muscular in build, he had a heavy brow and a square jawline. A curl of distaste pulled at his mouth as he observed us. He wore an unbuttoned short sleeved gray and red checked shirt over a black t-shirt displaying a skull and crossbones, and hanging low around his hips were black cargo shorts. Typical skater-punk attire complete with the attitude. As with Snick, I would guess him to be around my age as well.
“I’m Todd,” he supplied reluctantly. “I was gonna unlock the door.”
He was a fool if he thought any of us believed him.
For the most part Todd was ignored as we settled on the floor, listening as Snick filled us in on his journey. Turns out he was fifteen and had been traveling with his parents from Portland, Maine, to Boston for a long weekend, and was lying in the backseat reading when it happened. During the storm on Friday, he said, the freakiest thing occurred—all of the cars on the interstate just sort of…drifted. Of course it wasn’t until afterwards that he realized the reason they drifted was because the people driving them died at that instant. The cars kept going until they crashed into something big enough to stop them. Some stopped rather fast and hard, and some continued on for quite some time, slowing gradually. Unfortunately in Snick’s case it was the first option.
“It was a good thing I was in a big SUV. We smacked into the back end of a car that had just hit a bridge abutment, completely crumpling it. We must’ve been doing about fifty when we hit,” he paused, looking around at his audience. “Luckily I sat up right away to see what was going on when my parents slumped over, and then was able to get back down and brace myself when I saw what was coming. I thought about trying to get to the steering wheel, but figured I didn’t have enough time. Good thing too, because I would’ve been thrown through the windshield or something. Plus, I had my blanket and pillow that I was able to jam in front of me to soften the blow. I hit the back of my dad’s seat with my face but otherwise I’m in pretty good shape. The whole thing only took like, two minutes. Worst two minutes of my life, I’ll tell you that!” He shook his head, laughing. When he stopped laughing, he smiled at us. His enthusiasm was contagious, making me flash him a quick smile in return. Looking up at Rolo, the only one standing, I saw that his attention hadn’t wavered from Todd. I directed my attention there as well.
“What about you? What’s your story?” I asked, curious for his answer. He wore a sullen and bored expression as he leaned against the shelves, arms hanging off his bent knees.
“Dunno. I’ve been runnin’ around for a coupla days, met up with this dude a coupla hours ago, is all. Nothin’ special.”
Snick snorted. “Oh My God whatever! I came across him fighting off a couple of crazy people and helped him out. Then he pays me back by running over here to this store and locking me out,” he paused, glaring at Todd. “Dick.”
“Whatev’s. I was just jokin’ with ya. Asshole,” Todd muttered the last word, turning his head away.
“I’m gonna check things out,” Rolo said, obviously done listening to what Todd had to say. He slipped around the end of the aisle.
“So, what’s with the name ‘Snick’?” I asked, ignoring Todd.
“Well, this is embarrassing, but when I was little my mom called me her little snicker doodle, and over time it got shortened down to Snick,” he said. “Some people think it’s because I like to eat Snickers candy bars, and usually I just let them think that. A little less embarrassing than the real reason, wouldn’t you say?” He grinned, not looking embarrassed at all.
“That is so gay,” Todd said under his breath.
Snick continued, as if Todd hadn’t said anything. “So what about your name, Asha? Is that short for anything?” He pronounced it Ash-a.
“Nah, that’s my full first name. It’s actually pronounced Ah-sha, like a short o sound. You could say that my mom liked the unusual.”
“My name’s short for DeShawn,” D said, including himself in the conversation. “My dad liked some basketball player that had that name, so they named me after him. My older sisters started calling me D when I was little, ‘cause they’d go D-D-D-D-D-D while tickling me, and it stuck.” He held his hands up in a what are ya gonna do gesture. And then he grabbed a couple of fresh packages of Ho Hos from the shelf behind him, holding one out. “Dude, Ho Hos.”
“Oh,” Snick said, good manners forcing him to take it. “Sure, thanks.”
“I’m just Mary,” Mary said, smiling as she pulled on the toes of her shoes.
“Well hi Just Mary.”
Mary laughed. I decided I liked him.
“What about Rolo? Is he nick-named after the candy?”
Barking out a laugh, I slapped a hand over my mouth. I wasn’t sure if I slapped the hand over my mouth because we needed to be somewhat quiet, or because I’d never actually heard that sound come out of me. Removing my hand, I cleared my throat before responding to Snick. “No. No, it’s not after the candy. His first name is Rolando, so it got shortened to Rolo.”
Oh, if only I could’ve seen Rolo’s face when Snick asked that. I was sure he heard it—the store wasn’t that big.
“Hey!” Snick said suddenly, pointing his HoHo package at Todd.
I jerked my head back to Todd in time to see him yank the gun out of my backpack. The gun Rolo stuck in the side mesh pocket because I was too chickenshit to carry it on me. It had been right there, in plain sight for him to see...and to take. Stupid! I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off of him for a second. I knew enough people with his characteristics to know that.
Todd grinned, pointing the gun at me. And then he stood in one abrupt motion, kicking my backpack towards him at the same time.
“Well now, things’ve changed a bit, haven’t they? Hey Candyman! Rolo! Come out where I can see ya. I have a gun pointin’ atcha friends,” he taunted, speaking the last words in a sing-song voice like a kid playing a game. He stepped into the main aisle so he could watch us, as well as the front of the store, where he assumed Rolo had gone.
It was silent for a few seconds, and then I heard Rolo respond. “Okay culero, take it easy.” I could tell by his tone that he was furious. He must’ve stepped out so Todd could see him because Todd smiled wolfishly and fixed his gaze, and the gun, straight ahead of him.
Should I try to take him now, when his attention was off of me? My muscles tensed in preparation. I was only a few feet away. I could do it. At the last second I decided it was too risky. Mary and D were too close, so if Todd turned and was able to get a shot off, he might hit one of them. Damn. I slowly stood, fo
llowed by D and the others. Todd’s eyes flicked to us, but the gun remained on Rolo.
“Stay there, don’t move,” he grunted, moving his eyes back to Rolo. “Come back here with the others, dickwad. Nice and slow.”
Rolo came into view with his hands up, taking slow deliberate steps until he was about four feet away from him. I knew what to do. Not wasting any time, I took an exaggerated step towards Todd, which made him flip his attention to me.
Big mistake.
The instant Todd looked away, Rolo moved, kicking his foot out and catching Todd’s hand. Amazingly Todd held onto the gun, and as his hand arced to the side, his finger twitched, pulling the trigger. The bullet went wild, plugging itself somewhere near the lottery machine on the front counter.
Rolo moved with lightning speed and grabbed Todd’s gun hand while smashing his elbow into his face, making fantastic contact. Todd crumpled, his hand going limp as his body tried to figure out what the hell just happened. Rolo grabbed the gun and tossed it to me while letting Todd’s body drop to the floor, blood gushing from his nose. Rolo kicked him in the ribs and Todd grunted in pain, too dazed to be able to protect his body. Bending down Rolo fisted the fabric near the collar of Todd’s shirt and punched him in the head until he was out. His nose was a mess and his eyes were already beginning to swell by the time he was done.
“Oh shit,” I said, noticing movement outside the store.
There were bangers outside, drawn by the sound of the gunshot. Some were coming close enough to peer in, trying to find the source of the noise. One of the bangers stumbled over to the door. Panic clawed at me for a brief moment until I remembered that Snick, being smarter than us, had locked the door after he stepped through.
The overhead lights being off helped. It was dark enough outside that the bangers probably couldn’t see us inside the mostly dark store. Well, not unless they looked really hard. We froze in place as the one by the door pulled the handle. The lock held. The breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding released.
