Dead: Snapshot 01: Portland, Oregon

by T. W. Brown

  They climbed the stairs to the third level where the car was parked. Just as they exited the stairwell, a shriek came from somewhere. Jason’s head was on a swivel as he tried to look every direction at once. He didn’t see anything. The problem was that sound acted strange in the tomb-like atmosphere of the parking garage.

  Hurrying their pace to just under a jog, the two made it to the car. Juanita fumbled with the keys while Jason continued to keep an eye out for trouble. When his door opened, Jason jumped in, slammed the door, and activated the lock.

  “Go!’ he urged.

  “Don’t you want to see—” Juanita began.

  “We can’t save everybody,” Jason said with grim seriousness.

  The rest of the drive was in more of that uncomfortable silence. It was strange, because while he was doing time, Jason had craved silence.

  They exited the freeway once again and wove through a residential neighborhood that was an unsettling void of any activity. At last they turned one more corner and the familiar red sign came into view.

  “Holy crap,” Jason gasped.

  The parking lot was full. People were running into the store…literally. He felt his old instincts crop up. This was going to be like walking through one of those very same riots that he had just been thinking of a few moments ago.

  Juanita pulled in and stopped the car. She turned to Jason with a look of concern on her face that spoke volumes.

  “Stay here. Keep it locked until I get back. Understand?” Jason said, being sure to lock eyes with the woman so that he could gauge whether or not she was going to be okay. After a deep breath and slow exhale, Juanita nodded.

  “You should take my bank card,” Juanita said, fishing in her purse. “Something tells me that you are going to need more than a hundred bucks or whatever they gave you on your Oregon Trail card.”

  “And when they ask me who Juanita is?”

  “They won’t. You just swipe it at the checkout. The pin is five, eight, eight, four.”

  “Why are you trusting me with this?” Jason asked, struggling with odd feelings that swirled inside him at this peculiar display of confidence that he would not do something dishonest.

  “You scooped me off the ground and took me home,” Juanita said simply. “You could have done a million things, but you did that one thing that tells me you are a good guy.”

  “And me being an ex-con?”

  “That cousin that I told you I had no idea where he was that went in and out a bunch of times? Juan? He is a good guy. He just made some bad choices. But I believe that, given the chance, he could get himself in order and live a good life. He just reaches a point where he loses hope and does something stupid.” Juanita patted Jason on the hand and gave him a gentle shove towards the store.

  Without another word, Jason got out and stared across the parking lot. His eyes were searching for anything out of the ordinary; well, besides the whole scene of insanity as people poured into the store like maniacs.

  As he crossed, he saw a few people on the ground in between some of the cars. What he did not see was somebody ripping their guts out or anything of that sort. Nope, these people had been straight up assaulted and left to bleed out. That told him what he needed to know as he walked into the store.

  It was almost unsettling when the electronic doors slid open as he reached the sensor. The wave of sound that poured out was a mix of shouts, screams, and cries for help. A person wearing an apron that marked them as an employee ran out past him pushing a cart that was loaded to almost overflowing. What Jason noticed right away was a lack of any sort of bags or anything that might indicate that the person had paid for the groceries.

  When Jason glanced to his left, he saw two registers that were actually manned. The lines at both were stretching down the aisles. However, more people were taking advantage of the madness and simply bolting than were standing in line to pay. Jason pulled a cart free and turned towards the grocery department.

  As he reached the produce aisle, he realized that he might want to pass that area by since it was possible that they might lose power in all this. Fresh fruit and vegetables, things like meat and dairy, those were all items that would likely have to be used now. If this blew over in a few days, they could worry about things like that then. What they would need right this minute were things like the non-perishables. That meant canned and dried goods.

  Turning left, he paused at the end of the aisle and looked at the coffee sitting on the shelf. He grabbed a few bags and added in some non-dairy creamer just in case Juanita used it. From there it was just a matter of pushing and shoving his way past other people.

  Jason saw that an elderly lady was standing in the middle of the aisle when he turned down the water and soda aisle. She was just standing there with a confused look on her face. She looked like some bag lady or something in her ratty clothes and hair matted down in some places, sticking up in others. As he passed her, he noticed a foul stink that almost made him gag.

  As he spied the rows of bottled water, he only momentarily took notice of how many idiots were grabbing soda. That would not help when real thirst set in. Water was what he wanted, and he elbowed past a few other men and women who actually moved away a bit and gave him some room when they saw who it was that had pushed.

  He had planned on getting all the prison tattoos covered when he got on his feet, but right now he looked like every movie bad guy/convict character there was with his “White Power” and “100% Good Wood” down each forearm, along with the assorted demons, naked ladies, and cryptic signs that announced his particular (and former) affiliation. But if it got him a little room right now, he would take full advantage.

  Jason began scooping twenty-four packs of bottled water into his cart and then stacking them neatly. He decided that four cases should hold them over for a few days if something happened. He was actually more concerned about food.

  A few minutes later, he was in the canned fruits and vegetable section. He grabbed cases of canned corn, beans, fruit cocktail, and then the soup. When the cart was full to the point of becoming difficult to push, he moved toward the front of the store. He saw that the lines had actually gotten longer despite the fact that many people were simply heading out the door. However, he also saw a pair of store employees standing near the exit with the phones. It did not take him long to figure out that they were taking pictures of everybody who exited without paying.

  With a sigh, Jason turned and headed to the end of the line. He had been standing there for about twenty minutes or so when a store employee walked up. The woman wore a badge on her shirt that read: How may I help you? My name is Colleen.

  “Go ahead,” the woman sighed when Jason and a few of the people standing in line with him turned to face her. She looked exhausted and her eyes were red-rimmed. He was pretty sure that she had been crying very recently.

  “No thanks,” Jason said with a shake of his head. “I saw the clerks up front snapping pictures. I’d just as soon not end up on the local news.” This earned some mumbles of agreement from the people standing with him.

  The woman reached into her apron pocket and produced a cell phone. Or, rather, she produced what was left of one. The screen was a series of spider web cracks. It had obviously been stomped.

  “We’re done. I am pulling my people before anybody else gets hurt,” Colleen said.

  Jason looked around and realized that he didn’t see another employee anywhere. Then he saw her again. It was the foul smelling old lady from the water and soda aisle. She was shuffling along across the aisle, but then she would stop and turn and take a step. A person pushed past and she lunged, sprawling on the floor in a graceless heap.

  The store manager turned and gasped. She turned back to Jason and the others, offering a weak smile. “Just go, you aren’t going to be in trouble. There is something wrong. As soon as I get to my office, I am going to announce it on the PA system, I am telling my people to get what they need and to go.”

 
; That seemed to satisfy all those who had heard. People broke from the line and started for the exit. Jason fell in, joining the exodus. He was almost to the head of the aisle of the line he’d been standing in when a scream rose above the cacophony of the store. Turning, Jason saw the bag lady yanking on Colleen’s arm. She had it clutched tightly, her hands gripping it in a way that reminded Jason of somebody with a juicy rib at a barbecue. Then, the bag lady bit down.

  Jason could only watch in amazed fascination at what he was seeing. A part of his mind was trying desperately to activate his instinct for flight, but what he was watching had him transfixed.

  He’d read so many of those books. He’d even had a few just-for-fun chats with some of the fellas. The idea of a zombie was just too much for anybody to take seriously. Yet, here he was, and there could be no other explanation for the things that he’d witnessed today.

  A bright red jet of blood arced away as the bag lady tore loose a piece of flesh and began to chew as if everything was perfectly normal. He had not realized it, but Jason had begun to actually creep closer to the scene; his feet making slow, deliberate progress toward the fiction-turned-reality.

  Jason had tuned out Colleen’s screams and was focused solely on the bag lady. Her eyes were covered with a milky film, and instead of regular red, bloodshot eyes, hers were laced with black. There was no expression on its face as it chewed while Colleen writhed and struggled to get away. An idea came and Jason acted. Reaching into his shopping cart, he grabbed a can of sliced pineapple and advanced on the woman.

  As he neared, the smell became almost overwhelming. Holding his breath, Jason moved in fast and brought the can down on the bag lady’s head. By the third strike, all he’d managed to do was hurt his hand. However, the bag lady was now paying attention to him. She was struggling to her feet. Jason could see the divot in the front of her skull that he had managed to make.

  “Okay, so scratch the idea that just bashing them in the head does anything.”

  Jason began to back away, reaching behind him and quickly turning his cart so that he could back up and keep it between him and this bag lady zombie that was taking slow, unsteady steps as it approached. He also noticed how her head moved in jerky, bird-like fits.

  Reaching the end of the aisle, he looked around frantically as people ran past, all of them paying no mind to the woman on the floor bleeding profusely several feet away and the man with all the tattoos trying to beat down a bag lady. His eyes came to rest on the end cap display. With spring right around the corner, the barbecue season was almost here.

  Jason grabbed the utensil package and ripped it open. He took a deep breath and stepped out from behind his cart. The bag lady took a step closer and was now in arm’s reach.

  “This better work,” he muttered. With one hard thrust, he shoved the pronged fork utensil into the eye of the bag lady. There was a moment’s resistance, and then he was able to push through.

  It was instantaneous. The bag lady simply crumpled to the ground. Jason looked around, expecting some display of outrage…anything. People were just shoving past and paying this no mind. At some point, the store manager had climbed to her feet or simply crawled away.

  Deciding that he could risk grabbing one more item on this run, Jason spun the cart around and ventured further into the store. In a moment, he was in the toy department. A few more aisles and he arrived at his destination. There wasn’t much to choose from in the athletic equipment area, but he saw what he wanted and grabbed the aluminum bat from where it hung on display.

  He would have to come back for some more during a second run. He knew what he wanted, but he was still on the fence. If he did this, he would be crossing a line that might land him in serious trouble.

  Suddenly, Jason laughed out loud. He’d just shoved a barbecue fork into the eye socket of a bag lady; how much more trouble could he get into? His eyes scanned the area until he spied the hardware department. That would be his next stop after he emptied this basket.

  Heading for the exit, Jason saw a woman kneeling in front of a child. The little girl was sobbing uncontrollably and holding out an arm that was dripping blood. The woman was trying her best to console the child, but to no avail. As he pushed his way through the doors and emerged outside to the parking lot, it took him a minute to remember where the car was parked. At last he recalled that Juanita had pulled into a space at the very edge of the lot. He wove through and finally spotted the old Buick. However, he noticed right away that something was wrong.

  Breaking into a run, or at least as fast as he could go with the heavily laden shopping cart, Jason charged for the vehicle.

  He came to a stop a few feet away. The window on the driver’s side had been smashed. Little cubes of glass littered the area. Pushing the cart up between the Buick and the SUV that was parked beside it, Jason looked inside the car. Juanita’s body was sprawled on the seat. A nasty wound to her head was leaking blood and creating a large dark stain.

  Yanking the door open, Jason climbed inside, his fingers going for her throat in search of a pulse. He scooted out of the car and went to roll her onto her back so he could get a better idea as to if she was alive or not when she began to shudder and convulse.

  Jason jumped back, unsure of what to do when, just as suddenly as it began, Juanita was still. After taking a few breaths to try and settle himself down, he leaned in and put an ear to Juanita’s chest.

  Nothing.

  He tried once more to check for a pulse. Again, he found no sign that she was alive. He was aware that he was no doctor; for all he knew, he was doing it wrong. He took the time to get her moved to the back seat and then loaded the groceries into the trunk. When he climbed into the driver’s seat, a realization struck him.

  Juanita’s purse was gone.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding,” Jason exclaimed.

  His eyes narrowed at what he was seeing. A small gang of four people were cruising the parking lot with partially full carts. As he watched, they homed in on a vehicle. One of them took something from his pocket and gave the window of the car they were clustered around a solid tap. He watched as they opened the door and began scooping everything they could out of the car…including the young man who had been in the driver’s seat.

  They began putting the boots to the guy. Then, the one that had busted in the window brought something up and smashed the young man in the side of the head. After emptying the car, one of them rolled the guy over and went through his pockets, eventually coming up with a wallet. A moment later, they were stopping at a large panel van. The side door opened and everything was handed inside.

  While he had no proof, he had an inkling as to who had attacked Juanita. He felt an urge to confront these hoodlums, but he needed to get Juanita to the hospital. She might be dead, but then again, she might not be. Every second might count and mean the difference between life and death.

  With one final rueful look towards the little gang of punks obviously taking full advantage of this mass chaos, Jason pulled out of the parking lot of the grocery store and tried to remember where the closest hospital might be located.

  In a stroke of luck, as he turned onto MLK Boulevard, he passed a sign that read: Legacy Hospital, next left. Cutting across traffic sharply to the angry honks of other drivers, Jason took the corner so hard that he heard a thump from in back as Juanita tumbled from the seat.

  Pulling into the parking lot, Jason felt his stomach tighten. If the parking lot of the grocery store was bad, then this was a nightmare beyond explanation. He was still in shock when a hand slapped against the driver’s side window. Jason turned to see a face that was a sickly grayish-blue staring it at him. The eyes were covered in a sick film and laced with black; the woman’s throat had been ripped out and dried blood was caked and already turning a blackish color around the hideous wound.

  Then he heard a low moan…from the backseat.

  Discoveries

  Ken ducked instinctively and felt something swish throug
h the air where his head had been just a second ago. Kicking backwards, his foot struck something solid and was greeted with a loud “oof”.

  Turning, he saw the punks from inside the store. The one that had reached him first was already doubled over, but he had no chance to defend against the next and took a booted foot to the shoulder. He slammed into the rear of the truck and ended up down on his knees. He could hear the dog barking from the cab of the truck.

  “Get him!” Jinks yelled, obviously not the one to lead the charge.

  Ken saw the boot coming and moved his head just enough to take little more than a grazing blow to the cheek. His hand was going for his gun as the rest of his attackers arrived. He rolled under the rear of his truck, pulling himself into the fetal position in order to do so.

  A set of legs appeared just past the rear tires and Ken brought his gun around. He fired and winced at the loud report. A body fell, the person clutching their wounded leg and rolling back and forth. If not for the ringing in his ears, he would have heard the wail of pain.

  Looking to the rear of the truck where the attack had begun, he spied the person that he’d kicked as he or she struggled to reach their feet. Lining up his next shot, he fired again; the person flopped backwards and was still. Scuttling back just a little further, he saw another set of legs. The owner had obviously decided to give up on the attack and was turning to leave. Once more Ken fired. He saw the body sprawl in a pool of blue radiance from one of the parking lot lights.

  Waiting a second to ensure there were no other attackers, Ken slowly emerged from under the pickup. His hearing was still hampered, but he heard the cries of the person he’d shot in the leg. He walked over and looked down to discover the young lady with the crewcut.

  “P-p-please don’t shoot me!” she wailed, holding up her hands.

  Ken looked around to see if anybody might be paying any attention. When he realized that nobody was coming to investigate, he leaned down to the girl and examined her more closely. She was filthy and smelled like it had been a good long while since she’d had a shower.