Alive?

by Melissa Woods

  In the next aisle, Violet grabbed eight toothbrushes and at least forty tubes of toothpaste. She threw in as much shampoo as she imagined Sam would allow without it being ‘a waste of space,’ reasoning that being able to have proper showers would at least bring a touch of normality back into their lives.

  Plus, there was the smell.

  Following that theme, she also piled in soap, razors, shaving cream, and deodorant. She was pretty sure Sam wouldn’t fight her too much over the last one. With eight people living practically on top of each other, things weren’t exactly daisy fresh.

  Violet heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Joe approaching with his cart, which he purposefully crashed into hers. He grinned, examining what she had so far.

  “You know what? I think you win the award for ‘worst looter’. We’re living through the apocalypse, and you stock up on magazines, dog food, and shampoo.” He was speaking in a serious voice, but Violet knew he was joking. She smiled, taking the opportunity to scrutinize his own cart.

  “Okay then, what do we have here?” She picked up various items. “Wine, vodka, string, and…” She leaned further into the cart to pick out the small box. “Condoms? Why?”

  Joe snatched them back with a laugh. “Oh, come on, Violet. We’ve been locked up together for over two weeks. Hormones have been going crazy. Don’t you feel it?”

  He raised an eyebrow in a mock-seductive fashion, but she remained stone faced. Joe continued, “So I decided to get some alcohol so we could have this wild party. But what happens if things get out of hand—which is likely in the situation we’re in. Everyone’s getting hot and heavy, but thinking, ‘We can’t do it. What if I get pregnant and my baby is this weird zombie thing?’ That’s when I walk in, condoms in hand, and am, therefore, the savior.” He finished his speech with a little bow. Victoriously, he threw the box back into the cart.

  “Okay, let’s pretend for a second that what you just said is even the smallest bit possible—which it’s not—why have you only got one box?”

  “I’m not a machine.”

  Violet finally cracked, giggling at his serious expression. Joe grinned, taking the box out of the cart and tossing it over the aisle.

  “Okay, fine. That all makes perfect sense. What’s the string for?”

  Joe shrugged. “I don’t know. You always need string, right?”

  Rolling her eyes playfully, she moved on, pushing Joe’s cart out of the way with her own. She grabbed as many batteries, boxes of matches, and candles as she could, reasoning it would be good to get a least a few things from Sam’s list, then moved to the next aisle. She passed Tom, who was loading his cart up with toilet paper. They’d been okay so far, but Violet didn’t look forward to the depressing day when they’d have to start rationing that, too.

  Who said the apocalypse would be glamorous?

  “Hey, everyone come here!” It was Sam’s voice. He was back. Violet left her cart behind, jogging in the direction of the sound. She arrived just after the others. Sam was standing next to a puddle of blood.

  “How did we miss this?” Violet asked. “We’ve been walking around in here for at least half an hour.”

  “It was behind that.” Sam pointed at a huge metal container full of cartons of milk. “I wouldn’t have thought to move it if Ben hadn’t been sniffing around so much.”

  “Is it fresh?” Matt asked.

  Violet couldn’t tell by sight. By the looks of it, neither could the others. But she was still in control of herself at least. It must only be when someone was actively bleeding that she started to lose it.

  Well, isn’t that comforting?

  No one made any motion to answer Matt’s question. So she sighed, kneeling and putting her finger into the puddle. She pulled it out to examine the blood. Joe sucked in his breath behind her.

  “Violet, that’s really gross.”

  She ignored him. “It’s not congealed. This happened recently.” She took a breath, reassured that even with relatively fresh blood on her finger, she was still in control.

  “Look.” Sam pointed to the right of the puddle, where there were more spatters of blood. They formed a trail, which lead to a door by the fridges. “It goes through there.”

  Joe backed up. “Cool. Let’s go the other way. Nothing good ever comes from following a blood trail.”

  Violet couldn’t help but think Joe might be on to something, but Sam was already pushing the doors open, Ben trotting beside him. Violet caught Joe’s eye. He shrugged defeatedly before following Sam through the door. Tom, Matt, and Violet were close behind.

  There was something in the air now, a smell that crept up on Violet, settling over her like a warm blanket. It was intoxicating—like baking bread, maple syrup, and every other mouthwatering smell she could imagine. None of the others seemed to have noticed it, and this made her more than a tad nervous about what they were heading toward. She paused, standing still for a moment, and Matt seemed to mistake her action for fear of the dead. He gave her hand a little squeeze, then stepped in front of her so she didn’t have to be first into the next room.

  Oh, Matt, if only you knew. I’m not scared of finding a zombie. I’m scared of becoming a zombie. I’m pretty sure that will get in the way of our future hand holding.

  The door led to a small and grubby breakroom. There were a couple of couches, some vending machines, and a bulletin board. Ben moved ahead of the group, sniffing at another set of doors. Violet already knew where they needed to go without his help. She was following the smell, too, but she kept back. Sam reached for the handle, pushing one of the doors open.

  There was a new smell. Not of sour milk and rotting food, or the delicious one from earlier. This was decaying flesh. On the floor lay a man. He wore cleaning overalls, and a fire extinguisher for a hat. Technically, the fire extinguisher was lodged in what was left of the top of his head, but Violet thought her description was a little nicer.

  The blood had pooled around his body. Violet looked at the dark blood around the man’s head. “This is old. It’s not the same as the stuff we’re following.”

  Sam nodded in agreement. The delicious smell was still there, in the background, and Violet realized it was coming from a door to her right. She saw the trail of fresh blood also continued through this door. Security was written on the frosted glass.

  Violet moved to open the door, but was gently pushed aside by Matt, who went in first. He was closely followed by Sam and Joe, with Tom behind them. Violet found herself at the back of the line. She took a breath, not altogether disappointed to be going in last, and stepped inside.

  There was a man sitting at a desk, facing at least twenty small screens. None of them were switched on. He had very short hair, as though he used to shave his head but hadn’t been able to for a while. He appeared strong, but had clearly let himself go over recent years and developed quite a beer gut. His right arm was held close to his chest, and Violet could see blood seeping slowly from the wound, which was half hidden by his other hand.

  Stepping back, she hit the door roughly. She knew she shouldn’t be so close; there was too much blood. She should run, get away before she lost control, but she couldn’t. The others might start to wonder what was wrong with her.

  They’ll also figure it out when you eat him, Violet. Get out of here!

  I can’t. As long as I’m not too close, I’m safe. They’re safe.

  The room had a small window, which was cracked open. She moved a little closer to it, trying to breathe in the fresh air rather than the tempting smell. She glanced around the room—looking at everything except the man—and saw it had clearly been lived in for a while. There were empty bags of potato chips, candy wrappers, sandwich packages, beer, and soda cans everywhere.

  “So,” the man began, making Violet jump a little after such a long silence. He didn’t face them, his eyes still on the blackened screens. “Stealing from me? Going to take what you want and leave me with no food?”

  Sam
opened his mouth like he was about to interrupt, but the man cut him off. “I knew it would come to this—gangs of looters roaming the streets, taking what they want and leaving everyone else to rot. That’s what this world is now. As if it was ever any different…” He swiveled the chair around, surveying the group with anger and disgust. Violet couldn’t help but picture a villain from an old spy movie, and half expected to see him menacingly stroking a fluffy cat.

  “Please,” she insisted, seeing where this was going. “We had no idea there was anyone here. We’ve been living in the school, but we’ve run out of food. Can we take some of yours? We’ll leave you with plenty for yourself.”

  The man didn’t reply. Matt moved a little closer. “Do you want us to have a look at your wound?”

  “It’s fine,” he said, but held his arm out all the same. It was a bite. They all knew what that meant. He was infected. He would turn. Even now, the smell in the air was changing. It was still pleasant but becoming weaker. Another was taking its place, one of damp leaves and rotting fruit. The temptation Violet had felt when she stepped into the room was dying, and she was able to move a little closer.

  “When did you get bitten?” Matt asked.

  “Not long. About an hour ago?”

  Sam and Joe glanced at each other, and Violet saw Sam tighten his grip on the baseball bat. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she shook her head. The man hadn’t turned yet. Sam didn’t need to end it. Not right now.

  Maybe he won’t turn at all? Maybe he’s like me?

  You know he’s not. He smells like the dead.

  “If you were bitten, it means—” Tom began, but Violet interrupted.

  “It means you’re bleeding. We should cover the wound before it gets infected.” She moved closer still, taking some bandages and gauze from the table in front of him. She threw a look at Sam. Don’t tell him, she pleaded with her eyes. He doesn’t know what it means. There’s nothing we can do, but don’t let him suffer knowing what’s coming.

  Sam gave a small nod. Violet wrapped the man’s arm, unable to ignore the fact that the damp smell was getting stronger, while the pleasant one became more faint.

  “What’s your name?” Matt asked.

  “Steve. I worked here, was doing the night shift when it all went to hell.” He pointed to the door, to the room with the dead body. “That thing out there, he was fine when I arrived, but when I went to open the store the next morning, he attacked me. I used to be in the army, so I had no problem restraining him, but I knew there was something weird going on. No matter what I said or did, he kept trying to hurt me. Eventually, I couldn’t hold him down any longer. I had to cave in his head with the fire extinguisher.”

  “But that’s not how you got the bite,” Matt continued, gesturing to his bandaged arm. “This is new.”

  An emotion Violet didn’t recognize crossed Steve’s face. “A few days ago, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I tried to leave. I wanted to go home, see if…see if there was anything still there. I opened the shutters at the back and went out. I saw someone I knew. I wanted to trap her out there, so she would be safe. I was thinking if they found a cure… Anyway, she bit me.”

  “There is no cure,” Sam interrupted. “Those things have lost their minds. They have no memories, no thoughts, no soul.”

  Gee, thanks. Even though the words stung, Violet worked hard to keep her face blank.

  “They’re infected,” Sam continued. “They’re dead.”

  At this, Joe piped up. “Am I the only one who thinks it would be easier to just call them zombies? Why are we using all these different words? They’re gross, terrifying, eating the living—clearly, they’re zombies.”

  “I call them zombies,” Violet offered.

  Joe gestured to her. “She gets it.”

  But Violet was preoccupied. Something didn’t add up. “You went outside a few days ago, but earlier you said you were bitten an hour ago. Which is it?”

  Matt continued the thought for her. “And there was no blood in the warehouse, or outside by the shutters. You must’ve been bitten inside…”

  Violet noticed Ben sniffing around a closed door at the other side of the room. Steve’s eyes were also fixed on it. Matt picked up his bat from the table before moving over. He swung the door open. There was a woman inside the small room, tied to a chair. She’d been quiet while they were in the office, but as soon as the group entered, she began to snarl. Her hair was ragged, her face pale and sunken, and she mashed her bloodstained teeth together furiously. She probably used to be pretty. It was hard to tell now that one of her eyes was missing. She struggled so wildly against her restraints that she knocked her chair over. Ben whimpered, hiding behind Violet’s legs.

  Steve’s voice came from behind them.

  “I brought her inside. It didn’t feel right to leave her out there. She’s been in this room for a few days. I was in here an hour ago when I made a mistake.” He moved closer to the woman, closer than Violet would’ve been comfortable getting, restraints or no, and continued.

  “Maybe it’s because I haven’t slept properly in weeks, I don’t know. I just lost concentration, and she took a bite out of my arm. I panicked, then ran back down to the store to grab some bandages. Then I heard movement, and I knew someone was inside. I froze, didn’t realize I was bleeding out so much. I was too worried about who was inside. I thought it might be more of those things, or a gang of looters, so I pulled the milk across to cover the blood, then came back up here.”

  The woman continued to writhe on the floor, snapping her jaw hungrily. She was trying to free herself, but couldn’t. At least not yet. Everyone was quiet for a minute, just watching her. But Violet didn’t like this. She didn’t feel safe. What if more of the dead had followed under the shutters? How long did they have until Steve turned? What about their friends back at the school? Were they okay?

  “We should go,” she began, her voice little more than a whisper. “We’ve been gone too long.”

  “Okay, yeah, I agree,” Sam mumbled. He seemed unable to tear his eyes away from the woman.

  “Will you be okay?” Matt asked Steve. Violet knew he wouldn’t be. Of course he wouldn’t. He was already infected, and it was spreading fast. The smell of his blood was becoming foul. They needed to leave, right now.

  “I’ll be fine,” Steve said, his breathing becoming much heavier. “You should go. Get back to your friends. Take whatever you need, and feel free to come back. We’ll still be here.”

  That’s reassuring.

  Back in the store, Sam quietly barricaded the door with the huge container of milk.

  “It won’t be long,” he muttered. Hurriedly, they bagged their supplies and went back down to the warehouse. They couldn’t raise the shutters, and the carts wouldn’t fit under the small gap, so they needed to make multiple trips. It took several journeys, but they eventually carried the final supplies back.

  They didn’t talk, moving silently through the parking lot. As they approached the car, there was a bang. They all dropped their bags in unison, raising their weapons defensively. The banging continued. It was close.

  Violet turned around, coming face to face with a biter.

  Tom screamed from his place behind her.

  “Don’t be such a girl,” Sam hissed. Violet clamped her hand over Tom’s mouth. Sam walked over to the parked car, where the dead woman snapped at them from behind the glass. He tapped the window with his bat, which seemed to make her even angrier. She drummed her hands against the glass with more force. She was still strapped into her seat, and her movements were restricted by the belt. It was frayed, as though she’d been trying to chew through it. She was relatively young, and in pretty good condition thanks to being trapped in the car. She had brown hair, and Violet tried to shake the idea that they looked similar.

  That could’ve been you. She looks just like you.

  Except a bit more dead.

  Violet uncovered Tom’s mouth, and he stomped away. S
he made her way over to Sam, giving him a push. “Don’t call him a girl.”

  “He screamed at a biter…in a seatbelt…behind a window.” Sam rolled his eyes.

  She pushed him again. “He’s a wimp, not a girl. I’m a girl.”

  “All right, point taken.”

  Tom screamed again. Sam looked ready to bash his head in, until he saw why the kid was yelling. Tom was fighting off a biter. It had approached so fast none of them had even heard. It forced him against a car, setting the alarm off. The noise rang out in the silent parking lot.

  Violet and the others hurried over. Joe got there first, grabbing the biter by the collar and wrenching him off Tom. Sam swung his bat, cracking it against the zombie’s skull. Blood sprayed onto Sam’s face, and he hit it again. It went down, but now two more were approaching, screaming as they ran. Matt took out one, bringing his bat low and smashing the knees of a woman in a wedding dress.

  “Violet!” Sam threw her a knife, which she, of course, didn’t catch. But she picked it up from the ground, then brought it down into the skull of the blushing bride.

  Sam and Joe fought against a huge man in overalls. They both knocked him to the ground, hitting him with their bats again and again until he stopped moving.

  Violet glanced around. No biters close by, but there was movement from the nearby houses.

  “We need to go,” she yelled over the sound of the car alarm. The group quickly climbed into the car, heading out of the parking lot as more of the dead began to arrive.

  Violet surveyed her friends as they headed back home. Most were splattered with blood and exhausted, yet also triumphant. Today had been good. They’d gotten food and personal supplies, no one had died, and she’d been able to be around blood without eating anyone.