by James Barton
“Okay, I mean it could just be the server. I don’t think that’s a good reason to panic.”
“Oh yeah, well, get this. I just pulled up the flights—cancelled, I mean all of them,” he said almost angrily.
“I don’t know, maybe its weather, or maybe this thing is real and it’s in other countries and we are locking down airports to keep it from getting here. Hey man, I’m pulling in to work and I gotta go.”
“You should come back, I have a feeling this is about to go down,” he said with a clear voice of concern.
“I’m fine; we’ll feel worse if I lose my job. I’ll see you when I get off.”
What was I doing? I hated that person in the movies. You know the person I’m talking about; a werewolf kills everyone and someone sees it with their own eyes and continues to argue that it was just a bear or swamp gas. I was arguing with Harvey that everything would be fine and honestly I was in complete agreement with his fears. I had boarded the paranoia train and there was no getting off now.
I pushed the END key on my phone and noticed that I had brought the machete from home. I didn’t even remember putting it there. It sat in the passenger seat in its sheath, quietly reminding me that I really was frightened. I left it there and walked to the back offices to clock in. Jaime spotted me and waved me over. I slid my card to clock in and approached her.
“What’s going on?”
“I just wanted to let you know that you’re on your own today. I’ll need you to cover the whole parking lot.”
“What? I thought Jason was supposed to be working with me this morning,” I complained.
“He called in,” she replied with hesitation. She looked somewhat embarrassed.
“What was the reason?”
There was a long pause while she looked at the ground and then forced a smile only to say, “Zombies.”
“He called in saying … zombies?” I guess that proved Harvey wasn’t the only one concerned.
“He’s not the only one; I had three cashiers call in, too. They all had similar excuses. One even told me they wouldn’t die for six dollars an hour,” she chuckled nervously. There was an awkward moment and I think the same thought was going through our minds. “Are they the smart ones?”
Our denial and sense of responsibility could get us killed. I tried not to think about it too much as I made my way to the parking lot. At this point, all I could do was carry on.
As I made my way to the parking lot, it became clear that true or not, more and more people were starting to believe it. There were twice as many customers and each of them had a cart overflowing with items. They were rushing around, but didn’t seem scared, at least not yet.
So I prodded along, doing my best to keep the parking lot free of carts. At first I was slowly falling behind, but as two hours passed I was severely failing. The morning had begun as a regular Thursday morning, and now it felt more like a Saturday afternoon. I had done as much as I could. I even ignored my bladder longer than I should have. So, I made a quick rest stop and began walking back to the parking lot. On the overhead TVs there was an in-store ad selling a new type of mop pad. A second later the emergency broadcast buzzer came over the TVs and took over the channel.
Everyone stopped in their tracks and stared up at the image on the TV. The president was sitting at his desk. He was looking slightly offset of the camera as if he was reading cue cards. He took a deep breath, laced his fingers together and began.
“My fellow Americans, it has come to my attention that some of you are frightened by the idea of … an infectious outbreak. I must tell you that some of our allied countries have suffered an outbreak of an unknown sickness, but the results are minor and surely do not cause,” he sighed, “hostile reanimated corpses. There have been some precautionary methods to help prevent the spread of this illness into our fair country. Air and sea travel have been halted for a short time. Some malicious websites attempting to spread panic and lies have been temporarily disabled.”
His eyes kept glancing away from the camera. “My fellow Americans, there is nothing to concern yourselves with at this time. Please continue to go to work and enjoy your free time as normal. The only disaster would be to dig ourselves into a financial hole trying to hide from something that doesn’t pose a threat. I can assure you that,” he spoke before being interrupted by the sound of gunfire.
The camera spun around the room towards the exterior door. As the camera spun it revealed a multitude of military and secret servicemen. All of them equipped with rifles and other heavy weapons. In the doorway was a serviceman with his weapon drawn against his shoulder, the light waft of smoke still billowing from the barrel.
“Turn it off!” the president roared. Then the image went black for a couple of seconds and everyone in the store remained staring at the blank screens, frozen in place. Then, everyone looked around at each other with a stupefied look. Dread began to wash over me as I tried to comprehend the reality of that message. Why were there so many agents, and what was he shooting at?
Could those internet videos be true? If they were true, it would explain the large number of protectors and the president’s nervous demeanor. If there really were zombies, why would he tell us to carry on as normal? So many questions crossed my mind that I couldn’t even process them all. After a moment, everyone at Allmart broke free of their confused paralysis as if they had been released from a spell. The TV resumed its commercial channel and there was an ad showing a man chewing a new whitening gum that made him shoot laser beams from his mouth. I laughed for a second, I always liked that commercial.
The reason the president lied to us, asking us to remain calm and maintain our daily activities soon became very clear. It’s hard to describe how quickly things fell apart. The customers in the store suddenly went into a frenzy. Before I even made it back to the parking lot, people were sprinting in through the front doors. These people were feverishly dumping items into their carts. My first thought was that I needed to get more shopping carts. Can you believe that?
Don’t ask why I stuck around—part dedication, but mostly curiosity. As I watched the customers, I felt like I was floating through the store watching a sick parody. Some of these people were genuinely panicking, hitting and shaking their phones as their reception dropped. I looked at my phone—no bars. The phone lines had probably crashed from everyone trying to make calls simultaneously. The idea did strike me that my phone, something that I had become reliant on, may never work again. Pulling up GPS maps for directions or calling someone to make sure they were safe, might soon be extinct luxuries. That small X icon on the top corner of my phone could symbolize a collapse of something greater than just our phone signals.
There were only a few cashiers left and the line started to coil around the aisles like an angry snake. It didn’t take long for people to give up on paying for their goods and there was no way we could maintain order. Most customers just started leaving with their carts packed to the brim. I was ashamed to see that while most people were stealing carts full of food and water, there were others running out the door with expensive electronics. Most were concerned with survival, while others were exploiting the situation for greed.
It only took a few minutes and the store became packed with scared people. They were pushing, shoving, and cussing at each other. I waded through the people to get to the parking lot. I have seen packed, but this was unbelievable. At that moment, I realized that with or without zombies, this was going to be a disaster.
Every parking space was full and every inch of the road between the parked cars was occupied with angry drivers. People sat in the parking spaces honking their horns trying to leave, and people stuck in the rows were honking trying to get in. The highway leading to the parking lot was gridlocked and no one was moving. Trucks and SUVs flashed their lights aggressively from the ditches and grassy shoulders as they tried to cut in. You could almost taste the panic in the air. The faces of the drivers were filled with fear or rage, sometimes
both. In the distance a Hummer repeatedly slammed into the vehicle in front of them. If the person in front of them had not been in a large truck they would have surely drove right over them.
It was clear that this clustered tangle of cars might never be resolved without an authority figure to bring order. Suddenly a cop jogged past me, pushing a teenage girl nearly to the ground to get inside. I didn’t suppose anyone was in the mood to try to bring order. It was less than twenty minutes from the time the broadcast had been transmitted and already the store looked worse than black Friday.
Stealing from the store had quickly evolved into people stealing from each other. Why go inside to get a cartload of food when you could punch someone and take theirs? I stepped back into the store, or what actually felt like being carried in by a human current. I was past the main entrance and something caught my eye in the mosh pit of customers. There was a splash of red on the ground and I pushed through the crowd. There on the floor, was Edith the door greeter, trampled to death. Her blue smock was stained with blood and her head had been crushed against the cold grey tiles. Hanging out of her vest pocket was a roll of colorful smiley face stickers.
“Edith!” I screamed as I pushed my way over to her. I stood over her, trying to see if she was alive. I started to reach down, but upon further inspection it was all too apparent that she was beyond saving. I wouldn’t say that I knew her, but I worked around her almost every day for the last three years.
As I started to stand back up, I was pushed aside by a tall black haired woman. I nearly lost my balance and if I hadn’t recovered, I would have fallen to the floor. The thought of being trampled to death by a mob of scared people snapped me free of my shock. I didn’t have time to mourn her and I couldn’t use my phone to call for help. I had to get out of here, now.
Three gunshots rang out in rapid succession from the back of the store. The one-week waiting period for weapons had been forcefully lifted. Those gunshots only agitated the swarm more. Some people ran away from the sound of gunfire and oddly most people continued to try to get to the shelves. This caused more harm as groups collided into each other.
I should have left a long time ago, but I guess I just didn’t want to accept the truth. I kept thinking that everyone would calm down and clear out, like it had all just been a dream. That wasn’t happening and people were being murdered over cans of creamed corn. I loved to watch monster movies, but I never expected the monsters to be school teachers and accountants. The worst part was that zombies were entirely absent from this whole equation. People were killing each other over the possibility of zombies. They were causing all this damage because of the TV broadcast. Panic was more contagious than any virus.
I pushed my way through the droves of people to get outside. The parking lot had become even more chaotic and people were everywhere. I had to get home and admit to Harvey that he was right, at least partially. At this moment, admitting my faults was the least of my worries. I had no idea if zombies would be knocking at our door in the next few days. Either way, I was exceptionally grateful that he stocked up prior to this event. I made my way to my car and retrieved my machete and looked around one last time. I patted my car like a purring kitten. “Looks like you are staying here,” I said to myself. Walking home was the only option.
Chapter 2: Homebodies
Now I know what you are thinking—the U.S. capital is under attack by the living dead. The president is under siege and the entire country is soon to fall to the unholy army. That broadcast seemed to have everyone on edge and the security for the president had actually grown nearly ten times its usual size.
This unease was incredibly unfortunate for Diane Willard, the fifty-four year old cleaning lady. She was cleaning a side table at the White House when she saw a spider and kicked at it in surprise. This caused her to bang her knee on the leg of the table. It hurt enough to bring tears to her eyes and she hobbled from the table around the corner to sit in the nearby chair.
Her wobbly gait from a distance apparently spooked Agent Walters, the doorman, who fired his M4 without hesitation. Agent Walters had always been average at shooting, his numbers never quite made the high marks. Unfortunately, today his shot was dead center, sending his bullet cleanly through her brain. That shot, while killing the poor woman, had a ripple effect that some could say, was the start of our downfall. The broadcast which was meant to quell the panic had actually incited explosive riots and fear country-wide. It was the panic that lowered the country’s immune system and allowed the infection to spread.
Everyone thinks that a zombie outbreak would spread quickly and with great strength. Within days, those red splotches on the digital maps would wash over the entire country. Leading up to the broadcast, the American government had been completely aware of this outbreak weeks before it even neared our shores. They had increased air and sea travel security and even brought home most of our military troops. You couldn’t imagine how much defense we had when all our militaries came home.
At the first mention of infection, well, let’s just say that “accidents” would happen that removed the threat. Everything was under control, at least for our country. As the virus rampaged through other countries it seemed that we just had to pull into our shell and wait it out. That is, until the broadcast.
That public announcement sent everyone screaming to the stores to stock their pantries and hide in their houses. Even the workers at port security, in a small town of South Carolina vanished into the crowds. Cargo freighter 6421 was carrying common goods, along with a few more dangerous things. It was cracks like this that allowed the infection to seep into our homeland, along with some outbreaks that started closer than you might think.
You know that one scene in the movies, the one where all hell breaks loose and the zombies start to overrun everyone in the streets? Well, as I started the trek home, I felt like I was passing through the set of that movie; only, the actors playing the zombies were on strike. I kept my distance from the roads. I especially avoided the grassy shoulder, which is where most of the vehicle collisions had taken place. Gas stations, restaurants and basically any stores along the road were surrounded by vehicles trapped by other drivers. There was the constant popping of gunshots off in the distance. I even had to step around the corpse of a middle-aged man who appeared to have been stabbed to death in front of a hot-tub accessory store. I shook my head in disbelief. What the hell was going on?
I passed a small group of camouflaged hunters toting their rifles and shotguns. They sported a big black truck filled with supplies. One backpack in their truck caught my eye; it was pink with the glittery initials BEP embroidered on it. My stomach dropped. I carefully took the long way around them. People ready to kill for food and supplies, simply ignored me since I didn’t even have a backpack. It was the first time that being empty handed was ideal.
The town of Freeport had been built into the woods. Even though most of the woods were now gone, there were still acres of undeveloped sections that separated parts of the town. After traveling roughly three miles through the major part of the city, I came to a fork. I could either walk the last mile through the low-income housing section, or cut through the woods. Low-income, high-income, rich, or poor, I had seen enough people today. I decided to take my chances with the trees.
I had walked through these woods before and knew that some of the paths would snake around to my home. The sun was starting to set and I did not want to be wandering the woods at night with the possibility of zombies. I increased my pace and roughly twenty minutes later I exited the woods into the city park. It was a small park with a track and a few basketball courts. From the park was a straight shot to the trailer; I could see it right across the road.
There was a group of six individuals gathered by the basketball court. I gritted my teeth knowing that I had to skirt past them and engage in conversation and hopefully not confrontation. I tried to puff out my chest and walk with more confidence. I made sure to wave at them when the one t
eenage girl looked my way as to not be mistaken for a zombie. She nudged the tall black male who visibly held a pistol at his side. As I looked closer, it appeared as though they had geared up with at least two pistols and a hunting rifle. As I approached, they put their hands on their weapons and stood ready to draw on me, if I gave them a reason.
“Nice defense you got there,” was the only thing I could think to say to gun-toting teenagers. I tried to keep my voice confident, so I could hide the fact that I was terrified they would simply shoot me. There was a pause as they looked me over and then seemed confused at my approach. The tallest black teen stepped forward and spoke.
“Why’d you come out of the woods?” he asked.
“It’s total anarchy in town. People are killing each other for a few cans of food. They are getting trampled by panicked crowds. I just figured I’d seen enough people for one day, no offense.”
The girl and two boys behind him started mumbling to themselves and the one I was talking to directly started nervously thumbing at the zipper on his jacket.
“No one but Julia’s mom has come back from work yet. She works at the gas station up the street,” he said. I felt a wave of relief, not for their missing parents of course, just that they hadn’t shot me yet.
“My mom came home cussin’ and screamin’ about zombies,” Julia said. “After the second person came into the store and just straight up started stealing all the snacks she made the smart decision to join ‘em. She threw her work vest on the floor and said to hell with this place.”
“That’s smart. I practically had to claw my way out of Allmart. I left my car and everything. Why aren’t you with her now?” I asked.
“She told me her story, said to lock up and stay home while she heads to the store to get more supplies. That was a couple hours ago.”
I probably couldn’t hide my facial expression that said, “Your parents have become thieves, murderers, stranded, or dead.” I started to respond, but was cut off by the lead teen.
