The Undead That Saved Christmas

by ed. Lyle Perez-Tinics

  “It pretty much sounded like a meteorite crash landing,” Cassidy Lankford said matter-of-factly. She was peering into the cold winter sky. It was a clear night and it seemed that every star in the cosmos could be seen.

  Since she didn’t smoke, and she hated being the only one in the break room while everyone else took their break out on the loading dock, she bit loudly into a celery stick, pushed her horn rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose and looked at her co-workers.

  “You’re so full of crap, Cass,” Lenny said before anyone else could. “You wouldn’t know what a crash landing meteorite sounded like even if one came down and banged into your square head.” Ziggy and Dale laughed. Even Doris Nieder, who was usually totally quiet, especially when Lenny was picking on someone, snickered.

  Smiling widely, Lenny said, “See, even Penis Eater agrees.”

  Doris stopped laughing at the mention of the nickname the guys had given her. She stormed away angry and embarrassed.

  Unaffected by his comment, Cass said, “If you had gotten past fourth grade you would know what I was talking about, Lenny. A meteorite was the cause for the dinosaurs going extinct, you know. We’ll probably feel the ripple effect any second now.”

  Silently debating whether or not he should flick his cigarette stub in her face, Lenny just sighed, dropped the butt, stomped it out then turned and left.

  Cass smiled smugly. “Yep, while he’s surfing pornography, I’m on Wikipedia learning stuff.”

  “Break time’s over,” Andy Caruso, the night shift manager, barked. He had come up quietly behind the workers standing on the dock in an attempt to catch them off guard. He was delighted to see a couple of them jump.

  “Jeez-Louise, Mr. C., you almost gave me a heart attack. You know, if you startle a person just right, you could kill them. I saw this documentary one time on adrenaline junkies who actually died from doing these crazy death defying stunts. Only, I guess, they’re not really “death defying” because they really died. Did you see that one, Mr. C.? Probably not. I think I have a copy. You want me to make you a copy, Mr. C.?”

  Andy hated being called Mr. C., but after six years it was pointless in trying to correct her. It grated on his nerves.

  “Everybody get back on the floor so I can lock up the dock door.” He was flushed red, holding his tongue as he located the key on his ring to secure the roll down door.

  “Hey, Mr. C., do you think we could talk about moving me into the fashion dolls aisle? I hate the sporting goods corner. I’m on the other side of the store, away from everybody, with no one to talk to. Besides, I don’t think Eddie is properly merchandising the accessories. I hate to be a rat fink and tell on him, but he’s putting evening gowns and bathing suits together on the same pegs.” She fell silent for a moment to gauge the manager’s reaction. When she got no reaction she continued. “I mean, come on, Mr. C. You can’t do that. Plus, I saw Eddie pulling up the dresses of the display dolls. You know what that looks like don’t you, Mr. C.?” Again she fell silent.

  Wishing he was anywhere else in the world with a bottle of bourbon the manager went against his better judgment and asked what it looked like to her.

  “Sexual harassment,” she said barely above a whisper. “And I know for a fact that after the dresses were pulled up he took a black magic marker and drew…”

  Andy had a hand up like a traffic cop stopping her in mid-sentence. “We’ve talked about this before, Cassidy. You’re my go-to gal in sporting goods. The balls never looked better after you’ve handled them and gotten them all worked up nicely. We’re going to show record sales in footballs this year and I think that’s all due to your consistent hard work.”

  “Yeah, Mr. C., but…”

  Mr. Thumb and his four brothers were standing at attention again only a couple inches from her face. “The seasonal assignments have already been made for this year, Cassidy. Maybe next year.”

  “That’s what you said last year,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “I’m sorry, Cassidy, I didn’t hear that.”

  “Nothing Mr. C.” Stepping aside so he could pull down the dock door and lock it, she thought she heard something in the far off distance. The sound carried in the deserted night. It sounded like several people were out walking, many pushing shopping carts. Could it just be homeless people? If so it sounded like there were at least a dozen of them, each pushing their own shopping cart. The wheels didn’t squeak, but she distinctly heard them on the wet street. Well past midnight, it was odd and a little eerie hearing people out at such a late hour on a weeknight.

  As the door came down with a thud, she would have sworn she heard people moaning.

  * * *

  More of them were changing, coming alive as dead things. The pain of torn and rendered flesh, of broken, snapped limbs was replaced by a gnawing hunger that drove the creatures insane.

  Instinct drove them. For no reason other than it was what some small part of their brains remembered doing when they were alive, many of them had raided the equipment boxes and geared up with their pads and roller skates. It was some tiny portion of familiarity in their brains that they clung to.

  Outside the bus their heightened sense of smell detected the delectable scent of fresh meat. Like a magnet attracting metal shavings, the living dead derby girls made a beeline down the deserted city street. A cold winter wind blew, but none of the dead things noticed. They moved as one, making their way to the Toyland Castle of Smiles.

  * * *

  Walking slowly down the long aisles of toys, Cass tried to make small talk with the co-workers she encountered. All were too busy to stop and talk to her, even when she found two or three standing around doing nothing more than talking to each other. She watched longingly as Eddie cut open a box of Holiday Style Fashion Fancy Francine dolls and displayed them sloppily on the end cap.

  Taking the corner she walked past the row of twenty-five register lanes, past a giant display of swing sets to the darkest corner of the store, sporting goods. It wasn’t literally dark, but she referred to it as the darkest corner because when she was in her assigned section she could barely see or hear any of the other people on the night stocking crew. She couldn’t even hear the radio they were listening to.

  The sporting goods aisles were neat and packed out. The store sold a good bit of football, baseball and hockey equipment during the season, but nothing like what was sold from the toy aisles.

  She had a number of bicycles to build and display before her shift ended. She tended to build more of the girls’ bikes than bikes for boys. When she was little she had a Little Princess bicycle with all the fancy and frilly trimmings. She often imagined the look of surprise on the faces of the little girls who found the bikes she built under the Christmas tree. She was content to be alone with her thoughts as she began assembling another bicycle.

  * * *

  They rolled to a stop in front of the giant glass doorway. The façade of the building was that of a castle, with toy soldiers, smiley faced dolls, Christmas trees and snowmen decorating the glass.

  The smell of food was overwhelming. The crimson flow pulsating in delicate veins, the soft chewy skin of the food inside was driving them insane. They pushed against one another to scratch uselessly on the glass and peer into the building.

  Instinct again began to govern their decisions. They worked as one, drawing on the skills they once employed in the roller rink. Grabbing Black Betty’s arm, Crazy Mary began swinging her teammate around in a circle, building momentum. When enough force was built up, Crazy Mary let go and launched Black Betty directly into the glass doors. It was a move their fans knew as the “Sling Shot,” and they cheered wildly whenever the girls set it up.

  Black Betty banged into the window glass with a loud thump. It was a bone breaking move as she was slammed flat against the glass, but in her current state the hunger was the only pain she felt. Keeping her balance she rolled a couple feet backwards. Crazy Mary grabbed her arm and set up another la
unch. Black Betty again smashed into the glass with a thunderous boom, the festively painted panes shaking in their frames. The Luscious Warrior and Pink Lady rolled up and began the same move, with Pink Lady slamming into the glass in time with Black Betty.

  * * *

  “What the hell?” Ziggy had been re-merchandising the overstock of Stella Star action figures and accessories when the loud banging broke his concentration.

  Someone was beating on the glass front doors, causing him to lose his train of thought. It was probably kids. Kids shouldn’t be out this late, but some had parents who didn’t care. He wandered up the same time the shift manager was rushing up to check out the ruckus.

  “What the hell are they doing,” Andy barked. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Women on roller skates were slamming each other against the front doors as hard and as fast as they could.

  “They’re probably on PCP or something,” Ziggy offered for lack of anything else to say.

  The women continued slamming into the giant front doors.

  “Hey!” Andy was hollering to be heard over the din of the slamming bodies. “Stop it before you…”

  The thunderous sound of breaking safety glass boomed and echoed loudly throughout the quiet toy store.

  * * *

  EAT! EAT! EAT!

  Their minds screamed at them to rush the food, attack the food and eat the food. They stomped across the glass pebble covered floor until they could use their wheels. When they were clear of the glass the living dead women skated toward the two screaming men as fast as their pumping legs would propel them.

  Those in the front rocketed forward, body slamming the two men into the customer service desk, knocking the air from their lungs. Both men went down with grunts.

  The members of the Roanoke Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Babes fell on the men and instantly began devouring them. Limbs were wrenched from sockets, gnawed free of muscles and removed like prized turkey legs. Chests were torn open and emptied, the rib cages being smashed and removed to make the warm internal organs more accessible.

  The dead things feasted on kidneys, livers and hearts, scarfed intestines, gall bladders and spleens but it wasn’t enough. No matter how much they ate, the hunger burning deep within them was never sated. They had to continue eating. The hunger had to be fed.

  Suddenly the pack of hungry dead things noticed people standing around, fresh food for the picking. In an instant the undead women were back on their skates and chasing their dinner down the long aisles of toys and games.

  * * *

  “Hello?” From the other end of the store Cass had been unable to make out anything but what sounded like frantic screams coming from her late night co-workers. It sounded like bloody murder. She wondered if it was Horace Dickson, who was fired from the holiday night shift two years ago for coming to work all liquored up and smelling like sewage. He’d drunkenly sworn when they walked him out that he would be back to make them all pay.

  When she came around the end of the game aisle she saw Linda Gordon running for her life. Two women with cut up bloody faces on roller skates were chasing her. Because Linda liked her snack cakes and chocolate covered honey buns she was no match for the dead things on wheels.

  “Cass, help!” She desperately reached out for aid.

  It was too late. The living dead derby girls were on top of her, leaping and knocking her down to the ground. The rotund girl had her arms outstretched toward Cass. When she fell, she was close enough that she slammed solidly into Cass, knocking into her, sending the smaller woman crashing into an end cap display of electronic Barrel Full of Monkeys and Kung Fu Kitty handheld video games.

  Cass hit the end cap full on, dislodging the metal shelving from its brackets and bringing the entire display down upon her. Buried in the beeping landslide of electronic games, darkness momentarily swept her away.

  * * *

  She was so excited. She had been good all year and she was now finally getting to talk to the big man himself and negotiate her reward for a year of good living.

  When she finally got to the front of the line, she was surprised to see that the “Jolly One” did not in any way look like he was depicted on soda pop billboards and greeting cards. No, this Santa Claus looked as if he had just fallen off one of those “Hunky Firemen” calendars, right down to the shiny red suspenders pulled over his flat, tanned, muscular chest. He was handsome with wavy blond hair and a dark moustache with just a hint of stubble on his rosy cheeks. His hair seemed to be perpetually blowing in the wind, even though there was no wind and his eyes were as blue as the liquid inside a Magic Eight Ball.

  She was lifted gently onto his lap and her heartbeat quickened. His body radiated warmth. Her body reacted accordingly and she squirmed in his lap.

  “Have you been a good girl this year, Cassidy,” he asked, almost seductively.

  “Oh, yes, Santa.”

  “Do you know what you want for Christmas this year?” His words were warm and soft in her ears, like fine silk spun around her brain.

  “This year, Santa, I want a man who will love me, an apartment of my own because I’m tired of living with my mother who doesn’t listen to me or let me watch what I want on television, a new kitty to replace Mr. Pickles who got squashed in the trash compactor under the sink- which was an accident, a princess dress that I can wear to prom, where I’ll be crowned queen and I’d like you to do something about this slight overbite.” She smiled like a horse to emphasize the overbite. “I don’t know if other people notice it but I notice it when I’m in the mirror talking to myself. You ever do that, Santa? Where you just look in the mirror and talk to yourself? I do it all the time. Sometimes I do funny voices. This one time…”

  Beach Bum Santa seemed to have lost interest in talking to her and was making eyes at a nearby sexy female elf. He zoned out, thought about grabbing a chicken salad sandwich for lunch and then noticed the yapping girl in his lap.

  “Hey Cassidy, wake up, kiddo. Nobody’s been that good all year. Besides, I’m Santa Claus, not some wish granting genie in a lamp. How about we give you a BB gun and call it good? Maybe you can shoot your eye out.”

  “A BB gun?”

  “Bye, now.” Before she could protest, Santa pressed a large red and white striped button on the arm rest of his throne. All of a sudden a spring popped up from between his legs, launching Cass up into the sky. She was in space, among the stars and planets. Continuing to blast forward, she passed all the heavenly bodies until she was in pitch blackness. Sounds started to form. They were mostly screams of agony. She started making them out more distinctively as consciousness slowly filled her body.

  A dull ache thumped in her head and her side where she crashed into the end cap shelving. In their haste to attack Big Linda the ghouls had left Cass buried under the display of electronic games. Now she was the only one not fending the creatures off.

  Delores Harden, who Lenny and Ziggy referred to as “Clitoris Hard-On,” was climbing up the shelving at the end of the aisle in an attempt to get away from the monsters. Two of the ghouls were grabbing at her ankles, trying to pull her down. Delores kicked frantically, her blows doing little to slow the creatures’ ferocious attack.

  “Climb higher, Dee,” Cass hollered out. Delores stopped her desperate kicking to look and see who hollered at her. That was all the ghouls needed. Quickly they jumped, grabbing her legs and pulling her from her perch. The woman screamed as the ghouls forced her into doing an impression of a gore filled wishbone being torn in half.

  “Oops!” Cass backed away. The fiends were busy feeding, digging deep inside Delores and scooping out her innards. They paid no attention to Cass.

  With screams permeating the air, mixing with the scent of fresh spilled blood, the Toyland Castle of Smiles was becoming a slaughterhouse of mutilation and mayhem. Crouched low, Cass made her way back to the sporting goods section, her brain racing.

  * * *

  I’ve got to do something…I’ve got to do something…I�
�ve got to do something…

  What can I do?

  There was no way she could get outside. Not from the front door at least. Before she came back to her department, she checked out the front. Although they were smashed out, several of the creatures were still coming in through the front. Many were lingering to pick at the remains of Ziggy and Mr. C.

  That left the emergency exit at the back of the store as the only other way out. To get to it, she would have to go right through the thick of those things. She wished she had a cell phone. She had to do something.

  Then it came to her. The answer was all around her.

  * * *

  Shoulder pads. Football helmet. Baseball catcher’s chest pad. Elbow pads. Knee pads. Shin guards. Batting gloves. Hockey stick. A satchel of baseballs tied at her waist. Finally, crisscrossed baseball bats secured to her back with Velcro straps. One was solid wood and the other aluminum. To top it off she mounted a Princess Sparkle Ten Speed with a bell and frills hanging off the ends of the handles. She laid the hockey stick across the handle bars and began pumping her legs.

  Nothing could stop her.

  * * *

  “Jesus, no!” It seemed that all the third shift stockers believed it was a good idea to take to the high ground and climb the racking. Lenny was no different. It boggled their minds when the dead women on wheels began climbing after them.

  Lenny felt an ice cold hand grab his ankle. It held on fiercely. He tried to shake it loose, but the dead thing was not letting go. The dead bitch was holding tight. Then a bell chimed melodically.