by Jack Stewart
Sounded like fun but I wasn’t going to be having any of it.
And let me tell you what: the dumbass had pulled off my pack and tossed it so it landed just in front of me and while James was focusing on spreading my legs apart, I had gotten my free hand a grip around my axe. James had succeeded in getting my legs spread apart and was busy trying to get his cock free when the blunt end of my axe connected with his forehead.
He didn’t even have time to grunt, just collapsed like a big old sack of dead shit right on top of me. I rolled him off and pulled up my panties. I should have finished him right there and saved the world from this disgusting animal. But I had a hard time killing living people when they were helpless so I decided to let him go on with his crazy girlfriend below instead. They would make each other’s life hell and sooner or later get themselves killed in the process. Better that way and I would still be able to sleep at night.
So I picked up my gear and headed to the top floor of the building, hiding myself deep in a ventilation shaft until the sun came up. At dawn, I popped out, verified that no one had followed me, then watched the Nut Train head out on the street towards D-Land. As soon as they had vanished I headed the other direction making a mental note never to visit the Magic Kingdom.
ɸ
After that little run in, I shifted my search for a place of my own into high gear so I didn’t have to shack up wherever or with whomever I found on the streets. By this time most of the normal people were either dead, in Burbank, or had escaped the Basin. Those who stayed out in the Wreck were just plain fucked up, me included.
I finally ended up looking at apartment complexes on the beach. Most had been occupied when the event got rolling and were full of the dead so I spent many days wandering up and down the nearly deserted beaches until I found just the right spot.
This place was definitely built for the rich. It had everything you could imagine: a nice sturdy iron fence to keep out the poor, fully furnished, water tanks on the roof with water reserves that would keep filling as long as there was water pressure in the pipes, a solar array on the roof that heated the water, ran the air conditioning, and fed power into the building’s electrical grid. And best of all, not a single soul had moved in yet. It looked like they had finished construction, moved all the furniture in, and then closed up shop due to the infection. Perfect! So I moved in that very day. I grabbed the keys to the top floor apartments, locked up the entrance gates, and inspected every single nook and cranny of that place starting from the ground floor. I didn’t find a single dead person. I didn’t find a single living person. Satisfied I had the whole building to myself, I went to work.
I bolted shut every gate around the perimeter with chains and locks. The living could still get over the fence and I suppose if enough dead wanted in they could too but it would discourage casual folks from getting inside the complex. Then I bolted shut every door on every floor. Then I sealed up every window for the first three floors. It wouldn’t keep out people determined to get in but anything trying to break in would make a huge racket alerting me and I had yet to see the dead randomly breaking into places.
After that, I began to really go to work on the top floor. I sealed two of the apartments so that no one would ever get into them without major demolition work. And by the time they got rolling, I’d be there shooting off vital pieces and parts of their bodies. I turned them both into large storage areas for my canned food, water, medical supplies, toilet paper, clothes, ammunition, and weapons. Anything and everything that I scavenged from the Wreck. Then I cut a door in the wall in the back of a closet that would connect my apartment to the first sealed unit, then another from that unit to the other so the only way in to the storage areas was through my apartment. By the time I was finished with the top floor, I had connected the four units, closed them up tighter than a snare drum, and secured the one and only operable door with enough bolts, metal sheeting, and locks that no one was getting in without some heavy explosives. I felt safe. I felt at home. So to celebrate, I decided to go to the mall, of course.
This might not have been the best way to celebrate my first home purchase but I was feeling frisky so fuck it. And, not only was I a well-informed connoisseur of zombie movies where everyone worth their salt headed towards the mall, but I was a teenage girl and the mall was the center of my very short and young life. To the mall then!
Turns out no one worth their salt was at the mall. Bummer.
The Galleria had been closed during the early days of the outbreak, then when things generally broke down, those that were still living had broken in, taken what they could and moved on. Then a few dead moved in only to be cleared out by a few bands of living who holed up for a while then realized as everyone with a brain should have figured out by now, that a mall was not the best place to ride out the end of the world.
Let me again remind you that I am a teenager whose brain has not yet fully developed and that first, long term planning is not a teenager’s strong point, and second carefully considering consequences for one’s actions is…well…um…not my strong point either. Shut up.
So to the mall I went.
Arriving at the Galleria, the first thing I noticed was that the parking lot was nearly empty. The next thing I noticed was that the doors were wide open. Smashed open to be precise. Smashed open with bits and pieces of bodies scattered about and garish blood stains splashed here and there if you want the gory details.
Someone had made their last stand here. I wasn’t going to make any stand here. I was going to slip in, get some gear, and slip right back out. The sun was arching high up in the sky so I’d have to get what I needed, get out without attracting the attention of the dead, and get all the way back home before sundown so I’d better get cracking.
That’s a lot of “gets,” my friend.
With so few dead around, I decided to limit my use of the shotgun and strapped it to my pack while undoing the ties of my axe and unslinging my rifle. Axe on my hip and rifle in hand, I moved to the front doors and slipped inside the quiet mall.
I knew there were dead in here. I could hear them shuffling around grunting at each other and to no one as they did their walk of the dead bit. I would employ a stealth strategy here. Really quiet and sneaky. Like a fish. Shh!
Inside the mall was still well lit. The sun was pouring in through the skylights giving me a clear view of the first floor. A few hundred feet away, a couple of dead bangers drifted around a silent fountain. The stairs to the left and right of me were free of any dead at all. I quickly spotted the mall map and found the two stores I was looking for: Dick’s Sporting Goods (ha, ha. Who names their store Dick’s?) and a Pacific Coast Sunwear. I would get whatever survival gear I would need from Dick’s (tee, hee) and then get a few changes of clothes from PacSun. No lolly gagging, no browsing. Guns, bullets, pants, shirts. Got it? Get it? Good.
PacSun first.
I should have gone to Dick’s first. I silently climbed the stairs and made my way down to PacSun or at least tried to because as soon as I made it to the second floor I could see a whole combine of dead huddled around the front of the store. Combine; it’s a synonym for group. Look it up dweeb.
Fuck. And I could see that PacSun had just got their summer clothes in before the mall had closed. Doubled fuck. And everything was half off. Not that that mattered but still…a sale is a sale.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I really wanted some of those clothes.
I stood there at looking at the bozos as they swayed gently in the nonexistent dead breeze and could see all the cool clothes in the window of the store just beyond them.
Bozos. Ha, ha. There was one that was actually dressed like a clown. Well, more like a mime. Maybe a crazy bum? I don’t know. Either way, an embarrassing way to spend the undead afterlife.
Ugh. And those fuckers were going nowhere. I guess I could always go to the obscenely giant and unstylish Wal Mart across the street.
Fuck that! Fuck Wal Mart! And K Mart! And any other
store with the word “Mart” in it! Or “Barn” for that matter. Those clothes are mine!
So here was the plan: I’d distract them. I’d get a can of soup out of my pack and throw it past the dead. Yes, soup is good food except vegetable soup. Who in their right mind actually eats vegetable soup when a good can of cream of sausage or chunky bologna soup is sure to be nearby? No one that’s who. So soup is…uh, a good…um…throwing projectile.
Said soup would go over the handrail and down to the second floor. Clank! The dead would naturally assume (ha, ha! Jokes on them this time! Asses. Out of them! And…um…uh-oh. Maybe I should think this plan out a little further) a living person had made the noise and trundle off to investigate earning a cold can of vegetable soup for their troubles. I hated vegetable soup and only carried around a can or two as projectiles. They truly did make good throwing stones.
It wasn’t a good plan. I knew it. Darwin knew it. Hell the dead probably knew it and would have waved me off had I been discussing my plan with them. OK, analogies fail me here.
But the clothes! The clothes beckoned to me and I was not to be denied.
I quietly made my way back down to the mall entrance, grabbed my decoy can of soup, and headed back upstairs. I arched my arm back, carefully aimed at the handrail near the group of dead standing between me and my prize, and launched!
The can of soup arched gracefully towards the rail and…landed squarely on the head of a well and good ate up dead girl. Oh, god she looked bad. No lower jaw, tongue hanging out like one of those bad western ties (Bologna tie? Bulimic tie? Bolo tie!), most of her hair (and scalp) gone, clothes clearly bought at Wal Mart, and her guts all blown out from over eating. Yuck.
So here’s the good news. The can bounced right off her rotten noodle and over the edge of the handrail where it proceeded to land on some glass display case and make a terrible racket. The dead all rotated their bodies in the direction of the noise and looked over the rail at whatever mess I had just created. Yes!
So here’s the bad news and let me tell you, it ain’t good. The dead then rotated their heads back along the arc of the can to its point of origin; me. Worse the racket on the first floor had attracted the attention of every living dead thing within earshot and now they were all coming over to have a look-see. Unanticipated consequences and me without my crow bar.
The dead in front of PacSun began their inevitable babble and started shuffling towards me. I looked back down the stairs the way I had come seeing it was still empty but I could also see that wouldn’t be the case for very long. Crap-o-matic!
I looked back towards the dead making their geriatric run towards me and saw that the opening of PacSun was now clear. Yes, I’d have to dodge around the incoming shufflers but I thought I could do that. And the clothes! Remember the clothes! So I ran.
I didn’t even bother trying to put any of the dead down. There were just too many of them so I dodged left and right knocking their grabbing and groping arms and hands away as I quickly made my way towards the store.
And by “groping and grabbing” I mean these fucking guys must have thought I was a stripper at a bachelor party. Those mother fuckers seemed to get their hands in all of my sensitive places landing their dead fingers on my ass, my boobs, and well, mostly my ass and boobs. Perverted dead. Just what I needed. But in a few seconds I was through and into the store!
Mission Accomplished!
So now I had a precious few seconds before the dead rotated back around and started heading into the store. To buy more time, I pulled down the chain metal security gate and slammed the front doors closed. That should hold them for a few minutes. I could get my clothes and head out the back service exit.
I raced through the aisles back towards the women’s section and just started grabbing anything I could get my hands on: shirts, pants, shoes, sunglasses, hair knickknacks. I was like one of those people who win a ten minute shopping spree at a super market and have to grab anything they can before the buzzer goes off. I cleaned out that store in no time grabbing backpacks off the wall and shoving all my new clothes into them until I had three completely stuffed bags of clothes ready to go. During this time the dead had not been idle, oh no my friend. Finding a metal gate between them and their food really pissed them off and they started banging and hammering and generally carrying on. I kept a half an eye on them making sure that I got plenty of warning if the gate failed.
I stuffed a few more tee shirts and panties into my last pack and did a quick survey of the store to see if I had neglected anything that I might want. Seeing nothing I gave the dead banging on the gate the bird and bolted out the back. I hit the employee entrance and was out into the service corridor faster than a Seahawk’s linebacker hitting the Bronco’s defense with all of my ill-gotten gains in tow.
And right into a whole sorority of dead.
And by sorority I mean a whole fucking load of them. Apparently they had been sneaking their way up the service corridor while I was busy cleaning out PacSun. Well, no more time for stealth, I thought, as I dropped my bags and unslung my rifle. I sighted on the closest dead and gently squeezed the trigger.
Piffity, piff piff piff piff, piffity! That is the sound of a fully automated machine gun with an industrial silencer attached to it letting loose while delivering a bullet or two for each and every dead person headed my way. Ugh, what a mess! I scythed them down as fast as they could come until the hallway was nearly awash with blood, viscera, skull fragments, rotted brains, and other assorted gore as I cleared a path towards a set of double doors marked with an exit sign dragging my booty (illicit goods, not my ass. Well, both really) along with me. You might wonder why I didn’t just drop the sacks of clothes and shag ass out of there. Dude!
Dude!
The clothes were the only reason for my existence today. Go to another mall? Another PacSun? Yeah? Well fuck you and your level headed reasoning.
And let me tell you what: I made it! All the way out to the parking lot, back around to where my pack was stashed and out to the street. I dropped all my stuff there and looked back towards the mall. Whew! I was beat. Now all I had to do was get my gear home. The dead had lost track of me and I could see them running (well, shuffling really quickly) around in circles and going on and on about this and that. Asses. Each and every one.
And then I remembered I hadn’t gone to Dick’s (tee hee). Shit.
I popped a new clip into my rifle, strapped on a bunch of extra clips, and headed back towards the mall. But not through it this time, no sir. I made my way around the edge of the parking lot to Dick’s (tee hee).
Note to Reader: I will at this point stop indicating that every time I thought of, spoke in reference too, or described Dick’s I was thinking of penises and giggling like the adolescent girl that I am. Just so you know.
So I made my way back to Dick’s (see note above) and discovered that a side benefit of all the noise and excitement I had generated at the other end of the mall was that all the dead at Dick’s were now either already at or steadily moving towards the party at PacSun. Yay for me! I grabbed a duffel bag the size of, well…me and headed towards the hunting section.
Man! They. Had. It. All!
Shotgun shells, rifle bullets, handguns, bowie knives, machetes, rocket launchers, and grenades (ok, no rocket launchers or grenades). They did have everything you might need to outfit a small army, good size militia, or even a full scale rebellion. I kept expecting to see a tactical nuclear weapons isle. No dice, though.
I filled that sack up with all the ammo I could, dragged it to the front of the store, and plopped it into a shopping cart. Then I went back and strapped on a machine pistol (a machine pistol for fuck’s sake! What the hell do you hunt with a machine pistol? Answer: the dead. Also, I just said “strap on.” Ha, ha.), a new 9 mm handgun, a machete that was long enough to classify as a sword, and every other lethal goody I could tie, wrap, or button to my body. When I was done I must have looked like the world’s youngest mercenary. I w
ent back to the front of the store and dumped all this gear into the cart careful to keep any eye on the other entrance of the store. I could see the party was beginning to break up and the dead were starting to drift my way again. I decided I had enough toys for the day. I pushed the cart back to my jump off point, loaded all my clothes into the now severely overloaded cart, and headed home. I shagged ass from the mall swearing never to return. Goodbye mall and fuck you too.
In doing so I learned a lesson in being greedy: pushing a heavy cart through the clogged streets of Los Angeles sucks. But this stuff was mine now, goddamn it! I worked hard for it, and there was no way I was going to let go a single stich of clothes or even one shell. No sir. No sir!
It took me hours to get home. I got in the gate of my apartment, dragged in all my new stuff, and locked the gate behind me. Then I fell promptly to the ground. I was exhausted, sweaty, sun burned, and beat. I lay on the grass looking up at the ten story climb I still had to make and decided hauling all my new goodies up could wait until morning. But I had won! I had beat the PacSun dead! I had made it to Dick’s (tee hee. Last time I promise). I was a winner! Then I fell asleep on the lawn.
I woke up the next morning shivering and covered with dew to the sound of someone mumbling nearby to another someone who replied, “Unng hunnnn munnng. Spork!”
Jesus H. Christ!
I bolted upright and grabbed my pistol. A small league of dead had gathered at my gate not five feet from where I spent the night sleeping and dreaming of trying on all my new clothes. My heart sprinted this way and that as I waited for the things to crash into the gate, knock it over, and descend upon me.