“Huh,” Donna said as she blinked in disbelief.
Heather half-turned to look her up and down. “You might have tried it and then you wouldn’t look so sausagey.”
Donna’s mouth dropped open. “Did you just call me sausagey? As in, I look like a sausage?”
Heather shrugged one shoulder before she went back to admiring herself in the mirror. “If the casing fits…”
Donna pursed her lips and reminded herself, for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past six months, that this was her sister’s big day. She had to be forgiven, at least on some level, for being a bridezilla. A big, huge, fucking bratty bridezilla.
“Look,” Donna said, “I’m just going to grab some air. I’ll send Aunt Liddy in to finish your make-up.”
“Whatever.” Heather pursed her lips in the mirror. “Just not Mom. Don’t send it Mom, you know she’ll just cry all over and screw up her make-up and wrinkle my dress.”
“Check,” Donna said as she left the room. “Don’t send in Mom.”
Out in the hallway, her mother’s sister Liddy was chatting with the minister’s wife. As Donna moved to slip past her, her aunt leaned over. “Dear, how is Heather?”
“Just finishing up with her hair,” Donna said through clenched teeth. “She asked for your help.”
“Of course,” Liddy sighed. “I do love a wedding. I wish you would hurry up and follow in your sister’s footsteps. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
Donna nodded before she walked away. Not that anyone cared. Her aunt was already rushing into the bride’s room to take care of Heather’s whims and coo over her.
“I wish I still smoked,” Donna muttered as she burst through the front doors of the church and into the warm summer air. Even the weather was insuring Heather a perfect day.
“I have one if you want to start up again,” came a voice from behind her.
Donna turned and found a guy leaning on the wall of the church. He had a cigarette hanging from his lips, but it wasn’t lit. He was wearing a tux, one that matched the ones she’d seen Heather’s future husband, Rick and his groomsmen wearing when she passed by them earlier in the day.
“Shit, I didn’t know anyone else was out here,” she said, then covered her mouth and looked up at the church. “I guess I shouldn’t swear at a church, huh?”
“I won’t tell,” the new guy said. “About the swearing or the smoking.”
He held out a cigarette from a pack in his front pocket. It looked awesome, but she shook her head. “Better not. My sister smells cigarette smoke on this awful meringue of a dress and I’m toast.”
The guy looked her up and down and then laughed. Donna blushed. She knew she looked bad. The dress was orange, her worst color, and had puffed sleeves and a big bow that made her ass look huge. And gold trim and gold shoes and it was just awful.
“Laugh it up, fuzz ball,” she muttered.
His eyes lit up. “A Star Wars girl.” He held out a hand. “I’m Carson, Rick’s cousin and one of the ushers.”
“Hi Carson,” Donna said. “Donna. I’m Heather’s sister.”
He blinked. “Really?” She smiled at his honest reaction, even when he winced. “I mean, that’s great.”
“Not really. But thanks for trying.” She motioned to his cigarette. “So what’s up with the unlit cigarette?”
He shrugged. “Rick would probably kill me, too. Plus, I told everyone I quit.”
“Ah.” She looked around. “Well, I should probably go back in. We’re starting in just a few minutes.”
“Maybe you can save a dance for me after?” Carson asked.
She smiled. Okay, he was cute. And not smarmy cute like Rick, who she’d never liked. He came from money and he was just a prick about it. Heather would be very happy… until he cheated on her with a secretary or a maid or something.
“Yeah,” she said. “I promise.”
She was blushing as she came back into the church. And still blushing as she heard her sister yelling her name from down the hall.
#
“The bride and groom have…” the minister paused with a small, put-upon sigh. “…written their own vows, which they will now share with us.”
Donna couldn’t help but mirror his sour expression. She could only guess what the two most shallow people in the world had written about this day. If only there were liquor, she could make it a drinking game based on how self-centered and inappropriate it would be.
She glanced over her shoulder. She could see Carson standing at the back of the church. Would he join in a drinking game with her? Could be fun…
“Heather, you may begin,” the minister said.
Heather stared at Rick with a smug smile. “Rick, when I met you in that bar in Cancun, I was so drunk, I didn’t know-”
Before she could continue, there was a banging on the church doors. Everyone turned to look back, but the sound cut off.
“-um, I was so drunk I didn’t know-” Heather began again.
She was interrupted a second time by the banging at the door, this time louder, like there was more than one person behind the barrier.
“What the hell?” Heather snapped. “Who the fuck is interrupting my wedding?”
Donna flinched and prayed it wasn’t some jilted boyfriend come to “speak now” before he was told to “forever hold his peace”. Heather would love that, she’d live on it for months and Donna wasn’t sure she could hold her tongue that long.
The ushers both moved to the church doors. Carson reached for the mechanism but before he could open it and see who the intruder was, the doors burst open. They hit Carson and he flew back with a grunt that echoed and mingled with the gasps of the wedding guests, who had all begun to stand up and stare.
Donna craned her neck and saw that three people were coming through the door. Staggering was more like it. One was a man dressed in a police uniform, one a female nurse from the hospital down the street and one was a woman in shorts and a tank top. They started up the aisle, grunting and moaning with every step.
“What the-?” Rick started.
“You can’t come in here,” the minister said as he moved past Heather and Rick and toward the intruders. “This is a private ceremony.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the lead intruder, the cop, let out a loud growl and started sprinting up the aisle toward the minister. He tackled him, sending him flying back between Heather and Rick and against the steps that led to the alter. Heather yanked her dress out of the way with a scream as the cop sank his teeth into the minister’s face and shook his head back and forth like a dog with a bone.
Screams echoed from the congregation as the other intruders dove into the crowd of witnesses and started attacking the same way the cop had attacked Father Ken.
Heather squealed and rushed toward Rick. “They’re ruining our wedding! There’s blood on my dress!”
Donna stared as Rick shoved his “dearly beloved” out of the way and started running for the exit behind the alter.
“Rick!” Heather screamed after him. “Richard!”
But he was gone, ducking into the private room for the minister and slamming the door behind him.
“Donna!” Heather yelled. Her tear-stained, furious face now focused on her sister. “Help me!”
“Help you what?” Donna barked as she shook off her shock and tossed her bouquet aside. “We have to get this guy off of Father Ken.”
She made a move for the cop and the minister, who was now missing most of a cheek and screaming like a banshee. Heather grabbed for her arm, though and pulled her back.
“No! You’re my maid of honor and you have to help me,” Heather insisted.
Donna shoved her back. “Heather, you are the bride from hell. People just came into your wedding and started attacking your guests, so get it together. It isn’t about you anymore!”
“But it’s… it’s MY special day!” her sister screamed at the top of her lungs.
/> Donna ignored her and started for Father Ken and the cop again, but before she could grab for the police officer and make an attempt to shove him off the minister, he turned on her with a hiss. His face was covered in blood and a black sticky substance. His eyes were red and glassy.
“Oh shit,” Donna muttered, backing away from the alter. “Run, Heather! Run!”
Her sister didn’t need to be asked twice, nor did she make any attempt to help Donna. She just grabbed her skirt and run down the aisle toward the double doors in the back.
Which left Donna with the cop, who was now getting up and moving toward her. And then Father Ken sat straight up, vomited some of the same kind of black sticky liquid that was all over the cop and turned his attention toward her.
Donna felt the first pew hit her ass and reached back. Most of the guests had fled already, there was no one to help her.
“S-Stay back,” she stammered as she pulled a bible from the pew pocket. She raised it like a weapon. “I’ll throw it.”
Father Ken pushed up. She could see his teeth through the part of his face that was missing and she swallowed back puke at the disgusting sight.
“Father Ken,” she started. “Are you okay?”
He growled at her and joined the cop in his slow stalking of her. She slid along the pew, hoping to reach the side aisle before they got to her. The cop lunged and she screamed, lifting her hands to somehow protect herself from the attack.
But it never came.
She opened her eyes to find Carson had made his way to the front of the church, grabbed the cop and thrown him to the ground. He kicked at him, landing shot after shot to his skull until the officer whined and went still.
“Look out!” she screamed as Father Ken lunged toward Carson.
She pitched the bible as hard as she could and it bounced off Father’s Ken’s head. He staggered left, then right and finally tripped over the stairs to the alter. Carson grabbed for her hand and dragged her toward the door to the church. She blinked in horror as she really, truly looked at the congregation for the first time since the interruption. Friends and family were scattered in the pews, bloody and battered from the attack. Worse, some of them were standing, vomiting the same sludge that she’d seen from the cop and Father Ken. As she and Carson raced by, they growled and moved toward them.
“What is going on?” she screamed as they burst outside.
“Run now, talk later,” Carson ordered.
She tripped and staggered in her heels as he hauled her across the church lawn toward the cars parked in the parking lot. All around her, there were more people. Injured people. People staggering. Some had been part of her sister’s wedding, others were strangers, milling around in confused, animal rage and attacking anyone who got within arm’s length of them.
“Oh God!” she squealed as she watched a little girl, probably no more than four or five years old, grab for a little old man and gnaw his leg until he screamed in terror and pain.
“Don’t look, just run!” Carson barked and tugged harder.
Donna’s feet got tangled with each other as he pulled and she toppled to the ground. Her dress tore and her knees scraped against the sidewalk.
“Donna!” he cried in a tone more filled with exasperation than with concern.
She shook off his hand and pulled her high heeled shoes off. She threw them toward a man who was staggering toward them with his arm dangling at his side. It was attached only by a thin sliver of bone.
“Go!” she barked as she got up. This time she was the one who grabbed Carson’s hand and dragged him away from the injured man. “Go!”
#
The convenience store was empty, but it was evident it hadn’t started that way. The shelves were flipped and black sludge and blood pooled in the middle of the floor.
“God,” Donna whispered.
“Shhh,” Carson said as he motioned toward the cash desk. He moved behind it and looked around.
“What are you doing?” Donna asked as she peeked toward the door. There were a dozen or more of those… those… things outside. She could only imagine they would figure out where she and Carson had gone before too long. “This is not the time to steal from the register.”
Carson glared at her. “I’m not stealing from the register. I’m doing-” he hesitated and pushed a button behind the desk. “-this.”
As he said it, the security gate came down in front of the store doors and locked in place.
“There,” he said as he came around. “That should keep us safe for a minute.”
“Unless there’s someone lurking in the bathroom or the back office,” Donna said.
Carson blinked. “Shit. Okay, let’s check.”
Donna shook her head. “I don’t want to find any more of those things.”
“You’ll like finding them less if they catch us off guard,” Carson said with a shrug. “We’ll go together.”
Donna’s first reaction was to just shake her head, ball up in a corner and eat ice cream while she sobbed, but she shook that off. This was not the time to sink into full panic mode. At least, not until they were certain the store was empty.
“Let’s at least look for weapons first,” Donna said with a heavy sigh.
Carson nodded. “Good idea. Lots of times these stores have a gun behind the register. I’ll look there, you see if you can find anything else on the shelves.”
Donna wrinkled her brow as he moved back behind the desk and started opening drawers and peering under shelves. “Why do you get the gun?” she muttered to herself, but she started into the aisles in the small store anyway.
There weren’t many weaponry choices. The store was filled with small items like candy bars and chips, beer and soda. But in one of the freezer cases were a few bottles of cheap wine. With a sigh, Donna pulled the biggest one she could find from the freezer and returned to the front of the store where Carson was waiting for her, a shotgun in hand.
“It kind of freaks me out that whoever was working in here when this whole thing started didn’t grab the gun,” he said.
Donna shivered. “Maybe he didn’t have time.”
Carson nodded and they were both silent for a moment. Then he glanced at her wine bottle. “Drinking already?”
She grinned. “I wish. No, this is the closest thing I could find to a weapon since someone took the shotgun for himself.”
“I’m guessing there might be another in the back office,” he said with a shrug. “We can check there first.”
She nodded and fell into step behind him as he walked to the shut door behind the register. He tried the knob and it opened, revealing a tiny room that could hardly be called an office. The desk was wedged into the space and it barely allowed the door to open all the way. Donna flinched as she peered around Carson into the tiny room. There, sitting at the desk, was a man in a white shirt with his name stitched onto the pocket. In his hand was a pistol and his brains were splattered all around the tiny room.
“I guess that explains why he didn’t take the shotgun,” Carson said in a small voice.
Donna didn’t answer, but grabbed the garbage can from near the door and puked in it. Carson touched her back gently, in some kind of attempt to comfort her as she set the trashcan back into the office.
“Guess I better get that gun, huh?” she said with a flinch.
“Want me to?” he asked. He shifted the shot gun and freed one hand.
She shook her head. “If I want it, I should get it.”
He stared at her as she stepped closer to the corpse and grabbed for the handgun. It was locked in the man’s dead fingers and she tugged it.
“You are really nothing like your sister, are you?” he said.
She glanced over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I met her a few times with Rick and she is a little… um…”
“High maintenance?”
Donna grunted as she tugged and finally freed the gun from the dead man’s hands. She grimac
ed as she wiped the blood from his fingers onto his shirt.
“I was going to say bitchy,” Carson said with a small laugh. “But your word is fine, too.”
“Bitchy fits,” Donna admitted as she turned toward him. “She’s going to go on about this for months, you know. Once things get back to normal, it will be martyr-central about how her wedding got ruined.”
Carson stared at the dead body at the desk. “Yeah, when things get back to normal.”
He shook his head before he pulled the office door shut and then slid a chair up in front of it.
“Why are you doing that?” Donna asked.
“Just in case that guy… um wakes up like Father Ken did in the church.” Carson shuddered. “If the chair is moved, we’ll know to be on the look out.”
Donna stared at him. “Cute and smart. The double whammy.”
Carson actually blushed and then motioned for the bathrooms in the back of the store. “One more place to look and we can feel safe. Safe-ish, anyway.”
Donna nodded. “Right now, I’ll settle for safe-ish.”
Carson took a deep breath as they hesitated outside the men’s room door. He nodded toward her and Donna suddenly felt like they were in a TV cop show. Only there wasn’t going to be a “cut” or a guaranteed happy ending at the end of an hour.
He hit the door with a shoulder and it swung in and banged against the back wall. Both of them tensed and lifted their guns higher as they waited to hear movement or growling inside. But nothing. Donna’s gun shook as she followed Carson inside the tiny room that smelled faintly of urine.
There were only two stalls, as opposed to four urinals lined up along the wall across from the door. Donna shifted. It was weird being in a men’s room. She felt like the bathroom police were going to show up at any moment. And hopefully they’d have guns and answers for why people were freaking out and attacking each other outside.
“You take one door, I’ll take the other,” Carson whispered, his harsh voice interrupting her weird thoughts.
She nodded and moved in front of the stall closest to the door. Carson nodded and then both of them kicked in the doors at the same time. Empty.
“Phew!” Carson lowered his gun. “So just check the ladies and we should be good, right?”
In the Dead: Volume 1 Page 7