Don't Dare Call Them Zombies : Books 1-4

by Zachary Stone

  He’d knocked down a display of bottled ice cream toppings that were all over the floor. With every wave of his arms, as he staggered down the aisle, he continued to knock over product in his path. I was still in shock as Mindy, the dairy clerk, walked through the stockroom door.

  “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, upon seeing Fred.

  Hearing her voice, he started lurching towards us. Mindy ran back through the double doors to the stockroom, screaming, as I started slowly walking backwards. Fred let out a snarl as I tried to communicate with him.

  “Hi, Fred, I’m Hank. You know me. Just try to stay calm . . .” My words only enticed him, and he lunged towards me.

  I saw a large dust mop in the corner and without hesitation I grabbed it, pointing the shaggy bottom of it towards the creature.

  Wham!

  In what seemed like only a millisecond, I was forcefully shoved on the shoulder and fell backwards through the stockroom doors. Hitting the hard floor knocked the breath right out of me, and before I could get my first gasp of air, I heard a gunshot.

  Chapter 2

  My ears were still ringing when I managed to pull myself off the ground. The gunshot had been very loud. Trying to recover my breath, I slowly got on my feet. As I did so, the doors opened and a tall, heavy set police officer came in.

  “Sorry about that, but I had to take care of that guy,” he said as he held the door open. “Come on, there’s a meeting.”

  “What meeting?” I barely managed to ask. I was still not breathing full breaths, and felt as though I may have cracked a rib.

  “Just come on!” he said loudly. Mr. Allen, Ms. Suzy, and Katie were standing not too far behind him. Only a few feet away from them, Fred’s dead body lay on the ground. A bullet hole was clearly visible in his forehead.

  “Come on,” said the officer, walking quickly to the front of the store. We followed him to where Mr. Humphries was waiting there along with several employees and a number of customers. I noticed that Bobby, the day bagger, was blocking one of the two entrances with grocery carts.

  The officer stood next to a display of soft drinks as he spoke.

  “As I told some of you earlier, before I had to take care of the situation in the back room, my name is Officer Harvey. I don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll be brief. I’ve been ordered to go to every store and business in this town, and tell everyone to stay put. There are people out there that have gone insane, nuts, or something -- we don’t know why. They’re very violent and hard as heck to subdue. I know this is going to sound crazy, but the only way we have found to stop them is to shoot them in the head.”

  “So you want us to believe they’re zombies out there? Give me a break!” blurted out Jill, the deli-bakery manager.

  “Don’t you dare call them zombies! I didn’t say they were zombies. There is no such thing as zombies except in the movies!”

  “What are they then?” Katie asked.

  “We don’t know what these things are! I’m just here to give you the facts, help secure this building, and get back out there.”

  Mr. Humphries walked off to the office while making a call on his phone.

  “Here is what I know. First, these creatures don’t seem to have very good vision. They seem to be attracted to sound, so don’t make a racket in here! Second, they’re slow, but very strong. This means do not get in a hand-to-hand fight with one of them. Finally, if anyone in here happens to have a firearm, always aim for the head.”

  “This is bull, I’m not staying here. I’m going home,” said a customer.

  “What is your name?” the officer asked.

  “Larry, Larry Roach,” he answered.

  “Well Larry, look outside for a moment,” he responded.

  The officer pointed towards two people slowly meandering in the parking lot. “Well, if you want to leave, be ready to outrun them or kill them. You better be ready, because if you’re not, then you’re their lunch.”

  Looking closely at the people outside they looked like something from a horror movie. The one closest to the window was a tall woman with blood stains running down the front of her yellow shirt. She seemed to be walking in circles, not far from my truck. Sadly, it looked like she may have already had her lunch. The other was a bald headed man who was hobbling down the side of the road. His flailing arms looked like Fred’s and it was clear -- even from that distance -- he was one of them.

  Larry didn’t say another word.

  Officer Harvey spoke up. “It looks like there are two things you all need to do. This cracked window is probably not going to hold up much longer. The whole front of the store needs to be secured.”

  After that comment it seemed the crack in the window was larger than before. I didn’t know if it was in my imagination, or reality.

  He continued. “Also, you need to call your family members or anyone that might be concerned for you, and tell them not to come here. Not matter what. Tell them to stay home, and if they’re not home to find the closest secure location they can find.”

  Suddenly, I remembered I hadn’t called my mother. By this time she was probably getting ready for work at the local library. If I called right now I may be able to catch her before she left for work.

  “I’m outta here. I’ll try to swing back by later on if things calm down. Good luck,” the officer said before he exited through the one door that hadn’t yet been blocked off with grocery carts.

  I quickly took my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed my mom’s number. There was no answer. I tried to call again, but it only went to her voicemail.

  On the third failed attempt, I left her a message, “Mom, it’s me. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. If you get this message and haven’t left for work yet please stay home. It isn’t safe to go out. Lock all the doors and do not go outside. There are crazy people roaming the streets that are attacking people. I’ll try to make it home when it is safe for me to do so. If you have already left for work please just find a safe place and stay there. Do not try to come here to get me. I’m safe here at work. Call me when you get this. I love you. Bye.”

  As I looked around a few other people were also making phone calls. I considered the situation for a moment. It was time to go into survival mode.

  Mr. Humphries was still in his office, and we were all standing around aimlessly. We needed to get to work and secure the front of the store. Those “things” were in the street and parking lot, and it wouldn’t take a lot for them to break the window and get inside.

  “Alright everyone,” I spoke loudly. “We need to get these windows and doors secured. Any ideas on the best way to board them up?”

  “There are a bunch of pallets in the stockroom. We could use them. There are hammers and nails in the utility room,” said Juanita, one of our checkers.

  For the next few hours we all, employees and customers alike, worked to secure the store. Everyone except for a few of the women, and Mr. Humphries, who was oddly absent, helped out. Unfortunately, the pounding of nails and the noise were making had attracted a few more of the “things” outside. Their thumping and clawing on the glass windows and doors had started to become truly terrifying.

  A few of the customers couldn’t stand the sight of them and went to the back of the store to the break room. I couldn’t blame them. These creatures simply didn’t look like human beings any more. Their pupils were dilated, and they growled like animals.

  In fact, they looked dead. I remembered what my grandmother had looked like after two weeks in the hospital with pneumonia. Her skin had grown pale and clammy. Shortly before her death her skin looked almost plastic. These creatures looked similar, but far, far worse.

  We were almost finished boarding up the last window when I heard a short black-haired customer who was assisting us ask, “What should we call these things? Are they really zombies?”

  Mr. Allen interjected, “No, they’re not zombies. I don’t know what they are, but I’m not going to call them that.”


  “We need something to call them,” I said while hammering in a nail while a ghoulish looking face peered at me through the glass.

  “They’re freaks, so that’s what I am going to call them,” said Melanie, a college student who worked part-time.

  “That’s good enough for me,” said Richard, the produce manager.

  “Me too,” said Mr. Humphries who had appeared out of nowhere.

  “I have been making phone calls. The head office has told me to make sure none of those freaks get in here,” he said with a red face.

  “Do you think these boards will hold, Richard?” Mr. Humphries asked.

  “I hope once we’re done here and stop making noise they may give up on trying to get in,” said Richard. “I don’t think these boards could stop a large group of them from getting inside if the glass breaks.”

  Mr. Humphries walked off again.

  “Richard, do you mind staying up here for a while? I need to go listen to the radio and find out what’s happening” I said.

  “Go ahead.”

  I started walking towards the back of the store. My mother came to mind again, and I pulled out my primitive pre-paid phone. I tried once again to call her, but now I couldn’t even get a ring tone.

  Walking into the crowded break room, I could see that someone had dragged out the TV that used to be in the children’s theater. I worked my way around a few customers to try and get a good view. A local anchor from a nearby city was warning people to stay inside. He described how chaos was breaking out across the entire nation. No one knew exactly what was happening, but something had made ordinary people start turning violent and start eating flesh of their victims.

  He said they had received news that the President of the United States was about to declare a national emergency. Apparently the number of attacks was increasing by the hour. The Centers for Disease Control had also issued a warning to avoid contact with the violent individuals, because it appeared that whatever had induced their madness was transmissible.

  What appeared next on the screen was truly unnerving.

  Their camera man had gone on the roof of their building and made a video of their surroundings. Unlike Grocery World, which was located on a fairly unpopulated stretch of road, their building was located in the middle of a city.

  Hundreds of freaks filled the streets surrounding their building. About a dozen were surrounding a body that was lying on the ground. The cameraman zoomed in to show how they were ripping apart the corpse. As he panned around the surroundings we saw buildings on fire and clouds of smoke rising in the distance.

  The people surrounding me in the break room were in a state of shock. Some were crying; others were dumbstruck. The seriousness of the situation was becoming increasingly clear. I stood there almost unable to believe what I was seeing.

  A few gunshots rang out in the distance as the recording ended, and the news anchor started to speak. “Kathy has just handed me this. It’s a bulletin from the Department of Homeland Security.”

  Before we hear another word the power went out. I heard a few screams along with cursing as the room went dark. I needed to do something.

  “Calm down everyone.” I stated loudly. “We just need to start the backup generator. Who here knows how to do that?”

  “I know how. It’s simple,” Mr. Allen said. “But we need to get Mr. Humphries’ key to get into the utility room to turn it on.”

  “I’m going to find Mr. Humphries,” I said.

  A few people started to follow me.

  “Everyone, we do not need to panic. Please just stay in here. The power will be back on very soon. I’ll be right back,” I said.

  Mr. Allen had started speaking to the remaining people in the room I walked out. Although the stockroom was dark, there was just enough light to walk around thout too much fear of falling over anything. I walked towards the back office. It was a room technically supposed to be used by the scanning coordinator and any visiting inventory control specialists. However, Mr. Humphries also used it as a second office. I was guessing he may be in there.

  I was right.

  I walked to the door and called out to Mr. Humphries. There was no response, but I heard something from inside. I peered into the pitch black darkness. I heard a voice.

  “I’m here,” Mr. Humphries said.

  “We need your key to get into the utility room so we can turn on the backup generator.” I said while noticing the smell of alcohol. “Will you come help us?”

  I then felt the impact of something on my chest. It fell to the ground and from the jingling sound I knew he’d tossed me his keys.

  “Take them,” he said.

  “Are you alright?” I responded as I tried to get a better look into the room.

  He stood up and walked closer to me. Due to the total blackness of the back office I could barely see him. I took a step backwards, reached down, and picked up the keys.

  “Are you alright?” I repeated. “We need your help. Things have gotten very bad outside. All hell is breaking loose. We have to keep everyone calm and keep the store secured, and right now we have to get the backup generator going.”

  “Before the phones went dead I got a call from my wife. She’s . . .” he paused for a moment.

  “She’s probably dead,” he continued. “Oh, God,” he moaned.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “I was on the phone with her and she was telling me about the people walking around outside. She said one of them had made it inside. The next thing I hear is the sound of screams and growls,” he said.

  “I don’t know what to say, I’m very sorry, sir.” I stated in a low voice. His story made me think of my mother. I hoped that she was okay. My mind drifted for a moment, but then I remembered about the generator.

  “I’m going to try and get the generator running with or without you. Are you able to come with me?” I asked.

  “I’m . . . let me . . . not now. Just go.” he muttered.

  I turned and walked back down to the end of the hallway.

  “Mr. Allen, I have the keys!” I called out loudly. I would need his help to turn on the generator.

  “I’m coming. Hold up.” I heard him say from behind me.

  We had made it to the generator door when I heard another voice call out my name.

  A bright light beamed down the hallway. Someone had found a flashlight. The bright light almost blinded me.

  “Hank, get to the front of the store! There are some people out there. They want to come inside,” the voice exclaimed. I quickly recognized that it was Ms. Patty talking to me. I handed the keys to Mr. Allen and told Ms. Patty to stay and help him.

  I quickly ran to the front of the store, trying hard not to trip on anything in the darkness. I could hear a woman’s voice outside. “Let us in! Please! We have to get inside. These things are everywhere!”

  I heard gunshots. First one, and then two more in quick succession. Bobby, Ms. Suzy, and Richard were standing near the door. Bobby and Richard were in the process of moving buggies away. Ms. Suzy was shouting at them to stop.

  “Those freaks are out there! If we open that door they could get inside. We can’t take that risk! Don’t you hear me? Stop! Stop!” she yelled frantically.

  I heard a man’s voice outside. “Let us in! Come on, hurry up, I’m running out of ammo!” he yelled.

  I turned and looked at Ms. Suzy as she continued to yell at Bobby and Richard. The narrow beams of light coming from the thin spaces between the boards we had put up allowed me to have a better look at her face. She was terrified.

  “We have to let them in. They could die out there,” I told her. “I’m not willing to have that on my conscience. Are you?”

  Another gunshot was fired. The entrance was almost ready to open. I could now see a man, a woman, and a child through the glass door.

  “Let’s open it and shut it fast,” I told Bobby.

  With a quick look through the door to see if there were any f
reaks nearby, I twisted the latch and unlocked the door. We slid the automatic door open, and the family rushed inside. With a hand on her back, the man pushed his wife in first, carrying a two or three year old girl with long brown hair in her face.

  The man came in next. He was short and wiry and was holding a shiny brand-new looking revolver.

  Before the man could catch his breath we quickly shut and locked the door and started nailing up the boards to cover it again.

  “Thank you for letting us in,” said the man breathing heavily. “I think you may have saved our lives.”

  “I wasn’t willing to let you die out there,” I responded.

  Suddenly, the lights started coming back on. The same cheesy elevator style music started to play on the speaker system. Mr. Allen had succeeded in starting up the backup generator.

  As we started putting buggies back in front of the door we could hear the moans of a freak banging his body into the entrance.

  “So what do we do now?” Richard asked.

  At that moment I began to realize something important. I was being looked to as a leader. People were asking me what should be done. I didn’t feel comfortable with such a responsibility, but for the moment I had to try my best to fulfill the role. The store manager was drunk and no one else was trying to keep everything from falling apart.

  “We need someone to keep a watch up here.” I said. “If any of the freaks start getting in we need to know.”

  “I’ll stay here and watch,” Richard said.

  The man we had let in was now sitting next to his wife on a bench. The woman looked traumatized as she clung tightly to her young child. I walked up to them.

  “I know you two are exhausted, but if we’re going to survive we need to get organized. There is a TV in the break room in the back of the store. We need to all head there.” I said.

  “Okay.” the man stated as he looked at me. I watched as he helped his wife to her feet. They began to follow me.

  As I passed by a register I quickly realized that many customers and employees may still be wandering around the store. I grabbed the microphone at register six and called for everyone to meet in the break room. We were going to have a meeting. There was a lot to discuss and we needed information as badly as anything else. Hopefully, the television could provide us with some kind of update on the situation.