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

by Zachary Stone

  The man’s daughter was sitting next to a pallet of cereal crying loudly, and Ms. Patty sat down next to the distraught little girl. She wrapped her arms around the girl and tried to console her.

  Everyone seemed to be in shock. I walked towards the gun that was on the floor and picked it up. Once again, all eyes were on me. I tried to think of something to say, but all I couldn’t. I started to mumble something when Richard, the produce manager, ran into the stockroom.

  “The freaks out there are all riled up. They’re trying to bust their way in!” he yelled. “They can hear the noise in here!”

  “We need to make sure they don’t get in.” I said.

  I looked at the women and children in the room, and realized they were in no condition to either fight or flee. If the freaks got back here, these people could do little to defend themselves.

  Along with a mixed group of employees and customers, I ran to the front of the store where I could hear the sound of dozens of freaks banging on the windows. I tried to think of what we could do. There was no way to protect the glass from being broken. It could be shattered at any time. If the freaks managed to shatter the glass, they could then start prying at the boards we had nailed onto the frames of the windows.

  One option was to try and reinforce the boards we had nailed up, but the hammering would just make more noise and attract more freaks. It would also make the freaks already at the windows more determined to get inside.

  “What should we do?” Bobby asked.

  I said that all we could really do was quietly put more stuff in front of the entrances to better barricade them. If we were very quiet the freaks may lose interest and forget about the noises they heard earlier. If they did get inside the improved barricade would at least slow them down.

  We were putting anything we could find in front of the doors when the first window shattered. Their moans, groans, and growls were louder now; much more terrifying. The situation was becoming more and more like something out of a horror movie. I kept on thinking to myself that this kind of thing was not supposed to happen; but it was happening now, and it was happening to me.

  It seemed like the number of freaks trying to get inside were increasing. Suddenly, another window cracked. Moments later, it shattered and in a short time all of the windows had been broken. The sound of the falling glass was almost as ominous as their moans.

  Hands were now trying to pry the boards off the window frames. Thankfully, we did a pretty good job putting them up. The spaces between each board were small, and the freaks couldn’t get very good handholds.

  “How long do you think we have before they break through?” I was asked by a tall black woman who had joined our effort.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. “If they don’t stop trying to get in, I would guess maybe an hour at most, probably less.”

  After moving every obvious item we could find to barricade the front of the store -- gumball machines, benches, displays of products, and even the lottery machine -- we decided to go back to the stockroom. We thought if we did that, perhaps they, the freaks, wouldn’t hear us and would give up. Bobby would stay behind and watch the door. He’d call out if they started breaking through.

  I had just entered the stockroom when I noticed the emergency exit door, in the back corner next to the bailer, was wide open. Mr. Suzy was standing next to the open door.

  “We’re going to try and get out of here,” Suzy said in a low tone.

  Chapter 4

  I could see only darkness outside the open emergency exit.

  I looked around the stock room and noticed Mr. Humphries and several other people who had been in the room were now gone. Several of the people who remained were stuffing product into bags, in preparation of their escape.

  “They’re going to try and make their way to the transit coach in the parking lot,” the fat lady said while digging into a child’s backpack she’d obviously obtained from the sales floor. “If we cram inside it should be large enough to hold all of us.”

  The image of the freak that had looked up at me when I was on the roof flashed in my head. I remembered how aimlessly the freaks seemed to hobble about during the daytime. A sudden realization hit me.

  Before I could say anything, Mr. Allen questioned the woman with the pudgy face, “How long have they been out there?”

  “About ten minutes I would suppose,” she stated.

  A few of the men who had helped secure the front of the store peered out the emergency exit. Some of them were saying they thought that leaving the store was a reasonable course of action.

  I paced back and forth until I noticed that the gunman’s wife was now conscious. She was sitting on a chair, in another corner of the room, holding tightly to her daughter. In the dim light she didn’t look well. I noticed that either tears or drops of sweat were slowly rolling down her face.

  “Their vision is best at night,” I said, turning towards Ms. Suzy.

  Everyone seemed preoccupied with preparing to escape the store, so I spoke louder.

  “Their vision is best at night! This isn’t the best time to try and get out of here!”

  Finally, I had gotten their attention.

  “What do you mean?” Juanita asked, as she began to place extra batteries and a six pack of bottled water into a bag.

  “For some reason their eyes are constantly dilated,” I said. “It gives them poor vision during the day, but it should help them see much better at night.”

  I continued to explain that if we were to make a “run” to escape, we should do so during the day time. My words didn’t seem to convince the small crowd of people hoping to pack into the coach and find a more secure location. Their argument seemed to be that staying in the store was suicide, because eventually the “freaks” would break in.

  Suddenly, I realized there was a safe fallback position the freaks couldn’t get to.

  “I’m not leaving,” I said. “If the freaks get in here, I’m going up on the roof. Anyone who wants to stay with me is welcome to do so.”

  There was a moaning from outside the emergency exit. I pulled the revolver out from my pocket, cocked the hammer, and pointed it at the door.

  A slumping sound then came from outside; it sounded like a body collapsing onto the ground. A figure then appeared at the door.

  “Don’t shoot! Put that gun down,” the customer exclaimed, as thick, dark blood slowly dripped from the large butcher knife he was holding.

  I lowered the revolver.

  “We need something to make noise to distract the freaks,” he said.

  “How about this CD player?” Katie suggested.

  “That will work,” he said.

  The oriental man, who introduced himself as Moon, quickly reviewed their plan with us. Mr. Humphries would go into the woods on the right hand side of the parking lot and turn on the noisemaker. While the freaks were distracted by the sound, two men would make a dash for the vehicle. Once the vehicle was started, they would circle around to the back of the store, near the emergency exit, and load everyone up. By that time, Mr. Humphries should have made his way back and would join up with everyone.

  “You have the best noise maker of all,” Moon stated, as he looked at my revolver.

  He was correct. The sound of the .357 revolver was very loud. It had almost deafened everyone in the room when the gunman had fired it.

  I was not planning on leaving the store, but I realized that I needed to help these people escape. If that was the choice they were making, I needed to assist in every way I could.

  “If anyone is planning on staying with me, start taking some supplies to the roof. Take as much food and water up there as you can. Also, take a tent and some tarps. We’ll need a way to stay out of the sun tomorrow.”

  No one responded. Would I be alone?

  As I began to walk towards the emergency exit I heard Katie’s voice.

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  “I will too,” Ms. Suzy said, the
glow of the lamp reflecting in her eyes.

  “Then please hurry and start taking supplies to the roof.”

  Moon and I cautiously ventured out of the emergency exit.

  I clutched the revolver tightly as I remembered that I hadn’t fired a gun in a little over a year. The last weapon I had fired was a semi-automatic 9mm Glock pistol my father had given me shortly before he moved to Utah. At the firing range I had been a decent shot with it, but I was out of practice.

  I only had four cartridges in the revolver. I would need to make the most of them.

  In the distance I saw Mr. Humphries, the gunman, and another customer using the large, brown dumpster as cover. They were not noticed by the freaks who were gathered near the front of the store.

  Moon and I ran quietly to the dumpster and joined them.

  “This should work,” Moon told Mr. Humphries. “Just flip this switch, right here, when you’re ready to turn it on. The volume control is here, on the side.”

  I counted over a dozen freaks in the parking lot.

  “Don’t forget there are probably at least a couple dozen more near the front entrance of the store.” I said. “Whoever makes the run to the coach needs to hurry. They won’t have much time.”

  “What are you going to do?” the gunman asked me.

  “I’m using your gun to help distract them,” I said.

  “Here, take these. They’re the last I have.” He handed me three more cartridges for the revolver.

  I completely loaded the revolver and put the single, spare cartridge in my left pocket.

  “Is everyone ready inside?” Mr. Humphries asked.

  “Those who are leaving are. A few of us are going to stay and go up on the roof if the freaks manage to break inside.” I said.

  “That’s stupid, Hank,” he said. “We all have to get out of here!”

  “Where do you think you’ll find a safer location?” I asked him.

  “Don’t you realize that the whole city, the whole freaking world, is like this? This infection is everywhere, and you have no guarantee of finding any place safer than this store,” I reminded him.

  “We’re going to have to take our chances,” he replied.

  “Are we going to do this or not?” Moon asked. “We need to get started!”

  “Okay,” said Mr. Humphries, “Let’s go.”

  Mr. Humphries and I rushed out of the cover of the dumpster and into the woods. My heart raced as thorns and branches scratched my exposed arms. The ground was still soggy from the torrential rains we had only days before this nightmare began; in places my feet were ankle deep in mud.

  I tried to keep a careful eye for any freaks wandering the woods, but the moonless night made it almost impossible. At any moment one of them could lunge out of the darkness without us having a moment’s warning.

  “I don’t want to be in the woods when we turn it on,” I whispered to Mr. Humphries. “It is just too dangerous. We cannot move fast through all of the branches and brush, and it’s too dark to see if one of those freaks is about to jump out at us. I don’t want to be crawling through here with a dozen freaks after me.”

  “Where are you going to be then?” he asked.

  “When you turn on the music I’ll go out into the open and try to attract some attention. I’ll try and get to my truck and then follow the coach to the back of the store.”

  “You can do what you want, but I’m not going to expose myself to those freaks. These woods may be thick, but they also provide cover,” Mr. Humphries said.

  I made my way to the edge of the woods. I could no longer see Mr. Humphries behind me, but I could see the freaks walking about the parking lot. It was also clear that they had begun to break lose some of the boards that secured the front of the store. It would only be a matter of time until they were inside.

  Suddenly, Christmas music started to echo through the night air. I was expecting maybe some country music or rock and roll, but not Frosty the Snowman.

  I rushed out of the woods.

  “Over here you freaks!” I screamed.

  I waved my arms wildly to get their attention. Almost immediately, dozens of undead zombies were coming my way. Thankfully, they were only able to walk, not run.

  At least they were slow zombies; I always hated the fast ones I had seen in movies where almost everyone died. I was determined to live.

  I saw a path to my truck which was mostly free of the freaks, and I took off running at high speed, adrenalin filling my body. About halfway to my vehicle I encountered a female freak. The sight of her menacing, snarling face brought me to a dead stop.

  Although it was possible I could have run around her, I needed to make some more noise, so I pointed the revolver at her head and fired.

  The sound of the blast rang in my ears. I should have gotten some earplugs off the shelf, but I hadn’t thought of that. With my hearing now temporarily impaired, I glanced down at the corpse. The bullet had literally almost blown her head apart. A large chunk of her forehead was now missing, as brain matter was sprayed on the ground behind her.

  I made it to my truck with only moments to spare. As I fumbled with my keys, another freak approached. I once again pointed to revolver at its head and fired. My first shot missed, so I re-aimed and fired again.

  In an instant, I saw the tall freak fall backwards onto the pavement. I managed to unlock the door to my truck and jump inside, slamming the door shut. While locking the door, I realized that more freaks were approaching the vehicle. In a way this was a good thing, because it was, hopefully, providing a distraction for Moon and the other man, and I didn’t want to get completely surrounded by a mob of them.

  Ms. Patty’s pale grey minivan was blocking my view; it was time that I started up my vehicle and tried to back up. By this time there were freaks pressing their faces against the driver and passenger side windows. As I put the vehicle in reverse and backed up, their hands and faces left streaks of blood on the glass.

  I suddenly felt a bump, and realized I had probably run over one of them. I continued to back up as fast as I could and I steered the vehicle so I could get a better view of the store.

  Facing the front of the store with my view partially blocked by the hands of freaks, I could see even more of the undead coming my way. Every freak that had been trying to break into the store was now heading in my direction. I hit the gas and the truck quickly flew backwards. Upon the back of my truck reaching the road I hit the brakes and stopped.

  I flicked my headlights on and I could see a herd of the freaks approaching me. In the distance I could see Moon climbing into the passenger seat of the coach. It was a large vehicle that was used by a local company to transport people back and forth from Sandy Hills to neighboring towns. The fat lady had probably been correct. If they could get the coach to the emergency exit, the large vehicle should be able to hold everyone.

  There was no traffic in the road behind me, so I decided to back up further. I was careful not to impact the few empty vehicles that now littered the road. I put the vehicle in drive and allowed the herd of freaks to follow me.

  I only had to maintain a speed of about five or six miles per hour to stay ahead of them. They were slow but also persistent. At some point I would have to lose them and get back to the store.

  After driving for only a minute or two, I reached a curve in the road. I accelerated and traveled far enough around the curve to be out of the view of the herd. Immediately, I turned the vehicle around and stopped on the edge of the road.

  I had two choices about what to do next.

  My first option would be to wait, with my lights off, for them to come around the curve. If I was very quiet and hid from view, they might keep walking past me. I could then attempt to drive quickly to the store. If I kept my headlights off and got there fast enough, maybe most of them wouldn’t return to the parking lot, at least not immediately.

  My second option would be to turn my headlights back on, turn my stereo up all the way, a
nd use my truck as bait. Hopefully, they would be attracted to the sound, the light from the headlights might temporarily blind a few of them, and I could slip away back to the store on foot.

  By going back to the store on foot I would probably attract fewer of them, but it would be more dangerous.

  I didn’t have long to make up my mind.

  Chapter 5

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the one additional cartridge I had, and loaded it into the cylinder of the revolver. Four rounds were not a lot, but they would have to be enough. I couldn’t see very far into the distance, but I didn’t need light to tell that the freaks were approaching.

  Very faintly, I could hear their footsteps, moans, and snarls as they were probably making their way around the curve. Before long they would be able to see the vehicle.

  I gathered up all my willpower and turned on the radio. By doing so I had made my decision; I would make my way back to the grocery store on foot. A loud voice rang out of the speakers urging everyone to stay inside and to avoid contact with the infected. I quickly turned on the headlights, opened my door, grabbed my keys from the ignition, and then raced towards the other side of the street. I kneeled down behind a large tree and watched to see how the freaks would react to the bait I had left for them.

  Like a charm, my idea had worked. The freaks were fascinated with my truck. They were surrounding it and trying to get inside.

  I carefully and quickly walked down the side of the road, near the edge of the woods, until I came to the gas station. The freaks that had been lurking near the gas pumps were now gone; every one of them within earshot of my truck’s radio was heading towards it.

  Things were going exactly as I had hoped. In fact, I would now be able to safely make it to the barbershop to see if Jennifer was still there. I hoped she’d be willing to go to the grocery store with me.