by Michael Bray
At first, it seemed they would have a bounty of potential weaponry to aid them, but on closer inspection, the things they hoped would help— the kitchen knives and such— were plastic replicas and of no real practical use. So far, they only had a handful of wooden sweeping brushes. Garrett tossed a length of wire into the basket and continued to look for anything else that might come in useful.
“This isn’t going to be enough,” sighed Mark, now calm but also dejected.
“We have to try. We can’t just give up. How’s Leena?”
“I gave her some more sedatives. She’s sleeping for now. Mrs. Harwell is keeping an eye on her.
“It might be for the best. The less anyone has to experience this, the better.”
“Shit, Ray, you should have said something earlier, maybe we could have all taken a handful of pills and had a slumber party.”
Garrett laughed, a sound that seemed to be from another lifetime.
“I have an idea,” Mark said suddenly.
“Shoot.”
“What if we rushed the doors, all of us, I mean? Surely, they couldn’t stop all of us from escaping.”
Garrett shook his head. “It would never happen. People might say they would go along with it, but they would never do it. It’s just too risky.”
“Then what do we do? We’re gonna need more than brooms and wire to fight our way out of here. All this stuff is fucking useless.”
“Maybe,” agreed Garrett, looking in dismay at their pathetic potential arsenal. “Like it or not it’s all we have. We’re going to have to make the best of it.”
“I just don’t see how any of this can help us. I hate just hanging around here and waiting to see what happens.”
“I hate it too. Right now we can’t afford to rush into anything.”
They walked without speaking, the pleasant tones of the easy listening supermarket music and the squeaking wheel of the trolley the only sounds as they scoured the shelves for anything that might help them.
“So, tell me about your life outside of here, Ray.”
Garrett picked up a pack of mop heads and placed them in the basket, not quite sure how much use they would be and even less sure if he wanted to answer the question that had been asked.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” he said reluctantly.
“Come on, man. Don’t go all Clint Eastwood on me. Spill it.”
Garrett grinned.
“I’m married. We’re expecting our first baby in June.”
“Shit, man.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, you don’t need me dragging this up. I should have kept my mouth shut.”
“Really, it’s fine.”
“I feel like a dick. I don’t know if I should congratulate you or apologize for bringing it up.”
“It’s okay, you don’t need to stress over it, we have bigger things to worry about,” Garrett said as his brief smile faded away. “Besides, I’ve accepted the possibility I might never see the outside of this store again, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do everything I can to fight.”
“Well, that’s something we agree on. So, what do you do? For work, I mean?”
“Why the sudden interest?”
“Sorry,” Garrett said. “I’m just feeling the strain a little, and I’m not all that used to talking about myself.”
Mark shrugged. “It’s fine. I didn’t mean to pry. I was just curious.”
“It’s okay, really. I don’t mind talking about it.”
“Fair enough. In that case, I’ll ask you again. What is it you do for a living?” Mark said with a grin.
With the tension broken, Garrett found himself relaxing a little.
“I’m a school teacher.” “Bullshit you are.”
“Why not?”
“No offense, but you don’t look like a teacher to me. I mean, you look pretty…normal.”
“Thanks… I think.”
“No, man, don’t get me wrong, all power to you. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I had you down as a builder or an army guy. Hell, when I first saw you, I thought you might have been a cop.”
“Interesting analysis, but wrong,” Garrett said with a grin.
“So you ever lose it with one of your students? I don’t think I would have the patience to teach.”
“I teach preschool. Four and five year olds, mostly. They’re a great bunch of kids.”
Garrett smiled then felt it fade at the thought he might never see them again. Mark saw it and didn’t pursue the point. They walked without speaking for a while.
“It’s odd,” Mark said eventually.
“What is?”
“This situation. I mean they must know we know about them, and yet they still haven’t done anything to us. I... I just don’t see the point of all this smoke and mirrors bullshit. I also think we need proof of their intentions before we start arming frightened people with weapons, no matter how flimsy they are.”
“I see where you’re coming from, but there is proof enough all around us. It’s on the shelves, right under our damn noses. Nobody normal would be involved in something like this. And what about the people, the ones who were taken away? Aren’t they proof enough?”
“I know; I get that,'' snapped Mark. “I just don’t want this to blow up in our faces. However you butter it up, we are still talking about murder.”
“I’d say it was more self-defense, but we’re jumping the gun here. I’m still hoping we can intimidate our way out without having to resort to bloodshed. All I know is we can’t just roll over and die and wait until they are ready to finish us off. Any other action by us, whatever it might be, will be a last resort.”
“Look, I—”
Their conversation was cut off by a guttural scream which seemed impossibly loud and crisp in the otherwise quiet market. The pair abandoned their trolley of potential weaponry and ran to the end of the aisle, joining the other horrified shoppers in looking at the commotion.
The woman must have been an earlier visitor to the store. She stood by the open door marked staff only and was breathing in ragged, wheezing gasps. Her eyes were wild, and her blonde hair was matted to her head in a combination of sweat and blood. Garrett saw what everyone else did, but his troubled brain refused to believe what his eyes were showing him. She was naked, and where her left breast ought to have been was a mass of pulpy, raw flesh. A white shaft of rib could be seen poking out of the shredded mess that used to be her upper torso. The skin of her arm hung down over her hand like a half removed fleshy glove. The bloody woman broke into a loping, stumbling run, heading for the exit. She was quickly followed out of the room by the short, burly staff member who, along with the store manager, had earlier led Arsenio away. He too was naked, his plump body quivering and shaking as he hurried after her. There was so much blood. Garrett could never imagine the human body could hold so much. He couldn’t help but notice how vibrant it was as it landed on the polished floor in great spatters. Garrett looked around at the myriad of pallid faces who stared at the girl and like him, they were unable to move. Even Bernard— Bernard who thought it was a prank and the entire thing had been done at his expense– was looking on and perhaps understanding the gravity of the situation for the first time.
She charged between the checkouts, and as she did so one of the girls lunged and grabbed at her hair, but the desperate escapee twisted free, the skin of her arm slapping against the checkout as she ran. The girl’s pursuer had closed the distance between them and reached out a bloody hand to grab her. Just when it seemed as if her fate was sealed, he lost his footing on the bloody floor and crashed chest first into the edge of the checkout belt. The girl squirmed free and charged towards the door.
“She’s gonna make it,” Mark whispered, and Garrett couldn’t disagree, as it was obvious that Lurch, the lumbering security guard, would surely not close the distance to her before she could escape.
It happened quickly.
Lurch moved with inh
uman speed. Garrett didn’t see him walk, not as such. He seemed to shift instantly from his initial position at the side of the door to the front of the girl within the blink of an eye. In one fluid motion, he grabbed her, his huge hand almost enveloping her head. Garrett watched, and for a few precious seconds didn’t understand what he was seeing. Her body darted to the left and ran a few more steps towards the open door, then slowed and stopped. Lurch stood in situ, still holding her severed head in one hand. Her body staggered forward in one last reflexive step and fell to the floor then twitched once and was still.
The only sound was the steady pitter-pat of blood as it poured from the girl’s severed neck and pooled around Lurch’s feet. Everything seemed frozen in time. Garrett knew he couldn’t hold on to it, this time, the horrified scream which had tried to present itself when he first saw the feet in the fridge, and the skewered tongues, and the managers face—his true face behind his human mask— was coming. It was coming and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He opened his mouth, but someone— he thought it might have been Mrs. Harwell— beat him to it. She let out a horrified, high-pitched scream. It was like a trigger, a signal to let pandemonium begin. People scattered, charging aimlessly down the aisles, looking for a safe place to hide rather than a means to escape. Others stood in place, eyes wide, mouths open, still struggling to understand what was happening. Garrett felt himself dragged by the arm.
“Come on, man, this is our chance!” Mark blurted. Garrett couldn’t move. He couldn’t take his eyes from the girl’s head, her blonde hair now a makeshift handle for Lurch, who was looking into her dead eyes with simple wonder. He felt himself slipping, going to that place where he wouldn’t have to worry about anything ever again. Perhaps he too would now walk the aisles in blissful ignorance, waiting calmly for his turn to be dismembered and sold. He found he didn’t mind, and didn’t try to fight it. He would let it come. He would welcome it and allow himself to drift deeper and deeper to that safe haven away from all the horror.
Pain.
It brought the world—the real-world— back into stark focus. He blinked twice, his mouth hanging open in shock. Mark reared back and slapped him again.
“FUCKING WAKE UP!” he bellowed, shaking Garrett by the shoulders.
Although not quite together mentally, it was enough, and he found he was moving. He was just about aware enough to follow Mark, who grabbed Leena by the hand and was heading towards the back of the store. Around him, people screamed and sobbed and ran aimlessly. His cheeks stung and he could taste bitter blood in his mouth, but he didn’t mind, because it was real. Because of it, he was aware enough to try to stay alive for at least a little longer.
“Where are we going?” Garrett blurted.
“Storage room! There must be a delivery entrance out back!” Mark panted as they skirted around a man still blissfully walking the aisles with that awful, haunting, glassy stare. Garrett wondered how deep into himself the man had gone to be able to ignore the chaos which surrounded him. He was envious. The large double doors loomed ahead. Garrett could see golden artificial light filtering through the small windows. They were almost upon them when the doors swung open, and Bo walked out holding a twin armful of dismembered human legs, apparently oblivious to the chaos.
“You cannot come ere, sir!” he squealed as the trio closed in on him. Mark couldn’t stop his forward momentum and ran into Bo at full speed. In a surreal display, the severed limbs were scattered across the floor, and Garrett heard himself begin to laugh at the absurdity of it all. It sounded so much like a scream he doubted anyone would tell the difference. Mark skidded around on his back and crashed painfully into the wall beside the door. Bo stumbled but didn’t fall. Garrett didn’t slow, and in a single fluid motion, he reared back and swung a huge looping fist towards Bo. The impact was immense. Bo’s head snapped back as Garrett’s fist connected with his cheek and jaw. His legs buckled, and he crumbled to the ground. Garrett’s momentum sent him crashing into the double swing doors, which burst inwards and sent him falling face first on the cold concrete beyond.
Hell.
That was his first thought as he scrambled to his knees and took in the panorama of the storage area. Countless human carcasses hung from hooks— legs, arms, and heads removed and stacked neatly on benches ready for packaging. Arsenio—he who only wanted to buy the latest issue of Time magazine— now hung from one such hook, his eyes glassy and staring, his lower jaw missing. He had been hollowed out, his disemboweled body hanging obscenely from the hook and chain which were embedded into his back.
Hehasnolegshehasnolegshehasnolegs!!
The mantra repeated itself in Garrett’s head, and indeed, it was true. Arsenio was absent from the waist down. Across the room was an old wooden butchery table stained with what looked to be a lifetime’s worth of blood. The huge bear of a man standing behind it— all forearms and bad intentions. His slick head was spattered with blood. There was no mistake. He could only have been the butcher. He was busy de-jointing Arsenio’s left leg, the lower half hanging at a nauseating angle. The butcher paused, the large cleaver still embedded in the knee joint.
“You can’t come in here!” he bellowed, glaring at Garrett, who was now up to his knees and unable to do anything but stare. He scrambled to his feet and backpedaled, grabbing Leena, who was about to enter the room.
“Not in there,” Garrett panted, pushing her back into the store. He grabbed Mark by the arm and yanked him to his feet, Garrett now leading the three of them towards the rear of the store.
“What do we do now?” Leena shrieked. Garrett had no answer. All he could see in his mind’s eye was the butchery room, and knew no matter how long his life would go on to last, those images would stay with him forever. The trio ran, weaving around the other shoppers who seemed as lost and aimless as they were.
“Try for the front door!” Mark panted. “Maybe we can slip out without them noticing.”
It was as good an idea as any, thought Garrett as he changed direction, cutting at an angle towards the checkouts. The exit loomed ahead, and Garrett saw the guard— the one known only to them as Lurch. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the beheaded girl, his arm lost up to the elbow as he reached deeper into her stomach. He looked up at them as they charged past, offering a simple, childish smile. His face was streaked with blood, and as they watched, he pulled out an unidentifiable chunk of the girl's innards and scooped them into his mouth. The other staff members were indulged in similar acts.
The checkout girls were on all fours as they fed each other parts of an unfortunate shopper who hadn’t been lucky enough to flee the chaos. His body was spread-eagled on the floor, his stomach open and exposed, a long slick of intestine looped by his side. The chubby chaser of the headless girl sat at one of the checkouts with her severed head in his hands. Garrett watched in horror as he bit her bottom lip away with a horrific wet tearing sound and began to eat it.
“The door isn’t guarded. Come on!” Garrett barked, increasing his speed as he cut between two checkout lanes and towards tantalizing freedom.
He ran. Ran like he had never run before. His pulse pounded in his temples, and his heart raced with the healthy thump of exertion. Nothing existed. There was just him and the door.
I’m going to make it, he thought to himself as a gentle, teasing puff of breeze drifted towards him from the doors which were less than fifteen feet away. He was almost upon them when the corrugated security grille slammed into place. Garrett ran into it anyway and rattled it, grabbing at the small holes in the metal and shaking it back and forth. He put his lips to the mesh, shouting through to the deserted street which was so cruelly close, eyeing his own car which was parked just a few feet away.
“Help us! Please help us!” he screamed, pounding the steel grille with his fists.
“Please, come back inside the store," said the smooth, calm voice to his right.
Garrett looked towards its origin, knowing who it would be before
he saw him. The store manager offered Garrett a narrow smile as he removed the key from the security controls. Garrett stopped struggling and backed away, taking his place beside Mark and Leena, who had only just caught up. The store manager nodded. Garrett couldn’t help but stare at him. His eyes had a depth and intensity that were truly terrifying.
“Thank you,” he said curtly, then slipped the key into his trouser pocket and picked up the public address microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said politely, his voice amplified through the store.
The chaos continued.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please calm yourselves,” he repeated, his thin smile wavering slightly.
“Oh, this won’t do,” he said apologetically to Garrett.
He reached out to a dial beside the handset and turned it to halfway. A piercing squeal emitted from the in store speaker systems. Garrett fell to his knees and covered his ears. It felt as if his brain were on fire. Around the store, the panicked shoppers fell to the ground almost as one. Only the staff and the ones who had retreated within themselves seemed oblivious. The manager smiled as he watched the people writhe in agony.
“Please,” Garrett moaned through gritted teeth, “shut it down.”
“Of course,” said the manager curtly, and turned the dial back to zero.
The store was plunged into silence apart from the sloppy sounds of the staff gorging on the dead and a few isolated, frightened sobs.
“Now ladies and gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to remain calm and listen, I will explain what is happening here.”
“Who are you?” groaned Garrett, the noise still buzzing angrily around inside his head. The manager with the hellish eyes smiled and straightened his tie.
Confrontation
The remaining people—those who weren’t dead or insane— were huddled in a tight, frightened group by the shuttered off entrance. The ones who had switched off altogether and were too far gone to acknowledge the latest turn of events continued to walk the aisles or stood and stared into oblivion. Garrett still envied them and their indifference. The store manager stood in front of them, flanked by the huge lumbering security guard and Bo, who had an ugly looking swelling under his right eye, and glared at Garrett through gritted teeth. A nervous murmur drifted through the throng of people as they awaited their fate.