by Sam Williams
“Where should we start?” I asked.
“Do a circle starting towards Lumber, I'll send Dan and Hector towards Garden.”
I don't think anyone felt they were still on the clock. But someone needed to take charge and Barb was doing fine as far as I was concerned.
Barb stood with arms crossed at the registers as Dan pushed big rolling tool chests in front of the doors. Ryan and I walked towards Lumber. We didn't see anyone down the aisles. Then we got to the front of Tools.
The tool dept was twice as big as the normal aisles. The display walls were lined with every device one needed to build or tear something down. The center was lined with table saws, air compressors, and portable generators. I stood there and it finally sunk in; Barb and this situation had given me free reign to grab whatever I see fit. Ryan and I looked at each other and I could see he was way ahead of me. “Let's do some shopping.” I said.
When I was a kid I used to watch a children's game show, the winner got to run through a toy store and grab whatever they could put in their kart before a buzzer went off, damn I was always jealous of that lucky little bastard. Now it was my turn. First I went to the hammers. There's something about a new hammer, all pristine; that feelings gone the first time you use it. I grabbed a carpenter's hammer with the biggest claw I could find. I looked to my side and saw the tool belts. Ryan suggested that we each grab goggles and paper masks/respirators. When I asked why, he said, “For the splatter.”
I grabbed a few more things like a nice dry wall saw. Then I saw my Excalibur on the rack with the wrecking and pry bars. Each looked like a gladiator's weapon but one stuck out and I knew it was right when I saw “the obliterator” stamped on the shank. Ryan came around the corner with a sledgehammer handle and said he was ready. With “the obliterator” in hand and my belt filled, I told Ryan I was ready to party as well.
We checked the contractor booth and made our way through lumber towards the back. While we walked, I asked Ryan why he thought they weren't putting much effort into getting in. He said they would soon enough; there was a lot of banging on the back rollup doors. He thought it was the sound of moving pallets with the forklift that must have got their attention. We kept walking, after a few minutes the weight of my tool belt started getting to me. I told Ryan to hold up a minute so I could catch my breath.
Looking me up and down he asked, “Hey commando, do you really need all that shit?”
I was about to discuss the importance of being prepared when we heard a noise. Creeping slowly around the corner, we saw the back of a man. He was standing by the lumber dept's industrial saw. He had his back to us and was staring at nothing. We could see he was missing an ear and a good chunk of neck on the same side. The man was tall and very husky; he was wearing spandex bicycle shorts, a jean jacket, and had the most impressive mullet I had seen in awhile.
“Look at the way he's just standing there, he's got to be old dead. I got him.” I whispered, re-gripping the steel bar in my hands.
“Wait.” Ryan said, putting his arm against my chest to halt me.
“I know what Barb said, I'll be careful.”
“No it's not that. I want to record commando versus the Wallymart zombie.” Ryan said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
Ryan's look of enthusiasm was not encouraging for some reason. Ryan crouched down behind me, phone-camera outreached. I put the goggles on and the paper respirator over my nose and mouth. With the store's Muzak playing “Rock the Casbah” and the “Obliterator” in hand, I was ready.
I approached the man and said “Excuse me sir, do you need some help?.” I didn't know what else to say. The man didn't move the slightest. I got closer and said “Excuse me sir.” Then I tapped his shoulder and tried to step back quickly. In a flash I found out I was wrong about two things: 1) it wasn't a he, but a she (oh she was ugly), and 2) she wasn't “old dead.”
She moved fast when she hit me. Slamming me with a single forearm, I flew, hitting my back against the saw table. The “obliterator” was on the ground out of reach. I grabbed the drywall saw out of my belt and she lunged at me. Plunging it into her sternum didn't slow her down a bit. It was lodged in good, so good I couldn't retrieve it. I was screaming at Ryan for help while I held her back with an arm under her chin. With my free hand, one by one, I plunged the contents of my tool belt into her, except the hammer which I couldn't get to. Ryan must have had the key code because I heard the saw and vacuum start up.
Ryan's sledge handle smacked against the woman's skull with a crack. It had to have broken her neck; it stunned her enough for me to get away. I ducked by another lunge and stood by Ryan who was ready with his club. Grabbing the hammer off my belt I spun it to point the claw out. The lady stopped and started to howl at us. Before she could charge again, I ran towards her bringing the hammer's claw down into her skull. It did the trick and she fell backward onto the saw table. For good measure Ryan and I ran over and pushed her torso through the saw. The dust collector motor bogged down and I heard liquid hit the collection bag.
Ryan and I took a breather. I wiped the goggles off with my sleeve and pulled my respirator down.
“Should have grabbed some coveralls too.” I said, looking at all the goo on my sleeve.
“Let's go check the back.” Ryan replied. I grab the “obliterator” and we started to walk. As we walked away, Ryan said, “You scream like a girl.”
We went through the double doors. Customers always seem to think there's a warehouse back here. They can't get it through their heads that the store is the warehouse. The back was just a receiving area and where we kept the forklift. A big concrete room with super high ceilings, on one side sat an old beat up desk with a computer and phone. The top of the desk had been inscribed with years of artwork. You weren't so likely to use the table tops up front to write a number or draw a stickman when the mood arose, but something about it being back here made it ok. On the exterior wall was a large steel rollup door with two windows above it and an emergency exit to its side. The rest was filled with pallets of merchandise stacked, waiting to be received.
As soon as we walked in, I could hear something banging on the roll up door. It didn't sound like a horde, but it was loud. After a quick inspection, Ryan agreed no one was getting in. He pointed to a pallet of grass seed and said to take a load off, said he had something for us. I sat down and watched as Ryan unlocked the desk drawer and retrieved a bottle of brown label vodka.
“That's the ticket.” I said with a smile.
A stiff drink seemed like a good idea right about now. Ryan came and took a seat by me; we drank from the bottle and talked. I asked Ryan if he was worried about anyone. He said a friend, but he didn't have any family. He didn't elaborate and I didn't ask. He asked about my girlfriend and I told him I had tried to call. I told Ryan Heather and I were on the outs. I tried my best to verbalize (or better justify) a strange guilt I was carrying for not being as worried about her as I should have been. About then I started feeling a bit of a buzz, just a hint of that nice not giving a shit about anything numbness.
“I want to see what's out there.” Ryan said. Pointing at the forklift he asks me if I can drive it.
“Sure.”
Ryan slides off the pallet and walks over to the lift; he stands on the fork prongs and holds onto the guard.
“Lift me up to the window.”
I jump into the lift. It had been awhile and Ryan had to remind me to turn the key to get power. Then I carefully drove him over and lifted him to the window.
“Dude, it's only three of those fuckers. Get me down, I got an idea.”
I lowered Ryan while he confidently but precariously road the forks down. I knew he had taken some longer draws than me from the bottle but that didn't quite seem to explain the twinkle in his eyes. He walked over to the driver's seat and with a thumb pointed over his shoulder, motioned for me to get out.
“All right, go unlatch the roll up.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yep.” Ryan grinned.
While I kicked out the latches on each side of the roll up Ryan took the lift and picked up a pallet of toilets. They were in their boxes stacked two high. Ryan drove the lift over to the door and raised the pallet just below the top of the roll up. I could hear the lift motor strain as it rose.
“Really, this is the idea?” I asked, not quite as amused as Ryan about the idea of squishing zombies.
“When I tell ya, open it up. As soon as all three are in close it.”
The noise Ryan and I had made seemed to have stirred them up, because they were making a hell of a racket now. Ryan gave me thumbs up and I pulled the chain lifting the door. Zombies must not be good at limbo because for all the noise and fuss they waited until the door was at forehead height before entering. The first one was just a little shorter than the other two. If it hadn't moved so slowly I would have been more panicked. I must have still looked worried because Ryan hollered for me to wait. The other two came in and before I could shut the door I heard the zip of grease covered pulleys as the forks went down.
He got the first two so good I could hardly tell they were under the pallet. Part of me was sorry I hadn't heard or seen a big splat, the other part of me got chills that I was just witness to the kind of silent but quick industrial death that could happen at any time. Like the old saying one minute you're there...
The third zombie Ryan had got by the leg. He was still standing but wasn't going anywhere. So I shut the roll up, walked over and picked up the Obliterator. It may have been my imagination but as I pulled back to swing I swore the thing looked at me and held still. It wasn't a bracing gesture but more like I was doing it a favor. I, I don't know, it's hard for me to explain. I swung with all I had. It must have been old dead, because I literally took its head off.
Ryan jumped out of the lift. He walked over to the head lying on the floor. “That's how to do it!” He said, looking at it. Then with a solid kick of his steal toed boot he sent it flying over a pallet out of sight. I walked over to see where it went but couldn't. We bumped knuckles to celebrate our odd bonding experience. Then the double doors slammed open. It was Dan and he was covered in blood and looked about as excited as Dan can get. He looked at us like he had caught us loafing on the job.
“We need you guys! Hector's been bit and he's gone apeshit freaking out about it. Before I left looking for you two, he had old Larry pinned with a box knife at his throat.” Dan shook his head in disbelief. “Things been fucking crazy since you guys left!”
Ryan and I rushed back with Dan. On the way, Dan looks at me and says, “Oh yeah Dude, your girlfriend's here.”
I remember waking up this morning in my bed, warm and cozy. My pillow freshly turned to the cool side, the smell of Heather's hair. That's where I wish I was.
Now, I am in a warehouse, covered in gunk, running to help my coworkers fend off the living dead, and as if that's not shitty enough, it's getting late; I can feel the cold creeping in.
We got up front and found Hector sitting on the floor crying. Barb had old Larry pinned against the wall. She told him something about not giving a damn; I assumed by her inflection that she was defending Hector. She then told Larry to get his ass up to the manager's office and stay there 'til he's settled down or fucking Zombies would be the least of his worries.
I turned to Dan and asked what the hell happened and where Heather was.
“I don't know where Heather is.” Dan said, looking bewildered.
“She went to the bathroom.” Barb yelled without even looking at us.
Well what the fuck happened?” Ryan asked.
Dan shook his head then began sharing what had been going on.
“Dude, you guys weren't gone two minutes and the shit hit the fan. I was over here blocking the door and hanging with Barb when we hear Ol' Larry scream for someone to come give a hand. Barb sends me to see what's up. I get in the break room and there's Hector trying to pull Nicole off that redneck customer. Fucking Larry's got this big heavy axe and he hits Nicole with it. Her teeth were sunk in the dude's neck good so when he hit her, pieces of her skull and a chunk of the dude's neck go flying. The guy's lying on the floor bleeding out. Half of Nicole's head is gone and she's still going. Me and Hec pin her to the couch and 'Ol Larry takes the axe to what's left of her head. Every whack and she's thrashing more. Then after a particularly good whack, she just stops like someone took out the batteries.
We were looking at what's left of Nicole and Larry makes some stupid crack that Hector might finally have a shot getting in her pants. So Hec calls Larry's Mom a whore in Spanish and the two idiots get in each other's face. I yell at them to knock that shit off and ask where the lady was. We all look over and see her sitting at a table with her head buried in her hands sobbing.”
Dan paused and turned from us, looking at the floor. Nervously he cupped his chin and rubbed his cheek with his finger tips. “None of us had noticed the dude Nicole had been snacking on had gotten up. He was standing behind her. Before we could yell, he… uh… well I didn't know a person could do that with their hands; he ripped her apart. When we got over to him he had fingers in her eye sockets and mouth; holding her head like it was a fucking bowling ball, with his other hand he was busy tearing into her. He didn't notice Larry come up behind him. Larry got busy with the axe, and when we all agreed the redneck wouldn't get back up; Larry made sure the lady wouldn't either.”
I looked at Ryan, he looked a bit shaken. I think he had a thing for Nicole; he would never admit it but you could tell. I looked back at Dan, who had perked up.
“Dude your fucking girlfriend.” He said, smiling at me before continuing his story.
“So I am standing there thinking we are going to have to start calling Larry crazy ass instead of old when we hear tires squeal and a crash outside. Hector, Larry, and I run out front to find Barb moving the shit I had put in front of the exit. I run over to help and see Heather's car smashed into one of the concrete lights. They're there to stop a smash and grab and I guess they work. Heathers out there and she's got a few dead dudes between her and the store and a whole bunch more coming up from behind. She's got a big old dirty Harry looking revolver in her hand! But that's not the best of it; she also still has her work outfit on from Melon Mike's! She starts blowing away the dead dudes and me and Barb duck down to watch. You know I'm not her biggest fan, but the sight of her in the hot pants, popping zombies dirty Harry style was pretty hot. I hate to admit it but I got a little chub.”
“Thanks Danny, I'll take that as a compliment.” Heather said sarcastically from behind me. I turned as she wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her back; surprisingly I felt a big relief knowing she was here and safe. I guess I was more worried than I wanted to think about.
Barb walked over to us and quickly filled in the rest of the blanks. She wasn't as colorful a story teller as Dan. She said when the guys had Nicole pinned, she nipped Hec. Larry saw it on his hand when he and Hec were blocking the door after they let Heather in. Larry and Hec were about to kill each other when Barb put 'em in check just as me and Ryan got here. She didn't answer all my questions though; what the fuck was Heather doing with a gun?
Looking down into deceivingly innocent eyes, I asked, “Babe where'd you get a gun?”
“Off a dead cop at the gas station.” She said.
“What?” I ask.
“I was out of gas; there was no way I would have made it here from work. I was lucky the pay at the pump was working.”
When no more elaboration came I gave up and just asked where the gun was.
Pointing, she said, “It’s on the counter.”
We all look over to where she's pointing and see an empty counter.
“Bang!” Everyone ducked and Heather grabbed me again.
Running over we saw Hector sitting completely still against the wall. The gun was in his lap and a red mural was painted in blood and brains on the wall behind him. His head was down and he was dripping
from where his face used to be was.
“Fuck, I think that was the last bullet.” Heather said just loud enough for me to hear.
Letting go of Heather, I got an apron off the counter and laid it over Hector's bloody face and torso. Barb bent over and grabbed one of his arms and a leg. Her eyes were watery and she was on the verge of tears. She asked me to help her carry him to the break room, I obliged without a word.
Inside the break room, tables and chairs were overturned with blood, body parts and bodies strewn about. If it wasn't for the smell you would have thought it was a movie set. We laid Hector on the floor next to the couch with Nicole.
“I hope Larry's happy.” Barb said as she closed the door behind us. Her face was sad and remorseful but there was a rage building behind her voice.
Up front, Heather was sitting on one of the counters, rambling on about a movie with a “zombie-causing comet” that she saw when she was a kid. Both Ryan and Dan are standing looking enthralled, they’re acting like this is the first they ever heard of the movie. Everyone's seen that movie; they used to play it on channel thirteen a couple times a year.
“Dan could you get Larry, he should be in the office.” Barb's voice broke Heather's spell on the guys.
Dan said, “Sure thing,” and headed off.
Barb stood there quietly for a few seconds; she seemed to be getting herself back together.
“Well so far, sitting tight and waiting for help hasn't been going so well. I am open to suggestions.”
With arms folded and looking away from us, Barb waited for a response. Heather, Ryan, and I looked at each other then Ryan spoke up.
“One or all of us could go to the roof and keep an eye out for help.”
“That's not a bad idea, I have… where's Larry?” Barb looked at Dan who had just showed up looking concerned.
“He wasn't there, don't know.” Dan shrugged.
Barb picked up one of the phones to page him when we all heard the familiar hum of the forklift out front.