by Meyer, Tim
“Did you see any of them?”
She stopped examining Soren's confines and gaped at him. “I was in the bathroom when I heard loud noises. I got scared and headed to the loading bay. That's where I saw them.”
“The cannibals?”
She nodded. “They must have come through the garbage chute. It was open.”
“So that's how they got behind us.”
“They killed them.”
“Who?”
Dana swallowed. “Joel and Craig. They chopped them up with a sword. Into small pieces.”
“I'm sorry you had to see that, Dana.”
“Then they ate them. They put the parts in their mouth and just started chewing, like it was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And you know what?”
Soren kept silent.
“They liked it.”
“Dana, I know that must have been hard to watch, but I need you to focus here. Can you find a bolt cutter?”
She pushed aside the morbid memory and concentrated on Soren's bloody face. It was hard to look at the crimson droplets speckling his skin without thinking of the loading bay's gory scene. She tried her best, but her best wasn't good enough. What if the same fate awaited her? There were monsters inside the store, real ones, not the ones pictured on television and in movies. These were real horrors, and she had witnessed them with her own eyes. Grabbing a bolt cutter meant she'd have to travel to the hardware aisle, which meant she'd have to head back toward the loading bay.
Soren watched the struggle unfold on her young face. Her lips trembled, and tears pooled in her eyes. He knew she was fighting through it, trying to muster enough courage to return to that awful place.
“Please,” Soren whispered.
A subtle change came over her. She narrowed her eyes and stiffened her spine, then nodded.
“I can try.”
“Good girl. Go.”
-15-
Stealthily leaving the room and careful not to slam the door behind her, Dana summoned her courage and directed herself toward the hardware department. The store was big and for some reason, as she darted across the main aisle, it looked ten times larger. Without the calm trendy music and the usual shopping ambiance, just about every sound could be heard from one end to the other. She crept quietly from one aisle to the other, spying around each corner before committing to it. As she neared the backside of the store that led to the loading bay, the visions of Joel and Craig, their bloody appendages strewn haphazardly across the concrete floor, haunted her. Chills crawled across her flesh. She thought about taking a detour, cutting across the aisles diagonally instead of taking the perimeter as she had planned. Maybe she'd be less likely to run into trouble that way. If the cannibals approached from the front of the store, she'd see them coming a few hundred feet away, allowing her plenty of time to seek out a hiding spot.
She prepared to sprint down the home furnishing aisle. As she rounded the corner, she nearly shrieked. Jumping back, she used the aisle's endcap as a shield. After her heart rate had resumed its normal rhythm, she peeked around the corner. One of the cannibals, his face smeared with fresh blood, stood in front of a small section dedicated to picture frames. He glared at the stock images like a small child experiencing his first magic show. Slowly his head rotated in her direction.
Shit!
She covered her mouth and nearly lost her footing.
Had he seen her? Heard her? Christ, if he owned a pair of ears then how could he not?
Closing her eyes and barely able to breathe, she waited for inevitable hand to clamp onto her shoulder and drag her to the same fate Joel and Craig had experienced.
Seconds passed and nothing happened. She flipped open her eyes and expected to see the cannibal standing before her, flashing his bloody smile, but there was no one. She forced herself forward and peeped around the corner. She spied the home décor aisle.
No cannibal.
No sign he was ever there.
Had he been there?
She began to doubt herself. Knowing that she was under time restraints, she absconded, breezing past the home décor aisle and heading straight for the aisle where the cutters were. She glanced up at the signs, reading the list of items each aisle contained. Scooting by the light bulb aisle, she spotted the sign marked “tools.”
She tore down the aisle, an adrenaline-fueled rush pounding in her head. With so many things occupying her mind, she missed the pool of blood on the floor in front of her. Her feet were yanked out from under her, and she slammed onto the floor. The viscous slop splashed, streaking across her skin. In the lull of the moment, she was sure someone had heard her. Her eyes followed the trail of blood to the front of the store; the two cannibals who had dissected Joel and Craig were dragging their amended corpses to the front vestibule. Luckily, they didn't notice her folly.
Deeming it safe, she picked herself off the floor, but managed to slip again. This time her face landed in the bloody puddle. She felt the syrupy liquid stick to her face and wanted to scream, but that would surely attract the bastards' attention. She stifled her urge to scream and scrambled to her feet.
She located the bolt cutters in no time.
-16-
The door squeaked open, and the bloody face of a twelve-year old girl appeared.
“What happened?” Soren asked. “Are you hurt?”
Dana shook her head. “N-not. M-my blood.”
Soren understood. “Come here. We must hurry.”
She jogged over to him, holding the cutters in front of her. “T-this it?”
“Yes. Slip the chain between blades and squeeze as hard as you can.”
She did as Soren instructed, but when she forced the handles together, nothing happened.
“Harder,” Soren urged. “Use all of your might.”
She pushed until her arms hurt. They tingled and went numb. She continued pressing them together until the chain broke and fell to the floor.
“Good girl,” Soren said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “You did a great job. Now let's go. We don't have much time.”
“B-before the s-sun comes up?” Dana asked.
Soren nodded. “Yes. Before the sun comes up.”
Perhaps it's time to show them, he thought. Show them the truth.
He knew exactly how to do it.
-17-
The cannibals pushed them along until they reached the greenhouse. Some women shrieked when the doors kicked open, and the strangers entered, snarling menacingly and exposing their carnivorous fangs. Children cowered in their mothers' arms, pressing their faces against their chests so they wouldn't have to watch the horror unfold. The cannibals laughed while kicking their prisoners along. They surveyed the frightened faces of their future meals, savoring every minute.
Mouth immediately rushed over to Becky, who stood behind a row of sunflowers. After placing Brian on the ground, Shondra followed him.
“Fuck's your sister?” Mouth asked her.
“She went to the bathroom,” Becky answered. “She never came back. What's going on?”
“Fuck!” Mouth yelled. “Your dad's gonna have my balls.”
“What's going on?” Becky repeated.
Chris rushed over and joined the group. “They've won, Becky. Looks like we're all going to become meat pies and bloody smoothies.”
Tears brimmed her eyes. “No...”
“I'm sorry, dear,” Shondra said. “We tried.”
“We saw some of the others take off,” Becky said.
“Yeah, fucknuts over there told us about that.” Mouth shook his head. “I bet Craig and Joel were with them. If I ever see those tubby pieces of shit again, I'll smack them around so hard they'll wish the sun found them first.”
“Let's try to keep calm and figure a way out of this,” Shondra said.
“I'm not leaving without Dana,” Becky said.
“I'll try to sneak away and find her,” Chris said.
“What are you all conspiring about?” the sha
ggy-haired kid asked, stepping forward. “Planning on escaping? That would be most unwise. Besides, it's almost dawn. You wouldn't get very far.” The fanged intruder set eyes on Becky and smiled devilishly. “My, my. What a beautiful specimen of humanity.” He closed in on her, backing her into the corner. As he reached out with his gloved hand, she turned her face. Rubbing her cheek gently, he giggled. “What you must taste like.”
Chris's hand gripped the cannibal's shoulder. He spun the kid around, driving him against the wall.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” Chris growled.
He knew what possible recourse awaited: if he was lucky, they'd only beat him for stepping out of line. They'd drag him to the center of the room, take out their weapons, and beat him beyond recognition. If I'm lucky, he thought. It was that or they'd kill him. Right then and there. He pictured them running a blade across his throat, spilling it contents into their greedy mouths. He imagined how they'd drink from him, cutting holes in him, feeding on him like piglets on their mother's tits. I'm not going down like that. He wasn't going to stand by and watch those fuckers fuck with Becky. No way. He'd rather die.
Does that mean...?
He'd never thought much about love. He'd never seen any evidence it actually existed. He had no father to love his mother, his mother who claimed to love many men. But Chris knew what she felt was not love; not the way love was conveyed in movies and books. Chris Atkins always thought love was an egregious lie, a phony emotion used to sell Hallmark cards in February.
Love is an illusion, he had thought until the apocalypse happened and he met Becky Wright. He couldn't confirm if it was love he felt, but agreed it wasn't some ordinary fling.
Before the smart-mouthed cannibal could react, Chris crushed his nose with his fist. A crimson waterfall dispensed, soaking the lower half of his face. His eyes widened, and Chris didn't give him an opportunity to retaliate. He drilled his knee into his abdomen over and over, and as the kid bent forward, his face met Chris's uppercut. Bloody serrated teeth fell to the floor and scattered like loose change. He stopped only because he felt something sharp dig into his back. He spun toward the pain as his back went numb and met a face that instantly frightened him. Speckled with blood, the kid's lips stretched and the world twisted and took an unexpected turn sideways. The pain in his back spread to his limbs, numbness trailing shortly after.
“Stupid kid,” Malek said, walking to the center of the room. “Anyone else feeling heroic?”
The cannibals who had taken Soren had returned. Chris watched them file into the greenhouse as the world gyrated violently, causing his footing to shift. He had only experienced an earthquake once, and his current balance issues reminded him of it. Guiding himself onto his knees, he wondered why everyone was staring at him. Concerned eyes turned on him. He opened his mouth to tell them everything would be okay, that there was no need to worry, but he couldn't seem to work his jaw. In fact, most of his parts failed to listen to him. The pain in his back surged again as he reached for the inflicted area. Struggling to move his fingers, he wrapped them around something foreign. Something long protruded from his back. He pulled, but didn't have the strength to dislodge it.
Oh fuck, he thought.
The pain, the numbness. The looks on his friends' faces. The shifty ground beneath him. He glanced away from the head cannibal, whom he could no longer hear because his world had grown silent. His eyes jumped to Becky and fixed on her tear-soaked face. Her hand covered her mouth, suppressing a scream.
Before he could open his mouth to tell her he loved her, an invisible current pulled him beneath an ocean of infinite black, drowning him forever.
-18-
Carp looked past his attackers and watched the last of the prisoners escape out the back. A boot crashed down on his crotch, and pain flooded the lower half of his body. He swore his jewels had been reduced to granules.
“Take that, motherfucker!” one of his assailants shouted. “That one's for Malek!”
“Too bad the Master won't be here to watch you die!” the other snorted.
Carp wiped a bloody smear from his eyes. The ebbing pain paralyzed him. A fist came crashing down on his face, and his nose bone splintered. His brain pounded as if trying to jump out of his cranium.
“You want me to go after 'em?” the other one asked. Carp couldn't see who was speaking through the bloody glaze over his eyes. “Bring 'em back?”
The other shook his head. “Fuck 'em. It's going to be sunrise soon. Let 'em burn.”
The other giggled. “Malek will be pissed.”
“We'll have plenty of new meat soon.”
The other agreed while gripping the long blade that had been resting on the ground. “So... may I have the honor?”
“You may,” the other said. “And when it's over, we'll put his head on a spike as a warning to the others.”
The blade rose in the air. “Nice knowing you, Carp.”
Before he could protest, the blade sliced through his neck.
-19-
“The sun demands a sacrifice,” Malek told the group. He opened the roll-up doors separating the greenhouse and the east end of the parking lot and stared past the lot, focusing on the horizon. Above the trees, tangerine clouds gripped the sky. “Like us, it requires nourishment. That's what life is all about. The consumption of others.”
The children cried into their mothers' breasts.
“Who will it be?” Malek asked, turning back to the group. “You?” he asked Shondra. “Will today be your lucky day?”
Shondra remained still, veering her eyes away from Malek's vision.
“No,” he continued. “You have some muscle on those bones. I like muscle.” He approached Brian. “You look like a problem. Maybe the sun will do you some good.” He craned his head around the room, surveying his captives. “How about you?”
Noah glanced up, his body shaking uncontrollably. “Me?” he asked.
“Yes. You. What's your name?”
“No-Noah.”
“Noah. How old are you, Noah?”
“Thirty-two.”
“That's a good age.” Malek approached him slowly, squinting his eyes. “Are you scared?”
Shivering, Noah nodded.
“Do I frighten you?”
“Y-yes,” he almost cried.
“Well, don't worry, Noah,” Malek spoke in a tone that was almost comforting. “After today, you will no longer need to be afraid.”
“Wh-what?”
Two of Malek's henchmen rushed forward and grabbed Noah before he could react. He screamed as they dragged him out the door and into the middle of the parking lot. Malek followed, his laughter matching the decibel level of Noah's screams.
“Don't worry, my son! Today will be glorious! You'll no longer have to wake worrying if you'll see the sun rise again! Because today,” Malek revealed, “will be your last sunrise.”
Noah tried kicking his way free from the men's grasp. They fixed this minor inconvenience by smashing his legs with a steel pipe. He lay on the blacktop, his legs bent at awkward angles, screaming for his life.
“PLEASE!” he shouted. “PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!”
Malek didn't pretend to care. The screams and pleads were music to his ears. He stared at Noah as if he were watching his own child being born. Smiling, Malek stood over him.
From the greenhouse, Shondra ran toward the parking lot. She managed a few feet before two cannibals tackled her to the pavement. They dragged her back inside while she screamed for Noah, pleading for his life too.
“Don't worry,” Malek told him, “I'll take real good care of your friends.”
One of the cannibals who had broken Noah's legs tapped their boss on the shoulder. “Come on, Master. We don't have much time before sunup.”
“Give me a few more minutes with Noah here. He needs my comfort. You head back. Prepare to spend the day here.”
The servants nodded and hustled toward the store.
Malek knelt next to
Noah, who looked up at his executioner. He whimpered, still begging for Malek's mercy.
Mercy was a word Malek had been unfamiliar with.
“Look at the skyline,” Malek urged. “Take a gander.”
Noah did as he asked, fixing his eyes across the highway, toward the trees lining the road. Orange smears of light mingled with a faint blue sky.
“I'm giving you a gift,” Malek informed him. “I'm offering you a way out of this madness. You're receiving far better treatment than any of your little friends will get. That I promise you. Being given to the sun is the most decent way to go. From what I've seen, death is almost instantaneous. You won't get that anywhere else in the world; not anymore.”
Noah nodded in agreement. There were worse ways to die. Being skinned alive and eaten an organ at a time would be long and torturous. His flesh turning to coal would be excruciating, but the pain would be brief.
It seemed Malek was merciful after all.
“I'll leave you to it,” Malek whispered in Noah's ear. “Happy death day.”
He stood and turned. A bloodied face met him, and Malek's stomach dropped.
“How'd you get free?” Malek asked.
Instead of answering, Soren drove his fist into Malek's mouth. He felt a tooth loosen against his knuckle.
Malek lost his balance and stumbled to one knee. Before he could reestablish his footing, Soren smashed his knee into his chin, driving his head backwards. Malek landed on his back, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth.
“Master!” One of Malek's faithful sprinted into the parking lot.
Soren pulled the gun he had tucked into his pants. He aimed and tugged the trigger, and the top of the approaching cannibal's head peeled back, a thick spray of brains along with it. His legs kicked into the air, his body sent airborne. The kid died before his body hit the black top.
“Anyone else leaves the greenhouse, and they will suffer the same fate,” Soren said.
Malek rose to his feet and crouched on his heels like a frog ready to launch himself onto the next lily pad. Before he could spring forward, Soren turned and bashed him across the face with the heel of his weapon. Bloody spittle flew from his mouth, along with a few pearly whites. Soren seized his neck, digging his fingers into the muscle. Yanking him to his feet, Soren snarled. Malek attempted a lazy punch. With one fluid motion, Soren grabbed his wrist and twisted. The sound of his bone snapping echoed throughout the parking lot. Malek yelped as Soren flipped him over his shoulder and slammed him on the pavement like a pro wrestler. Air whooshed from his lungs.