Drink in case of Emergency (9 page)

The Stratus drove in relative silence for the thirty minutes it took to get back into Middleton. Justin had the realization that Tyler could have been driving a lot faster, after all there wasn’t anyone else on the road. He was about to say something to this effect, when he realized that it really wasn’t the right time. Slow and steady was okay for this situation.

Every few minutes, Justin would sneak a glance in the passenger side mirror into the back seat, to check on Scott. His face was puffy from crying, but he didn’t seem to have any tears falling at the moment.

What was that like? Watching someone you love transformed. Watching them reach out to touch you, with nothing but cold death in their eyes. Justin was hoping that he would never find out, when another thought struck him. What if it was Beth? After everything she told him last night. After cheating on him for the last four months, and pretending like it was his fault somehow...What would he do?

“So...I know we’re all having a mighty shitty morning, but does anyone have an idea for where I should be going right now?” Tyler spoke up from the driver’s seat. Justin waited for someone else to respond, and when nobody did, he pointed out what he thought was the most obvious course of action.

“Ummm...There’s still a zombie woman in my apartment, so we kinda gotta take care of that.” Justin imagined what she was doing in his closet. Ruining all the towels, breaking his vacuum cleaner, who knows what else.

“No offense, buddy,” Chris spoke up from the backseat. “Your apartment wasn’t secure enough to hold out one middle aged woman zombie, it’s not where I want to wait out the zombie apocalypse.

“We could board up the window.” Justin offered, eager to get back to his place, to guard his castle.

“Still have the issue of the zombie already inside, too.” Chris countered.

“Well do you have a better idea?” Justin retorted back, effectively ending the argument. He knew that nobody else’s apartment was going to be any better. He was the only one who lived off the first floor.

The car rolled in silence for another three blocks, each friend staring out the window, watching a world that was effectively frozen in time on a Friday morning. In this neighborhood, you couldn’t even tell that anything had happened. Cars were parked on the street, storefronts still had their “closed for business” signs hung up. It just looked like a neighborhood where everyone decided that they should sleep in today.

From the backseat, Scott finally spoke up. “There’s not much of a mess here. You can’t even tell that everyone’s dead.” His voice was dull and flat.

“Yeah, it’s a business area of town though. Probably wasn’t too many people here when it happened, whatever it was.” Chris responded, his voice lighter and detached, as he continued to stare out the window.

“Tyler, do you still work in the same office that I picked you up from the Christmas party back in December?” Scott asked, his voice picking up a little more inflection.

“Well...no. I got fired yesterday.” Tyler’s voice held a note of pain.

“It’s still the same place though, right?”

“Yeah….why?” Tyler stopped the car in the middle of the street, putting it in park and turning toward the back seat to continue the conversation. Scott’s face was still puffy, but his eyes looked different. There was a twinkle in them now.

“It’s on like the fourth floor or something, right? And it’s got two stairwells with heavy doors?”

“Umm...sixth floor.  But yeah. I guess.”

“Seems like it’d be a pretty safe place to lie low then, don’t you think?”

The question was directed to Tyler, but Justin thought it through, and Scott had a point. He had never been there himself, but Tyler’s office was sounding like a perfect place to be. High up, easy to defend and still have a backup exit. And it was an office building, which meant that it was empty when everything started. No zombies to clear out. Justin was about to speak up, when he felt his stomach roll, hard.

Shit.

“Ummm...guys…I think Scott’s got a great idea. But if we don’t stop soon, I’m literally going to shit my pants.”

“Wait, like, literally?” Tyler asked from the front seat. He looked over at Justin and saw the sweaty panic on his face. “I’ve only got like four months of payments left on this. Don’t shit in here.”

It was Chris who offered the saving grace from the backseat. “There’s a Megalowmart like two miles ahead. We can stock up on supplies, in case we need to lie low for a while.”

Justin felt his stomach roll again. Like thunder, it was the final warning before the storm. “Hurry.”

****

The store was the quintessential one stop shop, as they had everything from groceries and clothes to appliances and lawn tractors. The enormous parking lot was nearly empty, save for a dozen or so cars that were mostly parked towards the far end of the lot. Tyler drove along the clearly defined ‘alleys’ of the parking lot, never crossing a yellow line as he pulled precisely into a parking stall next to the shopping cart corral.

“You drive...too well. Given the circumstances.” Chris mumbled in the backseat. Justin was squirming in the front seat, urgently reaching to open his car door.

“Okay, so I am about 2 minutes from literally exploding in my pants. What’s the plan if this place is full of zombies too?”

“I worked here for the holiday season last year. There’s a small section of sporting goods up near the front doors. We can grab bats and stuff to protect ourselves. Then we escort you to the bathrooms and guard the door while you destroy the toilet.” Chris suggested, opening the car door and climbing out as he spoke.

“You better destroy it quick though.” Tyler said, absentmindedly. “What do you make of that?”

Three sets of eyes turned to face the direction Tyler was looking. Megalowmart, like many mega stores, had two entrances. One near the grocery section, and one away from this section for non-grocery shoppers. Tyler had parked the car near the grocery section, but there was another car, a gray Honda Civic, sitting in front of the other set of doors.

The car wasn’t so much parked, as it was sitting on the sidewalk in front of the door. From this distance, it was impossible to tell if anyone was in the vehicle, but the exhaust shown bright in the cool morning air. Occupied or not, the car was running.

Tyler felt a shiver run up his spine, although he wasn’t sure if it was due to exhaustion and his hangover, or something else.

“You think someone else is here?” Scott asked from the backseat.

“Really don’t have much time to worry about this, guys. I’m turtle-heading it here.”

Chris spoke up, ending the conversation. “Here’s the plan. We sneak in quietly and walk Justin to the bathroom. Once Justin does his unspeakable deed, we try to find them.”

“Assuming they’re still alive.” Scott interjected.

“Of course” Chris responded.

All four friends moved swiftly towards the storefront, looking over their shoulders to ensure they weren’t being followed from behind. The automatic front door of the superstore opened with a whoosh as they approached. They met their first sign of life, a zombie, in the entryway.

Looks like someone’s grandmother...

She wore the characteristic orange vest that all MegaLowMart employees wore. Beneath that she had a thick gray wool sweater, seemingly in spite of the spring warmth. Khaki pants wrapped around her bulging waistline and led down to her orthopedic white shoes. Her fogged over eyes hid behind soda bottle bifocal glasses. She stood silent and still until the group of friends were only ten feet away. Then she began shuffling her orthopedic shoes toward them.

“Fucking greeters, like that’s a real job.” Justin’s frustration was growing in time with his squirms. All four warm bodied men walked quickly past the older woman. Once they were past her, Tyler looked back to see if she was following them. She had stopped moving, but was still facing the same direction as when she started chasing, as if she had forgotten what she was doing only seconds before.

Just like grandma sue...

****

Thirty seconds later, in the sporting goods section, all four were arming themselves with a variety of sporting goods materials. Justin had a thick wooden baseball bat, while Chris opted for the aluminum softball variety. Tyler picked up a hockey stick and Scott opted for a lacrosse stick as well as shoulder pads and a lacrosse helmet.

“Pretty nervous about your fight with that poop, eh?” Chris joked as he grabbed a stray shopping cart and dropped his softball bat into it, making a soft “clink” sound. “I’m going to go find our new friends.”

“Chris wait, we shouldn’t split up.” Scott said through his lacrosse mask.

“You two are more than enough to hold Justin’s hand while he poops.” Chris pushed his cart away from the sporting goods and toward the grocery section. “Besides, what if that car had one old lady in it. Would you join a group of four guys carrying baseball bats? I’ll make first contact and bring back whoever it is.” Tyler nodded that this was a good point. Scott didn’t like the plan, but had to admit it made sense.

“Also, this way you can poop in peace while they’re all chasing me.” Chris tipped his head toward two zombies who had been standing in the boys clothing section.

One zombie was a short, overweight man in his early thirties, wearing the typical uniform of MegaLowMart, the orange vest and khaki pants. The other was a woman who was either a very haggard twenty three year old, or a great looking fifty two year old, it was hard to tell.

Chris walked swiftly past them both, whistling as he walked. Reacting to the sound, they shambled after him slowly. Scott, Tyler and Justin watched and waited quietly, not wanting to attract attention as they moved toward the front of the store, to the bathrooms.

At one point, it looked as though the zombies were slowing down, as if they thought that their prey was too far away to chase. Chris stopped and turned, shouting curtly towards them. “Hey. You. I’m gonna go shoplift. Try to stop me.” He stood still, waiting for a full five seconds for the zombies to gain ground on him.

Off to his left another zombie, this one a tall, skinny man, also a former MegaLowMart employee began slowly moving toward him on long scarecrow legs. Chris flicked him off and disappeared from view into the aisles of the grocery section.

Scott led the way to the bathroom, Justin shuffling awkwardly behind him. The three friends crept between the checkout counters and up to the front bathrooms. They didn’t encounter any zombies, as Chris had led them all away from this section of the store. Justin began walking into the men’s room when he paused.

“Aren’t you coming in with me?” Justin was squirming even worse now, looking like a three year old doing what most people would affectionately call the poopy dance. Scott and Tyler exchanged looks before either could respond.

“Tyler will go in with you.” Scott said quickly, “I’ll keep watch and knock on the door if I see anything.” Tyler let out a slow sigh as he shook his head in frustration. This was not the plan he was hoping for, but Scott knew that he sure didn’t want to be in there while Justin was evacuating his bowels.

Tyler and Justin disappeared into the dark bathroom quickly and the door swung shut silently behind them. Scott knelt down by the bathroom door, his back to the wall and his eyes surveying the massive store. Scott felt a wave of exhaustion hit him, reminding him of how he had tangled with tequila the night before, so he was going to pay for it. There was another, eerie feeling that swept over him as he realized how strange this situation was.

Scott rarely came into MegaLowMart, as it was out of his way, however the few times he had come, the entire store hummed with the sounds of stressed-out humanity - screaming children, ringing cellphones, the click-clack of rolling shopping carts. This particular Megalowmart had fifty-three checkout counters, and on an average Thursday night it used every single one of them.

In stark contrast to this norm, MegaLowMart was now nearly silent. There was a soft hum of what Justin assumed was a heating or cooling unit running somewhere, but any other noises were being swallowed up by the warehouse like building and it’s aisles stacked with goods that were designed, produced, and transported as cheaply as humanly possible. Scott stood slowly and scanned the cluttered building, looking for any movement. He felt his heart jump as a muffled scream rang out.

“OH, GOD!” it came from door at his back. The bathroom his two friends were cornered into. Panic rose in his chest. Thinking for a moment, Scott realized it sounded more like Tyler than Justin. Scott imagined a zombie waiting in the dimly lit bathroom, sneaking up behind Tyler and biting out his throat, then Justin would be easy picking, disposed on the toilet. A big part of Scott wanted to run. His nerves were on edge from the combination of hangover, as well as seeing his aunt and uncle turned into, he felt so strange thinking it, but seeing them turned into zombies.

Just run. Get Chris, if he is still alive. Get Chris and run away. Run to somewhere safe and warm and quiet. Scott felt his heart racing as he crouched back down, fighting his urge to run. Pushing the door open a crack, Scott listened before calling in. If there was a zombie in the bathroom and both his friends were already dead, he didn’t want to lure whatever killed them out if he didn’t have to.

Scott heard soft coughing, almost gasping coming from the bathroom. Someone might still be alive, he thought hopefully. At the same time, he imagined Tyler, on the floor, blood pouring from an open wound in his throat. Scott steeled his courage before speaking softly, “What’s wrong?”

The door in front of Scott disappeared inward as he fell back in surprise. “Justin’s ass, it is bad. Oh god, it smells so bad.” Tyler stood over him, his stained polo pulled up to cover his nose. The powerful aroma of Scott’s digestive system reached Scott’s nose through the open door and he felt his stomach lurch a little bit. He nerves began calming back down though.

“I’ll watch the door with Scott.” Tyler said quickly as he let the door close behind. When the door was closed, he continued “I lasted as long as I could, but it’s like a dog ate diarrhea and then vomitted it up.” Tyler crouched down to join Scott. “That man’s hangover shits could be weaponized.”

Tyler knelt beside Scott for a minute before the silence was broken. “You hungry?” Tyler moved in a crouch to the nearest checkout aisle, disappearing behind the counter and reappearing a moment later. The quiet of the store was broken with the scraping noise of cardboard on linoleum tile. Scott saw a small display box of Snickers candy bars sliding on the floor quickly toward him. Tyler began moving back from the checkout aisle to the bathroom door when Scott stopped him with a shake of his head.

“Do they have any Twix? I’m more of a Twix man.” Tyler disappeared again, a moment later another box was sliding toward Scott. A few seconds later, Tyler crawled back towards Scott with two Gatorades in hand as well.

Gatorade, the gift from the hangover gods.

The two friends waited out the next ten minutes in relative silence, the crinkling of several wrappers and muffled chewing of chocolate bar, nugget, caramel, and the occasional peanut.

****

             
After a little bit of experimenting, Chris quickly learned that the zombies didn’t have great eyesight, and it seemed to get worse the older they were. A zombie who looked like he was in his late twenties would continue to follow so long as Chris was within thirty or forty feet, while an older zombie would lose track of him after twenty to twenty five feet. Chris also learned very quickly that while zombies have terrible eyesight, their hearing was impeccable. He quickly gave up on the shopping cart because of this fact, choosing to carry his softball bat instead.

Chris lured his train of zombies through a few aisles of the grocery section before running ahead and losing them completely.

Chris looked around for obvious signs of life (other than the shambling zombies), and seeing none, did the most logical thing he could think of.

             
“Hello? Is anyone there?” Chris startled himself a little bit by how loud he was yelling. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up in fear. Chris waited for a response, and hearing nothing but silence, he did what he thought was the next best move to make. He walked over to the bakery section, and opened a box of powdered doughnuts.

             
Just a little snack to get me through the store, Chris rationalized. The store had a large layout, but it was fairly standard, there was a rectangular path that ran throughout the store. It would allow him the chance to ensure his voice was reaching the corners, without actually having to walk the perimeter and get cornered by a small mob of zombies.

Chris wolfed down the first doughnut, his hungover brain crying out in relief at the rush of glucose. He began walking slowly but deliberately through the store. Trying to find a happy balance between walking loud enough that he wouldn’t sneak up and startle a potentially armed person, but still quietly enough that he could hear if someone else made a noise for him to follow. The first turn he reached was a split between the grocery section and housewares. Unless someone was hiding in the back corner of the grocery by the milk, he didn’t think he would find them here. None-the-less, he called out, and waited for a moment. After hearing nothing, he turned right and continued down the path.

Chris passed the bath section, home storage section, and the women’s clothing sections. He gauged that he was somewhere near the middle of the store, and called out again. “Hello? Anyone here?” Chris thought he heard muffled whispers coming from further down in the store, but he couldn’t be sure. He scarfed down another dry, powdered doughnut and found himself walking faster. Part of him was genuinely excited to find another person. Somewhere in his brain, Chris pieced together that if there was whispering, there must be at least two of them.

Chris now found himself between the sporting goods section and the automotive section. Exactly where he had expected to find someone, as it was where the firearms were kept. He could hear the small sounds of life. Muffled whispers, soft soled shoes scuffing the floors, and the rustle of clothes.

Chris thought hard about what to say next. He knew that someone was here, and he wanted to hit it off on the right foot. He felt his mouth open and sounds came out, although he didn’t realize what he said until all of the words had escaped.

“I have doughnuts, you’re welcome to some if you’d like.” His words echoed through the aisles of camping gear, bicycles, and tennis rackets. “It’s okay. I’m still alive, and I don’t want to hurt you.” Chris laid down the softball bat he had been holding at his side. He wasn’t sure if he should be nervous or not. For all he knew, there could be three linebackers hiding behind the shelves, waiting for him to turn his back so they could jump him. No...that couldn’t be, if there were three they wouldn’t be so secretive. Worst case scenario, there must be two men, and they’re not sure they could take him easily in a fight.

This felt like a good guess, and Chris eyed the baseball bat he had set on the floor. He was just thinking that there must be some other kind of weapon nearby, when the barrel of a rifle stuck out from between a rack of hanging sleeping bags. It was pointed directly at him.

Chris wondered for a moment if it was possible to see down the barrel, with proper lighting. To see the bullet, whether or not it actually had his name on it. While Chris thought about this, he did the only sensible thing he could think of, and put his hands up. Forgetting that he had an open box of powdered doughnuts in his left hand, he spilled the contents onto his shoulder and the floor. Powdered sugar hung in the air over the left side of his face like a thin fog.

“Walk away.” Chris heard a gruff voice shout. It was the voice a person would make if they were trying to intimidate someone. The kind of voice you put on when you tell a ghost story and want everyone to know how scary the ghost was.

“Now!” The gun shook, and gestured toward the front of the store. Chris had to say something, this was the first living person, outside of his group of friends, that he had seen all day. Besides that, there was no telling if these people would follow them and know where they were staying, and the last thing Chris wanted was more reasons to be worried in the middle of the night. He tightened up his resolve, and his sphincter.

“I don’t know about you, but I haven’t really seen too many other people still around. I think it’d be a shame to waste what little red blood we have left.” After saying this, Chris wondered if whomever he was talking to had actually seen the purple blood of the zombies yet.

“Walk!” The voice shouted again, and Chris heard a clicking noise that made him both uncomfortable and nervous. He assumed it was the click of the hammer being drawn back on the rifle, that he was a twitchy finger away from having a very bad day. However, never having heard the sound before, he also felt curious. The sound was quieter than they make it out to be on movies. Chris let out a long breath and turned towards the front of the store. Behind him, he heard hushed, but frantic whispers. There were at least two people hiding in the rack of sleeping bags, and they were arguing with one another. Chris took two steps before another voice shouted.

“Wait” the voice was soft and gentle. A woman’s voice. Maybe even a pretty woman’s voice. Chris kept his hands up and turned slowly back toward the sleeping bag aisle.

From behind a stack of green sleeping bags, a woman stepped out. She had blonde hair, hanging down to her shoulders. Her eyes were bright green, and she wore a black jogging suit that looked somehow familiar to Chris. She had brand new tennis shoes on, and Chris figured out where he had seen the jogging suit. It was on a mannequin, back in the women’s clothing section. She had just stolen all of these clothes.

“Hi.” The woman said , no longer shouting. The gentleness was still there though, and so was the rifle. Chris had forgotten about it, but it still pointed directly at him, the hidden shooter still behind a rack of hanging of sleeping bags. “My name is Jessica.”

There was a stunned silence before Chris responded. “Umm..Hello. My name is Chris. May I put my hands down now?”

“No!” The gruff shout came from the shooter, who didn’t bother masking the voice this time, and Chris was able to tell that it was a woman, too.

“Okay. Well you just let me know when it’s okay.” Chris was trying to remain as calm and collected as he could, but the truth is that his entire body ached from dehydration and exhaustion.

“How did you find us?” The woman behind the gun asked. “How long have you been following us?” Chris thought about how to answer, and decided that honesty would be the best policy in the long run.

“Just kinda stumbled upon you. Stopped here to get some supplies, saw your car out front idling. Figured that there must be someone still alive around here somewhere.” Chris intentionally left out the implied pronouns of his statements, wanting to see their reaction to this information before offering up the part about him not being alone.

“You from around here?” the sleeping bag gun toter asked.

“Yeah, I live over on the west side, south of the interstate.” Chris didn’t see any reason to withhold that information. “You ladies from around here too?”

“I am.” Jessica quickly stated, as if getting it out before her friend with the rifle could tell her not to. “I live just a few miles down the road.” The woman behind the rifle was silent. Chris figured now was as good a time as any to try to calm things down.

“Good to meet a neighbor.” Chris took a deep breath and said a short prayer before going on. Dear Jesus, I don’t much want to get shot today, too. Amen. “I’d like to put my hands down now. I’m unarmed, and you’re free to frisk me first, if you like.” Chris noticed just a glint of a smile on Jessica’s face before she hid it.

What a smile.

So he continued, dropping his bomb of a secret. “To me, it makes sense to join up in a group. It’d be a easier to survive with more eyes looking out for us. I’d already be dead if it weren’t for my friends.” Chris knew that if anything was going to get him shot, it would be that piece of information. He waited for the question he knew was coming, however it didn’t come in the form he was actually expecting.

“Friends? Your friends survived too?” He was expecting her to ask where his friends were. To get defensive about there being other survivors, possibly sneaking up on them. This question implied that they were surprised his friends survived

Because their friends had not.

“Yeah. There’s four of us. By the way, do either of you have any idea what happened? I mean, why is everyone...” Chris trailed off, not finishing his question. Jessica was looking back at her friend, the shooter hiding among the sleeping bags. Chris could tell they needed to chat about his offer.

“How about this, I walk quietly outside. The two of you can talk about if you’d like to join us or not, and then come meet us. We’re staying at the Mayfair Road professional building, for now at least. If you’re interested, you come meet us. If not, no big deal.” Chris began turning and walking toward the front of the store. He was sixty-five percent sure that they would come and meet up. He was about twenty-five percent sure he was about to get shot in the back, and the final ten percent he left open, just in case he turned into a zombie, or this was all a crazy dream.

When he was about twenty feet from the front doors, he let his arms fall to his side. His head was still pounding, fiercely. Maybe some ibuprofin would be a good idea. Or a popsicle, those always made him feel better.

****

Chris began making his way back toward the grocery side of the store, where the Stratus was parked outside. He found his friends, sitting between two checkout aisles, gorging themselves on candy and gatorade.