The Last Customer (11 page)

Now, scared out of her mind, she pushed herself up from the snack-rack and shuffled toward the bathroom. Something dripped on her. It was cold and wet and hit her forearm like rain drops. It was heavy, thick. It landed halfway between her elbow and her hand. She rubbed her finger in it, smearing it. It looked black against her skin. She brought her finger up to her nose and smelled it. There was a slight metallic odor to it. Maybe it was oil—no. Her eyes went wide. It was blood.

           
She slammed her eyelids shut and tilted her head up. Blood continued to drip on her. It fell on her other arm, her chest, the side of her face. It fell faster now, flowing like a stream. Once her head had completely tilted upward, she opened her eyes. Her lids peeled back. Hazy at first, her vision allowed her to visualize the
thing
hanging from the ceiling. It appeared to be about the size of a heavy duty trash bag and it was black. It started swaying.

Trembling, Cherri continued to open her eyes and then she saw
it.
The blood was coming from Timmy’s eviscerated stomach. A wave of red doused her, entirely causing her to scream. Timmy landed on top of her. Before her head was pinned to the floor, she saw something on the ceiling. Something else was holding Timmy to the ceiling. Then, it fell on her.

           
Timmy’s blood created a pool on the tile floor. His guts spilled on her head. She lost her footing and slipped backward, smashing her head against the floor.

Looking to the right, she saw Timmy’s innards spreading out toward the bathroom door, waving through the blood puddle. Whiteness flashed before she fainted.

3

Garth and Winny stood, silent, in the back office. They slowly slid through another door, to the next room which was more of a closet. Garth grabbed the cordless phone as Winny locked the second door. Space was limited. They could hear each other breathing.

           
The cordless phone sat on the desk near the filing cabinets. A terrifying realization struck Garth after he’d punched 9-1-1 into the keypad. Only silence came from the other end. He set the lifeless phone down and grabbed the back of Winny’s shirt.

           
“We need to get out of here, now. Screw it. Let’s just get as far away as we can, and fast.”

           
Winny stood with his ear pressed against the office door. He turned toward Garth, his eyes squinting. He was annoyed as he asked, “What do you mean?”

           
“Take a wild guess.” He was being sarcastic. “I want to take a walk, get some exercise. Winny…the fucking phone is dead.” Garth barked back. “I say we shift into
holy-shit-mode
and get the hell out of here.”

           
“Okay.” Winny returned. He was unfazed by Garth’s snide remarks and frantic plan. But it was true...they needed to get out.

He reopened the office door and slid into the backroom. He stood next to the cooler entrance, the refrigerated room where they stored beer and soft drinks. The cooler stretched all the way to the back of the store. They headed through the cold dark tunnel. The frigid air oddly soothed them.

They moved past the chilling rows of bottled beer. There were no more screams. Shadows danced in front of the frosted glass doors as they hurried forward. Whatever was going on in the store had gotten worse. Nothing about this night or the last customers was good.

           
When they reached the back, Winny pumped the latch up and swung the door open. A quick breeze of humid air snuck in from outside. They were ever-so-silent as they exited. They both halted when a deep voice spoke to them.

           
“You’re not leaving now, are you? The party just started.” It was the psycho blonde. She cackled in a childish, maniacal fashion.

           
Disturbed, wanting to run, Garth took a quick glimpse at the woman. The strange blonde lady that’d come in with the psycho guy, Sammael.

Hadn’t she been shot
?

There was a hole in her stomach. The outer ridges of the hole were peeled back. Her shirt was burned and dry blood crusted around the hole, but no blood flowed out. Somehow, she’d stopped the bleeding.

Who the hell
are these people?
Garth wondered as he shoved the back door open.

Winny ran outside.

Garth felt Jezebeth’s cold hands wrap around his neck. She pulled him backward, digging her fingernails into the soft skin of his neck. Her grip was intense and it wouldn’t be long before he’d be bleeding. Watching in horrified silence, Garth witnessed Winny round the corner of the store taking-off into the parking lot.
Garth was alone
.

Winny stopped. Garth was terrified. He wanted Winny to keep going. To run until his legs quit. Winny’s life would be endangered if he came back to help. As much as Winny annoyed Garth, the thought of harm coming to his brother was devastating.

The last thing Garth witnessed before he was snatched through the door, with superhuman strength, was Winny’s face. Winny had spun around and was running back toward the rear entrance. But it was too late. The door didn’t open from the outside.

4

Crickets chirped, loons cried, signifying the night was alive. The cornfields held the night’s critters. Breathing heavy, heart pounding, Winny skidded to a halt near the rear entrance. He was sweating. The night air was warm, humid. He grabbed the metal door-handle and attempted to pull it open. He yanked hard, but the door didn’t budged. It was locked, impossible to open from the outside and he didn’t have his keys. The latch locked from the inside. Still, he made an attempt—and failed.

Without hesitation, he sprinted to the front of the store. He slowed when he got to the corner. He didn’t know who or what would be on the other side of the building. It might be an armed robber or it might be a sadistic freak. He didn’t care to meet either, but he needed to get his brother out of trouble. Adrenaline controlled his thoughts. Scared as he was, he wouldn’t let his brother fight alone, even if it meant dying.

The confusion as to
what
these people were and
why
they were here had diminished. Survival was all that mattered and not just for him. Winny and Garth would leave this hell together, or not at all.

           
When he rounded the corner into the parking lot, Winny’s first sight was Terrance, crouched behind the wheel-well of the pick-up truck, near the back of the lot. The truck had to belong to the armed robbers.

On bent knees, he held his pistol between his legs. He was scouting the area. When he saw Winny, he raised the gun, aimed it, but didn’t shoot.

           
“I need to help my brother!” Winny called out. Winny could tell that Terrance was contemplating a return into the store too. His friends were still in there. Whether they were alive or not: Winny didn’t think it looked good. But still,
wouldn’t he want to know?

           
Terrance lowered his gun. He shuffled toward the front doors, gun-in-hand. His strides were hesitant, his legs shaky, and without saying a word, the past—the robbery—
was let go
. Winny harbored no anger toward Terrance and was relieved that he was joining him. They weren’t alone. They had each other. Terrance had a gun and two were better than one. There was strength in numbers.

           
Terrance and Winny shared a quick glance, and then entered the store. There were no words said, there didn’t need to be. Both Terrance and Winny understood that what they needed required partnership. It amazed Winny how quickly two people who had wanted each other dead less than twenty minutes ago, could so quickly unite in the face of adversity.

Chapter 9

1

Garth flailed tirelessly at the amazingly strong hold around his neck. He was being pulled through the cooler between the store area and the office. He fought with all his strength. Kicking and thrashing, he pried at the blonde woman’s fingers. Her fingernails finally ripped through the skin of his throat. Cold streams of blood trickled down his neck and soaked the collar of his shirt. It was cold in the cooler. The stinging pain on his throat was intense, and it was uncomfortable. This woman’s strength was unbelievable. If she applied anymore pressure, she’d rip his head off.

She dragged him through the large wooden office door and into the store area. His feet slid on the rubber heels of his shoes. She began laughing while she pulled him, effortlessly, toward the front entrance. Garth saw his brother and Terrance, enter together through the glass doors.

He couldn’t believe it.

How stupid could Winny be?

           
“Run! Get the hell out of here!” Garth screamed before the woman clamped down on his throat. His screams were cut short, turned into muffled winces, gags. She was going to crush his larynx. Her strength was unimaginable.

Garth watched Terrance raise his pistol, with shaky hands. Garth closed his eyes. The gun fired, seconds later the blonde woman’s grip loosened, her hand falling from his neck.

Garth dropped to the floor. He scrambled forward, darting away from her. Looking back, he saw that she’d been shot in the shoulder. With wide eyes, he watched as her hips began to sway in a fluid manner.
Was she having a seizure?
She looked like a snake as she slithered down the fourth aisle. She rounded the corner near the cooler like a fish in a fresh water stream, and then she was gone again.

Terrance fired his weapon at her until the chamber was dry.

           
“What the fuck is going on!
 
I shot that bitch. She can’t be moving,” Terrance screamed. In a fit of rage, he threw his gun into the back aisle.
As if hitting her with his pistol would stop her.
The gun arched upward, fell from sight but it didn’t hit the ground. There was no crash. The gun didn’t hit the floor because there was only silence. It was as if it was suspended in air. Everyone stood silent, continuing to anticipate the crash of metal on tile. It didn’t happen.

Scrambling backward, Winny, Garth and Terrance attempted to run. They stopped when Sammael lurched up from behind the last aisle. He lunged across the store. Garth watched, amazed, as Sammael leapt nearly twenty feet and landed, on his feet, in front of Terrance.

           
Sammael stood, smiling at the three of them. They tried to back up. They reached for the front door. A shuffling sound emerged from in back. Barely visible from behind Sammael, Cherri emerged, sliding, belly down, across the tile. Judging by how fast she’d slid, Garth assumed that someone had thrown her. She was covered in blood. Terrance stepped forward, his focus directly on her.

           
“Cherri?”

           
“Help! He killed Timmy. They’ll kill us too.” She sobbed while prying herself off the floor. “We need to get out.” She’d gotten to her feet quick enough, but her balance was off. Her whole body quaked. Her feet slid on the blood soaked tiling. She slipped then caught her balance. Her knees knocked. She didn’t see Sammael standing in front of her.

           
Sammael turned, laughing, while he watched Cherri stumble forward. He winked at Winny, shook his head, and slowly stepped toward Cherri.

           
“I’m sorry, was that your boyfriend I split in half? Don’t worry, you’ll get over him soon enough.” He turned, smiled, and winked at Terrance, Winny and Garth. Then, he swung back toward Cherri. “You’re too good for him. He was a loser and you knew that. You’ve known that for a long time. Hell, you’re kind of a loser too. Technically, I shouldn’t kill you. I’m going to…but that’s beside the point. You’re a dumbass, a loser, and a guy like me…likes a gal like you…to make the world a shittier place. So, actually, I’m doing a good deed here, by killing you. I should be rewarded somehow…you know what I mean?”

           
Garth couldn’t move. He was frozen and he was disturbingly intrigued by Sammael’s maniacally deranged charm as he spoke to Cherri. His humor was offsetting.

Garth turned. He was about to slam the front door open, when he stopped, looked in the reflection of the glass. His mouth drooped into an O-shape. He was terrified. Jezebeth was crawling across the ceiling. She moved fast and
gracefully .
The ceiling tile broke and fell as she pumped her arms and legs forward. Garth spun around. Before he could look up, Sammael smiled at him and said, “Her name is Jezebeth. Isn’t that a pretty name? Almost as pretty as the girl who’s body she took.” He broke into a fit of mad laughter.

           
Garth took off. He ducked behind aisle one. He dove. When he came up, he was holding a can of baked beans. He drew his arm back and lobbed the can at Jezebeth. It soared toward her as she crawled toward the window, then down it. The can smashed into her face. There was a hollow sounding thump. She fell forward, smacking the top of her head on the floor.

She jumped to her feet. Her face bled profusely from a long jagged tear down the middle of her forehead. Her eye was twitching, but she was smiling; laughing sadistically.

           
Garth was distracted, when Terrance expelled a guttural scream. The agonizing yelp stabbed Garth’s ears. It sounded like a dog having its hind legs run over by a pick-up truck.

Looking past Jezebeth, toward the front of the store, Garth watched-on amazed and confused, as a long snake-like arm punched out from Sammael’s chest. It shot nearly four feet forward. It ripped through Terrance’s neck. Blood flung everywhere like a bloody sprinkler system. The snake whipped through his flesh and Terrance’s head jumped from his neck and spun in circles. It thumped onto the floor. Blood sprayed in every direction. The head looked unreal, as though it were made of wax. Tiny veins shot gore in all directions.