Our Undead (34 page)

Her sleepless zombie friend
turns his gaze in her direction at the sound of her
voice.

Margaret:
I'm too well rested, Abe. We sat on our butts and played
video games all day.

Abe moves around in his
lounger a little. It looks like he's fixing himself in it to hear
Margaret better, but not really.

Margaret:
Can I ask you a question?

She gets the standard
reaction from him, but it doesn't stop her from proceeding. She
gets up energetically and sits on the long edge of the beach chair,
facing Abe.

Margaret:
Being a zombie yourself, how do
you
feel about all of this
slaughtering of your people going on?… Billy and I have murdered
plenty of zombies, right in front of you even. It doesn't bother
you? Was it hard killing that zombie, your own kind, just to save
me? Is the term zombie offensive to you people? Oh no, not people…
Ghouls? Walkers? Living dead? Flesh eaters? Do you even like being
a zombie?… Is it fun?… If some sort of cure were found, would you
want to become human again?…

Margaret watches as Abe
slowly opens his mouth. The inside of it has gone through its fair
share of decaying. His teeth are blackish green, and a dark inky
mucus stretches like elastics on the inside of it. Margaret squints
inquisitively, expecting that he is actually about to say
something, but nothing comes up from his gullet. He simply repeats
the motion of opening and closing his mouth. Margaret chuckles at
him.

Margaret:
I appreciate the effort.

She gets to her feet and
strokes Abe affectionately from the crown of his head to his cheek
and chin.

Margaret:
Nice chattin' with ya, but I think I'll practice killing some
more of your kin.. your fictional kin.

She leaves Abe and goes
over where the beanbag chairs are set up, takes a seat on Billy's
and turns the Inhabitant Devil game back on.

Margaret:
Since I can't get any sleep, I might as well get some
practice. I'm sick of that little brat making fun of
me.

She pushes start and begins
playing the game. She plays with no sign of getting tired for a
good twenty minutes.

Margaret:
AH! Gotcha, ya bastard! I am seriously getting the hang of
this, Billy. You're gonna be sooo proud.

She delightfully kills a
few more of the infected inhabitants on the screen, and then a
couple more, cutting them down with a virtual AK-47.

Margaret:
Oh, shit! What the hell is that?!

Some giant bear-like
monstrosity with tentacles coming out of it's ears, appears on the
screen and lets out a paralyzing roar, deep and
ferocious.

Margaret:
Yea, right. How am I supposed to kill
this
thing?

The freak of nature on the
screen lets out another deep bellow, but something feels a bit off,
and Margaret pauses the game. The scream had sounded like it had
been harmonized with its higher octave. They have no speakers set
up, so she can't blame it on surround sound. She is most certain
that it was a cry separate from the game.

Instantly, she can feel her
chest becoming heavier and her heart begin to pump faster as she
sits listening to the silence of the department store. Soon, she is
certain that she hears something, but it isn't a scream or a
shriek. It's more of a low shuffling, and it is slowly but surely
getting louder.

She quickly drops the
controller and takes a lit oil lamp to the front of the store. When
she nears the checkout counters, she slows down and keeps the light
low. With the glare, it's still hard to see out the front, so she
sets the light down by checkout 10 and walks up to the very front
of the store to look out of the window without it. She peers into
the darkness outside and thinks she sees something but can't really
be sure with the light from the lamp behind her reflecting on the
glass. When she moves over to the right a few steps to past the
reflecting light, her fast pumping heart nearly stops.

Before her and the store,
an enormous horde of the undead approach from about one hundred and
sixty feet away. Margaret doesn't take notice of her, but in the
lead walks a female zombie with long dark hair that covers most of
her face. She leads the rest like a battalion.

Margaret:
Oh, God.

Margaret darts back to
Billy as fast as possible, scooping up the oil lamp on the
way.

Margaret:
BILLY!!! BILLY, GET UP!!!

The ever-ready boy already
has his eyes open when Margaret reaches him and nearly trips over
the lounger he is laying down on.

Billy:
What's…

Margaret:
Get up! We have to leave.
Right
now!

Billy:
Okay, okay. Just.. slow down, and tell me what's going
on.

Margaret:
There're a ton of zombies outside coming directly for us. We
have to go,
now!

Billy gets up and starts
getting his things together, while pulling as much information from
Margaret as he can. The panicked girl does the same, picking up her
new knapsack and getting Abe up to his feet.

Billy:
From what direction, and from how far away?

Margaret:
As far as I know, they're only coming from the front, and we
probably have about-

Her sentence is interrupted
by the same shriek she had heard before. It is much louder than the
first time, and they both feel as if the devil's hand has just
grabbed their souls and squeezed them tightly. It's the sound that
comes next that gets them going again, the sound of rolling
thunder.

Margaret:
They're on the window!

Billy:
I
know. Stay calm. Bring Abe to the back exit, leave him and your bag
there, and meet me in the automotive section.
Go!

Without another word,
Margaret leaves, pulling Abe sloppily behind her. She makes her way
past all of the aisles, heading toward the hall that leads to the
back, and her peripherals catch the movement of something to her
right. She can't help but stop and look down one aisle to the front
of the building, and when she does, she witnesses hundreds of
walking rotting flesh bags pounding on the front windows. It's
almost as mesmerizing as it is terrifying. Billy is a few seconds
behind her and comes running up.

Billy:
MARGARET,
RUN!

He blazes past her, and she
snaps back into herself. She continues to the back exit.

Billy runs past the
clothing section and grabs a bag of underwear, ripping it open and
stuffing a couple of pairs in his back pocket. He winds up, not in
the automotive department, but in the outdoor cooking section. A
quick look around, and he locates the propane tanks.

Margaret makes it to the
back door, which is located through a pair of double doors at the
end of a long hallway. She drops her bag, grabs Abe by both arms,
looks him in the eyes and speaks in staccato.

Margaret:
Abe. Stay. Here.

With that, she takes off to
meet Billy in the automotive department.

Meanwhile, Billy drags two
propane tanks, one in each hand, down the back main aisle he had
just whizzed through. He stops at aisle three and rolls the first
tank down it. He too can't help but look up and see the super gang
that is trying to break through the glass windows and doors. When
he gets to aisle nine, he repeats the process, sending the second
tank rolling down it, then he takes off to the store's garage.
Margaret is almost right behind him as she rounds the corner and
speeds down the same back aisle.

When she catches up to
Billy, he is in the middle of filling up a red canister with a long
black tube that stretches from a pumping system.

Margaret:
Another fire?

Billy:
It's the best way to take out a group of those things, and
there's a lot of them. I don't know if it'll work, but hopefully
it'll stop most of them and give us enough time to make some
distance between us.

By the end of his sentence,
he finishes filling the second can.

Billy:
Take these and spread the gas as best you can up and down the
aisles.

Margaret:
Okay.

Margaret grabs a can in
each hand and runs back into the store.

Billy:
BE
CAREFUL NOT TO GET ANY ON YOURSELF!!!

Back in the main section of
the store, Margaret places one can down and runs through the
closest aisle, splattering gas on the floor and all over the
shelves. She looks at the front window worriedly as she makes her
way round the front of this first aisle and makes her way back up
the next, still spreading gas. The sight is extremely intimidating,
especially with the thundering rumble on the window, and the
muffled but clear sound of the barks and snarls calling from the
other side of the glass.

About three quarters of the
way back up the next aisle, the first tank of gas empties. She
drops it and runs to grab the next one. The moment she places her
hand on the handle, she hears a mighty crash and then a few more.
Billy comes running in from the garage.

Margaret:
They're inside!

Billy:
I
know! Keep moving!

He runs by her, drops a can
and heads down one of the aisles to spread gasoline. She continues
as well, spreading gas down another aisle while the walking undead
stumble over each other and in through the window to reach her. She
isn't even able to make it down the whole aisle before zombies have
entered it. It might have been hopeless had the zombies been
organized, but they walk thoughtlessly into each other and
practically get jammed in the mouth of the aisle in their attempt
to get to her. She throws the empty can at them and runs for the
back.

Billy spreads gasoline
throughout another aisle further along the rows. Fortunately, he is
able to make it all the way to the front of one and start heading
back up another, before zombies have the chance to invade them.
They are, however, not too far behind him as he begins splashing
more fluid along the floor and shelves that stand on either side of
him. Another piercing scream cuts through the air, distinct from
the rest of the growling, but this time Billy is able to keep
himself composed, steadily running and dispersing gasoline.
Margaret appears at the end of his aisle toward the back of the
store.

Margaret:
HURRY!! THEY'RE RIGHT BEHIND YOU!!

Yet again, a high-pitched
scream bellows out from the undead ranks as Billy's tank of gas
empties. He chucks it to the side and sprints to meet up Margaret,
but before he reaches her, he takes a second to look over his
shoulder at what is chasing him. The perceptive young boy notices a
female walker with both of her hands raised to the sky in anger.
She growls ferociously, not just at her fellow zombies, but she
seems to be directing the majority of her fury at Billy and
Margaret. There is something strange about her, nevertheless, Billy
catches up to and runs with Margaret to the back, while grabbing
the last gas can along the way.

He continues to pour gas
everywhere, all the way up to the back door where Abe and
Margaret's bag are still waiting for them, then he takes an arrow
out of his knapsack and wraps one of the briefs that he stored in
his back pocket around the arrow's tip.

Margaret:
Come on, Billy! Come on! Come on!

Billy:
I'm
okay. Take Abe, and get out of here. Get as far away from the
building as you can.

Margaret:
Just throw a stick of dynamite!

Billy:
We
need more time than a stick of dynamite can afford.
Just go!

She listens and takes Abe
and her bag out the backdoor. Billy takes his bow off his knapsack,
dips the tip of the arrow wrapped in underwear into the pool of
gasoline and lights it with a lighter pulled from his pocket. He
pulls back, takes aim at the double doors at the end of the
temporarily empty hallway and waits, arrow ablaze.

Only a few seconds pass
until the mad group of zombies break through the double doors and
start making their way down the hallway toward the little archer.
The frightening female zombie, that seems to be some sort of
leader, is still in front of the advancing army. Billy takes a deep
breath to center himself and fires the arrow. It buzzes past all of
their heads, through the double doors, and hits a zombie in the far
back near the rear of the group inside the main area of the store.
The clothe around the tip prevents it from sticking in the beast,
and both the arrow and flaming underwear fall to the gasoline
soaked floor. Immediately, flames rise up and ignite every area
touched by Margaret and Billy's gasoline efforts. Billy sees tips
of fire begin to whiplash and dance over the heads of the
approaching undead beyond the double doors, so feeling like his
plan has worked, he nods and leaves out the back door.