Don't Dare Call Them Zombies : Books 1-4 (4 page)

 
Chapter 3

I remembered that earlier, before the power went out, the newsman on the television had said the infected individuals carried some kind of contagion. No one else in the store, as far as I knew, had been in direct contact with the freaks. This could be serious.

When we reached the break room everyone was focused on the television that now had power.

A local station was showing footage that had been shot in New York City. It showed a number of police officers firing their pistols at a wave of freaks coming towards them. Round after round of ammunition was fired at the freaks. Most of their shots did nothing to slow down the creatures approaching them. Just like officer Harvey had told us, to kill a freak you had to shoot it in the head.

I eventually decided I had seen enough. I needed to speak to the group. I set down the flashlights and batteries on the table beside me.

“Everyone, listen up,” I said. Only a few heads turned, so I spoke again more loudly.

“Listen up, everyone!” Almost everyone in the room looked at me.

I paused for a moment and then began to speak.

“We have to get organized if
we’re going to survive. Night is going to be coming in a few hours, and the generator is eventually going to run out of fuel. We have to start getting prepared.”

“Who put you in charge?” the short, plump lady I had helped at the meat counter demanded.

Before I could respond, Ms. Suzy looked at me pleadingly. “What do you think we should do?”

“Look
everyone, I’m not saying I’m in charge. I just know Mr. Humphries is occupied, and we’re going to have to get organized, because we don’t know how long this crisis will last,” I said, frustrated that I had to be organizing things.

Katie was sitting down
at the table. She looked up at me and asked, “Answer Ms. Suzy, what do you think we should do? What is your plan?”

I was being trusted by some of the people, and felt responsibility to meet that trust.

“Well, there are some things we need to get done. We have to prepare for when the generator fails. I don’t want people panicking when it goes out later tonight. Everyone needs to make sure they have a flashlight with them. Just try not to shine them through any of the windows. The light could attract the freaks out there,” I said.

I continued to lay out a plan for our survival. Bobby, Mr. Allen, and a few of the customers would work to make the front of the store more secure. While they secured the front of the store, Juanita would clear out part of the stockr
oom. We needed the space for people to try and sleep tonight, if of course anyone could sleep at all.

In addition, I suggested Ms. Suzy and Mindy should set up some tables in the stockroom.
 Once they were done, they should find every battery and flashlight in the store and take them there. We would need the light. Jill’s job would be to gather some hot food from the deli and take it to the break room for everyone. Even in a zombie . . . well . . . “freak” apocalypse, people have to eat.

I distributed other tasks as well. We needed someone to search for weapons we could use just in case the freaks got inside, someone that would constantly watch the television in case there was news, and someone to cover Fred’s body on aisle 13.

Giving orders was not what I was used to doing. I was much better at following them. However, for the most part, employees and customers alike followed my suggestions. Everyone who was given a task went off to do what I had instructed. Almost everyone else stayed in the break room watching the television.

I quietly told the man and his wife who just entered the store to follow me. I guided them into the meat department and then explained the situation.

“They have said on the news that those things out there are infected with some type of disease or virus. It’s supposed to be contagious. I can see your wife has been bitten. I won’t say anything to anyone about it, but we need to clean that wound, immediately,” I said.

The woman clutched her daughter
as she looked up at her husband desperately. “I can’t be infected. I just can’t be. He must be wrong!”

“I hope I am,” I said, very honestly.

I reached into Mr. Allen’s desk and pulled out a bottle of peroxide and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Try to get a
s much of this into the wound as possible. Hopefully, it will prevent her from catching whatever they have. But if she starts to seem sick, please tell me immediately,” I instructed.

The husband had his wife sit in a chair. I saw the bite on her leg. It wa
s not severe, no huge chunk of flesh was missing, but some freak’s teeth had indeed pierced her skin. Before he actually poured on the peroxide I left the room, not wanting see her in pain.

I then walked around the store trying to figure out my next move.
I had watched a lot of zombie movies in my life; now the fictional nightmares they presented had turned into reality. My mind raced as tried to come up with the next part of my plan.

I was walking past the flower shop when I saw the door to the stairwell
that led to the roof.

Instantly, I walked towards it. I ignored the “do not open” sign, and opened the door quickly, propping it open with a box. I climbed the stairs until I reached a hatch that led to the roof. It was difficult to open, since it was onl
y used when the roof needed repairs, or when the air conditioners required service. After some tugging and pushing, I finally opened it up and pulled myself onto the roof of the store.

It was still daylight, but in a few hours night would fall. Carefully w
alking on the almost flat roof, I tried to get an idea of my surroundings. Behind the store, near our dumpsters, there were only a couple of the freaks lurking around. They hobbled slowly in what seemed like a state of confusion. In front of the store, however there were a couple of dozen of the freaks wandering around in the parking lot. Thankfully, most of them had given up on trying to break into the store. Only a couple was pressing their faces against the glass doors and windows.

On either side of the
store there were woods, and a few shops and stores were present on the opposite side of the road. One of them the barber shop where I often went to get my hair cut. Squinting, I could just barely make out someone peering out of its front window.

Could th
at be Jennifer?

I was trying to get a better look at the shop when I saw the curtains move to the side, and a sign appear in the window.

“HELP,” was the only word displayed.

Whoever it was inside the barbershop had seen me on the roof. The sign vanished
and I could see a figure in the window waving at me.

If that was Jennifer, or any one of the other ladies who worked there, I could do nothing to help her. There were at least fifty freaks between Grocery World and the barber shop. Although they seemed t
o move slowly, they were still deadly.

There were a few abandoned cars in the road, but absolutely no traffic whatsoever. Other than a few distant grunts and growls from the freaks, it was very quiet.

As I stood on the roof I caught the smell of smoke. Only a mile away there were a number of businesses and neighborhoods. If the chaos in my town was as bad as we had seen in New York City on the TV, there could be many fires around

I went back down through the hatch, closed it, and walked down the stairs.
Once back in the store I headed straight to the break room. My stomach was telling me it was time to eat. I walked in and saw platters of hot wings and chicken fingers on the table. There were also tubs of coleslaw and potato salad.

For a moment I almost
sat down, but I then hesitated. It might not look good for me to be sitting on the job; I was trying to keep this place organized, after all. Still standing, I took a Styrofoam plate and scooped some potato salad on it. I tried to hurry and scarf down several bites.

“How can you eat with all this going on?” asked Ms. Suzy, as she stood at the doorway.

“I can’t work if I’m hungry,” I said. “You know I can get low blood sugar.”

She sat down and put her head in her hands.

“I have to get out of here,” she said with a low voice, as if talking to herself.

“There is nowhere to go right now.”

“You don’t understand!” she said loudly with an angry tone in her voice. “I have two grandchildren and a daughter at home. I can’t leave them alone in a time like this. What if they need me?” Ms. Suzy’s face was a picture of grief.

“If you try to get to them and end up dead in the process, it
won’t do them one bit of good.” I responded.

“What about your mother? Don’t you want to find her?” she responded.

“Of course I do, but before I go out there I must have some sort of plan, or something.”

Looking at her desperate face I continued. “I have just been on the roof and I saw tons of those freaks out there. Without some kind of plan, going out there would be
suicide. I don’t want to get killed.”

Ms. Suzy stood up and walked towards the woman’s restroom. When she got to the door she just stood there leaning against it.

“Hang in there, Ms. Suzy.” I tried to sound encouraging, even though I had no real idea how we were going to survive. “We’re going to get through this. We just need to stay focused on getting through the night.”

I realized my words did almost nothing to console her.

A moment later I grabbed a grape soda that was on the table, and I stood up and walked out the room.

For the next couple hours I tried to make sure that everyone, at least everyone who was willing, had something to do to keep them busy. A lot of work was accomplished in a short amount of time. Fabric was draped over the boards we had
nailed up in hopes it would block any light from inside that might attract the freaks. Also, an assortment of weapons, mostly knives and blunt objects, was placed on one of the registers.

Of course some people were doing their own thing. The short, fat la
dy that earlier wanted me to reduce steaks for her was looking through the front office. In a normal situation I would have told her to get out of there right away, but I realized that now money may not mean anything at all, and I said nothing. When she saw me looking at her, she left the office.

Nightfall came quickly. To conserve power usage I turned off some of the lights in the store. I also suggested that everyone, except those who would be monitoring the front entrance, stay in the back of the store.
We didn’t want our voices to attract the freaks.

For the first few hours of darkness, everything went as well as could be hoped. There was a total of twenty-seven of us, all together. We ate a meal prepared by Jill, and then watched the television. It re-
confirmed things were bad and getting worse. One of the local stations went off the air after a number of freaks managed to break their way inside their studio. The camera continued to roll as the creatures grabbed the screaming newsman and started to chew on him. We changed the channel.

The only local station still broadcasting provided us with a detailed review of the situation. Martial law was now in effect across the entire nation, but the military was seemingly doing little to help the situation. The n
umber of freaks was simply increasing too rapidly. For some reason, perhaps related to the meteor shower, the outbreak started on the east coast of the United States. But now it was spreading to the west coast as well. There were also reports of the outbreak in Europe as well.

From a local perspective, Sandy Hills was being hit hard by the outbreak -- as well as neighboring cities and towns. Although the police department was doing their best to try and eradicate the freaks, it was reported that half of th
eir officers were either dead, or missing.

According to what the government was saying, the contagion responsible for the outbreak was transmitted by a transfer of bodily fluids such as saliva or blood. What we were told next confirmed what we
didn’t want to believe. After inducing a high fever, the infected person actually dies. The person’s heart stops and death takes place. But only minutes to hours later, the corpse reanimates; it then has a hunger for warm flesh. After reanimation, the only way to kill the freak would be to destroy the brain. A gunshot would work, or a sharp blow crushing the skull would do the job.

The dimly lit stock room was quiet. Almost no one was speaking. I decided to go back to the roof and take another look outside. I asked
Mr. Allen to go with me.

It was very dark outside. There was no moon out that night, and the sky was cloudy; despite my efforts, I
couldn’t see a single star. The smell of smoke was also stronger, and I was sure a fire was burning not too far away.

“There
is someone over there in that barbershop,” I said. “It might be Jennifer.”

“You mean that girl you tried to date?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t she ignore you to chase after some other guy?”