Mall Walkers Contest |
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Eating Out
by Kelley Kombrinck
Cheryl pushed shells into the shotgun's chamber and worked the pump. Crouching there behind the counter of the Pretzel Hut she tried her radio one last time.
"Norm, Steven, where are you?" It was just as she'd feared; no answer from the other guards, only an empty, crackling static. She set the radio aside and took a deep breath. "Alright then, here we go." With a snap she stood up behind the counter, socking the shotgun into her shoulder. She expected to be surrounded immediately but incredibly her presence went completely unnoticed. The reason for this was horribly clear.
It was dinnertime in the food court and the feeding was good.
Cheryl stood frozen watching in shocked horror as the undead leisurely feasted upon their treasure trove of helpless shoppers. The mall had been as unsafe from the zombie invasion as everywhere else in town. The plague had spread through it like a brushfire as each new victim of the hungry dead awoke to their own un-life with a ravening appetite.
She looked on dreamily until a piercing scream broke her reverie. It came from an elderly woman lying in a booth to her right. Cheryl had initially thought her dead but dead lungs couldn't make a noise like that. She had passed out and awoke to find a pallid fellow grunting softly as he gnawed into the soft flesh of her armpit.
With practiced ease Cheryl swung the shotgun in the direction of the old lady's booth and fired, taking off the top three quarters of the feeding zombie's head. His twitching body fell to the floor and became still. The old woman, bleeding but alive looked to her with gratitude but Cheryl sighed grimly and aimed at the woman's head.
"Sorry." She pumped the shotgun and fired. It was a mercy killing really. The old lady was bitten and as good as undead.
The shooting had alerted the other zombie's to Cheryl's presence. Vapid, gore-streaked faces turned in her direction, their current meals forgotten in favor of the warm flesh before them. The food court, she realized, had been a bad spot to reload. As the stinking mob lurched towards her she began to count them. 1, 5, 15...more than she could hold off with her remaining shots.
Cheryl vaulted the counter, deciding to break for the mall's thoroughfare. She raised the gun and aimed at a zombie whose naked ribcage glared through a tear in his shirt, and fired. His lower jaw disappeared in a flash and he hit the floor. She took two steps in that direction when a female zombie pushing a mercifully empty baby carriage rushed clumsily at her. Cheryl worked the pump and fired again. Her aim was uncanny and its head exploded in a gray haze spraying her with flesh confetti. She kicked at the still rolling baby carriage and pumped the gun. The zombies were closing on her with alarming speed. Her chances of reaching the hall were now very slim. Desperately she looked around trying to find the most likely spot to break through. Just a few feet to her right a group of teenage zombies in low-slung sweatpants and basketball jerseys began to chuckle in breathless voices. Suddenly her desperation turned to fury. She fired wildly into the swaggering teenagers (fulfilling a long-time secret fantasy) killing them all. That's when she saw Norm slip into the nearby men's restroom.
With a breath of relief she sprinted in that direction. BLAM! The shotgun roared shearing the head off of a nasty creature that got in her way. She skirted the food court keeping close to the eateries using her remaining rounds to pick off zombies that ventured too close. She reached the restroom and hurried in, leaning against the door and taking several deep breaths.
"Norm, thank God I found you." She saw his feet through the opening below the first stall and grinned.
Even zombies couldn't keep nature from making a call.
"We have to try to barricade this door."
The stall opened and Norm stumbled out, his face peeled halfway down his skull in a flap. Startled but unsurprised, Cheryl held the empty shotgun like a bludgeon awaiting his inevitable attack.
"Well," she thought as she swung the gun, "At least he can't fire me for insubordination."
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