Sam Williams - Tales from the Swollen Corpse

“Thanks Danny, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Heather said sarcastically from behind me. I turned as she wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her back; surprisingly I felt a big relief knowing she was here and safe. I guess I was more worried than I wanted to think about.

Barb walked over to us and quickly filled in the rest of the blanks. She wasn’t as colorful a story teller as Dan. She said when the guys had Nicole pinned, she nipped Hec. Larry saw it on his hand when he and Hec were blocking the door after they let Heather in. Larry and Hec were about to kill each other when Barb put ’em in check just as me and Ryan got here. She didn’t answer all my questions though; what the fuck was Heather doing with a gun?

Looking down into deceivingly innocent eyes, I asked, “Babe where’d you get a gun?”

“Off a dead cop at the gas station.” She said.

“What?” I ask.

“I was out of gas; there was no way I would have made it here from work. I was lucky the pay at the pump was working.”

When no more elaboration came I gave up and just asked where the gun was.

Pointing, she said, “It’s on the counter.”

We all look over to where she’s pointing and see an empty counter.

“Bang!” Everyone ducked and Heather grabbed me again.

Running over we saw Hector sitting completely still against the wall. The gun was in his lap and a red mural was painted in blood and brains on the wall behind him. His head was down and he was dripping from where his face used to be was.

“Fuck, I think that was the last bullet.” Heather said just loud enough for me to hear.

Letting go of Heather, I got an apron off the counter and laid it over Hector’s bloody face and torso. Barb bent over and grabbed one of his arms and a leg. Her eyes were watery and she was on the verge of tears. She asked me to help her carry him to the break room, I obliged without a word.

Inside the break room, tables and chairs were overturned with blood, body parts and bodies strewn about. If it wasn’t for the smell you would have thought it was a movie set. We laid Hector on the floor next to the couch with Nicole.

“I hope Larry’s happy.” Barb said as she closed the door behind us. Her face was sad and remorseful but there was a rage building behind her voice.

Up front, Heather was sitting on one of the counters, rambling on about a movie with a “zombie-causing comet” that she saw when she was a kid. Both Ryan and Dan are standing looking enthralled, they’re acting like this is the first they ever heard of the movie. Everyone’s seen that movie; they used to play it on channel thirteen a couple times a year.

“Dan could you get Larry, he should be in the office.” Barb’s voice broke Heather’s spell on the guys.

Dan said, “Sure thing,” and headed off.

Barb stood there quietly for a few seconds; she seemed to be getting herself back together.

“Well so far, sitting tight and waiting for help hasn’t been going so well. I am open to suggestions.”

With arms folded and looking away from us, Barb waited for a response. Heather, Ryan, and I looked at each other then Ryan spoke up.

“One or all of us could go to the roof and keep an eye out for help.”

“That’s not a bad idea, I have… where’s Larry?” Barb looked at Dan who had just showed up looking concerned.

“He wasn’t there, don’t know.” Dan shrugged.

Barb picked up one of the phones to page him when we all heard the familiar hum of the forklift out front.

“What the hell!” Barb slammed the phone down.

We rushed to the door to see, but were greeted by faces. A crowd of ugly was outside. The dead in the front were being smashed up against the glass unable to move. One, with the side of its face pinned to the glass, was watching Dan with one eye. Dan was having fun with it by playing peek-a-boo, dipping up and down behind the tool box in front of the door. He stopped when Barb smacked him on the back of the head. Ryan jumped up on the tool box and was able to see out.

“It’s Larry and he’s on the forklift. I think he’s trying to get to his car.”

“He really is crazy.” Barb said, looking up at Ryan with the rest of us.

“The crowd stretches through the parking lot and he’s just plowing through ’em. Whenever one tries to climb on he knocks them off with the axe handle. I don’t know how he’s going to get from the lift to his jalopy.”

Dan tried to climb up on the tool box but it rocked and seemed too unstable for both of them.

“Oh shit! He had one between the forks and it went down. He tried to drive over it and almost turned the damn lift over. He’s stopped, now he’s backing up. He’s going too slowly, they’re rushing him, shit the lift is covered, and they got him for sure. He’s still backing up, fuck me, he’s…he’s past lights!” Quickly Ryan jumps down. “Everyone get the fuck out of the way, he’s not stopping!”

We all ran past the registers. I stopped off to the side of an aisle when I heard the crash. In an explosion of glass, the backend of the lift came through the door like a battling ram, sending the tool boxes flying and leaving an oil slick of blood. The lift toppled over, coming to rest on its side and pinning some dead. A few that had held on were munching on what was left of Larry. A few had fallen off but had already gotten back up and a procession was coming through what was left of the door.

Barb walked over and picked up Larry’s axe which had fallen from the lift onto the floor. She retrieved her keys from her pocket and threw them to me.

“Get everyone to the roof, I’ll buy you some time.” With her overalls and the axe in hand she looked like an angry female Paul Bunyan.

“Don’t be stupid, come on, come with us!” I yelled over the noise of zombies tripping over debris.

Looking red in the face she yelled back, “Get everyone to the fucking roof!”

Needing no more encouragement, I grabbed Heather’s hand and we ran towards the back with Ryan and Dan just behind us. As we got closer to the double doors we could hear a lot of racket on the other side. Each door had a little window to keep people from running into each other. Standing at a safe distance, we watched as Ryan peeked through one.

“Son of a bitch!” he screamed, just as the door opened a little and a decomposed arm stuck through. Ryan pushed but the arm blocked it from shutting all the way. I rushed over and helped Ryan push against the door. The arm wouldn’t give and more must have been on the other side because it started to get harder and harder to keep the door shut. I thought how lucky we were the other door is latched; since usually we leave it open to drag pallets in and out.

“That old asshole left the roll up wide open. The back’s full of zombies. I don’t know how we’re going to get to the ladder now.” Ryan pushed against the door.

Dan grabbed the arm by the wrist and told us to open the door just enough to let it through. Ryan told him to “f off” but I said if we don’t get it shut we won’t be able to pretty soon. We count to three and let the door open just enough for Dan to pull the dead guy through, then slam it as soon as he’s clear. Dan had the guy by the arm and spun him, slamming it into the wall. The dead guy bounced against the wall then fell to the floor, where Dan proceeded to kick the zombie’s head to a pulp with his steel toed boots.

When the thing stopped moving and each kick started sounding mushy Ryan yelled, “I think ya got ’em Dan,.” with a hint of concern. “Can you find me a two by four or something to put between the handles?”

Dan ran over to the table saw. He stopped to look at the mess we left, then came running back with a piece of wood. Ryan tried it and it fit through the door handles perfect. We cautiously stood back to make sure it held and it did.