Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

To his left were the registers and photo development area. Much of the products hanging on the walls-film, batteries, more candy, magazines-were still there, untouched. He crept farther into the store, the rubber soles of his hiking boots squeaking as he skirted the piles of trash on the floor.

He noticed congealed blood pooled between several aisles. Down one lane, it looked like a skirmish had occurred, with a jumble of bloody footprints layered on top of one another and thick ropy splatters of red sprayed against a display of vacuum cleaner bags and humidifiers. Several shelves in the area had collapsed.

Jeff tried to detect any sounds that might hint of anyone still in residence in the drugstore, but he heard nothing except his own breathing. Gritting his teeth, he moved deeper into the gloom.

He found an overturned shopping cart and righted it. Pushing it along, he moved through the more well stocked aisles, grabbing anything that looked even remotely useful.

Jeff snatched up bandages, aspirin, allergy medicine, deodorant, hydrogen peroxide, razors, shaving cream, tampons (stifling a giggle as he did), and anything else within reach. He filled the metal cart and built up speed, the flashlight jammed in an armpit as he grabbed snacks and cases of soda. Unfortunately, there was no food of any real substance, but they had already collected quite a few canned goods from the house in which they had hidden the night before.

He glanced at his watch: three more minutes before Megan started freaking out. He was still staring at the timepiece when the contents of a shelf next to his head crashed down on him.

The flashlight clattered to the floor, and Jeff let out an involuntary squeal and dove forward. He thought he felt a hand touching his shoulder when several bags of chips and boxes of cookies fell on him. In his mad, blind dash, he slammed into another shelf and nearly sent it teetering over. He tried to keep his balance, but tripped on something between his feet and sprawled headlong, landing on palms and knees and then sliding across the floor.

Quickly rolling over, he scooted backwards in a crab-like fashion, trying to get a fix on his location. The flashlight was still rolling, its light pointing away from him. Jeff moved his hand back and forth across the floor until he found a small cardboard box. He grabbed it, cocking his arm back, ready to launch it at anything that came forward in the darkness.

He could hear something over the pounding of blood in his ears, but barely. It sounded like scurrying and scratching. Although there was no moaning, Jeff had learned not to rely on that as the only indicator that he was in the presence of a predator.

His pupils dilated as he absorbed all the dim light available and looked out in front of him. He tried to scan for any looming shapes and saw none. After giving his breathing another thirty seconds to return to normal, he quietly stood and moved back to the shopping cart and fallen flashlight. Picking up the Maglite, he pointed it toward the shelf.

It only took a few moments to discover the culprit. Jeff smiled in spite of himself as he saw several shredded Fritos bags with small teeth marks on them. A rat, or perhaps a squirrel, had taken up residence in the abandoned store. He took a deep breath, trying to throttle back on the adrenaline. Gripping the shopping cart, he headed toward the pharmacy counter.

After a quick leap over the counter, he scanned the medications. It took a minute or so to find some of the drugs he knew would be useful. He tossed bottle after bottle over the counter at the cart. When he had cleared out as much as he could, he launched himself back over the counter. His cart filled, Jeff was about to head back to the front when he noticed more bloody footprints off to his left. They led to a swinging door marked Employees Only. It was next to the pharmacy and probably led back to the store’s stock room. He recalled a door outside near the drive through that must have served as a loading dock.

The debate in his head on whether he should risk taking a look lasted a scant two seconds. Leaving the cart, Jeff moved to the door. He flipped off the flashlight and stood and listened.

He held the flashlight like a club, but he doubted anyone was back there. They would have responded to all the noise his clumsy fall had caused. Then he remembered the menacing giant from the day before. The creature had been far too busy disemboweling his wife to give a damn about any distant noises. Jeff tensed but did not move away from the door. He knew he wasn’t prepared but felt compelled to take a look anyway.

Listening for another few seconds, he began to hear a low humming noise. It sounded like a machine-maybe a generator or a refrigerator. Staying to the side of the door, Jeff used the long barrel of the flashlight to push it open. When nothing burst through, he moved in front of the doorway to look inside.

The stench pounced, as if it had been waiting for a victim to assault. It was overwhelming. The combination of heat and the small enclosed area made Jeff feel like he had stepped into a crematorium basement where the furnace was kept burning day and night.

It was the stock room, as he had guessed. Racks filled with boxes of various shapes and sizes reached to the ceiling. The ones higher up had avoided the spray of blood, but those closer to the floor were saturated.

A cloud of flies rose angrily from their meal. The swarm, larger than any Jeff had ever seen in his life, was the source of the furious humming noise. After a few seconds, most of them settled down and got back to their meal, which consisted of blood and entrails splattered across the floor.

Jeff covered his mouth as he felt his gorge rising at the sight-and smell-of the torn bodies scattered throughout the room. They were devastated, ripped to pieces, but…

Eyes scanning the carnage, he caught sight of what he deduced was the reason these people had not succumbed to the virus. Next to a sprawled-out appendage lay a semiautomatic handgun.

The people who had hidden in the storeroom had been mauled so thoroughly it was hard to tell where one body ended and another began, but Jeff’s best guess was that they had formed some sort of suicide pact. Someone had pulled the trigger and put bullets in each of his comrade’s heads before turning the gun on himself.

The gun was drenched with gore, and he dismissed the idea of stepping over the slick remains to retrieve it. It was already enough of a challenge to hang onto the contents of his stomach as it was. Fighting the feelings of helplessness and remorse that threatened to consume him, Jeff turned to leave.

As the metal door swung shut again, he did not look back. He grabbed the shopping cart and pushed it toward the dim light of the entrance. His teeth clenched as he wrestled with a rising sense of anger. The world had become a madhouse-an endless supply of macabre images slowly eating away at his sanity, bit by bloody bit.

Jeff gripped the handle of the shopping cart tightly. Despite the anger and fear threatening to claim his mind, a crystal-clear thought cut through all the crap floating around in his head: he wanted to live. That was all that mattered. He knew he was smarter than those things trying to kill him, and there was no way, no how, he was going to end up like the poor saps whose guts were strewn across the storage room floor. He rolled his cart through the aisles, a grim smile plastered across his face. In that instant, he felt more confident than he had in weeks.

The smile faltered as Jeff neared the entrance of the store and he heard Megan screaming.

Megan screamed again when the sliding door of the minivan opened. She turned, gun in hand, and Jeff was staring down the barrel of the.357 Magnum.