Mark Tufo - Zombie Fallout

“Shit, you scared me,” Tracy said. As Nicole’s words settled in she realized the dilemma they were in. No matter which approach she took, she would be placing her daughter in danger.

“Let’s go in together,” Nicole interjected before the paralysis of fear took her mother over again.

Nicotine was a powerful drug. It had the power to overwhelm judgment. Tracy nodded weakly. They both opened their doors and stepped out. The cold air was redolent with the scent of spilled gasoline. The noxious fumes made breathing difficult but also had the benefit (or disadvantage) of masking the scent of death. They hurried to the entrance to get away from the overpoweringly strong smell. Had their sense of smell not been burned-out by the gas it would have been assaulted by the now all too familiar stink of death. It would be three breaths too late before they realized their error.

“God, I wish there were some lights on,” Nicole said, a slight tremor in her voice.

Tracy had been first in and was silently glad that was the case. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom inside the store she could make out a pair of scrubs-clad legs sticking out from behind the counter. Those legs were not made for walking anymore. There was also a congealed pool of blood coming from the aisle closest to them. Tracy had no need whatsoever to see what had caused it. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.

Tracy shot her hand out and grabbed Nicole’s arm, steering her away from the offending aisle.

“Shhh…did you hear that?” Tracy stopped and listened intently.

Panic welled in them both and Nicole hadn’t even heard a sound. They both stood stock-still as the seconds ticked by. Nicole’s arm began to throb where her mother gripped it like a vise.

“Mom, let go,” Nicole said in hushed tones. “There’s nothing here.”

A small scratching sound emanated from behind the cold drinks.

“It’s probably just the refrigerator kicking on,” Nicole said, more to convince herself than anything.

Tracy pointed to the un-lit lights overhead.

Nicole looked up and swallowed hard. “Yup, no power. I knew that.”

“Shhh…” Tracy more motioned than vocalized.

Nicole was not one to let a word go unspoken and was about to ask another question when the sound repeated itself. It was rhythmic and faint. There was no menace implied from the sound. All the same Tracy was in no mood to hang around.

Tracy spun to face her daughter. “Let’s just grab a bunch of smokes and some sodas for the boys and get the hell out of here.”

“I’m with you on that, this place gives me the creeps and it’s starting to smell worse than outside. Mom, any particular brand you want me to get?”

“Yeah, all you can carry. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a longtime before Winston-Salem starts pumping more of these out, unless they start to market a brand for zombies. ‘Hey, you’re already dead, why not smoke?’ she tried for a feeble joke.

“That’s funny in a sick way,” Nicole said with a stiff smile.

“Even if we don’t smoke them, we’ll be able to trade with them. In a couple of days they might as well be sticks of gold.”

Nicole’s eyes sparkled. “Gold? Huh.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Nicole said as she went over and grabbed one of the two half-sized shopping carts.

“Good call,” Tracy said as she grabbed the lone remaining cart.

Both women were so busy ‘shopping,’ neither noticed when the door to the freezer section opened. In the shadows a lone figure stared out at them lustfully.

The image of meat, not the actual word, crossed what rudimentary intelligence the beast possessed. Forward it moved, always forward, always hungry, always in pursuit of its next meal. ‘Life was easy’ it would have thought if it had enough cognitive power to be self-aware. That was not the case though.

Nicole had finished filling her cart and had gone out to the Jeep to fill it with her first load of booty. She couldn’t have been any happier if she had just found Davy Jones’ locker. Her previous dread was long forgotten as she reentered the store. She stopped in her tracks, her smile frozen on her face as she watched in horror. An undead nightmare stalked her unwitting mother.

“Mom!” Nicole shrieked.

Tracy dropped the case of Pepsi. Cans shot out in all directions. As they ruptured, sticky liquid arced through the air. Tracy was about to yell at her daughter for scaring her but when she looked up and saw the sheer terror on her daughter’s face, she knew something was terribly wrong.

Nicole was pointing wildly, her finger thrusting like a woodpecker. Words stuttered in her mouth. “Z-Z-Z…”

Tracy got the point. There weren’t too many words that started with ‘z’ that could instill so much panic, unless of course a murderous zebra was loose in Denver and she was in the way of some succulent wild grass. Tracy spun around to face the threat. Her foot slipped on the newly spilled Pepsi. Her left leg shot out wildly as she plummeted to the ground. The expression on the zombie’s face changed from happiness to confusion as it wondered where its meal had gone. It was a beat or two before its eyes tracked down and locked back on its prey.

Tracy had landed hard on her ass; the fall had not been broken in the least by the tiled floor. Tracy began to back-peddle as the zombie once again began its forward progress. Nicole couldn’t get it out of her head that she wasn’t watching a scary movie on cable; her mind was searching for an escape.

Tracy had pushed back as far as she could, her back colliding with the fridge doors. Her feet sought a purchase that still eluded her on the slick floor. Tracy looked up at her one-shoed pursuer. Shapely legs gave way to a slender waistline and then to what could only be described as porn star breasts. Tracy could barely see around that mounding cleavage to the face mostly hidden beyond. What Tracy saw pissed her off to know end.

“Allison?” Tracy asked indignantly.

Allison-thing slowed her pursuit, not stopping but definitely slowing, as if walking and processing this question were using up most of her operating system.

“Allison Pittman?” Tracy asked again.

The slender face that stared back at her looked confused. The long auburn hair that framed the green eyes was a little bedraggled but for the most part this might be the best looking zombie in the history of the genre, Tracy mused. “I would have hoped that your face got eaten, bitch!” Tracy yelled, as she was finally able to get her feet back under her with the help of the door handle behind her.

“Mom! What’s going on?” Nicole moaned.

The Allison-thing had stopped, almost as if she had had a fatal operating error.

“This thing !” Tracy yelled, “is the bitch that almost split up my marriage.” She glared venomously at the curvaceous corpse.

Right before Mike was laid off from his job, he and Tracy had been having some marital difficulties, as most couples will during a marriage. These problems were exacerbated by the beauty of one conniving, manipulating bitch named Allison Pittman. Allison had become the ‘shoulder’ which Mike had leaned on. She listened intently, always saying the right thing, stroking his ego whenever it needed to be done. She was the perfect seductress. At first Mike hadn’t noticed the subtle shift. They had been friends for almost three years and in that time they had told each other a myriad of private things. Mike could ‘see’ that Allison was one of the prettiest women he had ever laid eyes on. He was happily married and even if he wasn’t, he had talked to Allison long enough to know that her idea of a good time was to devour some poor man’s soul. Then when he was just a dried up husk of himself she would discard him like so much used trash. She was a modern day succubus. Still, she seemed to value their friendship. But when Allison had seen an opportunity, a chink in the marital armor of the Talbots, she did all in her powers to tear open an irreparable wound. It was like a disease with her. She was an unhappy person and wanted everyone else to wallow in her emotional mire. Even as she loathed herself for her actions, she reveled in the thought of bedding Mike and then throwing it in the face of that bitch wife of his.