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12:15 PM Grocery Store
We needed more than just guns and bullets. We needed to eat. This should be fairly simple, if there weren’t zombies roaming around looking for a fresh meal. I half expected them to be roaming through the deli section, but that wasn’t exactly the case. Apparently Hollywood was right about one thing, they wanted fresh meat. Though, it wasn’t too surprising when I saw two or three feasting on the raw hamburger meat.
We made our way through the store, slowly with one on point and the other pushing the cart gathering food. We hit six zombies right off the bat, entering the store. I aimed my pistol, I fired, and Jim followed suit. We chose our targets carefully, picking them off, one by one.
We started in the vegetable and produce section picking out heads of lettuce, heads of zombies, carrots, etc.
I wasn’t expecting this many beasts in the store at one time. I guess people needed to prepare for Thanksgiving for the following week, but since they were all zombies, now, and I highly doubt any would sit down to give thanks for their fresh meals. They should all just leave and let us get our things.
We rounded the bakery, even over the disgusting fleshy smell, the bread smelled great - it always did.
We hit the deli for our “fresh meats” - so to speak. I felt gross to look for meat with zombies on the loose. I walked around to the back of the display counter, and grabbed the plastic baggies that they used for their meats and proceeded to fill them up with whatever I could.
I heard a slight grumbling noise from behind me as I stood up seeing Jim holding his pistol at my head. I knew there was a reason I brought him. I ducked, he fired. I turned around to see the deli lady fall over, dead… well more dead than usual.
The next stop was by the butcher, kind of ironic, I thought. Next to the butcher counter was a tank of live, fresh lobster. (I could do free surf and turf. I wasn’t picky when it came to raiding and looting for food, when no one was watching).
I reached my hand in blindly while talking to Jim to keep an eye out for more visitors. The water was cold. At that point I felt something that I don’t think I should have felt. Apparently one of them had managed to slip off its rubber band that held the pinchers closed. And apparently, they felt that my hand was a threat. And apparently it must have tasted good, because the little JERK wouldn’t let go!
I yanked my hand out of the tank and slammed it against the butcher’s counter, then on the cart, then on the ground, then on the tank… again. I started bleeding. I finally had enough. I raised my 9 mm. up and at point blank range; I shot the little bugger at the base of the claw. (Like going fishing at the supermarket, only using a pistol, instead of a rod, or spear.)
He didn’t exactly let go, but he did manage to fly about twenty feet and crunch against the wall. Now, keep in mind that there’s still part of a claw hanging on my finger, and I’m now bleeding profusely. That coupled with the noise and distraction brought zombies; about eight of them. Each one stumbling over one another to get to us and the bloody finger that beckons them, screaming “EAT ME, I’m a tasty morsel”. (Much like a jerky treat to a ravenous dog)
I dropped my pistol on the floor and grabbed the half shot claw, prying it with all my might. Finally, with a little more coaxing, it came off. I needed a bit of first aid. Coincidentally, that would be found in aisle 3.
Jim and I looked at one another and each grabbed our shotguns. The only sound above the slight moaning of zombies was the chambering of shells into our shotguns. (I love that sound.)
The sounds that followed were only the sounds that I would have heard from video games, and really bad “B” rated movies; zombie screams, splats, shots and shells hitting the ground. When the last shell hit, we could hear the faint hum and crackling of electricity sparking from one of the ceiling fixtures. (I think Jim missed one. Ok, maybe I missed one, but I’m not telling him that.)
My bleeding appendage made me think that perhaps we may need first aid articles at home, as well. We made the rest of our rounds, picking up dry groceries, water, cereals, and other products, as well as first aid supplies; such as bandages, band-aids, tape, braces, etc.
I think two cart loads ought to do it. It was time to get home to the family. Perhaps, they were doing better than we were. We still had power and a telephone (well, mine went through the window) so I wonder if we still had internet. (Perhaps my wife was checking her alerts online. Perhaps, the others online would laugh if I told them about our zombie problem. What would some of our friends overseas think? Would they be having the same issues as us? Would some of them come out from the internet café that they work for and start blowing away zombies, sort of rogue zombie hunters from New Zealand or Australia? Of course not, they live overseas and I don’t think zombies can swim. That would just be ridiculous. Though, the visual that it presents is kinda funny. Admit it, you just tried to visualize a swimming zombie.)
We needed to get home. |
