Zombies in Aisle Twelve

Author's Note – My knowledge of zombies is limited to me asking my 12-year-old brother whenever I had a question (Me- "Don't you have to cut their heads off to kill them?" Him- "No, you have to destroy their brains." Me- "Wait, zombies have brains?"). I am so glad I'm in a family filled with geeks and dorks of all sorts.

Anyway. This is a one shot. I'm having a lot of fun writing more supernatural/fantasy stuff, so you might be seeing more of that from now on. Oh, and as for inspiration for this story: the movie of Stephen King's The Mist, in which people are hiding in a grocery store from alien thingies. Also, working late at night when I'm pretty much the only one in the store. It's kind of creepy.

I'm the only one in the front of the store at tonight, because, well, who the fuck goes shopping at ten thirty in the morning? Nobody, 'cept for drunks who want more beer or sometimes guys that need condoms. I'm not the only one in the store, though. I mean, there are the guys stocking the shelves, and the security guy in his office, watchin' the monitors. Or sleeping, usually. I'd sleep, too, but I get paid too much not to.

I usually have my I-Pod with me, and I stand, leaning on the register facing the door, just so I can see when someone comes in. Then I can see if it's a drunk, stumbling and red-faced, or just some midnight shopper.

Today is Monday, the slowest day of all. It's ten forty-six at night and I'm listening to Elton John on my I-Pod, singing about how he wants to kiss the bride like he's not gay. I don't know who he thinks he's fooling.

I've been standing in this position for too long, and my legs are starting to ache a bit. I stand up straight, stretching them as best I can. Then I walk around the register, stretching a little more, straightening the magazines. As the songs change, there is silence, and I think I hear footsteps. I take my earplugs out of my ear and listen. Yeah, it sounds like somebody's shuffling footsteps.

I peek around the end of the register, but I can't see anything. Then I hear a groan, like maybe someone's in pain or something. I tuck my headphones and I-Pod into my pocket and walk forward, keep going until I can see what's making the noise. When I see what it is, though, I'm running forward now, reaching to grab him before he falls. It's a man, which is about all I can tell, aside from the fact that he's breathing pretty badly. He seems to be covered in the blood, and I can't tell where it's coming from.

I grab under his arms, easing him to the floor. His hands are covered in blood, his shirt soaking in it. His head seems to be okay, though, aside from the fact that he's white pale, clammy, and shaking like nobody's business.

"Jesus, what happened man?" I ask, like maybe he's going to actually tell me. He's breathing hard, heavy. I'm starting to panic, like what the hell am I supposed to do?

"Look, I gotta call an ambulance or something." I pat his arm, getting ready to stand up. He grabs me, hard.

"Don't... leave me..." he breathes out, and I can tell it's hard for him to talk.

"Look, dude, I gotta call somebody. I don't know CPR." He needs way more than CPR, but there's nothing else I can think of to say. I pry his arm off mine, and stand up. The phone's only a few steps away, and I pick it up. It takes me a minute to remember the number for an outside line, but when I dial, I realize that I'm shaking.

"I'm sorry; this call cannot be completed..." I hang it up and stare at the phone. Isn't 911 supposed to work all the time? But what am I supposed to do? I try the phone again, this time using the intercom.

"Uh, I need somebody at the front end. Anybody." I hope the urgency in my voice is relayed through the intercom. I hang the phone up and rush back to the man. I take my work-apron off and ball it up under his head. It's not much, but it's something. He's still wheezing, gasping, and I'm trying to take his bloody, drenched shirt off, getting it all over my hands, when someone shows up.

"Oh, Jesus, Jack, what happened?" It's Kevin, one of the stock-boys, and he comes running over.

"I dunno. He just, came in the door like this." The man is still breathing, hard, but he's cooperating, moving his arms so I can slide the shirt off all the way.

"Did you call 911?" Kevin asks.

"I tried. It didn't work," I say, shrugging. I use the man's shirt to mop up the blood on his chest. Kevin stands up and goes over to the phone. I manage to get most of the blood off the man's chest, and I find the source of the blood. There's an open wound on his chest, about an inch above his navel. It's almost perfectly round, and fairly deep. I wince a little, but it's not like I haven't seen blood before.

"Oh God, what happened?" It's the security guard, Lon. "I heard you call." Then he looks at the man, lying on the floor in front of me. "What happened to him?" I shrug.

"I dunno. He just came in like this." Then the man grabs my shirt with his fist, pulling me close.

"Don't go out there." His voice is harsh, like in the movies where someone is breathing their very last. "They're coming..." He's breathing is harder now, very ragged, and I know he hasn't got much longer left. But what the hell is he talking about?

"Who's coming?" I ask, but it's no use. The guy is gone. Dead. I don't even have to check his pulse to know he's dead, but I do it anyway.

"He's dead," I announce, just in case Lon hasn't noticed. Kevin comes back over from the phone and looks down at the dead guy, whose bloody handprint is now soaking through my shirt.

"I called the ambulance. They've been swamped with calls. I guess a lot of people are getting, well, injured. The dispatcher wouldn't say what's going on." He shrugs. It's a bad time to be thinking of how good Kevin looks in his "Back in Black" AC/DC t-shirt, but sometimes my mind doesn't work the right way. Kevin's like, almost thirty years old, tall and lithe with muddy brown hair and thick eyebrows. And I totally have wet dreams about him.

"Well what are we supposed to do with the dead guy sitting here?" Lon asks, sounding annoyed, as though he can't believe this guy had the nerve - the nerve! - to die in his store, on his watch.

"I'm more worried about what the hell is going on," Kevin says, "I mean, look at that fuckin' wound in the middle of his chest." He points down at the dead guy on the floor, and I look at the wound again. It's very deep and almost perfectly round - but it doesn't look at all like a bullet hole. It looks almost like someone just took a cookie-cutter and cored a hole in his stomach. It's freaky.

"What could have caused that?" Lon asks. He looks down at the guy like maybe the dead body is going to start talking and explain what the deal is.

"Maybe his girlfriend was really pissed and attacked him or something," Kevin suggests. I don't know what kind of pissed off girlfriend could do that, unless she's like, a demon or something. Though some of the girls I've met could probably be mistaken for demons, I doubt any actually are.

"Right. Well why did he say 'they' then?" I ask. I rub the back of my neck, wondering if I should be more worried about what's going on.

"I didn't know he said something," Kevin says. Both he and Lon look at me, and I sigh.

"Well, he said, um, I don't remember exactly, but something about how they're coming and not to go outside." I shrug, "I don't know if it means anything or if he was just a little..." I make a 'crazy' motion, circling my finger next to my head, "...you know, from losing all that blood."

"Somethin' freaky is definitely going on," Kevin says.

"Well what the hell are we supposed to do?" I don't like just standing around like an idiot.

"If the ambulance isn't coming, how are we gonna take care of the body?" Lon says.

"Put it in the freezer," I suggest, only half joking. I'm not about to haul it around in my car to the police or whatever, and get blood all over my seats. And if we leave it sitting in the foyer, it'll start to smell bad. The grocery freezer is large and would have plenty of room to hold a body. So why not?

"Right. Great idea," Lon replies, sarcasm evident in his voice.

"All right. You take care of it then." I shrug, "But you better do it before he bleeds all over the floor. Maintenance is going to have a fit if that blood dries." I hear a snicker from Kevin and glance over to see him trying to cover his laughter behind his hand. I like the way the corners of his eyes crinkle up when he laughs.

"What's so damn funny?" Lon asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I can just see Henry with his mop," Kevin says, and stoops over, imitating the maintenance man's slow and steady way of mopping, "Damn kids," he says in a fake old man's voice. I laugh, which sounds more like a snort when I try to cover it up. Lon sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Fine, put the damn thing in the freezer." Lon waves his hand at the body, "But you two do it. I'll stay up front and keep an eye out."

"What for?" I ask.

"I'm the security guard. It's my job to keep an eye out." He rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, well my job is to stay on register. I can't leave." I don't know why I'm arguing with him, but it's all so surreal anyway.

"It was your idea." He's got a point. I sigh, and glance over at Kevin. He shrugs, and we bend over the body - him at feet and me at the head. I stick my hands underneath his shoulders, and Kevin grabs his legs.

"On three," he says, "One, two, three." The last one is with a grunt, as we both lift the body. Though the guy isn't huge or anything, he's still heavy, and lifting him takes a bit of effort. Kevin's the one walking backwards, so it's harder for him.

"Just keep goin' straight," I say, and we pass the registers, starting down the beer aisle. When we get to the back end of the store, Kevin pushes the door open by walking into it and he turns left, into the freezer doors. We drop the body on the floor, not really giving the guy the respect he deserves, but it's not like either of us were really schooled in the matter of how to take care of dead guys. At least, I'm not. I have no idea if Kevin's ever dealt with dead bodies before, and I am not so interested in finding out.

Kevin and I leave the freezer, and I'm pushing through the doors to the backroom before I realize that Kevin is not coming with me. I turn around and see him propping the freezer door open with his body, looking down at the dead guy.

"Seriously, I wonder what made that mark. It's just so weird... and the police and everything..." Kevin just sighs really loudly, and finally closes the door behind him.

"Let's just go." I reach out, making to grab his arm. He lets me, and for a moment I'm just standing there, holding his arm. My hands aren't big enough to wrap all the way around his arm, but I realize that I want to slide my hand down to tangle my fingers in his.

"Jack?" He looks quizzically at me. I let go of his arm, and we walk back to the front end.

"I called the police again," Lon says when we get back, "I mean, I tried to. The lines were down." He shrugs, like he isn't fazed at all by everything. Then again, I'm not freaking out, either. Not yet, anyway.

"What time is it?" Kevin asks. Lon glances down at his watch.

"Almost midnight."

"I was supposed to have a break an hour ago," I say, "I'm gonna take it now." No one stops me, so I head for the time clock. I punch out and head back to the front end and towards the sliding doors.

"Whoa, dude, where do you think you're going?" Kevin asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Smoke break," I say.

"You don't smoke." He's right. I don't.

"Well, I won't go all the way outside. I just want to see if there's anything out there," I say, "I won't go through the second set of doors, I promise."

"I'm coming with you," Kevin says. Lon says nothing, but his loud sigh tells me what he's thinking. I can't help being curious. Kevin walks with me through the first set of doors, which swish closed behind us. Once outside the first doors, there's a hallway, about thirty feet long, with a row of carts lined up on the left side, and enough room for two people to walk side-by-side without being crowded. Then at the end of that hallway are the exit doors.

"Man, look at that," Kevin says, pointing. I look, and there are blood-drops on the ground. They lead down the hallway.

"Good to know," I say, "At least we know he was bleeding before he got to us," I say, my sarcastic tone taking over.

"Oh, shut up Jack. I'm just pointing it out. That's a hell of a lot of blood," he says.

"Look, I just wanna go look, all right?" I grab his arm again. This time I don't let myself get distracted, and I sort of drag him with me, down the hallway. The "in" door swishes open when we walk past it, but I drag Kevin over to the other side, so we can look through a closed door. I let go of his arm and cup my hands around my face, leaning right up against the door.

"Holy shit!"

"What?" Kevin exclaims.

"There's hundreds of 'em!" The first thought in my head – well, after "What the hell?" and "Jesus Christ!" – is "Where did they all come from?"

Because the only time I've ever seen that many people in one place at one time is at the mall during the holidays. But those people were all walking in different directions, holding shopping bags and everything. They bumped into each other and shouted things and they looked real.

This group is less of a crowd and more of a mass, all of them in rows, walking in the same direction, like a huge army, down the center of the road. There are no cars in sight for them to block, and they just keep walking. I back away from the window. Kevin has his hands cupped around his face and is now looking through.

"Jesus, what are they?" he asks.

"Zombies," I say without thinking.

"Zombies?" Kevin pulls back from the glass to look at me. I shrug.

"That's what they look like."

"Zombies?" he says again.

"Dude, look at the way they're walking." I gesture to the door. Kevin doesn't look again. He just stares at me.

"Zombies?"

"Don't you watch horror movies?"

"Maybe you watch too many," Kevin says, "I mean, seriously, Jack. Zombies aren't real. Maybe there's some kind of parade going on." He shrugs. My explanation makes more sense than his does.

"A parade? At 3 am?"

"Well, there's got to be a logical reason for all those people to be walking down the road together in the middle of the night."

"Not everything is logical, Kevin." I put my hands on my hips, sighing. Kevin brushes his hair back from his face and then shakes his head, looking past me to the door again.

"Contrary to what you might think, Jack, there is almost always a logical explanation for everything. I was a Psych major in college. Emotions, hallucinations, obsessions. Everything has a reason."

"Whatever. It's still freaking me out. I'm gonna lock the doors." I head back the way we came, walking back down the hallway. Kevin follows me, and when we get back to the front end, Lon is leaning on the end of one of the registers, flipping through a magazine. I am surprised to find that Lon reads Cosmo.

"You got keys?" I ask, and he looks up, startled, and drops the magazine on the floor.

"What?" he asks, ignoring the fallen magazine.

"The keys. Do you have the keys? I want to lock the doors." Lon stares at me.

"What do you need to lock the doors for?" I know he's like, fifty years old but Lon is the stupidest guy I have ever met.

"Did you happen to see the hole in that guy's chest?" I ask, "Well, the guys that made that are headed this way. I'd prefer if we didn't let them in the easy way." Lon stares at me much in the same way Kevin did a few minutes ago – like I'm insane.

"What?" With his mouth wide open like that, he's gonna catch flies.

"Jesus, man, just give me the fucking keys!" I hold out my hand like an impatient teenager asking Dad for money.

"I don't believe you. I'm gonna go look." He grabs the keys off his belt and heads out the door. I turn to Kevin, sighing.

"If this were a horror movie, he'd be dead already."

"No, the girls are always the first ones killed," Kevin says. I wave my hands around.

"Do you see any girls? Fat old security guards are better targets, anyway. Who wants to see some way-too-skinny chick wearing a bikini run from an axe murderer?" Except, well, obviously a lot of people do, since they keep making those kinds of movies.

"Not you, apparently. Don't like watching chicks in bikinis run around?" Kevin's got his eyebrow raised and he's looking at me like he thinks he's discovered my secret. Only it wasn't a secret really, except maybe to him.

"No, I don't. And yes, I'm gay. This will be on the test later." I don't mean to sound condescending, but sometimes I get so sick of having to clarify it for people. Like do I have to wear a damned pink triangle or something?

"I knew that. I was just teasing you." Kevin rolls his eyes. Neither of us says anything for a minute, and I start to wonder what's taking Lon so long. I mean, it's not like it's that far to the door.

"You wanna go see what he's doing?" I ask Kevin. He shakes his head.

"Not really." So neither of us moves, and a minute later, the doors swish open. In comes Lon, swinging his keys.

"Don't know what you're making all the fuss about. Wasn't nothin' out there." He shrugs. Now it's my turn to stare. What with how slow the zombie dudes were walking, there was no way they could have walked off that easily. Unless Lon just wasn't looking.

"Did you lock the doors?"

"No, I told you, there's nothin' to worry about." I roll my eyes at him, but it doesn't make a difference. Lon has apparently never watched any horror movies in his entire life. I'm about to tell him to go back out there are lock the doors when they swish open again.

The girl's skin is like gray, and I'm not even kidding. She looks like she's been dead for a few days, with sunken in eyes and dirty, stringy hair that probably used to be blond. Her clothes – jeans and t-shirt, are covered in dirt and what looks like blood.

Lon is still standing in front of the doors, and she looks at him before sticking her hand right into his chest. Not on his chest. Through it. I can hear the squick from here, and I want to throw up. Then she pulls her hand out and it looks like she has his heart in her hands and I don't mean that metaphorically. Lon's body falls to the floor, his keys skittering across the floor.

I'm frozen to the spot, shocked because of all the blood pouring out of his chest. Never mind the fact that the Zombie Chick is still standing there. It'll be only a minute or two before she looks up and sees me standing stock still and then tries to pull my heart out with her –

"Jack!" Kevin grabs my arm and drags me back, into the till room, and he locks the door behind him.

"You think that door is going to stop her?" I ask, finally able to speak. Kevin shrugs and grabs the stool to shove under the door handle for extra protection.

Then I realize that it's just Kevin and I. Alone. In a dark room. My face is burning hot because why the heck am I thinking about this when Zombie Chick is outside the room, probably eating Lon's lifeless body or whatever it is that zombies do.

"I shouldn't be thinking about this because you're like, jailbait," Kevin says, but he's not even looking at me. He's staring at the chart on the wall which shows the proper way to fill a plastic bag. Use boxes to line the sides. Always put cans on the bottom.

"I'm not jailbait. I'm twenty years old." I want him to think about this. I want him to turn around and push me against the wall and grope me. I'm waiting for it.

"Don't say that. I know it's just hormones and heightened emotions and all that, but I shouldn't be thinking about what you're wearing underneath that stupid green polo shirt." Now he's turned around and he is looking at me. I take a step forward, closing the distance between us.

"Nothing," I whisper, "I'm wearing nothing." Kevin makes a groaning noise and then he's upon me, and I'm really pushed up against the wall, his mouth covering mine. I grab his waist and pull him closer, sliding my thumbs underneath his shirt. He shudders, but he opens his mouth a little and slides his tongue into my mouth and I don't want to think about anything else.

Then there's a loud bang and Kevin jumps away like he's on fire or something. Both of us glance towards the door. Through the little window in the center of the door, I can see Zombie Chick pounding at the door.

"Oh shit, oh shit." I grab Kevin and scoot back into the farthest part of the till room, afraid that she's going to break through the door and eat my heart out or something. Kevin pulls his arm out of my grip and grabs the stool. He smashes it against the counter, breaking off one of the legs. Then he grabs the handle of the door.

"Don't open it! She's gonna eat you!" But Kevin doesn't listen to my protests, and he flings the door open and whacks Zombie Chick on the head with the stool leg, knocking her onto the ground.

"Whoa." Kevin smiles back at me and I half expect him to do that thing heroes sometimes do in movies, where they take out the bad guys and then grab the girl by the waist and plant a big one on her lips.

"She's not dead yet, babe. Just unconscious." The fact that he calls me babe is not lost on me, but I'm concentrating on the fact that he said she's not dead yet.

"Well, how do we kill her, then?" Because I do NOT want her to wake up and grab my heart from my chest.

"Um. Good question. You're the one that watches the horror movies. You tell me." Kevin is still holding the stool leg in his hand and he points it at me. I take a step back.

"Well. Um." I shrug. "I've never met a real zombie before. Movies aren't the same as real life." Kevin rolls his eyes. Now he's mad at me. I want to go back into the till room and make out some more instead of trying to figure out how to kill a real, actual, unconscious-for-now Zombie Chick.

"All right. Go get some knives."

"Knives?"

"Aisle twelve, about halfway down. Get some sharp ones, all right?" I didn't realize the store even sold knives, but Kevin says we do, and he's the stock-boy (man) and he would know.

Aisle twelve is way at the other end of the store from where we are, and I'm not sure I want to go that far by myself, but Kevin is already working on something else – namely, trying to drag Zombie Chick's body into the till room.

So, I find aisle twelve, which is all the kitchen stuff. I find the knives, hanging up on the shelf. I grab a really sharp-looking one, and then another, slightly smaller one. Kevin said some, and I don't know if he means like two or three. I figure two is enough – one for him and one for me.

When I get back to the front end, Kevin's managed to shove Zombie Chick's body into the till room, and now he's locking the door. Lon's body is still on the floor, his eyes wide open and the hole in his chest still huge and gaping. I can't help staring, despite how disgusting it is.

"Did you get the knives?" Instead of answering, I just hold them up. Kevin takes the big one from me – the one that I wanted. But I don't protest because it would just sound stupid.

"Should we just leave his body there?" I ask, pointing to Lon's body with my knife.

"I'm not picking him up," Kevin says, "That other guy wasn't too heavy, but Lon is like, twice his size." Good point. But I want to do something instead of just standing here, and I really don't like seeing all that blood. It's gross.

"Should we go outside and see if they're still there?" I ask. Kevin contemplates this for a moment, and I spend that moment contemplating why I've suddenly decided that Kevin is in charge. Is it just because he's older than me, or is it because he's also stronger and more attractive and generally fits the "Hero" type? Probably all of the above.

"It might be safer to stay in here. At least then we've got more places to hide, if we need to," he suggests, "And besides, if that girl came in, then more of them must be more coming, right?" I nod, because his logic makes sense, and I don't really want to think about it that much.

"Kevin?" I ask.

"What?"

"When you, um." I pause because I shouldn't even be asking him this when our lives are in danger. But I can't help myself. "When you kissed me. Was that just, like, a spur of the moment thing or did you actually mean it?"

"Jack, are you actually asking me this?" He sounds annoyed.

"Well, I mean are you attracted to me or were you just, like, worried that you were going to die and wanted to kiss someone before you did? I mean, would you have done the same thing if it was you and Lon in the till room?"

Kevin sighs deeply, and I know he's annoyed with me but I want him to answer. He doesn't say anything for a minute, and then by the time he might actually think of an answer, the doors swish open and two more zombies come in – an old man wearing a really ratty flannel shirt, and a fat lady wearing an even rattier looking muumuu.

I'm frozen, but Kevin moves right in, whacking the old guy on the head with the butt end of his knife. The guy falls down, but the lady makes a weird gurgling sound and heads after Kevin, her hands held out like a really cliché zombie in a cartoon or something. She grabs his arm with her sharp nails and I'm afraid she's going to rip his heart out and I'll never know the answer.

I'm on her like a flash of lighting or something, shoving the knife into the back of her neck with a loud squick sound. I pull it out, and she gurgles again, dropping Kevin's hand and turning towards me.

"How come that didn't kill her?" I shout. Because seriously, I practically severed her neck! The next shove I make with the knife is straight through her forehead. And that is like throwing a switch, because she falls to the ground, the knife still lodged in her face.

"That was gross," I say, wiping my hands on my pants. This time Kevin grabs me and pulls me close, kissing me hard on the mouth, his hand gripping my arm. Just when I'm getting into it, putting my arms around his neck and opening my mouth so he can put his tongue in, he pulls back.

"Good job, babe," he says. He called me babe again. I wonder if that's his answer to my earlier question. It's a good enough one for me.

"I think you've gotta get their brains," I say, which seems kind of random considering what Kevin just said. He looks at me, confused.

"The zombies. I remember now. You've gotta destroy their brains. Stab 'em in the head and then they'll die, or whatever zombies do," I explain.

"Thank you for that, darling." He pats me on the arm.

"I think I like being called 'babe' better," I say. Kevin just smiles at me, almost indulgently. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Four thirty."

"Sun's coming up soon," I say.

"You think that's going to make a difference?" Kevin asks, eyebrows raised.

"They aren't called 'creatures of the night' for nothing."

"I thought that was vampires." I can't believe that I'm in love with someone who doesn't know something like this. I guess it's going to be up to me to educate him.

"Vampires, zombies and werewolves are all creatures of the night." I tick them off on my fingers as I tell him this. Kevin shrugs, and I shrug, too.

"William's gonna be here in an hour," I say, talking about the morning cashier who comes in when I leave. He starts at six, but always comes in early to eat breakfast.

"If he's still alive." Kevin says this as though it's an actual possibility.

"If? Have you ever met William? He could take on those Zombies with one hand behind his back," I explain. William is not huge, but he's tall and wiry and can be pretty dangerous if he wants to be.

"What, you got a crush on him?" I don't know why Kevin's even asking me this. But I don't have an opportunity to say anything because the doors swish open and I turn, holding my knife out in a defensive position. More zombies. Not just one or two. There's a whole group of 'em, all groaning and shuffling towards us. They move slowly, but the image of that girl pulling Lon's heart out plays on repeat in my head.

Kevin's moving quick, attacking one of the guys in the front with the butt end of his knife, and then reeling back and punching another one in the face. There's a squishy noise as the zombie falls to the floor, and Kevin's hand is covered in grey zombie brains or something.

For a minute, I'm too busy watching Kevin in action to pay attention to the other zombies. He takes out three of them, using just his fists. He's like, Chuck Norris or something. Except way better. But the zombies don't like being ignored, and the closest one, a little boy with huge, scary, sunken-in eyes, grabs the knife straight from my hand. I shriek. But in a very manly way.

When the kid starts waving the knife at me, I take off like a fox running from hounds. Only I'm pretty sure that foxes don't slip and fall. Of course I wouldn't have fallen if Lon hadn't left his stupid magazine on the floor. Smack, I land on the floor face down, feeling like I just did a belly-flop into a pool made of concrete. For a minute I can't breathe, and I'm opening and closing my mouth, trying to get air. Something grabs my foot, and I turn, finally pulling in enough air.

Zombie Boy is pulling my shoe off. Then Kevin's behind him and stabs the kid in the back of the neck with his knife. He falls to the floor and Kevin turns back around, working on the rest of the group. I take a second to get myself together before standing up and prying my knife out of Zombie Boy's hands.

Then I'm right beside Kevin, doing my share of the zombie slaying. They're coming in droves now, pushing through the sliding doors, and crowding around us. The knives aren't big enough. I want a sword or something. A gun would be really nice.

Then the zombies are surrounding us, forming a circle around Kevin and me. Suddenly I feel claustrophobic, but it doesn't matter because I'm going to die anyway. At least I got a chance to kiss Kevin before I died.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…" I whisper, grabbing Kevin's arm as the circle gets smaller. "It was nice knowing you."

And just like that, they're all falling to the ground. All the zombies just collapse on the floor, on top of each other. I'm still frozen for a minute, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

"Are they dead?" Kevin asks, kicking one with his foot.

"But they were just…" I can't even finish my sentence. I look down at the one closest to me. Her eyes are still wide open, but she's not even moving, her arms flung out on the guy next to her. None of them are moving.

"That was really weird," Kevin says. But he doesn't seem that fazed. He just steps over them, out of the circle, offering his hand to help me out.

"Should we just leave them here?" I ask. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to explain to my boss all the dead bodies on the floor. If my boss is even still alive anyway.

"Well, we can try to move the lighter ones," he says, shrugging. He points to Zombie Boy, "Let's start with him." Kevin and I spend the next hour transporting zombie bodies into the grocery freezer. My arms are getting tired, along with the rest of my body. I want to go home and sleep.

After bringing Muumuu Zombie back to the freezer, we return to the front end to find William standing there, an amused look on his face. He's got his arms crossed over his chest and he's looking down at Lon's lifeless body.

"What's up, bitches?"

"You don't wanna know," Kevin says. He glances at me. William just laughs.

"Well I can see you're still in one piece, so it couldn't have been too bad." He shrugs. "Some of 'em tried to get into my house, but I showed those fuckers who was boss."

"Weird, wasn't it?" I ask. William shrugs again.

"Not as weird as some other stuff I've seen." I don't ask what he's talking about because I am too tired to think about anything else.

"Okay. I just wanna buy some Pop-tarts for breakfast, and then you can leave," William says. He walks by us towards the aisles. I walk over to my register and unlock the screen. Kevin comes over and stands next to me, putting his arm around my waist.

"Want to come over to my house?" he whispers, his voice tickling my ear.

"What?" It's not that I didn't hear him or that I don't understand what he's asking. I definitely get the meaning. It's just that I'm having trouble believing it. Even after everything that's happened tonight…

William comes back to the register with his box of Pop-Tarts and a chocolate milk. He sees Kevin's arm around my waist and his lips on my ear.

"So, you two are together now?" he asks, gesturing between us. I'm ringing his stuff up but my face is like, ten shades of red. Kevin is still touching me. He doesn't even seem to care that William is watching us as he slips his hand up my shirt.

"Definitely," Kevin says.

"Your total is three fifty-nine," I say, my voice shaking. "Kevin, could you, you know, wait a few minutes, please?" I push his hand away. William hands me the money and I make change for him.

"All right," he says, "You can go."

Kevin follows me upstairs to the break room where we gather our stuff.

"Do you want to come over? You never answered me." He watches me stuff my I-Pod into my backpack.

"I thought that was obvious," I say, looking up at him. "Of course I do." He breaks into a grin.

We take Kevin's car, leaving mine sitting in the parking lot. The sides of the roads are littered with zombie bodies, and some are actually in the middle of the road, but it's pretty easy to dodge them. Once we get to his apartment building, I follow Kevin up the stairs to his floor, and he unlocks the door, letting us inside.

"Welcome to my humble abode." He gestures around with his hand. It's kind of small and messy, with the living room and kitchen connected, but there's a little hallway, where his bedroom probably is, and there's a nice couch in the living room, and that's all that really matters.

We go into the kitchen, and Kevin starts the coffee pot. I'm not really thirsty, and I don't like coffee anyway, but I don't say anything. I lean against the counter, staring at the clock on the wall. Ten hours ago things were completely different.

Then Kevin is in front of my, his hands on the counter on either side of my body. He leans forward and he's kissing me, slowly and gently. It's not like before, but longer, like he knows we have all day. I bring my hands up to hold his shoulders as he opens his mouth, sliding his tongue into my waiting mouth. He smells kind of like dirt, like the zombies, but he's mostly hard and real and that's all I care about.

We move into the bedroom, kissing all down the hallway. We almost trip over his clothes on the floor, but we make it to the bed all right, and he skims my shirt off, unbuckles my pants and touches my heated skin, making me glad that tonight happened the way it did.

The Morning After

When I wake up, I'm smiling. I'm lying next to Kevin, my head tucked into his shoulder and my arm slung over his chest. I let myself lie that way a little longer, listening to him breathe and watching his chest move up and down.

Eventually, I pull myself up out of bed. Kevin stirs and opens his eyes.

"Morning, sunshine," I say, smiling down at him, "I'm gonna take a shower, all right?" He nods, blinks again, and rolls over.

After the shower, I put last night's clothes on and head into the kitchen. Kevin's in there, wearing only a pair of boxers, his hair sticking up every which way. Gorgeous. He's holding a cup of coffee and staring at the mini television set he's got set up next to the sink. He's got it turned on to the news, where a female news reporter is giving the main story. Zombie Outbreak? reads the scrolling tape underneath.

"…surprisingly small number of casualties. Oswald Labs held a press conference earlier this morning, where Dr. Raymond Welch offered his apologies." It cuts to a scene of a young, dark-haired man wearing thick glasses is speaking into a microphone.

"We are not sure how this happened, but the scientists in charge of that particular department are being put under review. Oswald Laboratories would like to apologize to the public and assure them that it will never happen again." He finishes speaking and everyone holds up their microphones, asking more questions. He leans towards the microphone again, "I have no further comments." He straightens his tie and leaves the stage. The news flips back to the female reporter.

"Some inside sources suggest that Oswald Labs was conducting experiments on animating dead humans, but no one is quite sure what really happened." She pauses, adjusts her papers, "In other news, a woman in Boston found out some inter…" Kevin turns the television off.

"Stupid scientists," he says, shaking his head. Then he turns to me and puts his coffee cup down. I step forward and pull him close, offering a long, slow kiss.

The End

Author's Note – Okay, I know. There's not a lot of explanation for the zombies or anything like that. But I didn't want to focus on that. So, what do you think? Weird? Different? Good? Bad? Cute? Way out in left field?

P.S. There will definitely be more stories coming along in this vein. The next one shall star William.