again, and we walked toward it. Another door bumped open, and I turned toward the cooler to try to see which one moved. The smell of beer got stronger as we got closer to the end of the aisle, and I caught movement behind the display cases in the cooler.
“Do you see anything?” Kaplan asked. I leaned closer and reached out to pull the door open. As my hand closed on the handle a pale hand slammed into the glass from the other side. I barely had time to jump back as the display case fell through the glass door and knocked me to the ground. My pistol went flying as the display fell on my legs. All I could see in front of me was flashes of light as Kaplan’s MP5 barked. In the surreal strobing of gunfire, I could see a man crawling over the rack that had fallen on me, his teeth bared as he scrambled toward me. The smell of beer flooded my nostrils as I thrust my left hand forward and found my palm hitting flesh. The sound of teeth clacking together reached my ears as I groped for my Colt and found my right arm unable to bend far enough to get to the holster on that side. My fingertips grazed something else solid, though. I pulled my hand up, thankful for the heavy plastic vambraces as I felt the softer flesh of the zombie’s throat under my gloved hand. Praying my grip didn’t slip, I pulled the last ZT Spike from my belt and aimed for where I hoped the zombie’s head was. I felt the grate of metal on bone as the first blow hit, and I pulled my right arm back as I tilted my left hand up to hook my thumb and forefinger under the thing’s jaw. With the corner of its jaw as a reference, I stabbed with my right hand again, knowing that if I came up an inch short, I was likely to take my own thumb off. The blade sank in a couple of inches before it hit bone. I pushed hard against it until my fist rammed up against its head, and the zombie on me jerked once before it went still.
Light hit me seconds later, and I heard Hernandez’s voice calling out.
“Yeah, I’m good!” I called out.
“Did you get it?” Kaplan asked as his flashlight beam bounced across the rack and the dead zombie.
“No, I think it bled out,” I remarked sarcastically as I pulled my legs out from under the rack. Hernandez was beside me and pulled me to my feet. “Of course I got it.”
“Aw, man, that is fuckin’ hard core,” she said as she played the light on her P90 on the zombie. Now that it wasn’t trying to tear my throat out, I could see the ZT Spike embedded in its left ear. Dressed in a dark t-shirt and jeans, all I could see of the zombie itself was dark hair and lacerated arms. “That’s two you ganked up close and personal. You don’t like guns or something?” I reached down and pulled the Spike free with a wet sound and wiped the blood off with its shirt before I sheathed it.
“Too violent,” I said as I retrieved the SOCOM.
“Looks like our boy had himself a little party,” Kaplan said as he pointed his light into the cooler. Empty beer bottles covered the floor, mostly clear forty ounce bargain brands.
“I ought to be pissed but I think he did the world a favor by getting rid of so much cheap beer,” I said.
“There’s nothing in there I’d drink,” Hernandez said.
“Well, if you two connoisseurs are done rating the wine list,” Kaplan said drily, “let’s get as much of the food as we can and find a phone book and some maps if we can.”
Kaplan and I grabbed a pair of plastic shopping baskets and started loading canned goods and anything else that was non-perishable off the half empty shelves, which ended up filling the four baskets we’d grabbed. Once we had the baskets as full as we could, we hit the back room. We had better luck there, coming up with a few mostly full boxes of canned and dry foods. Hernandez paused as she hefted the last can of coffee in the store, and for all we knew, in Missouri.
“Kinda weird,” she said thoughtfully. “Yesterday, this was just a can of coffee. Today, it’s
“Do you see anything?” Kaplan asked. I leaned closer and reached out to pull the door open. As my hand closed on the handle a pale hand slammed into the glass from the other side. I barely had time to jump back as the display case fell through the glass door and knocked me to the ground. My pistol went flying as the display fell on my legs. All I could see in front of me was flashes of light as Kaplan’s MP5 barked. In the surreal strobing of gunfire, I could see a man crawling over the rack that had fallen on me, his teeth bared as he scrambled toward me. The smell of beer flooded my nostrils as I thrust my left hand forward and found my palm hitting flesh. The sound of teeth clacking together reached my ears as I groped for my Colt and found my right arm unable to bend far enough to get to the holster on that side. My fingertips grazed something else solid, though. I pulled my hand up, thankful for the heavy plastic vambraces as I felt the softer flesh of the zombie’s throat under my gloved hand. Praying my grip didn’t slip, I pulled the last ZT Spike from my belt and aimed for where I hoped the zombie’s head was. I felt the grate of metal on bone as the first blow hit, and I pulled my right arm back as I tilted my left hand up to hook my thumb and forefinger under the thing’s jaw. With the corner of its jaw as a reference, I stabbed with my right hand again, knowing that if I came up an inch short, I was likely to take my own thumb off. The blade sank in a couple of inches before it hit bone. I pushed hard against it until my fist rammed up against its head, and the zombie on me jerked once before it went still.
Light hit me seconds later, and I heard Hernandez’s voice calling out.
“Yeah, I’m good!” I called out.
“Did you get it?” Kaplan asked as his flashlight beam bounced across the rack and the dead zombie.
“No, I think it bled out,” I remarked sarcastically as I pulled my legs out from under the rack. Hernandez was beside me and pulled me to my feet. “Of course I got it.”
“Aw, man, that is fuckin’ hard core,” she said as she played the light on her P90 on the zombie. Now that it wasn’t trying to tear my throat out, I could see the ZT Spike embedded in its left ear. Dressed in a dark t-shirt and jeans, all I could see of the zombie itself was dark hair and lacerated arms. “That’s two you ganked up close and personal. You don’t like guns or something?” I reached down and pulled the Spike free with a wet sound and wiped the blood off with its shirt before I sheathed it.
“Too violent,” I said as I retrieved the SOCOM.
“Looks like our boy had himself a little party,” Kaplan said as he pointed his light into the cooler. Empty beer bottles covered the floor, mostly clear forty ounce bargain brands.
“I ought to be pissed but I think he did the world a favor by getting rid of so much cheap beer,” I said.
“There’s nothing in there I’d drink,” Hernandez said.
“Well, if you two connoisseurs are done rating the wine list,” Kaplan said drily, “let’s get as much of the food as we can and find a phone book and some maps if we can.”
Kaplan and I grabbed a pair of plastic shopping baskets and started loading canned goods and anything else that was non-perishable off the half empty shelves, which ended up filling the four baskets we’d grabbed. Once we had the baskets as full as we could, we hit the back room. We had better luck there, coming up with a few mostly full boxes of canned and dry foods. Hernandez paused as she hefted the last can of coffee in the store, and for all we knew, in Missouri.
“Kinda weird,” she said thoughtfully. “Yesterday, this was just a can of coffee. Today, it’s
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