Zombies Vs Aliens: Respawn

Chapter 2.1

Chapter 2

            Traveling with zombies is time consuming. Bert and Ernie's half assed kiss of life gave them a bit more speed, but they were dragging a good twenty yards behind me at a walking pace. We've been traveling along this strip for the better part of the day, past an endless line of gas stations, crappy twenty four hour dine and dash restaurants, and over priced hotels. My kingdom for a fucking Wal-Mart, an outlet mall, something. Hell, I'd take a Salvation Army at this point, anything to get out of my moldy duds.

            I did spot more zombies, few and far between, most in worse condition than I found Bert and Ernie. Call me vain, I couldn't bring myself to put another slash on my arm for any of them. Aside from the fact I didn't think my personal black goo would revert them back enough to join my entourage, I just got this skin and whatever I slurped down did not give me super mutant healing.

            Most of them shuffled along, some only able to crawl. It took me a while to notice they stopped when I passed. The ones that could walk tried to follow, quickly out paced by my group. What was with the friendly stray behavior? They must have sensed I was different, though how was way beyond my understanding. I chalked it up to another mystery, like their eyeballs. All the zombies had them, even the crawling ones. Those milky eyes watching you pass was beyond creepy, especially when their owner was nothing but a torso.

            I had no memory of being a rotting corpse, something I became insanely grateful for as I came across more and more zombies. Were they somewhat conscious? What if it was so traumatic I blocked it out, something that would leak into my consciousness later while I slept? Did I need sleep? This was another train of thought that had me wishing I had someone to talk to. Resorting to another carousing round of '99 bottles of beer' at least made time pass. Bert even started moaning along the second time around, when I spotted it. The battered blue and white sign, leaning at a sharp angle to the side, missing a couple letters, but I would recognize it anywhere.

            "Wally world, ho!" I yelled, breaking into a skipping walk that Bert and Ernie tripped over their feet to keep up. I slowed down when I hit the parking lot, partly to let my goons catch up, and partly from the numerous cars abandoned in the parking lot, all empty. People picked a Wal-Mart to hole up in during a zombie apocalypse? Then again, I might have done the same. Who else sold guns and chips? However, as the doors came into view, this clearly was not the best idea.

            The store's glass sliding doors where busted wide open, a barricade of paint cans scattered across the entrance beside several bodies. I'm not a great judge of decomposition, but these guys looked, I don't know, fresher, than the Denny's crowd. They might have held out longer, but they all met the same end, skull cracked out and scraped clean. Wonder if I ate any of them.

            I picked my way past them, taking in the layout of the store. It was pretty dark, most of the windows high up along the wall, but there was enough light to make out the sign for the ladies department. The boys followed me in, clicking along behind me.

            The store was mostly intact. There were a few obvious signs people hunkered down in here for a time, a whole section cleared away in the middle isle, sleeping bags still strewn over mattresses, surrounded by books and food wrappers. Their little mattress island was right across from the store bathrooms, sensible placement. There were at least a dozen mattresses, only a handful of victims at the door. The others must have tried to run further in.

            I found the clothes, diving into the racks with a vengeance. My arms were soon laden with dozens of shirts and pants. I made for the changing rooms, heading for the largest one at the end, the obligatory handicap stall. I opened the door and immediately slammed it shut.

            I still couldn't block the image from my head. Only a few seconds but some things sear into your brain, especially the stuff that makes you uneasy. Like the two bodies cradling each other in the dressing room, one obviously a child. I stared at my skinless left hand braced on the door, the weight of the clothing trying to drag me to the floor.

            Bert's head bumped my shoulder. I didn't hear the big guy approach, so I jumped. The head butt thing again, what, did he sense my distress? Weird.

            "I'm okay big guy," I gave him an awkward pat on the head, peeking into the next stall. Empty, I ducked inside, picking through my selections, listening to Bert thud against the numerous mirrors. I didn't want to think about it, but truth is, you forget, End of the World, everybody dies, even the kids. Did I have kids? Somehow I didn't think so, but the pair in the next stall struck a chord of unease.I must have possessed a dark sense of humor, could recall any number of inappropriate jokes and puns, but seeing the reality of the End, damn. Can't dwell on it, need to distract myself. I settled on a pair of breezy slacks, and a shirt loose enough not to stick to my ribs. Even those thin garments felt heavy, but it beat my rag couture. Satisfied, I stocked up on a few more outfits and went in search of a back pack.

            That is, until I saw the glorious purse hanging on the rack across from the changing rooms, waiting for me. It was black, some kind of imitation leather, with numerous zippered pockets and buttons. I peeked inside, oh yes; it was one of those bags. I placed all my selections inside, so much more room to fill. Time to shop with my precious Mary Poppins purse. I hauled ass to the shoe department, making a brief pit stop in accessories for a pair of black leather gloves. Bert and Ernie found me sometime later, their white eyeballs swinging every which way as they shambled around, like kids at the amusement park. I was hunkered down next to a pile of rejects, trying to find a pair of shoes that hid my bony toes but didn't feel like cement blocks on my feet.

            Heaving aside another pair of boots with a frustrated growl, I was ready to go barefoot. Prying off the lid of another box, I stuck gold. The beauties, closed heel, thick rubber soles, plenty of wiggle room for the toes, and bright shiny red. Hot damn, they were perfect. I could run in these things and be stylin'. I carefully slid them on. Oh, they hugged my ankles like a dream. Snagging another pair for good measure, I decided to grab a few more essentials for my purse.

            "To the health and beauty aisle, boys!" With my new shoes on I strut, my feet soundless thanks to the miracle of rubber soles. I passed the books and magazines aisle and paused. Shooing away the boys, I sidled up to the end display shelf and peeked over the rack of trashy romance for a second look. There was a battery powered lantern on the floor, casting a pale blue fluorescent light on another zombie.