Berengaria Presents: Zombie Attack

The Dogpocalypse by SacredLilac

"This song rocks!" Phil said and cranked the volume up on the car stereo. He sang along and thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel to keep the beat. "We will! We will... rock you!"

A gust of wind sent the A-frame sign swinging outside the convenience store.

He glanced over, "14 million! Holy cannoli!" His excitement faded at the hard fact of a solitary ten dollar bill in his wallet that he had to stretch over the five days until he got paid on Tuesday.

He did a quick mental survey of his cupboards. Being a bachelor who didn't cook very well, it was easily to visualise the stack of tins, peanut butter jar and dried pasta packets. The fridge had a few eggs, half a jug of milk and half a loaf of bread. The freezer had one frozen pizza. The rest of the space was stuffed with hot dogs from work.

Enough to get by, but it meant he didn't go out for a brew with the guys on Saturday.

"Screw it!" he exclaimed, cranking the wheel into the parking lot. "If I win, I'll be able to buy a steak!"

Five minutes later he tucked the 'Early Bird' lottery ticket into his phone case and slipped it into his back pocket. That way he wouldn't have to wait until his shift ended at five to check the results. Who could wait to see if they were lucky and won the whole freakin' 14 million dollars?!

His boss went mental on anyone he caught with their phones on the floor, but it'd only need a quick peek. He might even be able to get a bathroom break at that time to check the results and avoid the possibility of his boss' wrath if he got caught.

He turned on the car and felt Tom Petty's 'Free Falling' was a good sign of the times to come.

"Oh, yeah." He patted his pocket and sang off-key all the way to work.

"Lady Luck is still smiling at me!" Phil crooned to himself as he went for his shift at the grinder at 3:00pm. He did a little two-step number when he arrived at the big steel beast.

Moments later the first batch of meat was dumped in. Picking up the giant rake left by the previous employee, he pulled the meat out of the chute, ensuring it went down into the funnel.

Mark, the loader driver, waved and backed up, off to get the next batch of meat trimmings. Mark had just gotten his loader licence last week, so his newness made him overcautious and, most importantly, slow.

The big shift clock on the wall said 3:07.

Quick as he could, Phil got the last bits of meat dragged out and on its way down to the metal teeth.

Now was his opportunity to check.

He glanced around to make sure the foreman wasn't nearby, or any of the snitches, then slipped the phone out. He peeled back the beige rubber cover and pulled out his ticket.

The row of numbers gleamed up at him from the pale pink slip. He'd decided to let the machine choose random numbers for him since he wasn't particularly fond of his own birthday or any other number.

He gave another glance around before turning the phone on. He quickly went to the Lotto announcement page and compared the row of numbers on his ticket and the screen.

34...match! 20...match! 49...match! 8...match! 12...match!

He goggled at the ticket.

Five numbers.

He checked again, carefully going back and forth.

He looked up to make sure rainbows hadn't started shining across the top of the factory because he was dreaming.