Vaccination (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

The kid decided to join us. We were up to five, with me. I didn’t mind, but there were issues with growing. We’d be louder. We were more obvious. There was a chance for more bickering, head-butting, and arguments. It would be easier for one of them to slow us down. The kid was already injured. He had the Glock, with two shots left, but he wasn’t going to be able to swing a shovel, or baseball bat, or anything. As it was now, we didn’t just have to get past the Tops parking lot, we had to enter the grocery store. Allison wanted to splint the kid’s wrist.

I started to argue, but stopped. It was me that asked him to join us. I can’t
then
complain that we’ll help fix the broken bones we caused. It was his fault; I’m not apologizing for that. He had the gun trained on me. A splint was the least we could do. And the most.

“We’re going into the store. Those doors don’t lock. It’s open twenty-four hours. So there’s bound to be zombies inside,” I said, thinking of the mall.

“Parking lot looks clear,” Allison said.

We were huddled close together at the edge of the shallow woods. Thick brush kept us hidden. We had a clear view of the parking lot. A few cars were in
an array of spaces. Allison was right, though. No sign of zombies. Didn’t mean they weren’t close. Best I could tell though, we had a straight shot for the entrance without hurdles.

Thing that came to mind was whether we should all go, or just two of us. Once inside, we could easily be challenged, and wind up trapped. Needless to get everyone killed. At the same time, I did not want to be killed. Seemed I was the only one with somewhere to be, somewhere to go. It was my idea to get a splint and gauze. I had to be one of those entering the store.

“I’m going to go,” I said. “I want you guys to wait here.”

“I’m going with you,” Allison said.

“Us, too,” Josh volunteered.

“I’m not staying out here alone,” the kid said.

“What’s your name,” I said.

“Me?” the kid pointed at himself. “Jay. Jason.”

“All right, Jay. We’re all going to stay close. Josh, I’ll take point. I want you to follow us, but stay outside the store. Looks clear enough. But if a big group of zombies comes this way, I want you to be able to warn us with enough time to get out of the store. Know what I mean? Watch our backs.”

Josh nodded.

“Allison, I want Jay behind me. You behind him. Dave, you follow Allison.” I scanned the parking lot again. Still looked good. “We are going to run close to the building, right through the automated doors. Good?”

We left cover and crossed the delivery road that led to the back of the grocery store. My eyes felt like they were seizing, looking everywhere all at once. Surprised I didn’t get dizzy.

I’d seen
Zombieland
. And while it was funny seeing the two main guys banjo-playing while checking a grocery store for Zingers, I was not enjoying myself. I knew the Tops layout. Knew the First Aid supplies would be near the M&T Bank, all the way to the left. Past the checkout stations, by the beer.

We reached the entrance. “You got us?”

Josh nodded. “Go, go.”

We went through the automated doors, into the foyer with the rows of metal shopping carts, and newspaper racks, we stopped. Quick pow-wow.

“If it looks safe, Alley, I want you to hit the school supply aisle. See if you can’t grab a couple of back backs. If we can load up on some essentials while we’re here, then we should.” I was staring into her eyes. They weren’t the same as before. I wouldn’t believe it, if I wasn’t seeing it. They’d hardened. Looked cold. She was a different, stronger person. I trusted her. She’d proven herself time and again.

“I’ll take Dave,” she said.

Was a good call.

“Kid, you come with me.”

“Jay,” he said.

“Whatever. Just stay close. Right behind me, and not a sound. Alley, you make as much noise as you have to if something goes wrong,” I said.

“Got it.”

“We’ll meet back at the first check out. The one closest to the exit. Okay? Turn your radio on, Alley. Just keep the volume low.” I switched mine on, as well.

“It’s for emergencies only,” Dave said.

“Right,” I said
, “let’s be quick about this.”

Around the corner was the huge shopping center. Produce and meats to the right. General groceries and seasonal items straight ahead. Frozen foods, refrigerated items and beverages, pet supplies, snacks, paper goods, health and beauty, and First Aid stuff to the left.

It was hard not to imagine shopping as a family. When the kids were little, my ex and I shopped together. Actually looked forward to it. The kids acted like they were at Disney World. We’d stop at the bakery first. Pass up food we planned to buy, in order to get to the bakery. Charlene and Cash wanted their free cookie. There was a Tupperware container by the loafs of fresh baked bread. It contained cookies for kids under 12. The Cookie Club. Not to start there would have been devastating to toddlers. While I was a bit older than 12, I considered myself an honorary Cookie Club member. Used to make the ex laugh when I’d say, “One for you. And one for you, and one for me.”

Even the kids laughed.

They knew I wasn’t supposed to get a cookie. Silly, Daddy.

Once the cookies were distributed, the shopping began. See, it was easier and cheaper giving the kids a free cookie to munch on. For us at the time, anyway. The kids were distracted, and happy. They weren’t pointing at high priced items on the shelves. The ex and I could actually buy what needed buying. And only what needed buying. Usually.

I shook my head. No time for memories. They didn’t help. They clouded judgment. I needed to be clear. Ready.

“You good?” Allison said.

“I am. You ready?”

“All set.”

We had a lot of ground to cover, with no idea what to expect. I didn’t like it, and therefore, I did
not
have a good feeling about this. Not at all.

“Stay close,” I whispered. The kid was practically up my ass. He breathed heavy. Uneven breaths. I knew he was scared. We all were. I think he felt especially vulnerable. A broken wrist will do that in a situation like that. He had his gun. It was just going to offer very limited resources if we ran into monsters. Way I felt, there was no way around it. No wa
y was this store empty of those things.

Part of me expected to see long lines, customers unloading groceries onto black conveyors and cashiers sliding bar codes over laser readers before bagging the items. None of that existed. Might never exist again. I used to consider the process slow and chaotic. Never realized how organized a method it really was until now, with it gone. All gone.

We snuck past the scratch off Lottery dispenser machine, and customer service desk. I didn’t see or hear anyone else in the store. Not even Allison or Dave. I was thankful Josh was in front as lookout. The closer we got to the bank, the better I started to feel. There might be a chance we could pull this off without incident.

At the last
register, I squatted. The kid did, too.

“What?” he said.

I shook my head, tried to swallow. My mouth was dry. “You want to wait here? I can see the first aid stuff,” I said, pointing toward the aisle. “I’ll be quick.”

“I’m coming,” is what he said. His eyes shouted, “ain’t no way you’re leaving me the fuck alone.”

“We’re going to be fast, grab the stuff, then look for the others. You be my eyes while I get everything. Okay?”

“I can do that,” he said.

I nodded, not a hundred percent convinced. I was at a point where I trusted myself. No one else.

The plastic bags were hanging by the edge of the conveyor. I took a few. Allison was going to try to locate a backpack, but she wasn’t with us, so for now, I’d fill these.

We stayed low, bent forward as we walked the length of the conveyor toward the front of the check-out. I looked both ways, amazed not a soul was in sight, alive or otherwise. The place was a goldmine. Forget the produce and meat that would go bad soon, it was the packaged items that would last years that sat stocked on the shelves that had me excited. Figure out a way to keep the sliding doors shut, clear the place of any zombies, and we had a safe haven that might just last until the epidemic was put under control. Assuming it ever would be.

We made a dash for the health aisle. Didn’t need to, no one was around. Once in the aisle
, I snapped open a bag. I first grabbed bandages, alcohol, ointments and hydrogen peroxide. Then it became a free-for-all. Aspirin, Benadryl, cough syrup and anything else that looked helpful. I filled two bags before I stopped and listened.

“What was that?”

The kid’s eyes were wide open. He stared down the aisle toward the beer coolers. “A ball. It just bounced by the--”

A small child ran after the ball. Arms out.

“What the fuck,” I said and held my finger up to my lips to shush myself.

“She look sick? Like a zombie?”

“Couldn’t tell,” I whispered. “We’re out of here. We have what we came for.”

“But if she’s not a zombie, how can we leave her?”

The ball bounced by again, going the opposite way. We waited. A second later, we heard a laugh, a giggle really, and the child ran past the aisle toward the ball.

“We’re out of here,” I said again. My heart thumped around inside my chest. I was officially freaked out. This was like something in a horror movie. Life was, actually, but this -- the child running back and forth, it was too much.

“We have to see. If she’s alone, she’s got to be scared.”

“I’m scared. I’m leaving,” I said, and turned.

At the edge of aisle, I snuck a peak right and left. Still no one. “Let’s go,” I said.

Nothing.

“Kid,” I said.

I turned. He wasn’t up my ass. He was halfway down the aisle, as if he were going to investigate the condition of the child.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Kid? Kid? Jason!” I said. I wasn’t about to yell. Why he was going to check on some child who more than likely was a zombie playing ball in an empty grocery store, was beyond me. It didn’t make him a hero, just like wanting to flee didn’t make me a coward. I don’t think.

I cursed under my breath, tied the plastic grocery bags into a knot and hefted my shovel. Fine. I’d follow.

With quick, quiet steps, I caught up to the Kid, and tapped his shoulder.

He jumped.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said.

I wanted to thunk him on the head with the spade, but refrained. “Are you kidding me?”

He shushed me this time.

He was going to get a
thunking
. If not now, as soon as we were out of the store. This was plain and simple crazy.

We stood at the end of the health aisle. Neither of us saying a word. Felt like we’d been statue-still for hours. I knew what we were doing, what we were waiting for. The ball.

Only it didn’t come.

We kept waiting.

I was keeping an ear open for Allison and Dave. They had to be close to wrapping up on their hunt for supplies. They hadn’t screamed. Yelled. Nothing. I assumed that meant they were getting along fine. Gathering, as instructed. Ready to meet at the first check-out as planned. Unlike us. The Kid and I. We were looking for a four year old.

“Where’d she go?”

“To find her parents,” I said. “We’re leaving.”

The giggle. It was close. Possibly. Hard to tell exactly where it came from. The sound echoed. Bounced off the emptiness of the store.

“Jay, I’m not messing around. We have to get out of here. The others are waiting,” I said. No idea if they were.

He took a tentative step forward. I did, too.

We rounded the corner. The end-cap stocked with shampoo, conditioner, shaving cream, and anti-perspirant. I wish I hadn’t tied off the bags. Those seemed like necessary items. Toothpaste and toothbrushes and mouthwash. All necessity.

“I don’t see her,” he said.

I worked at the knot on the bags. It made way more noise than I’d hoped, but came loose. Untied, I dropped the additional items in. A few of each. The bags became very, very full. I didn’t want them to break. Maybe we didn’t need the mouthwash.

“I’m leaving, Kid. You can stay. Stay as long as you want.” I’d whispered, my mouth at the back of his ear. “Good luck.”

I turned around.

Dropped both bags. One bottle of mouthwash must have busted. Green fluid spilled, pooling around the items inside the plastic. Smelled antiseptically menthol.

The child was four, maybe five. And dead.

Shoulder length red hair framed decaying flesh, and a frothy mouth with a missing lower lip. Milky, lifeless eyes were set below thin eyebrows, and long matching eyelashes. When she growled, upper teeth grinding against lower ones, I panicked.

I kicked out. My foot struck the child in the chest. She went reeling. Didn’t fall, though. Her arms shot forward.

The Kid and I ran. She pursued.

We were running from a toddler. It made no sense.

It did. I couldn’t kill her. I wasn’t going to swing my shovel. Wouldn’t.

“Run,” I said. The Kid ran. I followed, but not sure why. “Toward the front of the store!”

He changed direction. Going right. We ran along the back of the store, passing the refrigerated areas. Hot dogs, cheeses, milk and eggs. Then cut up an aisle.

I didn’t look back. Had no reason to think the child-zombie had stopped chasing us, but felt confident we were putting some serious distance between us.

“She behind us?” The Kid said.

“Keep running,” I said.

We had nothing. The bags were busted in the aisle, and the whole purpose for entering the store was shot. “Run!”

I saw Allison and Dave. First check-out. Both had backpacks slung over a shoulder.

Maybe it wasn’t all for nothing.

“Chase?” Allison said.

“Go,” I said
, “get out.”

Allison grabbed Dave by the arm, spun him
, and pulled him to the exit.

The Kid and I right behind them.

Outside, Josh stood ready, weapons drawn. His twin hand-shovels at the ready.

“What is it?”

“A child. A freaking zombie child,” the Kid said.

Allison cocked her head to one side. “Seriously?”

“I wasn’t going to kill her,” I said.

“We didn’t see anyone in there,” Dave said.

“The child is in there. Hideous little bastard, too.”

“Chase dropped all the bandages,” the Kid said.

“You little mother fucker,” I said. “I should send your ass back in there. It’s your wrist that’s broken.”

That shut him up.

“I’ll go,” Josh said.

“No. We’re done,” I said.
“We’ve wasted way too much time here. And for nothing.”

“We got some stuff,” Dave said. “Food and stuff. And a can opener. One you twist by hand.”

I bit my lip. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes,” Josh said.
“I’ll get the supplies for the kid’s wrist.”

I knew it was guilt. Dave had broken the Kid’s wrist, and I’d bet Josh spent his life trying
constantly to right wrongs. “Two minutes,” I said.

Josh nodded.

“And cigarettes. If you can find them.”

Josh disappeared into the store. I started counting down.

“I’m sorry,” David said.

Allison placed a hand on the ox’s shoulder. They must have bonded on the tour through the grocery store. I ignored it all. My eyes scanned the parking lot. I saw a small herd of zombies on Mt. Read, but they seemed to be headed toward the Barnard Park, the Greece Police station--east, away from us.

The kid coddled his wrist up near his chest. He, too, was looking everywhere. His face was covered in sweat, his hair a mess. He was taking quick shallow breaths. I wanted to tell him just to calm the fuck down. Josh came out of the store. He held two plastic bags filled with the medical supplies. “Grabbed some toothbrushes and toothpaste, too,” he said. “Figured, why not.”

“You see the girl?” the Kid asked.

“No one.”

“Let’s head back to the woods. Bandage up the Kid’s arm there. Then we can figure out
how we’re going to move forward from there,” I said.

No one argued. Didn’t suspect anyone would.

As we left the parking lot and entered the trees, the sky opened up. Rain poured down. The canopy of the trees was thin at best. Most of the leaves were crisp and brown and on the ground. We were going to get soaked, and cold.

Allison did her best to keep the bandages dry. She splinted the Kid’s wrist, wrapped it
, and then used the plastic bag the supplies came in as a glove, sliding it over the Kid’s hand. She made small talk while she worked. “So are you a football player?”

“Was,” he said.

“For the Greece Cardinals?” She pointed at his shirt.

“From the time I was five.”

“High school?”

“Where I went, they didn’t have a team. School was too small.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Was still going to try out when I went to college this fall.”

“You’re in college?”

“Monroe Community,” he said
, “they don’t have football either.”

Allison just smiled. Finished her work. “This should help.”

“Thank you,” he said.

I checked my phone. One battery line remained. I couldn’t afford to let my cell die. It was the only chance of contact with my kids. Too much time had lapsed since the last call. I wanted to stay optimistic. These things out on the streets were relentless, strong, and hungry. They kept the five of us hopping. We were adults. Mostly. And fighting them off was a challenge. How were two kids. . .

I couldn’t go there. To do so would be like surrendering. They were all right. Somewhere safe. Had to be. Had to be, or all of this--my life, was for nothing. Not a thing. They were fine. Waiting for me to come rescue them. They were holed up in a vacant spot, scared, maybe wet and cold now, but safe. And waiting.

“He all set?” I said.

Allison nodded. “He is.”

“Then we’re moving. Let’s go.”

“I think we should find shelter. Wait out the rain,” Josh said.

I didn’t face him. I didn’t acknowledge his input. I didn’t say a damned thing. I just hoisted my shovel over a shoulder, and picked up a backpack and started walking back toward the Tops parking lot. I wasn’t concerned about who, if anyone at all, followed me.
Either I had the four people behind coming, or I was going it alone. It was that simple.