Bookshelf Battle

It was only a matter of time.

Since October 1, zombies have been trying to break through the metal gate that separates Price Town from the rest of the mall. Thus far, it has held.

We secured the front doors leading to the parking lot as well, locking them, then chaining and padlocking the handles together for extra measure. We moved as much furniture and junk as we could find to put in front of the glass doors.

In the stock room, the loading dock was impenetrable. There was a giant roll-down steel door that was shut tight.

But we forgot one thing.

The four of us were playing a rousing board game that may or may not have involved dungeons and or possibly dragons when a hideous zombie popped out of a ceiling vent.

Zombie Farmer…E I E I…ARRRRGGHHH!!!

The creature was ugly and wore a pair of overalls. I assumed he must have been a farmer in his previous life. He lunged at us and I didn’t hesitate to unload a clip in his chest, to no avail.

Bernie scored a headshot and the zombie’s brains went flying everywhere.

Four more zombies charged out of nowhere, but were instantly misted.

Alien Jones smacked his vaporizer.

“Out of power? I thought I charged this thing before we came here!”

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, that’s my bad. I unhooked your vaporizer because I needed to charge my electric toothbrush.”

Alien Jones’ Vaporizer

Alien Jones face-palmed himself, took a seat at VGRF’s video game console and started playing Car Thief Mayhem.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I thought you didn’t like that game,” VGRF added.

“Yeah, well, you dummies have put me in a prostitute running over mood,” was the Esteemed Brainy One’s reply. “Go secure every vent in the store. I can’t do everything for you.”

“Sheesh,” I said as VGRF, Bernie and I walked away. “If he had a butt, I’d ask what crawled up it.”

“It’s the zombie apocalypse,” VGRF said. “It’s stressful. Puts a lot of pressure on everyone. You can’t expect everyone to act like their usual selves. Circumstances like these bring out the worst in people…and aliens.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “People are the same no matter what situation you put them in. Right Bernie? Bernie?”

Bernie was busy, smearing his face with war marks, using dark eyeshadow he nabbed from the make-up

Bernie’s losing it…more so than usual…or than he ever did in the late 90’s.

aisle.

“Look out for Charlie. He’s everywhere. And its either us or them.”

He took a kitchen knife he pinched from housewares and walked up to the carcass of the farmer zombie. There wasn’t much head left, but there was just enough there to hold an ear.

Bernie cut it off and showed it to us.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Making a necklace,” Bernie said. “As a warning to the other zombies.”

I leaned in and whispered into VGRF’s ear (luckily still intact) and said, “You might be right.”