Midnight at the Circle Z.
Dylan had spent the last hour playing Jewel Smasher.
The title had caught her attention, and it had instantly become her favorite mobile game the moment she could announce, "I'm gonna smash your jewels!"
After an engaging but ultimately fatiguing eighty-seven rounds, she accepted defeat gracefully.
GAME OVER
She was ready for her stats to come up, but there was only a vacant frame on the screen. It failed to load.
Her brow furrowed as she closed the app. And then she gaped incredulously.
She had exactly zero signal.
"What the fuck, yo?"
She groaned dramatically and, rolling her eyes, slid the now-worthless device into her back pocket.
"I can't even text Lacey now," she muttered. "What a crummy fucking night."
She tugged her short, fingerless gloves taut, then leaned over the counter and rested on her forearms. Looking ahead at the vacant store, she sighed and relaxed.
It hadn't been a bad night at all. She'd had another wonderful evening with Lacey, and was swimming still from making love to her. Her knockout of a girlfriend.
Dylan loved that Lacey could be cracked like a safe, loved the noises she elicited in her. Even if she was a square, and sometimes a nag, Lacey was easily the sexiest girl in the world. She especially enjoyed being adventurous with Lacey, challenging her when she was, more often than not, reluctant. Lacey welcomed it, too.
She had realized only recently that she was starting to lose interest in such games, though. After two years together, she simply wanted Lacey, to have her and to be had by her, to embrace her and never let go. Dylan grinned. She'd always called it "fucking." And they had certainly done that. But for a while now, there was something more. It was romantic. She loved being with her lover, holding her after, their hearts beating together.
That made it real.
She wanted to tell Lacey how she felt, but even though Lacey was the only person she trusted, something held her back. This was fine enough, she decided.
Dylan grabbed her tall can of Machine Cherry Lightning energy drink from under the counter and took a large gulp.
It was one of the perks of the job. She could have a drink as long as she kept it hidden from the customers.
Her thoughts alternated between game strategy and all of the ways she wanted to have Lacey. The sniper in the Belgrade segment was a problem, and she hated using stealth. More rockets and grenades was the clear solution there. On her knees and with Lacey naked and spread in front of her, she could grab her waist and pull her crotch up to her face, devour her like a tyrant and…
The electronic bell sounded.
Dylan looked over and straightened.
It was a lank, squirrelly young man in a hoodie and slacks. A college student.
"Hello," Dylan said, a professional obligation.
"Hey," he grunted.
She watched him closely. His kind thought they could get away with mischief because the community college was on the far other side of town. But if she could never get away with stealing and trying to purchase beer before she was twenty-one, then there was no way she was going to let other people get away with it.
He returned to the counter with a case of beer.
"Card," Dylan commanded, her hand out and clapping itself.
The young man took it from his wallet and handed it to her. Dylan looked it over. It was the part of her job she enjoyed most.
His card checked out. It had all of the correct markings. He was a believable two months over the age limit. And he seemed relaxed enough.
She thought, Maybe a future as a Soviet border guard is in order? and returned the driver's license. "Hey," she said. "Is your phone getting any reception?"
"Um…" He checked his phone. "Huh. No."
He finished at the pay terminal.
"Well, fuh… Crap," she said, restraining herself. She handed him his receipt.
"Expecting a call or something?" he asked.
"No, I just want to text my girlfriend."
"Girlfriend?" He smirked, nodding. "I can dig it."
She scoffed. "Bye!"
The young man grabbed his beer, wiggling his eyebrows as he left.
The electronic bell sounded.
Dylan groaned. "Ugh!" And relaxed again. People like that didn't bother her nearly as much as they had only two years ago.
What did she care? She had Lacey. She was the official winner.
A scream interrupted her reverie.
She looked over at the door. It had come from outside. She listened, suddenly not sure if she had heard anything at all. It was a short burst of noise, like a loud yelp that had only started before being ended quickly.
Silence reigned. She decided it was nothing, probably just the college student and his buddies being rowdy, if it was anything at all, and returned to relaxing.
Seconds ticked away.
Thump! A large bang against the door.
Dylan jumped and looked sharply at the doors. But all she could see was the fluorescent lights shining against their glass.
More silence.
"Pssht!" she scoffed, her heart still pounding. "Stupid birds." She hollered, "Way to use the door handle, moron!" Dylan grinned, smoothing the front of her red smock.
She thought about the way Lacey always smiled at her dumb jokes and antics, both in delight and disapproval, cheering and jeering equally, and how much joy that brought her. Nothing else made her feel so worthwhile.
You're such a fucking sap, she thought.
The lights suddenly flickered out, leaving her in near dark.
"Fucking what?"
Dylan looked over at the doors again, able now to see through the glass.
And gasped sharply and stepped back.
It bashed shiftlessly against the door—a silhouette of a man, lit from behind by the parking lot lights.
Its gnarled, limp hand raised and slammed against the door. Thump. And it let its hand drag down, smearing translucent purple-red slime along the pane.
"Oh, shit."
It got its hand in the door handle and pulled weakly. The door opened inch by inch, and the thing loped inside unsteadily.
"Oh, shit!"
With a click, the lights came back on.
Dylan's eyes widened.
The slumped thing staggering toward her was unmistakably a dead body.
It was purple-red, slimy, and reeked. Quivering gobs sloughed from its form. Bone was exposed on its arms, chest, hips. And in its many gapes and hollows, maggots churned and spewed out.
The walking corpse stared at her with empty fissures as it inched near, dragging along its atrophied limbs.
It rasped airily as it reached, bone protruding from its rotted fingertips.
Dylan backed away, to the far edge of the counter.
And then she laughed breathlessly.
"Zombie? Ha! You think I don't know how to deal with fucking zombies? I've been getting that education since I was ten, motherfucker!"
Dylan grabbed the fire extinguisher concealed at the side of the counter and charged at the corpse, her sneakers squeaking against the floor.
She grunted as she bashed it in the face, over and over. Its face squished and crunched as its gooey mass broke apart and the bone underneath shattered and shifted.
The corpse reached, trying to get its decomposing hands on her arms, her neck, leaning at her, ambling forward feebly.
She swatted its arms away, and with a roar thrust the extinguisher down on its head as hard as she could. With a sickening crackle, its head collapsed. The extinguisher stuck in the bone and sinew. Dylan yanked it free, and the zombie's teeth sprayed out, tapping on the floor amid its oozing slime. She slammed the extinguisher into the corpse's chest then, with such force that it fell back and onto the floor.
Dylan panted, staring down at the squirming body.
Already, it was trying to get back up.
Her eyes narrowed. She tossed the extinguisher onto the counter, its metallic clank loud in the silence, then hurried to grab the broom resting against the wall.
She gripped its wood handle and marched back. Standing over the corpse, she spun the broom around and stabbed its rounded end through the remnants of the zombie's skull.
Dylan groaned, pushing it in as hard as she could, certain she was really just pressing its tip down against the floor.
She pulled it out with a breathy grunt and stepped back.
"Ha!" she barked, still panting. "Fucker."
Her smile quickly faltered. Even though its head was shattered like a pumpkin, the thing was still moving. She watched as it squirmed, tossed, set its hands flat on the floor, and started to push, working to get back up and rasping angrily.
She glanced up then. And could see another zombie approaching the doors. It struck against them, and while it thudded, confused and trying to figure out how to get inside, several more followed behind it.
"Fuck this noise!"
Dylan took off, turning and slamming through the swinging plastic door to the store's stock room. She raced through the narrow space, past the small office, the reverse side of the refrigerators, the mop station.
Already, a strategy was forming.
They're slow and dumb. So I can dodge them, at least. Go fucking pro linebacker on their asses! she thought. "Yeah. Think you can take me? Go ahead on!"
And then she had a grim realization.
Maybe she could take them on, but not Lacey. Lacey was alone, in the dark. And if she was asleep, she wouldn't even know what was going on.
"Oh, fuck!"
Dylan stopped in the dark corner, ahead of the rear entrance, the silver door awash in the red light of its exit sign. She took the phone from her back pocket, tapped madly at its screen. Still no signal. Still no way to reach her.
"Fuck! Fuck!"
She pocketed her phone, about to kick open the door, knowing that was correct way to do it, but stopped herself, and with her heart pounding, took a breath.
"Fucking fat idiot," she muttered. "This isn't Deathlands 2. You've got to be smart!"
Dylan looked around and found the scraper they used for removing gum and grime from the parking lot. It had a long, sturdy shaft, and a sharp, flat metal head. Perfect for slicing into the slimy dead, she thought.
Clutching the scraper, she quietly opened the door and peeked out. A strip of concrete, illuminated in dull yellow light from the other side of the store, and the shadowy fields and woods beyond it. But no sign of zombies.
She lunged out, set her back against the wall, and checked the other way. Still clear. She proceeded, taking her steps carefully and listening.
Dylan tried to control her heaving breath and stay calm. She wanted to just take off, get to Lacey, but she didn't want to attract any more of those things. She had to be as safe as possible. Her grip tightened on the scraper.
Finally, she reached her burgundy 1974 Continental.
She hastily retrieved her keys from her pocket, flicked out the middle of the three on the ring, got her door open, tossed the scraper inside, and hopped into the driver's seat. She slammed the door, thrust the key into the ignition, grinning, when suddenly she stopped what she was doing and quickly turned around, looking into the backseat and the immense space beyond. She searched into the dark, and satisfied that there was only shadow behind her, faced forward again.
"Good!" she huffed. "No fucking zombie's gonna grab me from behind!"
Another check, ahead and to the sides, and she turned the key. The car gradually roared to life.
She revved the engine, put the car into drive, and planted the gas pedal against the floor. Tires squealed as she lumbered around the store and into the parking lot.
As Dylan headed for the freeway, she looked at the store entrance. Three zombies were clustered against the doors. Between them and the only car in the lot, she recognized the body of the college student, beaten and bloodied.
She shook her head and took off, heading for the apartment on the distant south side of the city.
"Not my baby!" she exclaimed, overly enjoying herself now that she was away from the danger. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Not this time!"