Vaccination (Phillip Tomasso) by Phillip Tomasso

Author:Phillip Tomasso
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781925047219
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2013-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

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.

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