“What?” she said.
“I don’t think they can hear.”
She waited a beat before she laughed. “Isn’t that a stereotype the hetties use?” She spoke in a valley girl voice. “He never listens to me. He only pays attention to me when I’m dressed up.”
“Maybe if it’s a subliminal message it’s scrambled their hearing or something.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. Sex zombies that detect women by sight.”
“Does that mean they’ll leave unattractive women alone?”
“That might be the most egotistical thing I’ve ever heard you say. Are you saying you’re a hottie?”
“Are you telling me I’m not?” I waved my hand to cut off the argument. “No, no, hear me out.” I paused to collect my thoughts. “If it’s a stereotypical male thing… wouldn’t they only harass women they thought were hot or at least fuckable?”
Callie considered it for a moment. “Unless they were wearing beer goggles and then everything would become fuckable to the stereotypical hetty male. And who’s to say the subliminal message isn’t a big case of the beer goggles and not some sort of spell.”
“Not all hetty males become rapists and say stupid shit when they’re extremely intoxicated.”
“Fifty percent of the population is male.” She pointed toward the door. “Does it look like all the men are out there”—she lifted her arms like the Frankenstein monster, stomped in place, and spoke in a baritone voice—“hey, let me fuck you. Hey, let me fuck you. Hey, let me—”
“I get it. I get it,” I interrupted her. “We don’t know though. The world is a big place. I’m sure there’s probably a hot spot. Isn’t that how zombie movies go? A group of survivors convene in a secure spot and are surrounded by a horde? Usually a shopping mall or movie theater or—”
“In our case it would probably be a strip club.”
We both laughed.
“So is that the plan?” Callie said.
“I think going back to the apartment is the better option. Or getting one of our cars from the parking garage and getting the hell out of the city.”
“Maybe look for a group of people to hole up with.”
“That never ends well in the movies.”
“But this isn’t a movie.”
I sighed. “I know. Come on. We should probably at least arm ourselves.”
We retreated into the restaurant to prepare ourselves for the outside world.
Chapter 7
Callie wasn’t too keen on wearing a dead girl’s shoes but I insisted they’d be better for running even though Sydney’s feet were a size and a half larger than her own. She walked around the kitchen in Sydney’s shoes, trying to get adjusted to the extra toe space. She tripped every now and then but learned to lift her knees higher.
I found a small closet with a broom and mop inside. I removed the heads from the handles and Callie and I took turns finding the best way to hold them to swing effectively toward an oncoming person’s crotch. We found holding the handles in a slightly modified manner of the way a hockey player would hold their stick was the best option for an upswing toward the groin.
Callie stowed a knife in her purse and I modified a server’s apron to hold a knife of my own. Neither one of us thought we could bring ourselves to stab someone but desperate situations sometimes called for desperate measures. We were now in an ‘us or them’ scenario. There were no questions as to what I would do if either of our lives were in danger. We snacked on a jar of olives and some cheese we found in one of the giant stainless steel refrigerators before we psyched each other up enough to check out the restaurant alley door.
There weren’t any people in the alley and Callie and I were off toward the apartment in a swift and nearly soundless jog, handles posed to hit the balls of the first guy to get near us. Once we reached the alley I checked around the corner of the last building and my stomach sank. A couple of blocks down, and filling the street and sidewalks, was a large group of people. From this distance I couldn’t tell if they were female or male but from their listless shuffling and the periodic scream of, “Yeah, baby, whew!” coming from their direction I was certain they were male.
“Shit,” I mumbled.
Callie stood behind me and maneuvered to take a look. “Oh no.”
“Maybe if we go down that street”—I pointed kitty-corner from our position at the road running east as opposed to the northbound road we wanted to take—“a few blocks and make a large circle—”
“They’ll see us,” she interrupted. “We can’t cross here. Let’s double back and find a more deserted route.”
“They’re going to be everywhere, Kitty Cat. The longer we’re on the street the higher the risk we’ll be spotted. The population according to gender is nearly fifty-fifty. There’s going to be one of them for every woman in the city. We have to take our chances. And we’re faster than they are. We’ll run.”
“I don’t like this idea.”
“Neither do I but we don’t have a lot of options.”
Callie made a soft whining sound. I gave her a hug and kissed her forehead.
We were both startled by a booming male voice echoing down the alleyway. “Hey! Which one of you lezzies wants to sit on my face and let me tickle you with my mustache?!” A young hipster guy with a handlebar mustache, a bowler hat, and jeans folded up to expose his ankles snapped his suspenders as he stumbled toward us with a leering smile.
Callie swung her handle at him in a threatening gesture but he was either unaware of the damage one hit to the balls would cause or didn’t care.
I tugged Callie’s elbow. “I think it’s time to run.”
We both turned and bolted toward the street I’d pointed out.
The man in the alley screamed, “I want to eat your pussy!”
Someone in the mob down the street must have spotted us and a large cry of incoherent gibberish arose from the group. Almost across the intersection, I noticed a couple dozen men break from the group and head our way. Callie let out a small scream of fear.
We bolted down the street. Callie tried to run straight ahead at the next block but I pulled her to turn right and head north, knowing the others would make it to the intersection behind us soon. I didn’t want them to spot us. If my assessments were right, they’d give up shortly once they couldn’t see us anymore. But we’d only made it twenty feet when we perceived the belligerent catcalls and rude remarks coming up the street that crossed in front of us. The street that separated us from the mob we’d spotted.
“I think they’re splitting up,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
Callie said, “This way.”
She’d spotted a narrow eastbound alley separating two buildings across the street and we dashed toward it. Callie tripped when the toe of her shoe struck the curb. She partially caught herself with her handle and I took her bicep and pulled her back up on her feet. I could tell by the look on her face she was restraining a long line of expletives and must have hurt herself because she was now limping as fast as she could. I wished to whatever nonexistent being that might be listening to help us get to a safe spot, if not our apartment, unharmed by the lunatics coming after us.
We took the alley, not knowing if there was anyone waiting there to capture us. It was empty, thankfully. I wasn’t sure what to do next. If we headed northbound again surely we’d encounter the group of men we’d just avoided if they continued going straight. We couldn’t stay in the alley. The hipster guy could have easily followed us and might catch up. I nearly made myself dizzy looking back and forth at each entrance to the alley. Hopefully we could stay put and the hipster and mob would continue straight. We wouldn’t be spotted and could try to make it the rest of the way home.