“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Hal said under his breath. He was not going to get close enough to these things to spray head lice ointment on them. Then what? Was he supposed to sit beside each one with that tiny comb and try to scrape them out of their hair? It was a dumb idea.
“Now, wait a minute,” Grant said. “It’s not really the worst idea. I mean it could work, right?”
“I don’t think so, Grant,” Sally said.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Clementine said.
“Only because you thought of it,” Hal replied. “Come on. It’s not a good idea.”
“I say we try it,” Grant said.
“I say you try it,” Hal shot back.
He’d already gotten so sick of Grant and his smart ass comments. As far as he knew, this guy created furniture for a living. He wished he’d build himself a chair, sit in it, and stay in it. Sally did not need to be getting within spray bottle distance of these things. The whole idea was reckless.
Thirty minutes later, after loading supplies, weapons, and ammo into the back of Clementine’s pickup parked at the back of her shop, they pulled up in front of Walmart and parked at the curb. Hal hated the idea. Sally seemed to be on his side, but the other two were convinced this would work. Without a real plan of his own, other than to drive around shooting people in their heads, he didn’t have much of a say in the matter.
Clementine and Sally sat in the front of the truck with Hal and Grant in the bed. As soon as the truck came to a halt, Grant hopped out and headed toward the store’s doors. The lights were on inside, which was a good sign, Hal supposed, but that also meant the things could have been attracted to the light. He wondered how many of them were in there.
Sally stopped on the sidewalk and waited for Hal. Grant and Clementine were hopped up on adrenaline, ready to run through the door.
“What’s the plan?” Hal asked.
Grant held his shotgun up and said, “What do you mean? We go in to get the head lice shit and we blast anybody who gets in the way.”
“Anybody?” Hal asked.
“You know,” Clementine stepped in, “any of those zombies.”
“Are you going in, Hal?” Sally asked.
He glanced at the parking lot and saw none of the bastards running toward them. From where he stood, he could see the other side of the street where he’d wrecked his truck earlier this evening. He knew some of those things had to be out here roaming about, looking for their next victim.
“I suppose we’re better off staying together than splitting up,” Hal said.
Grant nodded. Clementine threw an arm around Sally’s shoulder and pulled her toward the door. Hal followed with a pistol tucked in his belt and a rifle in his hand.
Inside, there was no greeter, which was to be expected. The self-checkout lanes were empty. The tiny sandwich shop tucked in its own corner to the right had nobody working the counter and no customers dining. It was too late for that anyway. In fact, the diner should have been closed already, as in the floor mopped and the chairs stacked on top of tables. The store was twenty-four hours, but the sandwich shop wasn’t.
“That isn’t a good sign,” Hal said. Nobody else seemed to pick up on what he meant so he added, “Stay alert. They’ve taken over the staff.”
Grant raised his rifle and carried it out in front of him like the point man in a military fireteam. It looked like he was about to lead them in clearing a house instead of searching for head lice ointment.
This is so stupid. It’s dangerous. And for what?
Clementine held two shotguns, one locked into each armpit, and Hal couldn’t help thinking the world had surely gone to shit. They’d become a rogue team of post-apocalyptic bandits. This was Mad Max and they were in the thunder dome.
For the first time, seeing the untouched shelves in front of him, Hal wondered if they should take as many supplies and as much food as they could pile into the back of the truck. If this thing reached beyond town limits, they could be plunged into darkness. It could become every man for himself. What was their plan once they left the store? To ride around and blast these creatures with head lice spray? If that didn’t work, then what? Shoot them? Or go hide away somewhere? If they were going to hide, they would need to stock up.
Grant looked back and waved for Sally to follow him. He wanted her by his side, and that was the first thing he really respected about the guy. He was doing his best to take care of his girl. If she was his girl. Hal wasn’t even sure. Now wasn’t the time to ask simple kinds of questions. If it didn’t involve saving the human race, it probably wasn’t a good discussion.
“It should be back near home and garden,” Clementine whispered. “With the pesticides and stuff.”
Hal was glad she knew where she was going because he had no idea where they’d find the shit. He couldn’t even remember the name of it. He’d heard of Nix, but that was about it. He figured that would probably be somewhere over by the pharmacy.
“I need to get me a carton of smokes while we’re in here,” Clementine added.
He wasn’t a smoker, but he had been in the past, and he could imagine himself saying something so dumb at a time like this. They were in here now, so whatever she needed to grab to make herself feel better, she might as well get it.
Grant was out front with Clementine close behind. Sally stayed behind them and Hal brought up the rear. The home and garden area was to the left, past the women’s clothing, the jewelry, the kitchen and bathroom supplies, the pharmacy, the toys, and the beauty care products. Hal could see the barbecue grills from where they stood near the cash registers.
If this were a regular shopping run, he wouldn’t have thought twice about the distance they needed to cover, but this was anything but normal. Between them and their destination lay countless shelves these creatures could hide behind. His heart hammered in his chest as they passed the women’s clothing.
Deeper into the store was the men’s clothing, the shoes, and the socks and underwear.
Hal knew this store well. He did all his shopping here. Sometimes, when lonesome and sorrow hit him hard, he’d walk up and down every aisle. He’d look at the yarn and remember how his wife used to knit sometimes as they watched TV. It calmed her nerves. He’d run his fingers along the young adult books in the paperback section. His daughter used to shut the world away whenever she was grounded from her phone. She’d curl up under a blanket and stay in her room all day and all night reading books. She’d told him once it was her way of drowning them out. She didn’t have to look at her mother or father if she was concentrating on the words in front of her.
Sadness hit him now as he thought about how much time was lost. He wished he could go back and unground her. He’d spend every one of those seconds with her talking, laughing, listening…
A groan came from somewhere in the back of the store. Probably at the electronics. He imagined one of those creatures knocking over the books his daughter might have picked out. Soiling the paperback covers with its disgusting hands. Its hair wiggling, searching for another human to infect. Human or animal. He’d seen the dogs too. The dogs were worse because they were smaller, faster, and more aggressive than the infected humans.
Hal could outrun some humans. He couldn’t outrun a dog.
Grant waved at the back of the store, completing his military image. He made hand gestures Hal didn’t understand but knew it had something to do with the sound he’d heard at the back. It looked like Grant was waving in that direction. If he thought Hal was going to go looking for the source of that growl, he was out of his damn mind.