Fire: The Collapse Page 6

Four o’clock. Come on, four o’clock.

  Alicia had only one hour left in her shift. Her buzz had worn off a while ago, leaving her tired, cranky, and craving a nap. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the cheap digital clock attached to the top of her register, checking it every time she opened the drawer, and again when she slammed it closed. “Shitty economy,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Excuse me?” her current customer, a stylish, middle-aged woman with perfect bangs and a fat glittering rock on her left hand asked.

  “I’m sorry. It’s nothing. I’m babbling. I’ve had a bad day.”

  “I understand. I was your age once.”

  Alicia smiled despite herself. This biddy has a sense of humor. She reached for the first item on the conveyer belt, a giant bottle of Vodka. Curiosity got the better of her. “Big party?”

  The woman nodded, fine strands of hair dancing on her forehead. “Yes. My son is graduating from the community college tomorrow.”

  Alicia perked up. “Which one?”

  “City.”

  “No way.” She stopped the conveyor belt. “I know some people over there.”

  “His name is Chaz. Chaz Perkins.”

  A hot flash of anger coursed through Alicia. She broke eye contact, glanced away, and tried to steady herself.

  She had met Chaz a year ago at a friend’s house. He had shown up with one of Alicia’s friends and brought along a good friend of his own—a fat sack of weed. The late-spring party had started in mid-afternoon and raged into the night, providing ample time for Alicia to get way too messed up. She outdid herself, dipping into Chaz’s stash over and over, chasing the perfect high. She had awakened the next morning in the back of his Grand Cherokee.

  Sun beamed on her face, making her sweat. The air stank, a toxic mixture of stale pot, beer, and rancid body odor. Worst of all, she was naked from the waist down, and her pants were missing. Her recollection of the previous night fuzzed out sometime around sunset. Looking at Chaz snoring contentedly beside her, she couldn’t fathom what she had been thinking. An oafish, clumsy boy, he had nothing going for him beyond a bottomless stash of weed.

  She found her shorts wadded up on the front passenger seat and slipped into them as quietly as she could. Then she crawled out of the truck and dashed down the street to her car.

  Later that day, she had gone to the drugstore and picked up two doses of the morning after pill, just in case. She was a ball of nerves as she waited in her doctor’s office a few weeks later, convinced she had caught some horrible disease from Chaz. She got lucky, though, and received a clean bill of health.

  She had never spoken to him again, had almost forgotten about the incident until this moment. She tried to smile. “I don’t know him. Sorry.”

  “Well, it’s going to be a big party. If you’re looking for something to do, here’s the address.” The woman tore a slip of paper from her checkbook and started scribbling.

  “Thanks,” Alicia said, biting back her disgust as she took the paper to be polite. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the next customer in line glaring at her. She smiled in return.

  Finally, she scanned the woman’s last item, a carton of toothbrushes, and pushed the Total button.

  “Joan,” the woman said as she handed over her American Express. She doesn’t give up.

  Alicia swiped the card. “Nice to meet you. I’m Alicia.” She studied Joan’s face while the transaction processed. Up close, she looked like she took care of herself. Early forties, maybe forty-five, about her mom’s age, Alicia guessed. And those bangs—just fabulous. She had to fight the urge to ask the name of her hairdresser.

  A commotion erupted near the return counter. A young man, the cart jockey, she thought, tore through the entrance, his feet slipping and sliding on the polished concrete floor.

  “They’re coming!” People stared at him for a moment, and then returned to their business.

  Alicia made eye contact. Big mistake. He dashed to her station, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her. “You have to get out of here! Now! They’re in the lot. They’ll be inside any minute!”

  Something dripped on her upper arm. He was bleeding on her. “Eww!” She shook him off and pointed at the wound. “Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?”

  “No! I’m fine. But that’s what I’m trying to tell you! They’re coming!” He turned and raced away, bumping into her next customer and spilling her cart in the process. Someone outside screamed, causing everyone to crane their heads, searching for the source.

  Now Alicia was curious. She took her register keys and went to investigate. Other people, both customers and employees, were drifting in the same direction, drawn by the unexpected drama. When she rounded the corner and was able to see outside, Alicia felt her understanding of the world rip loose and slide away, a little earthquake in her mind.

  Across the lot, less than thirty feet away, a man was on his knees, bent over another person, ripping and tearing at their throat. He was pulling enormous, bloody chunks of meat into his mouth and inhaling them like a wild animal.

  “Is that real?” Joan asked from beside her.

  Alicia had forgotten about her. She shrugged. This was Tempe after all. Anything was possible. Where’s a damn manager when you need one? She cast about, searching for one. A giant hand brushed her shoulder, and the next thing she knew, Big Don Harding, her supervisor, nudged her to the side and pushed past.

  Her stomach knotted up. She tasted bile, as if she was going to vomit. “You can’t go outside,” she said.

  He gave her a stern glare. “And why not?”

  “I…”

  He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Alicia. I’m sure it’s some kind of movie promotion or something. Whatever it is, they can’t do it here. Not without getting approval from Corporate.” He started for the exit.

  Alicia turned her attention back to the men in the parking lot. The first man was standing and staring at the people clustered around the door. Blood and gore dripped from his face, coating his chest in Technicolor-red. He chewed intently and swallowed the last bits of his meal.

  She glanced behind him at the body on the ground. It twitched. Alicia did a double take. She could have sworn the man on the ground had just moved. That’s impossible. As she stared in disbelief, one of his feet kicked out. Then, with a groan, he rolled over and struggled to his feet.

  Alicia swallowed hard. The man’s throat was in tatters, the fleshy parts chewed to the point where his vertebrae showed through, glistening white, slick, and greasy. His head tilted at an odd angle, the destroyed muscles of his neck barely supporting the weight of his head.

  Customers began backing from the open door, slowly at first, but then with a rising sense of urgency. Alicia sensed the fear sweeping through the crowd; it was an electric current triggering a full-blown panic in the blink of an eye.

  “I don’t like this,” she said. “I think you should close up.”

  Don was paralyzed, seemingly torn between his duty to the store and his instinct for self-preservation. The man with no throat turned his head, tracking slowly across the front of the building. He stopped and focused on Alicia, his empty gaze boring into her. He began to moan, the sound increasing in intensity until it became a full-fledged roar. He took a shaky step toward her. The other man licked his lips and followed.

  Alicia screamed, “Close the fucking doors, Don!”

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