Crash! I forced the Zombie away from myself and sent it hurtling toward a shelf full of cutlery.
The sound of the kitchen knives and their shelving impacting the dirty floor almost drowned out the sound of my screaming. Almost.
I knew I shouldn’t have bothered coming to work today. Not that I ever looked forward to my serving shifts at Morgan’s, but I needed the cash and I thought those quacks droning on and on about the ‘world ending on Monday’ were full of crap. Odds were in my favor. How many times has the world actually ended when someone predicted it? Obviously, just this once.
The diner’s at Morgan’s aren’t the classiest. Staff’s not either, but that’s beside the point. There have been plenty of times when I wish they’d just stop making me miserable and eat their food. I did not, however, wish that their food would be my brain.
People had been talking about it for weeks, about that crazy pastor…who talked about ‘the dead rising and the world coming to an end’. I don’t remember if he blamed God or a solar flare. I’m also not sure what actually started it. Maybe because I spent my entire day here at Morgan’s and not at home curled up with a tub of popcorn and HBO-On-Demand like I wanted?
I dived for one of the more wicked looking butcher knives as it careened past my horribly unfashionable slip-proof work shoe and only just managed to stop its flight with a finger. Stretching a little further, I palmed the handle and tried to work my way around the corner dish tank and back into the dining room. I could hear the zombie behind me clambering to its feet indelicately.
This all started as a normal work day. Same obnoxious customers with their ‘regulars’ and their standard complaints about coffee not being fresh or their portion being too small. Then, things got weird. Cell phones erupted in song all over the dining room, people left in a hurry with food still untouched and bills unpaid. Jeff, the line cook, fished out his own cell and managed to get a live news feed. That’s how we heard about the zombies…how we saw them devour the blonde reporter on channel 7 on a live feed. Everyone else ran. Jeff and I stayed back, both of us pretty sure that it was all a hoax. In an hour or two they’d reveal it was fake and everyone would feel foolish…like those weirdos who fell for the War of the Worlds radio drama.
Except…that the zombies are real. One got into the place even though we tried to barricade against it. It bit Jeff while he beat its brains out with a fire extinguisher from the line.
I backed up as a whiff of zombie met my nostrils, turning slowly to face Zombie Jeff. He bared cavity ridden teeth and launched himself at me again…
I really hate Mondays.