People Seem to be Getting Grumpier Part Three

People Seem to Be Getting Grumpier (Part Three of Yet Another Zombie Story)

If you missed Part One or Two, go read those. Seriously. Otherwise, this story about how ‘people seem to be getting grumpier’ will read like a fever dream with no backstory.

Cornered by Somethings

Almost like a coordinated attack, the four somethings cornered me. That was the moment I knew I was well and truly screwed. A car blocked one escape. A man who could’ve moonlighted as a catalogue model was moving in from one side. A woman, dead-eyed and polite-looking, was coming at me from the other. Choices? None. Panic? All of it.

Bonnet-Hopping and Bad Decisions

The model-guy lunged and I jumped, half-twisting, half-flailing, up onto the roof of the nearest car. I felt his fingers graze the back of my jacket. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. I spun around and saw a path. Bonnet to bonnet. Car to car. If I could jump my way down the street like a caffeinated parkour champion, I might just make it.

Did I have a plan? No. Did I care? Also no.

These weren’t people. These were… things. Snarling, twitchy, wrong. Their eyes were cloudy. Teeth bared. Growling. Growling. That should’ve been the first sign. Humans don’t growl like that.

I glanced toward the cafe window like it might somehow offer a miracle or a suggestion. It didn’t. Just a row of frozen, horrified faces. Cheers, team.

New Plan, Same Chaos

I sprinted across the first car and launched myself to the next. Adrenaline said yes, coordination said close enough. I leapfrogged over a few more, then looked back. Distance gained. Not enough. They were fast. Like Olympic sprinter who just got bitten fast.

I made a choice: run around the block and come at the cafe from the other side. Maybe they’d lag. Or… maybe they were dumb. Maybe I’d get a break.

Spoiler: I didn’t.

I hit the pavement and turned the corner. And there they were. More of them. About twenty. I didn’t count. I just spun on my heel and ran like my life depended on it—which, inconveniently, it did.

Jacket Houdini and Romantic Escapes

Cue the model-something. Again. Right in my path. He lunged, again, and grabbed my jacket. Again. Persistent bastard. This time he had both hands involved, like we were dating or something.

So I Houdini’d out of the jacket and let him tumble backward into another something. Romantic.

I leapt over a car, hit the street, and legged it. Toward the cafe. Toward hope. Or doom. At that point, anything not filled with growling corpses felt like a win.

Back in the Cafe

By the time I got to the front, I was wheezing like a pack-a-day smoker. Still faster than the somethings. I flung the door open and shouted the most helpful, concise instruction I could muster:

“Go!”

I locked the door behind me and bolted for the kitchen. Monique was right behind me, slower because, you know, baby on board. I grabbed her hand and pulled. Probably too hard, but zombie etiquette was not my priority.

We passed the counter just as the front door shattered. Screams erupted behind us. I dragged Monique into the kitchen and—

Surprise Buffet in the Kitchen

We both stopped.

The kitchen was a massacre. Blood everywhere. Bodies, everywhere. Half a dozen corpses. And some others… feeding. Or maybe just enjoying a bit of light mutilation. Either way, it was a no from me.

Before I could gag or scream or backtrack, a sound came from the right. I turned, too slow, and a something lunged.

The end of part three… You are in luck. Would you like to proceed to part four?

Proceed to Part Four