People Seem to be Getting Grumpier Part Four

People Seem to be Getting Grumpier Part Four

Yet Another Zombie Story

In case you missed it, People Seem to be Getting Grumpier Part One started… I don’t know, a few weeks ago. Back up and read that first or this will make absolutely no sense. Or go in blind and see how well you survive.

The Horror Kicks Off

Several things happened at once. First, I realised that they weren’t just “somethings” anymore. They were zombies. Real, no-pulse-having, blood-hungry, undead freaks. Second, I noticed Monique was struggling to breathe and clutching her very pregnant belly like she was about to give birth to a football. And third, I realised we were absolutely, completely fucked.

One of the zombies must have been lurking behind the kitchen door we had just burst through. As I spun around, something pushed me from behind. My hands immediately flew into some pseudo-karate position I must have learned from a 90s action film. But it wasn’t a ninja I was about to fight. It was carnage.

The cafe woman

A woman from the café had been grabbed by a blood-soaked zombie in an apron who looked like he’d recently flambeed someone. Her scream was cut short as he yanked her head back and took a bite out of her neck. The spray of blood hit the floor and walls like a horror movie that had given up on subtlety.

The rest of the café crowd behind us turned into a human traffic jam, all trying to back out through the same door like panicked cattle. I caught a glimpse of one woman falling, then disappearing under a heap of the others. Chaos. Pure, unfiltered chaos.

The zombies that had been busy munching on floor casualties suddenly looked up. I could practically see them thinking, “Fresh meat.” Then they rushed us.

I had seconds. Maybe less. To my left, slightly behind me, was a large, industrial walk-in freezer. I grabbed Monique and shoved her toward it. Not as a human shield, I’m not completely heartless. She was too slow to react and if I didn’t get her moving, we were both going to be dessert.

She hit the door and I yanked it open, practically tossing her inside. I turned just in time to see the others trapped at the café entrance. One woman locked eyes with me, silently begging for help. I couldn’t do anything. I wanted to. But I couldn’t.

Two other women managed to break away and sprint toward me. A third wasn’t so lucky. A zombie tackled her like a linebacker and she vanished beneath him in a blur of screams and teeth. I opened the freezer door wider, letting the survivors in. Then I jumped in myself and slammed it shut. No lock inside, but I spotted a latch and secured it in place.

Cold, Confused, and Completely Screwed

We backed away from the door. It was silent. Too silent. The cold hit like a slap, and we were all painfully aware that none of us were wearing jackets. We looked like we had just wandered into a meat locker wearing outfits for a brunch date.

The only sounds were our heavy breathing. Gradually, it slowed enough to hear faint noises outside. Muffled groans, the occasional wet crunch. Nothing that indicated screaming. That either meant the zombies had lost interest, or we were the only ones left.

Monique looked calmer than she had outside. Though her eyes were wide and wild, she kept one hand on her belly and the other pressed against her chest like she was trying to hold herself together.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. What the fuck is going on?”

Excellent question. One I didn’t have the luxury of answering.

The other two women turned to me, expressions expectant, as though I might pull a plan out of my arse along with a torch and a space heater. I shook my head. I was just the idiot who dragged them into a walk-in fridge.

“Well,” I said, trying to summon a joke from the ashes of my panic, “you were right about one thing. People really do seem to be getting grumpier.”

Crickets. Not even a chuckle. Tough crowd. Or maybe they were just cold, traumatised, and waiting to die. Hard to say.

Freezer Thoughts and Icy Regret

The question that followed was inevitable.

“Now what?”

I didn’t know which one said it, but they all looked at me for an answer. Because I was a man? Or because I was the one who had spotted the freezer? Perhaps because I looked like the type of guy who survives things like this?

The truth was, I had no bloody clue. I was tired and cold, and hiding in a meat locker surrounded by strangers and hoping a zombie didn’t learn how to use a door handle.

I looked around. Shelves lined the walls. Piles of meat, boxes of frozen vegetables, tubs of sauce, plastic-wrapped mystery items that might have once been edible. Not exactly ideal survival gear.

We stood there for a long time in silence, our breaths visible in the freezing air, watching as frost began to form on the floor beneath our shoes. Monique shifted her weight and winced. The other women hugged themselves and rubbed their arms. I stared at a box labelled “pesto lasagna” as though it held some kind of divine answer.

“I have no idea,” I said.

And there it was. The best survival plan I could muster. Hide in a fridge and hope the apocalypse has an off switch. And maybe hope there’s a way to defrost our toes before morning.

To Be Continued…

If you thought the world was falling apart outside, just wait. People Seem to be Getting Grumpier Part Five is coming soon. There will probably be less pesto and more panic.

If this half-frozen tale of terror hit the spot, check out the rest of my chaotic brain on FoxEmerson.com. There’s more weirdness, sarcasm, and existential dread waiting for you.

Fox