After The Zpocalypse
(© Biswapriya Purkayastha)
"Wait a minute," the
Cracker protested. "What what what what what?"
"Never you mind," the
Moll said. "Iím the getaway driver, remember?" She turned back to the phone.
"We just have to get out past the zombies swamping the mall," she said. "Any
"Youíve got booze, right?
Pour it on them and set it on fire." With a snort the Billain ended the call.
Moll said, casting an anguished eye on the rows of bottles filled with the
precious fluid. "Itís bad enough that weíve got to leave it behind, and he
wants us to Ė"
"What else can you do
with it anyway?" the Cracker said. He picked up a bottle and looked at the
label. "Seventy proof. Should burn well, donít you think?"
"Damn it," the Moll
muttered, and grabbed hold of as many bottles as she could manage to hold in her
small hands. "Letís get down to the car."
They walked out of the
bar. There were only a few zombies as yet on this level of the mall, and they
were far away, right on the other side of the huge building. None of them
looked across as the intrepid duo made their way to the lift. "Moll?" the
Cracker asked. "What do we do if thereís a zombie inside the lift?"
The Gangsterís Moll
hefted a bottle of rum and sighed with regret. "We bash it over the head with
this, I suppose. What a waste of booze." The lift sighed to a stop and the door
slid open, so she raised the bottle high, and then lowered it again. No zombie.
"Right," she said. "Down we go."
So down they went. There
were groans and moans at several levels, but they got to the basement parking
lot with no greater scare than something tapping on the outer lift door as they
passed the ground floor. Then the door slid open and...
"Gasp!" the Gangsterís
"Gasp," the Cracker
The basement parking lot,
which should have been crawling with zombies, was almost empty. Except for a
few wandering around among the parked vehicles, there were none to be seen. One
saw them, started in their direction, bumped into a vehicle, and staggered off
in another direction again.
"Why arenít they all over
this place?" the Gangsterís Moll asked petulantly. Her blood was up, and she
was itching to bash someone over the head with a bottle, just to work off her
frustrations. "What are they all upstairs for?"
"Probably nothing to eat
down here," the Cracker diagnosed. "Itís all cars, after all." He followed the
Moll to her car, which was parked several rows away. The zombie which had tried
to walk towards them saw them again, began walking towards them, bumped into
another car and staggered away once more. "Hey, Moll?"
"Yeah?" The Gangsterís
Moll reached for her car keys and dropped several bottles, which didnít improve
her temper any. "What do you want?"
"Nothing," the Cracker
said. "Forget it." He got into the seat beside the Moll, whose car was big and
intimidating enough to scare people out of the way under normal circumstances Ė
at least when taken in conjunction with how she drove. But these werenít normal
circumstances. "Moll," he tried again, as she steered for the exit ramp, "what
do we do if theyíre jamming the exit?" His eyes widened. "Forget it," he added.
"Gangway," the Moll
yelled, and stamped her foot hard on the accelerator. The zombies wandering
around the exit werenít even fortunate enough to find time to get out of the
way. There was thudding and thumping on the bodywork, and a crack magically
appeared in the windscreen in front of the Crackerís face. And then they were
through, and the street lay before them.
And the street was
blocked. Abandoned cars lay here and there, with zombies wandering among them,
occasionally raising their arms and moaning something that almost made sense.
"Moll," Cracker asked,
quite reasonably, "what do we do now?"
"Hold on to your seat,"
the Gangsterís Moll snapped. "Iíll show you why I get to be the getaway driver,
and not you." The Cracker never quite found out what she did next, because he
had his eyes screwed up as tightly shut as he could, but the next thing he knew
they were roaring down the pavement, bowling over abandoned hawkersí stalls
like fruit carts in a Hollywood action movie. The only thing they needed was a
police car chasing them.
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