The Candy Store

So, I wrote this for my fiction class, and I think its a lot of fun.  Enjoy!!

The Candy Store

            I love working the closing shift.  Since the mall closes past the normal kid’s bedtime, Sunny’s Sweets doesn’t get much business after eight-thirty—which basically means I don’t really have to do any work.  The store hardly ever get adults in at any time, but tonight was especially dead, and I gratefully soaked up the solitude.  During the peak hours, from about noon to five, the rows and bins of brightly colored sweets are a beacon, signaling the most snot-faced, awful children, who swamp the aisles with boogers and shrill screams. Kids are disgusting.  I already told Kyle I didn’t want any.  I remember how he’d nodded, letting out a huge sigh of relief.

 For nearly an hour now I’d seen no one, so I pulled out my latest read, some vampire novel written by a Mormon chick, and propped my feet up on the gummy-laden counter.  Good thing Creepy Carl was too cheap to put in security cameras.  Admittedly I’m not the most dedicated employee, but I know Mr. Manager would use the footage to get a good look down my shirt, rather than fire me for “inappropriate use of company time.” 

It was so dead, in fact, that I put down my book and started cleaning up shop about an hour before I usually do—pulling in the full sized candy bar adverts,  putting up some of the less popular candy bins, and sweeping.  I glanced up and down the main strip of the mall, checking out the few remaining shoppers as they milled about, willing them to stay away from my storefront.  If no one bugged, I was going to get out right on time and catch a flick, maybe.  I thought I would call Kyle and we’d go see something scary and cuddle up in the theatre.  Smiling at kids all day in a fog of rainbows and sugar can put you in one hell of a mood.

            Step.  Drag.  Pause. 

            This odd sound was approaching me from behind, coming from the echoing hall of the main mall strip to the door of the sweet shop.  I thought I heard someone scream, but I couldn’t be certain as every brain cell focused on the noise behind me.  The labored footsteps, as I was sure that’s what they were, made my hair curl, freezing it on the back of my neck, chilling the nerves straight down through my spine.  It was a sluggish forward march, but it was undoubtedly approaching me.  I clutched my broom for support and slowly turned.  There was a man standing there, in the entrance to the candy shop, and something was very, very wrong with him. 

            “Excuse me, sir,” I said, controlling my voice with a polite smile.  He stopped at my words, and suddenly I felt silly.  “We’re closing early.” I turned off the “open” neon sign to punctuate my point. He just stood there slouching sideways, like his shoulder was dislocated or something.  It was odd. 

            In the main drag I heard more screams, along with the shattering ring of breaking glass and the rapid patter of gunfire.  I’d never heard a gun fired in real life before, so I couldn’t be sure, but the screams told me it was real.  All the people I could see through my window were running for the Macy’s exit, at the west end of the mall.  The guns slowly seemed to be popping closer and closer to my shop, and the man in the doorway resumed his forward march.

            His skin was mottled gray, riddled with pustules and open, oozing sores.  Dried blood coated his ragged, dirty three-piece suit and crusted under the fingernails of his outstretched hands.  Most of the left side of his face was completely gone.  His left leg was broken, dragging behind him like an afterthought.  He was impossible—surely dead but moving towards me, even as I stood frozen in fear. 

            I’d seen enough movies to know that I was in some deep shit, but not as deep as I could be.  He could have been a fast zombie, after all.  I sprinted to the counter, grabbed my vampire novel, and chucked it as hard as I could at the zombie’s half of a face, hoping the force would knock his head off like they did in the movies.  Making contact, the zombie howled, an eerie moan of pain and animal longing.  His remains were too fresh and so his head stayed where it was.  He kept approaching.