To The Grave

Chapter 27. Marty. Day 135.

I walked into a smaller store, looking around quickly. Randall was kneeling by a display case. I rushed over, kneeling beside him. I looked at the glass pipes within the displays. "He doesn't speak." He whispered.

"So I heard." Randall stood up, his foot swinging into the glass display. He moved his arm carefully around the glass grabbing a handful of knives.

"Grab the tasers." I pointed to the display case. I stood up grabbing the Bic lighter shelf display thing, collecting them into Kennon's backpack.

Randall yanked his arm back, yelping in sudden pain. I looked down at him, seeing blood begin to bubble up on his arm. My arms began to ache, feeling painfully numb. I pulled my eyes away, struggling for my air.

Randall stood up, smearing the blood with his hands as he followed Holden into the mall. I felt my fingertips reaching under my sleeves to touch the pink scar on my wrist.

"It won't heal if you keep picking at it." A raspy voice whispered. I turned to Kennon. He pushed his hair out of his face.

"I thought you didn't speak." I asked, grabbed a tie dyed shirt off a hanger. He shrugged, grabbing the cart and pushing it to the front of the store. I followed him into the next store. "Oh, that's it. You're done talking."

He nodded, entering the next store. I looked around at the CD's and records. "It's already healed. You don't know shit."

Kennon turned around, looking at a record before setting it down. "Maybe." He whispered as he walked off. I looked at the familiar album, having listened to it over a hundred times.

I stopped in front of the cash register counter, grabbing a bottle of water and tossing it into the cart. I looked at the decorated walls, spotting a familiar pattern on a high shelf.

My gaze was pulled away by a loud siren. I rushed to the front of the store, seeing Randall and Holden struggling to make a loud siren stop. "What the hell?" I screamed across the hall to them.

Kennon pushed the cart out from the store, whispering to me, "Let's go." Randall and Holden rushed out of the store, pushing the cart after Kennon. I rushed down the hall, looking at the empty mall.

"Fuck." I whispered, turning back towards the record store. I turned quickly in, grabbing the wall to avoid falling. I climbed onto the counter, reaching for the record on the shelf.

"Marty, hurry up." Randall whispered, turning into the store.

I struggled, m fingers turning up empty with each failed grab. "It's signed."

Randall walked back to the front of the store. My fingers finally gripped around the flat square. Randall turned around quickly, running closer to me. "We need to go now!"

I quickly turned to look at him, my foot slipping off the counter. My knee hit the cupboard, my back slamming against the ground. I let out a loud choke, "Fuck." My hands held my knee in pain. Randall tried to push an employees only door, it remaining in it's locked state.

I looked around, hearing the groans grow closer. I pulled open a cupboard, pulling the shelves of extra supplies out. I crawled in, waving for Randall to crawl in.

The doors closed behind him, a small crack letting faint light in. I wrapped my arm around my face, breathing into my elbow. I could see a corpse rounding the counter and looking around confused. It wandered back, following the loud alarm.

--

Silence overwhelmed us. The alarm had died, leaving only the groan of the dead and the faint radio playing in the distance. Randall pushed the doors open slowly, clinging to his knife. I followed him to the front of the store, moving slowly and quietly. The herd was crowded near the department store entrance.

"Over there." I pointed to a grey door with an exit sign above it. Randall ran towards the door. He pulled it open, gathering the attention of three corpses.

I ran forward, kicking my asleep foot into the rotter's face, breaking it's skull against the hard brick wall. I flicked rotten brain off my shoe. I struggled to run past the other two, watching them struggle to stand.

A loud thud echoed behind me. I turned around, seeing Randall kicking his foot wildly. I turned around, my knee collapsing under me. I slid my knife across the ground. Randall reached out, grabbing the blade with his hand. He spun it, grabbing the handle and slamming it into the corpse's temple. The other one fell on top of him, it's jaw snapping above him. I pulled myself up, grabbing the knife Randall dropped.

I buried it into the skull of the dead. I pushed the corpses off Randall, watching him sit up. He pulled his glasses off, moving his hand to his head. I collapsed to the ground beside him.

"My frames are broken, but I also don't think that's the main problem I have." He opened his eyes, looking at his hand.

I buried my face into my hands. "Fuck!"

"Why are you worried? We just have no idea where we are. And I have to throw up." He leaned over, puking on the ground.

"We have no idea where we are, and you have a concussion." I sighed. I held a hand out for him to grab.

He reached out for it, sliding his broken glasses on. "When did I get a concussion? Why is it scarier when you say it?"

I let out a tired sigh, pulling him up. He leaned against the wall as I moved to the door, pulling it open. The world was dark, lit up faintly by the moon. I struggled through the parking lot, still holding onto Kennon's backpack and Randall's arm.

I carried us to a car, setting the backpack on the hood of the car. "I'll start it, just let me know if you see any rotters."

I pulled the car door open, tearing the plastic shield off from under the steering wheel. "Why would they leave their gas cap off. I'll fix it." Randall muttered from the cool outside. I leaned out of the car looking at the open gas door and unscrewed cap.

I looked to the car beside us, noticing the small door open. I looked around at more cars, noticing the same. "They siphoned the gas out." I slammed the car door closed, no longer caring about the loud noise.