DAY 3
WORLD POPULATION: .7 BILLION
CHAPTER 7
HUNTER
The next morning, we decide to stop at a supermarket and supply ourselves with weapons. We pulled the Rustbucket into the parking lot, which was surprisingly full, parking close to the front, in case we need a quick getaway. I lock Pepper in the van; the numbers of zombies are multiplying and the last thing I need is my sweet Pepper being a light snack for such horrid creatures.
As we walk through the parking lot, a thought occurs to me.
"How are we going to buy weapons?" I ask.
"With money," Billy laughs. I can tell Sam is thinking, because watching her figure something out is similar to looking at the inside of a watch; all of the cog springs and gears turning as they try to complete the function. Her grey-blue eyes shake ever so slightly, and she brings a hand to the side of her pale freckled face. Within the matter of a few seconds, she gasps and jumps a little; it clicks.
"It is against the nation's laws for people under 18 to purchase any weapons, ranging from bows and arrows to guns." Sam says, reciting the fact as if she had studied it for hours on end. I wouldn't question it if she had. "Meaning that we have no way of receiving weapons."
"Relax, I know what I'm going to do," Billy says confidently as we walk up to the front door.
Walking into the superstore, we see bodies littered everywhere upon the linoleum. All of them have twisted, angry faces. Like they died fighting. I resist the urge to puke everywhere as we walk around them. Sam finds a broom and offers to sweep the bodies off to the side for a clean path when we leave.
Billy and I walk around the bodies, up to the weapons counter. He can actually pass for a young 24, even though he is only 16. "Hello, good sir!" he says in a fake British accent to the large man behind the counter. The accent hides Billy's Southern drawl rather well.
The man appeared to be the marketplace owner, or at least that's what the nametag loosely pinned to his flannel shirt told us, along with that his name is Steve. The shirt he wears does not entirely cover his large stomach, which presses against the glass of the display counter. He smells highly of stale beer, but does not appear intoxicated.
"Legitimately disgusting," Sam mumbles. I suppress a giggle.
"'Ello," Steve says gruffly.
"I desire to purchase weapons! Many weapons, yes! I hear yours are the finest in the land!" 'British' Billy continues.
"Sold out." Steve grumbles.
"I do- not understand?" Billy stumbles, almost losing his accent.
"Yeah, sold 'em all to this rich lady yesterday. She was pretty too," Steve says, running his portly fingers through the blond scruff of beard on his square chin.
"Who's the 'rich lady'?" I ask, cutting in.
"This isn't concerning you, Blondie, leave this to the men." Steve chuffs. Billy pounds his fists on his chest; one of his 'macho' reflexes. I can almost hear Sam call Steve a misogynistic douche.
"Excuse me, sir?" Sam interrupts, making her eyes widen. She has succeeded in making her voice sound pre-pubescent as possible. Her size and stature makes her look really innocent and kind, like a puppy.
"What can I help you with?" Steve says, snapping to faux benevolence. I don't think he saw Sam with Billy and me earlier. It could also be that Steve does have customer service rules. Not that it matters; I think I saw the real manager dead amongst the bodies. Is this guy's name even Steve?
"Can I show you a cool trick, mister?" Sam says, trying to look as adorable as possible.
"I'm kind of busy with a customer-"
"It will only take a second."
"Sure, kid," 'Steve' gives in. Sam jumps over the counter and looks at the computer screen. She begins typing her way through the system.
"What's the magic trick?" 'Steve' asks.
"Oh, gullible Steve. You thought this was a magic trick?" Sam chuckles, back to her normal voice. "Oh no, this is just a trick." Sam says, clicking a final key and looking back. "Also, it appears you've got the hots for a... 'Evelyn Priddam', is it?" Sam giggles. She clicks the mouse, and types a few more things. Her phone buzzes. She jumps back over the counter and laughs. "Thanks for the info, Steve!"
She starts running towards the front of the store. Billy and I lock eyes, and run after her. I glance back to Steve, who is just sitting there, dumbfounded.
"Wait!" Sam yells as she stops in her tracks, red Chuck Taylors screeching against the tile. I can't tell if her sneakers are a darker red, perhaps from bloodstain, or if I am imagining it. She looks around and points to the hardware section. "If we can't get traditional weapons, might as well get something."
+ + +
In the hardware section, Sam picked up an electric nail gun. "Nails are like everywhere, so this has unlimited ammunition, pretty much."
"Can you even shoot it?" Billy says, wielding a shovel he picked up. He wanted it so that he can have one of those 'zombie head-basher moments' like in movies.
Sam laughs. I'm actually not sure if she can shoot it. She doesn't look like the weapon-using type. Suddenly, she spins around and pulls the trigger, sending a three-inch nail into a large two-by-four.
"That's nothing," Billy says. He takes a soda can out of his pocket and sets it on the ground twenty feet away. "If you can hit it, I'll pay for the nail gun for you."
"No problem." Sam says. She looks over the distance and does a few quick calculations in her head. She aims and pulls the trigger. I hear the sound that can only be the nail going through the can. I look over to them, and Billy's laughing.
"No way! I'll even buy you a big pack of nails if you can hit the can from thirty feet!"
"You're on! Fact, an electric nail gun can shoot up to fifty yards."
They laugh and run down the hall. I look around, trying to find a weapon. Chainsaw? No, too heavy. Not to mention, it runs on gas. Two-by-four with a nail in it? No, it's too cliché. Plus, who carries around a giant plank?
I can't hear Sam and Billy anymore. I can only hear my own breath. Is it my own? I turn and there is a zombie breathing over my shoulder. I scream and I notice something whistle by.
"Crap!" Sam yells, lowering the nail gun.
"Aim right." Billy tells her.
"But if I aim to the right, I'll hit Hunter!" Sam argues.
"I believe in you. If you don't try, Hunter is guaranteed a death notice via the zombie next to her." What Billy says next is so quiet, I can barely hear it. Or it could just be because the zombie behind me is still breathing heavily.
I scream, even though it's not attacking me. It falls to the ground, a nail lodged in its throat. It didn't have time to screech before it died, like they usually do, but it still exploded in a black mess of its own blood. Unfortunately, I happened to be in the splash zone of this.
+ + +
We had cashed out, the large box of nails, the electric nail gun, and the shovel. It had cost us a lot, but we still had a lot of money left over. We throw them into the back of the Rustbucket and crawl back into the car. Staying silent for a good thirty minutes, I am the first one to talk.
"What has our little hacker accomplished?" I ask.
"Well," Sam says, pulling out her phone. She taps through quickly and looks up. "Subject is Evelyn Priddam, a twenty-two year old millionaire with a large estate located at five-one-two Cadbury Street."
