It was a summer of love at Little Brook, a quiet village full of normal people, a town where nothing bad happens. But it is different tonight for Jack as his boyfriend Michael had just disappeared at the stroke of midnight.
From bad to worse, a zom...
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Three months after the Outbreak.
If you were a gay man with the flamboyant desire to find a one-night-stand, then the Pink Crocodile was the go-to club.
Nowadays, if you were a survivor with the primal urge to find a shelter, then the Pink Crocodile was a possibility. It got shut down days after the departure of their star, the local bird of paradise, Michael Flores. Hence, it was left empty and locked when the zombies invaded the town. Even when humans started to break into each other's houses, the club still had what it was known for: no visitor.
For the first time in forever, the iron curtain was pushed up. Peter, Caroline, and Jack groaned as they used their strength to lift the defensive layer.
Once it was done, Peter wiped sweats off his forehead. "Well, at least we got something to protect us for the night," he said.
"Should we break the glass?" Caroline gestured at the entrance window.
"No, no!" Michael bent down. "I know a trick." The young man tapped a sidewall with a phallus graffiti on it. "There." A secret door was opened with a safe behind it. "I think the code didn't change, I hope." Michael tapped the number 69 and the safe revealed a key inside. "Yup. The owner was a dumbass, so he kept a secret key here just in case," Michael said as he handed Caroline the key.
As soon as the door opened, Michael rushed inside.
Peter extended his right arm at him. "Michael!"
"It's okay." Michael pranced through the dark dancefloor. "The fusebox must be this way."
A clank resonated before pink and purple lights illuminated the black bar counter and its fake leather stools. Cut your teeth serenaded from speakers lodged in the corners of the club and the jaw of a tall pink crocodile statue.
"Michael!" Peter shouted.
"I know, the song's great." Michael shook his hips.
The man pointed at the fusebox. "No, turn off the music, it'll attract the zombies!"
"Oh." Michael pouted as he did so.
Peter sighed. "Ok, so we should check the back door, now."
Michael lifted his right hand. "Mhm. Can Jack and I stay here? Just to be sure nothing creeps in our backs."
Peter observed the place. From the stage to the liquor shelves, a scent of dust and flowery perfume floated in the air. Compared to the hospital, the club was much smaller. Plus, it was a rather open area, thanks to its dancefloor. Then, he stared at Jack who gave glances at Michael.
"Fine." Peter huffed. "You two are gonna stay behind the bar, it'll protect you in case of a surprise attack."
Michael grinned. "And I'm not alcoholic, so I won't get drunk."
