The Ginger and The Zombies

-prologue-
“Yeah, so I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want to break up…” I looked up at him from behind a layer of ginger hair.
He was furious, of course, and his dark skin seemed to flush. Tears were in his eyes, but he was not crying. His eyes were watering out of anger.
“Mikey…” I put my hand on his shoulder, but he jerked away.
“Don’t you fuckin’ touch me! You Slut! Who the fuck is he? WHO ARE YOU FUCKING BEHIND MY BACK?!” He screamed at me, standing up suddenly. By this time, the whole restaurant had stopped to stare at us. I thought about the overbearing control issues, the constant stalking and threats.
“Whore! I knew you couldn’t keep your slut legs closed!”
Tears built up in my eyes and ran down my face, heated shame and fear being released. “You’re an insane, psycho control freak. There is no one else!” People stared as I ran out of the restaurant.
Markus was waiting for me in his car. The relief I felt from seeing Markus was overwhelming. I opened the car door and hopped in.
“How’d it go?” he asked gently as I slammed the door shut.
“H-he called-d m-me a whore and a slut! Markus, he’s the only one I’ve ever slept with! How could he say that to me?” Sobs interrupted the flow of my sentence.
Markus had never known I wasn’t a virgin. He ran his fingers through his carrot hair, and then reached across the seat to hug me. “You trusted him with something as valuable as your virginity, and then he turned out to be a psycho. This isn’t your fault, kiddo. No way is my fifteen year old sister a whore. I mean, you could be considered a slut…” he added jokingly.
I wiped my eyes and punched him on the shoulder. “Dickhole.” But I couldn’t help but grin.
He started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot. As we drove down the highway, listening to Markus’s crappy rap CDs, I noticed a homeless man bent over a dead dog. My first thought that the man was grieving over it, but on second inspection, I realized the man was eating its carcass. Poor man, I thought, it’s a shame what some people have to do for food.

The school bell rang, marking the last bell of this school year. 3 more years to go. Granted, most kids were “out sick” on the last week of school, there was still a flurry of movement to get out of the stuffy geometry classroom. I was the last one out.
The halls were congested like the sinuses of a person with summertime allergies. Students ground and writhed against each other like people dancing in a club, but they were only trying to leave. I pushed and forced my way outside and walked over to the bike racks. A bead of sweat dripped down my face as I unlocked my bike and hopped on it.
Mom’s message to bring back fruit and milk from the store echoed in my head. I pedaled down to the store and locked my bike to a fire hydrant. There were no bike racks there. I noticed an Army hummer parked in the parking lot as I headed inside.
Must be drill weekend, I thought happily to myself. Eyeing the selection of uniformed men, I sighed. Mikey’s words came back to me. “I don’t like the way you look at them, makes me feel inadequate.” But how could I not look at them? Yum.
I found my way to the check-out counters and stood on my tip toes, craning my neck to try and see more of the military men. In my desperate attempt to search the store, I failed to notice the three shady men darting their eyes nervously around. In fact, it was one of these men that first shouted.
“Get on the floor, fuckers! Nobody move or make a sound!” he pulled out a pistol and pointed it toward the cashiers. Sweat dripped off his bald head and collected in his dark, bushy eyebrows. “Step the fuck away from the alarms!” The teenage cashiers obeyed, and looking terrified, got on the floor like the rest of the screaming civilians.
The two other men had drawn pistols, but they didn’t speak. They pointed the guns at the people laying on the floor who coward in fear.
“Nobody should try and be a hero!” screamed on of the men.
At this point, adrenaline was pumping through my veins, sending me into overdrive. Think! How can I save these people?
The second man walked over to a cashier and pointed the gun at her head. “Open the register!” he screamed, pulling her up by her ponytail. She burst into hysterics, barely able to breathe between sobs. “Open it!”
I looked around, trying to find my best plan to save the day. I could wait till one comes by me and then jump him and take his gun. Then try and shoot the others before they shoot me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw 2 military men laying on the floor, they nodded at eachother.
The sound of a gunshot made people scream and jump. By the time I looked toward the noise, the cashier had already hit the floor. Her head was mutilated beyond recognition by the point blank bullet.
The first man came over to stand by me. He pointed the gun at a store worker next to me. “You! Open the register or you’ll end up like the bitch over there!”
I looked to the soldiers, hoping they would be communicating some kind of plan. The second and third guys were standing by them.
Suddenly, as if everything was in slow motion and this was some sort of cheesy action move, I watched the soldiers jump up. Once I felt myself standing, I realized how stupid I was being. How was a 5’9”, 130 lbs. girl supposed to take down a burly robber? I grabbed his shoulders and hoisted myself onto his back.
Immediately he tried bucking me off. Shouts came from the thieves and gasps of shock from the civilians. The man I was holding onto pointed the gun at my head, but I grabbed onto his wrist and pushed until the gun was aimed a different way. It fired twice. People around us screamed.
I knew I couldn’t hang onto him much longer, and I needed to act fast. Shit shit shit. I thought. Act now! His fist came back and pounded me in the head. I could barely feel it. A thought came to me and I acted on it immediately. Stretching my neck, I looked for the best place to land my bite. Maybe I could get his jugular? Perfect, do it.
I bared my teeth and lurched forward. My canines burst through his skin first, then my front teeth. The man yowled in pain and began thrashing wildly, dropping the gun. A middle aged man nearby reached forward and grabbed the gun.
“Gerald!” a woman near us gasped.
The man, Gerald, pointed the gun at the first man. He was shaking heavily. I noticed the other two fights for the first time. The two soldiers wrestled with the robbers. One fight was on the floor, the other fight consisted of swinging punches.
A tearing pain starting in my side brought me to my attention. The pain spread through my hip area. Warmth began seeping down my leg and searing hot pain exploded in me. I screeched and fell off the man’s back and slammed onto the ground.
Two gunshots rang out, one close and one farther across the store. I squeezed my eyes shut in pain. Fuuuuck it hurts.
Something splattered my face. A thud sounded next to me. With my eyes still closed, I put my hands on the spot where the pain was greatest and I was surprised to find something protruding out of me.
Oh my god, that bastard stabbed me. I moaned in pain.
“He’s dead! Gerald you killed him!” a female voice cried out.
A gasp of pain was almost drowned out by the flurry of activity. I could hear people describing the situation, probably to a 911 operator.
The pain won’t get any better with a knife sticking out of me. I sucked in a breathe and grabbed the handle of the knife. It’s like pulling out a bandaid, you just gotta be quick, gotta be quick… Taking out the blade was worse than expected, and I cried out in pain.
I couldn’t keep my eyes closed anymore. I curled up in the fetal positioned and looked around. People were on their phones, some looking at people lying on the floor. 3 people were on the ground, including me. The first man had been shot in the back of the head, and was laying facing away from me. I stared at the bullet hole before looking around more. One of the soldiers was laying in the fetal position, a pool of blood spilt around him. He was bobbing his head back and forth, the only signal that he was still alive.
Sirens sounded from outside. Sirens, oh thank god. Ambulances, medical attention. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and noticed the back of my hand was streaked in blood. It took me a moment to realize what had happened. When the first man had been shot in the head, his blood splattered me. I shuddered, and then groaned in pain.
The sirens came close to the store, and car doors slammed. People came rushing in. “Bring in the stretchers”
“He’s shot! Help us first!”
“She’s been stabbed, this little girl here!”
I tried not to give a sarcastic snort of laughter. Little girl?
Two paramedics kneeled by my side. “He got me in my side. It hurts kinda bad.” I lifted my hands from the spot so they could see. They checked my eyes and my pulse, then lifted me onto the stretcher. They strapped me on, picked me up, and started carrying me outside to the ambulances.
We were bombarded by reporters as we passed them. They shouted questions and demanded answers as to what exactly happened in the grocery store. The police pushed them out of the way to make a path for the paramedics to use. They put me in the back of that ambulance, and just before they closed the doors, I watched other paramedics wheel out a man in uniform and someone in a body bag.