Stacks of jeans crumple to the floor and mannequins wobble on their stands as he races through the aisles of the mall department store. He can see a dim light ahead coming from the store entrance. It must be the clouded daylight creeping through the skylight, which means the food court is next door — which also means he’s still stuck on the second floor. Behind him, Jack can hear the moaning get closer. Whoever said zombies were slow and stupid was completely wrong. These zombies are fast and have damn good stamina.
Aly Soto |Rawr
He makes a sharp turn toward the indoor entrance, narrowly avoiding a collision with a clearance rack. Coming toward him from the far side of the linoleum floor path is a group of five sprinting zombies, most of them missing some kind of limb or facial feature. The brain of the pack’s leader is literally bouncing up and down, threatening to fall out with each step. His right hand man’s eyeballs are swinging out of their sockets back and forth.
Jack slips his machete out of the makeshift protector he had created with a leather purse. With the five in front of him and however many behind him, he needs to find a short cut. The lingerie section seems like a pretty good bet. He cuts into an aisle filled with lacy black outfits he could now only dream of ever seeing a girl wearing. He reaches out for the top of a nearby rack and knocks it down behind him. A loud noise followed by growling tells him he knocked one of the suckers down, but he doesn’t have time to look back and confirm. He continues to zig-zag through the undergarments until he reaches the linoleum path leading to the theft detectors at the entrance.
But one of the devils was already waiting for him. Smart cookie must have figured out Jack’s plan and broke away from the group to cut him off. The lone zombie begins to charge at Jack. Jack ducks his head down and mimics his foe’s actions. Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten. At five feet, Jack slides feet first toward the half faceless monster and swings his machete at the rotted shins of the freak. With a clean swipe, its feet go flying while the body faceplants.
Unfortunately, the move narrowed the gap between him the freaks behind him. Jack picks up one of the severed limbs and chucks it at a lever he can only hope is the one that brings down the security gate to the entrance. The lever budges only slightly. The metal gate creaks down slowly from the ceiling. Still sprinting, Jack jumps and reaches for the gate, but only manages to slap it with the machete. Luckily, the vibration causes the gate to wiggle down a bit more before the lever releases and the gate crashes to the ground. He on one side, the undead mutilated freaks on the other.
The victorious moment is short-lived. Slinking their way out from under the tables are the Hybrids. That’s what everyone calls them, because it’s easier than saying “Run! It’s the half-wolf, half-platypus, acid-spitting monsters!” While the Hybrids are probably the most lethal little punks, they are also blind as a bat and just plain stupid.
Jack watches as two of them smash into each other, snarl, then spit neon blue acid at each other. They explode in a little cloud of blue smoke. The key is to kill them from long distance. Jack pulls out his 9mm from the belt loop of his cargo pants. Kill shot equals one bullet to the tail. Jack aims at a cluster of six Hybrids and pulls the trigger. He hits the fat platypus tails of five of them. The noise alerts the remaining seven of the origin of the threat. They scuttle aimlessly in his direction, several of them crashing into each other and spitting acid everywhere. The clouds of blue smoke blur Jack’s vision. He shoots blindly into the blue. When the smoke clears, only the corpses of the unexploded Hybrids remain.
Downstairs. He needs to get downstairs. Jack moves swiftly toward the immobile escalators and slides down the railing to first floor. He takes a quick breather before heading down a long hallway. He passes a ransacked candy store, a bookstore with a floor swimming in books, a jewelry store — oddly untouched — and a specialty clothing store called Onesies Are For Everyone. As he approaches an intersection, he stops.
Three dark figures emerge. Literally just dark figures. The warlocks look like a human void of pure blackness, which is why everyone just calls them the Voids. The only hint of them being actual, living creatures is the human outline and their pair of yellow eyes. No one, absolutely no one, can defeat the Voids. The only person who was ever rumored to survive the wrath of these warlocks is…
“Jack! Get out of the way!”
Matt Damon? What are the chances that the Void slayer himself would come to save Jack?
Jack races to meet Matt Damon behind the smart phone accessory kiosk.
“Alright Jack, here’s the plan. I’m going to shoot this bazooka at those sons of bitches and you’re gonna take this tricycle and pedal as fast as you can toward the exit. Comprende?”
Jack looks at the hot pink “Dragon Tales” tricycle with a big orange horn on the front.
“But Matt, I want to help! There are three of them, man! You’ll die trying to take down all of them!”
“I am the chosen one, Jack. It is my destiny. Go Jack.”
Jack hops on the tricycle — his knees almost touching his chest.
“Oh and Jack, don’t forget to hit the turbo boost.”
Jack looks down at the bright green button labeled “Super Kick-Ass Turbo Boost to Escape Voids.” Matt Damon’s signature is inscribed on the bottom.
Jack looks back and sees that the warlocks are closing in on the kiosk. Matt Damon positions the bazooka on top of the counter and pulls the trigger. Jack begins to pedal. He presses the turbo boost.
The mall evaporates into a chamber of wires and monitors. A monotone female voice fills the room.
“Simulation 478 complete. Status: success. Time: 43 minutes and 57 seconds. New simulation record. Commence simulation 479.”
Stacks of jeans crumple to the floor and mannequins wobble on their stands as he races through the aisles of the mall department store.