Humming Jingle Bell Rock would never drown out the moans, but then again, the dead’s discordant noise was a chorus all its own. So, despite the reaching hands, clenching fingers, and snapping jaws, I continued. Their lust for my flesh wasn’t enough to kill my mood.
After placing the last hook on a branch, I stepped back to admire my work. The Christmas tree stood five feet tall with white LED lights that shone beautifully, allowing the blue and silver spherical ornaments to glisten in the otherwise dark shop.
I took a deep breath, wishing the earthy scent of pine would’ve greeted my nostrils. Instead, I fought the grimace twitching my features as the stench of spoiled eggs and must poked at my gag reflex. A real tree was impossible, but the green PVC plastic on thin steel rods worked well enough, even if the pine-scented car fresheners I had hung did nothing unless I got super close. It was still a decent effort.
But as my eyes leapt from ornament to ornament, from light to light, something I couldn’t quite explain gnawed at me. It was only when I reached the top of the tree that I realized what I had forgotten.
I slapped a hand to my forehead. “How could you forget the star, Preston? Mom would be ashamed.”
My mom hadn’t been around for a year—a year today, to be exact. She didn’t survive the day everything fell apart. It happened so fast. Laughter from children building snowmen became screams of terror heightened by the whistle of a chilling wind. Snow would never look white again.
My stare lingered on the space above the tree. “I guess the general store would have a star. What do you think?”
I turned to face the carolers that insisted on following me, though the mall cop with a walkie-talkie dangling from the holster around its waistband was new. I might’ve picked it up when I scoured the food court this morning. Whether it emerged from the Chinese food restaurant or the taco counter, I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t show up until late afternoon. The other two seemed glued to this particular store as if they knew I’d come back whenever I left. Their presence no longer fazed me.
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They gnashed their teeth at the glass separating us, their moans muffled. There were only three, which many survivors would call a blessing. But there was only one of me, and if I wasn’t careful, one bite was all they needed to transform their inharmonious trio into a quartet.
I never liked Christmas carols.
“Hank, your ears are lopsided again.”
Hank responded by licking the window. The black band across its head leaned to the right, one of the plastic ears missing its tip. Its once green—now brownish—body suit was freckled with holes, and its green shorts were tattered.
“Right. And Hilda!”
The former woman next to Hank bobbled its head.
“Where’s your scarf? You had it on earlier. How’d you lose it?”
Hilda didn’t really answer unless dragging its nails down the glass was a proper reply. The left sleeve of its puffy, dingy pink coat was slashed and decorated with crusty blood.
I shuddered and embraced myself, soaking in the warmth of my winter jacket and thermal snow pants. “I can’t imagine how cold you guys are. But I guess that doesn’t really matter considering...”
The trio groped the storefront, apathetic toward my words, enticed by the promise of a meal they probably hadn’t had since they died.
“Yeah, exactly.” I glanced at the mall cop, its blue shirt gauged open at the front, revealing an emaciated belly with scratch marks that resembled an animal attack. It didn’t have a hat, and its bald head had blackish liver spots peppered all over it. “If you’re going to stick around, you need a name.”
It rubbed its face against the window, smearing slobber.
“So, Teddy?”
I flicked a finger at it, and the mall cop crouched and stood.
“That’s a yes to me.”
I nodded and looked back at the tree, knowing full well what I needed wasn’t only a few stores away; it was practically across the mall. Downstairs. But if I wanted to finish, I had to make the journey.
I checked my wristwatch. 8:30 p.m.
“Three and a half hours should be plenty.”
Easier said than done, of course. The mall was crawling with carolers. I had yet to see the full scope of it, and I had no intention to. If it could be helped, I let the undead stay at rest.
I set the tree’s lights to FLASH to keep the carolers’ attention, then grabbed my crowbar before stepping out of view. They were easily distracted creatures; this store used to have some roamers until an animatronic dinosaur with glowing eyes strapped to a skateboard led them away. Those infected had since dispersed and found refuge in other nooks and crannies, and hopefully, they’d stay that way.