Chattanooga, Tennessee, 1955

 A warm summer breeze filled with the scent of flowers and fresh-cut grass wafted into the room as she opened the window. Normally, the young woman in the polka dot dress loved this smell. But today, it only made her lean out the window and retch. Wiping her mouth, she turned to the woman with reddish-gold curls sculpting clay nearby.

“Better to get it out now,” the woman behind her muttered. The woman was pressing some clay without looking. “Felt the same way my first time running an errand. Mine was to a clothing store far off the main road.” She continued sculpting, her hands moving with deliberate pressure.

“I didn’t think it’d be today,” the polka dot woman said. “I just got nervous.”

“It had to happen sometime,” the sculptor replied. “Reckon that time is now. Sometimes I forget I’m five years older than you. You haven’t been out much yet. Take it in. Try to remember what it looked like before.” She moved her curly hair aside, revealing thick bandages stained with black dried blood over her eyes. “For all you got left is your memories.”

“Any tips?” the polka dot woman asked, her voice trembling.

“Yeah. Don’t stop. For the love of God, Cynthia, don’t stop for anything.”

...

A cherry red 1953 convertible sped down an open road under the bright summer sun. Four women rode in it, each in their own world. In the passenger seat, Susan exclaimed, “Goodness, Burger Chef would be nice right about now!” She touched the loose red band around her yellow dress, her stomach growling.

Barbra, a larger woman with brown hair driving the car, inhaled deeply from her cigar. “That’s why I turned down this road. Lots of sights I like to take in.” She coughed, spit out the car window, and added, “Also, the supermarket’s at the end of this road.”

“Don’t lose focus,” Janet said from the backseat. Janet had a tall frame and long legs. The backseat was torture for her. “I don’t want another one of your ‘adventures.’”

“Damnit, Janet, you’re no fun! There’s a big world out there waiting for us!” Barbra shot back.

“Whatever,” Janet replied, turning to Cynthia. “What’s wrong, Cynthia? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Nothing,” Cynthia mumbled.

“It’s obviously something. You’ve been very quiet,” Janet pressed.

“She ain’t much of a talker anyway!” Barbra shouted from the front. “Just let her be!”

“She’s 20 years old,” Susan interjected. “A girl her age needs to know how to run errands.”

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“True enough,” Janet agreed. “Cynthia, you’re a grown woman. We’ll be right next to you the whole time. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

When they reached the supermarket, Barbra parked close to the entrance. Excitedly, she said, “I love driving this flip-top! If you’d told me three years ago that I’d own one, I’d have called you crazy!”

“We don’t have much time,” Janet reminded them. “Let’s hurry.” She got out and popped open the trunk. “Who wants what?”

“Give me the Uzi and shotgun!” Barbra said eagerly.

“Typical. Susan, you want the revolvers?” Janet asked, handing them over after Susan nodded. “What about you, Cynthia?”

“I…I don’t know…” Cynthia stammered. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh, wow, really? I couldn’t tell,” Barbra mocked. “You can’t let all that practice go to waste!”

Susan handed her a pistol. “Take this, sweetheart,” she said gently.

Cynthia accepted it, loading it carefully before tucking extra bullets into her bra.

Janet pulled out a katana and a bat covered in nails. “Let’s get this over with,” she said. “Barbra, you’re out front. Susan, clear the building and secure the back entrance. Cynthia, you’re on food transport. Let’s move!”

Nodding in unison, they sprang into action. Susan burst into the store with Cynthia on her heels. The stench of rotting flesh hit them like a wall. Flies covered the produce aisle, and maggots overran the fruit and vegetables. The humid air made the smell even worse. Cynthia’s eyes watered as she coughed, swallowing the foul air.

They heard tired moans from the back. “Cans and boxes only, dolly!” Susan shouted, shooting two men in the head with perfect accuracy. “And look for any canned vegetables.”

Cynthia scooped cans into her dress and rushed outside. Barbra fired rounds at approaching men recklessly, while Janet fought off attackers with her sword and bat.

After several trips, Cynthia grew tired. Susan had almost finished clearing the store, but the horde outside was growing. Cynthia tripped near the car, almost cutting herself on its spiked wheels. A man slipped past Janet and jumped on her, his jaw half missing and an eye dangling. Cynthia struggled, her adrenaline surging. She managed to hold him off with one hand while reaching for her pistol.

Just as the man was about to overpower her, his head was slammed against the car, exploding. Janet stood over her, disappointed. “This is your last trip. It’s getting too crowded.”

Cynthia scrambled to her feet, grabbed her pistol, and rushed back inside. Susan waited for her. “Hurry along now,” she said sweetly. “I think I got them all, but one might’ve slipped by.”

Cynthia nodded and moved to another aisle. As she gathered the remaining cans, she heard a door flapping at the back. “Susan?” she called out. No answer. She set down her goods, took a deep breath, and cautiously moved to the door, pushing it open.

The room was poorly lit, glass shards scattered across the floor. The unsettling silence ate away at her nerves. Suddenly, a bump from under the desk shattered the quiet.

“Get out from under there!” she commanded.

“Only if you promise not to kill me,” a voice replied from the darkness.

“I don’t make promises,” she said, her grip tightening on her pistol.

Susan rushed in. “What are you doing back here? We’re about to get overrun!”

“Well…I...” Cynthia stammered.

“Oh, great, more of them,” the voice said. Susan drew her weapons in surprise.

Two hands emerged from behind the desk and a figure slowly stood up. “I’m Roy. What’s your names?”