Friday 13:35 - Graeme & Cynthia

Graeme smiled inwardly as he scanned the items through the till. They could do with more customers like this.

He and his wife Cynthia – who was currently standing at the window, watching the street through her large, round glasses – had run this convenience store for the last three years. It was hard work - the hours were long and they didn't make much money - but at least they felt like they were in control of their own lives. However business had become increasingly difficult recently; a new, large store had opened up just down the road. Most of their regular customers had slowly drifted away, enticed by the greater choice and lower prices. Now, they only popped in to G&C's Corner Shop to pick up a couple of things they'd forgotten or to buy a bottle of something strong and alcoholic to drown the memory of a bad day at the office. It was rare for anyone to use one of the baskets that were optimistically piled neatly by the door.

This customer didn't just have one basket, he had two. He'd filled both of them to overflowing with milk, tinned food, bottled water and more. Graeme wasn't complaining, but it was strange. He normally avoided commenting on what people bought, but this time he couldn't resist.

"Looks like you're stocking up for a war."

"Too right, mate, too right. War's a good word for what's coming. Are you a God fearing man?"

Oh oh. He should have kept his mouth shut; the last thing he needed was a sermon from a Jesus freak. He stayed carefully non-committal with his response.

"Well, I try to keep an open mind."

"Then close it." The man packed the last few items into his third carrier bag. "There's no more room for doubt, the evidence is everywhere. Take a look outside, the forces of evil are here. The demons have been unleashed from Hell and only the righteous will survive. This is Armageddon, the final war. Heed my advice: lock your doors and pray."

"Er... sure. Thanks. That'll be £63.50, please."

The man opened his wallet and brought out a wad of cash. He handed over some notes and Graeme gave him his change.

"Spend the money quickly," said the man, then turned and almost ran out of the shop with his bags.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"He's right, you know," Cynthia said quietly, still looking out of the window.

"What, about going on a spending spree? Or praying?"

Cynthia snorted. "Hardly! I mean he's right about locking the doors." She turned to him. "It's getting bad out there."

Graeme walked over to join his wife at the window.

"Look," she said, pointing. Graeme peered out and could see what seemed to be some sort of fight taking place down the road. Elsewhere, there were people running in all directions.

This was not business as normal for Marrenforth.

Maybe Cynthia was right. He hated the thought of losing business, but something was definitely wrong today. First the creepy customer, then this. "OK," he said with a nod. "I'll close up."

He went out through the door to the front and began the process of bringing down the heavy metal shutter that covered the windows at night; a necessary precaution for any shop that sold alcohol.

As he was releasing the catch on the shutter, he heard slow footsteps close behind him. He turned.

"Sorry, friend, we're cl..." he began.

The sight of the woman in front of him stopped him mid-word. She was only young, no more than twenty. Nothing unusual there. However the way she was staggering, approaching slowly in small shuffles, was definitely not normal. Nor were the deathly pallor of her skin and the grey, lifeless appearance of her eyes. The blood that stained her chin was the final touch.

Graeme found himself frozen by the sight of her. As she came towards him step by step, he found himself unable to pull his gaze away from that face. Closer, closer... she reached out an arm in his direction... her mouth opened in a sick parody of a grin...

"Graeme!"

Cynthia's voice snapped him back to his senses. He blinked rapidly then turned and ran into the shop, slamming the door behind him. Some inappropriate instinct caused him to flick the sign on the door from 'Open' to 'Closed' as he did so.

He hadn't had a chance to finish lowering the shutter. The staggering woman just continued to walk forwards and bumped up against the glass of the closed door.

Graeme and Cynthia moved to the back of the shop and crouched low, hiding behind a row of shelves. They heard more sounds from the front for a few seconds, then there was silence. Graeme poked his head around the end of the shelves and looked towards the door. Nobody was there. Keeping low, he quietly moved towards the shop front and risked peering through the window. He saw the woman who had been following him heading slowly away down the street, towards even more chaos than there had been just a minute ago.

"That was close," said Cynthia quietly. "We need to get out of here, go home."

Graeme nodded. "Whatever this is, it doesn't look like it'll be over soon. We should take supplies, but that would slow us down. What do you reckon?"

"We've got plenty at home, enough to ride this out. Speed is more important."

"You're right," Graeme agreed. "It's too risky out front. Let's use the back way."

The two of them ducked down and made their way quietly through from the main shop to the storeroom at the back. From there, Graeme opened the door that led out into the alley behind the building.

At the sound of the door opening, two staggering figures in the alleyway snapped their heads round and began moving towards him. One was a girl of around ten, the other a young boy who was wearing a blood-stained white T-shirt with the word 'Hugs'. In the distance behind them, another half dozen figures were moving around aimlessly and blocking the way through the alley.

Graeme closed the door as quickly and quietly as he could.

They were trapped.

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