Friday 16:40 - Graeme & Cynthia

The shop door behind the makeshift barricade shuddered under the weight of dead bodies pushing against it. The number of zombies had been growing steadily and the pressure would soon be too strong for it to withstand.

Graeme pushed back against the crates of tinned food and pasta with all the strength he could muster. "It won't hold much longer!" he called to Cynthia.

Over the hours they'd been trapped inside their shop, Graeme and Cynthia had watched through the barred windows as the situation outside gradually deteriorated. They'd boarded up the door using every movable item they could find, including boxes of stock from the storeroom at the back. The alleyway at the rear didn't seem to attract so much zombie activity, but they had done their best to block that off as well.

At first they'd hoped that someone would come. That the authorities would deal with the situation. That they'd be saved.

None of that had happened.

As the hours had gone on, the number of undead pressing against the doors had continued to increase. Looking through the gaps in the barred windows now revealed a scene of total chaos on the street.

Some while back, they had been forced to accept that nobody was coming to rescue them. They also knew the barricades wouldn't hold forever. The simple truth was that they were going to die in the shop.

The best they could do was take as many of the creatures as possible with them.

It was Cynthia who had come up with the plan. Whilst Graeme did his best to keep the doors secure, she had made multiple trips to the storeroom, bringing out all the crates of vodka, whiskey and other spirits that they had in stock.

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She'd arranged most of the boxes along the two sides of the shop. The rest she had piled up in the centre. Then she'd opened a few of the bottles and poured the contents around the floor. Neither of them knew which spirits were most flammable, so she'd made a point of using at least one bottle of each.

The smell was strong, the sort of aroma usually only found in the dreams of a deranged cocktail waiter. Cynthia was getting drunk just from the fumes; which, under the circumstances, was not something she was going to complain about.

She emptied the last drops of vodka from the bottle in her hand. "That's it," she said quietly. "We're ready."

Graeme stepped back from the door, which immediately shuddered. The barricade moved slightly inwards. He hurried to join Cynthia at the rear of the shop.

He reached out and took her hand, gave it a squeeze. She smiled back at him.

The barricade gave way and the first of the zombies entered the shop. Now that the dam had been breached, more flooded in. They shambled slowly towards Graeme and Cynthia.

Graeme gave his wife a little kiss. "Love you," he said.

"Love you too," she replied. "See you on the other side."

He released her hand and picked up a large piece of cardboard that he'd ripped from one of the storage boxes. He reached into his pocket and brought out a cigarette lighter. With a click, the flame came on – he half expected the fumes in the air to catch fire, but they didn't. Instead, he lit the card and threw it spinning towards the centre of the shop.

As soon as the card landed, the alcohol caught. Flames rose and spread rapidly. Unable to run away, the zombies writhed as their dead skin crinkled. The smell of their burning flesh merged with that of the alcoholic fumes in the air. But still they kept on coming.

For a few seconds, Graeme worried that the plan wasn't going to work. Had they made a dreadful mistake? He had thought that being eaten alive would be the worst fate he could imagine. But being eaten alive whilst burning to death...

The first zombie was close now, almost within touching distance. Much of its clothing had been torn away, but somehow it still retained a photo-ID badge pinned like a talisman to what remained of its shirt. Graeme and Cynthia held each other tight and squeezed themselves back against the rear wall.

The zombie reached out an arm...

Finally, the pile of bottles in the centre of the room caught. Graeme and Cynthia never heard the explosion, the heat of the expanding fireball killed them instantly.

The shop became a massive inferno. Dozens of zombies in and around it were reduced to ashes. As the fire spread to surrounding shops, many more were cremated.

With no fire service to extinguish it, the blaze would burn for several days. During that time, it would destroy hundreds of zombies.

There were thousands more to take their place.

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