Whiskey

“Bah..ba…bam.. I don’t want to doubt you… wishing I could run..” Erik sings parts of Love You Madly. A song long past it’s prime. The thought of life when the music flowed through the Internet… Erik brushed it away and swallowed the rest of the whiskey he found.

He watched a zombie stumble through the aisles of the abandoned grocery.

“Gary!” Erik shouted, opening the glass doors of the defunct refrigerator.

Startled, the zombie leapt, but soon returned to it’s aimless search for the living.

Erik reached for a gallon of solidified milk, he opened the door wide and threw the jug at the zombie.

“Hey, stink-face. Eat me.”

The jug exploded against a store aisle. The solidified milk burst from the jug, covering the zombie in white.

Erik laughed… coughed… then laughed again.

The zombie turned and growled. It then marched toward Erik.

“Gary is mad.. Gary is mad…” Erik taunted between fits of laughter. “Ha…”

A noise within the dark store warehouse changed his mood.

Did he lock the back door? Did someone figure out his traps and walk inside?

A crash from within the darkness confirms Erik’s fear. He curses and attempts the close the glass door but it will not move.

“Holy crap,”

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