“What was that?”

The kid’s eyes were wide open. He stared down the aisle toward the beer coolers. “A ball. It just bounced by the--”

A small child ran after the ball. Arms out.

“What the fuck,” I said and held my finger up to my lips to shush myself.

“She look sick? Like a zombie?”

“Couldn’t tell,” I whispered. “We’re out of here. We have what we came for.”

“But if she’s not a zombie, how can we leave her?”

The ball bounced by again, going the opposite way. We waited. A second later, we heard a laugh, a giggle really, and the child ran past the aisle toward the ball.

“We’re out of here,” I said again. My heart thumped around inside my chest. I was officially freaked out. This was like something in a horror movie. Life was, actually, but this -- the child running back and forth, it was too much.

“We have to see. If she’s alone, she’s got to be scared.”

“I’m scared. I’m leaving,” I said, and turned.

At the edge of aisle, I snuck a peak right and left. Still no one. “Let’s go,” I said.

Nothing.

“Kid,” I said.

I turned. He wasn’t up my ass. He was halfway down the aisle, as if he were going to investigate the condition of the child.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Kid? Kid? Jason!” I said. I wasn’t about to yell. Why he was going to check on some child who more than likely was a zombie playing ball in an empty grocery store, was beyond me. It didn’t make him a hero, just like wanting to flee didn’t make me a coward. I don’t think.

I cursed under my breath, tied the plastic grocery bags into a knot and hefted my shovel. Fine. I’d follow.

With quick, quiet steps, I caught up to the Kid, and tapped his shoulder.

He jumped.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said.

I wanted to thunk him on the head with the spade, but refrained. “Are you kidding me?”

He shushed me this time.

He was going to get a thunking. If not now, as soon as we were out of the store. This was plain and simple crazy.

We stood at the end of the health aisle. Neither of us saying a word. Felt like we’d been statue-still for hours. I knew what we were doing, what we were waiting for. The ball.

Only it didn’t come.

We kept waiting.

I was keeping an ear open for Allison and Dave. They had to be close to wrapping up on their hunt for supplies. They hadn’t screamed. Yelled. Nothing. I assumed that meant they were getting along fine. Gathering, as instructed. Ready to meet at the first check-out as planned. Unlike us. The Kid and I. We were looking for a four year old.

“Where’d she go?”

“To find her parents,” I said. “We’re leaving.”

The giggle. It was close. Possibly. Hard to tell exactly where it came from. The sound echoed. Bounced off the emptiness of the store.

“Jay, I’m not messing around. We have to get out of here. The others are waiting,” I said. No idea if they were.

He took a tentative step forward. I did, too.

We rounded the corner. The end-cap stocked with shampoo, conditioner, shaving cream, and anti-perspirant. I wish I hadn’t tied off the bags. Those seemed like necessary items. Toothpaste and toothbrushes and mouthwash. All necessity.

“I don’t see her,” he said.

I worked at the knot on the bags. It made way more noise than I’d hoped, but came loose. Untied, I dropped the additional items in. A few of each. The bags became very, very full. I didn’t want them to break. Maybe we didn’t need the mouthwash.

“I’m leaving, Kid. You can stay. Stay as long as you want.” I’d whispered, my mouth at the back of his ear. “Good luck.”

I turned around.

Dropped both bags. One bottle of mouthwash must have busted. Green fluid spilled, pooling around the items inside the plastic. Smelled antiseptically menthol.

The child was four, maybe five. And dead.

Shoulder length red hair framed decaying flesh, and a frothy mouth with a missing lower lip. Milky, lifeless eyes were set below thin eyebrows, and long matching eyelashes. When she growled, upper teeth grinding against lower ones, I panicked.

I kicked out. My foot struck the child in the chest. She went reeling. Didn’t fall, though. Her arms shot forward.

The Kid and I ran. She pursued.

We were running from a toddler. It made no sense.

It did. I couldn’t kill her. I wasn’t going to swing my shovel. Wouldn’t.

“Run,” I said. The Kid ran. I followed, but not sure why. “Toward the front of the store!”

He changed direction. Going right. We ran along the back of the store, passing the refrigerated areas. Hot dogs, cheeses, milk and eggs. Then cut up an aisle.

I didn’t look back. Had no reason to think the child-zombie had stopped chasing us, but felt confident we were putting some serious distance between us.

“She behind us?” The Kid said.

“Keep running,” I said.

We had nothing. The bags were busted in the aisle, and the whole purpose for entering the store was shot. “Run!”

I saw Allison and Dave. First check-out. Both had backpacks slung over a shoulder.

Maybe it wasn’t all for nothing.

“Chase?” Allison said.

“Go,” I said, “get out.”

Allison grabbed Dave by the arm, spun him, and pulled him to the exit.

The Kid and I right behind them.

Outside, Josh stood ready, weapons drawn. His twin hand-shovels at the ready.

“What is it?”

“A child. A freaking zombie child,” the Kid said.

Allison cocked her head to one side. “Seriously?”

“I wasn’t going to kill her,” I said.

“We didn’t see anyone in there,” Dave said.

“The child is in there. Hideous little bastard, too.”

“Chase dropped all the bandages,” the Kid said.

“You little mother fucker,” I said. “I should send your ass back in there. It’s your wrist that’s broken.”

That shut him up.

“I’ll go,” Josh said.

“No. We’re done,” I said. “We’ve wasted way too much time here. And for nothing.”

“We got some stuff,” Dave said. “Food and stuff. And a can opener. One you twist by hand.”

I bit my lip. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes,” Josh said. “I’ll get the supplies for the kid’s wrist.”

I knew it was guilt. Dave had broken the Kid’s wrist, and I’d bet Josh spent his life trying constantly to right wrongs. “Two minutes,” I said.

Josh nodded.

“And cigarettes. If you can find them.”

Josh disappeared into the store. I started counting down.

“I’m sorry,” David said.

Allison placed a hand on the ox’s shoulder. They must have bonded on the tour through the grocery store. I ignored it all. My eyes scanned the parking lot. I saw a small herd of zombies on Mt. Read, but they seemed to be headed toward the Barnard Park, the Greece Police station--east, away from us.

The kid coddled his wrist up near his chest. He, too, was looking everywhere. His face was covered in sweat, his hair a mess. He was taking quick shallow breaths. I wanted to tell him just to calm the fuck down. Josh came out of the store. He held two plastic bags filled with the medical supplies. “Grabbed some toothbrushes and toothpaste, too,” he said. “Figured, why not.”

“You see the girl?” the Kid asked.

“No one.”

“Let’s head back to the woods. Bandage up the Kid’s arm there. Then we can figure out how we’re going to move forward from there,” I said.

No one argued. Didn’t suspect anyone would.

As we left the parking lot and entered the trees, the sky opened up. Rain poured down. The canopy of the trees was thin at best. Most of the leaves were crisp and brown and on the ground. We were going to get soaked, and cold.

Allison did her best to keep the bandages dry. She splinted the Kid’s wrist, wrapped it, and then used the plastic bag the supplies came in as a glove, sliding it over the Kid’s hand. She made small talk while she worked. “So are you a football player?”