Eaters by Michelle DePaepe Read Free Book Online Page B

goal.
    When the windshield cracked and shattered, Cheryl looked away, and so did many of those around her.
    “They’re like killer bees. Once they’ve focused their attention on you, they don’t let up.”
    The woman next to her who said it was about her same age. Instead of wearing a bloodied suit, the young woman had on a sundress—a pretty white cotton one with embroidered daisies at the hem—that looked like it would be appropriate to wear to a picnic on a sunny afternoon in the park instead of in a mess like this. She was still watching out the window intently, like she couldn’t pry her stunned eyes away.
    There were others still watching too, like rubbernecking drivers going past an accident, unable to tear their eyes away from the horrors. One said, “There’s one digging through the trash over there. I just saw one put a big slimy tomato slice in his mouth.”
    “That’s nothing,” the lady in the sundress said as she pointed to the right. “There’s a group of them in the street. They’ve started eating the corpses.”
    Cheryl winced and covered her mouth with one hand. “I could have gone my whole lifetime without hearing someone say a sentence like that.”
    Someone from the back of the shop yelled, “Can you all nix the play-by-play? Some of us have had enough.”
    As the dejected man who’d tried to flag the policeman for help lowered the blinds, Justin, the wiry shop employee with pock-marked cheeks, came up from the back and approached the lady in the sundress. “Have any of them come near the door?”
    She hesitated. “Yeah. Some old woman did. She tried the door, but when she realized it was locked, she just started mumbling and walked off.”
    Cheryl shuddered. The back entrance of the shop was a steel door, and it was bolted shut, but the front of Subs & Such was all glass. It wouldn’t take more than a big rock or a steel pipe thrown at it to shatter it. So far, none of the Eaters had paid much attention to the sandwich shop. They seemed to be sated with the garbage, live victims, and corpses outside. She hoped the people in the shop were able to stay quiet and keep their low profile for as long as possible.
    That hopeful thought did not last for long.
    A couple of hours later, a man claimed to have heard a news report on his phone. “The power is out in many areas and some major roads are closed, but they’re saying that some people are venturing out, at least to try to get to one of the Red Cross shelters that are being set up.”
    A gruff voice yelled, “That’s nuts, man! Didn’t you see what happened out there? Ain’t nobody going nowhere.”
    The man with the phone continued. “Well…they’re saying that it’s only a few of the sick ones that have started attacking people. They’re not all so violent, and it’s worse in some parts of town than others. They say just to leave them alone. To get out of their way if one comes near. Don’t threaten them, don’t look them in the eye, and if one growls or comes towards you, just slowly back away.”
    There were scoffing laughs in the room.
    “Like they’re dogs?” someone asked.
    Another, more hopeful, said, “Great! Maybe we can get to our cars and try to get home.”
    Mark held out his hand. “The hell you are—the hell anyone is. It’s not safe to step a foot outside that door.”
    A man wearing a baseball cap and ratty t-shirt that read Got beer? spoke next. When she had noticed him earlier, Cheryl thought he had disgruntled postal worker written all over him when he’d simply introduced himself as ‘Ed’ without any other details. She’d guessed that he might be the first to freak out and do something stupid.
    He hopped up off his perch on a table. “I don’t know about trying to drive anywhere just yet, but since you freaks in here won’t let anyone have a cigarette, I think I’ll take my chances and go puff out there with the deadheads. They won’t mind. And, while I’m at it, I think I’ll run