Eric

Chaos.

It was the only word that came to mind as Eric surveyed the freaky scene playing out in front of him. This wasn't your Black Friday, free-for-all melee where people beat the shit out of each other to get hot deals and strangle each other with hand towels. This wasn't even Afghanistan, where he was consistently shot at. Either of those scenarios he could handle.

This... was a cannibalistic bloodbath mixed with vomit and other things he didn't care to identify.

His morning had started like any other. He woke up, showered, found Loki's teeth marks in a discarded bar of soap, and went to work. He arrived to the news that half the bank staff had called out with some kind of flu, leaving them short-staffed for the people rushing in to empty their checking accounts. As the branch manager, it was his job to step up and fill in and handle the long line of impatient customers.

It wasn't until a quarter til nine that shit hit the fan and got weird. The teller beside him whimpered, complaining of stomach cramps and a sudden headache. A slick sheen of sweat coated her forehead, soaking her dark hair as her gray eyes transformed into a milky, translucent color as if she had allergies and pinkeye. She hadn't looked like that when she came in, and the only sign Eric had that his colleague didn't feel well was her hands gripping her stomach.

Eric turned to her and said, "I've got this, Meredith. Finish with your customer and go home."

She didn't make it two steps before she crumpled with a scream. Her eyes rolled back, and foaming saliva dribbled from the corner of her mouth, staining her blue silk blouse. Eric covered his mouth and tried not to chuck up his breakfast. It wasn't her fault; he knew it, but the sight combined with the smell made his head spin and his stomach churn.

Bringing his undershirt over his nose, he dropped to his knees and turned Meredith to her side. He'd only treated a seizure once overseas, and he'd never heard of drool smelling like death. The only thing he could think of was an untreated infection, but even that didn't turn saliva yellow.

As Meredith's body twisted and jerked like a marionette on a string, Eric moved to unbutton his dress shirt and place it under her head when someone in the lobby screamed. Bolting to his feet, he looked over the counter to see what was happening when a middle-aged woman in a coral pantsuit and pearl necklace squealed, wiping green and yellow goo from her jacket. The young man beside her heaved, spewing vomit on her and everything else around him. Several people jumped out of the way, ducking beneath the black divider tape to put some distance between them and the puking kid.

Eric could count on one hand how often time had slowed to a stop. Once was during his deployment, when he'd shot a suicide bomber approaching the main gate, and the other was now.

He swiveled his neck from left to right to take in his surroundings. Several people shook in place as visible sweat dripped from their foreheads, and soon, they tumbled like a pile of dominos. And whether it was because of the man in line, or they were sick too, they also threw up, covering the floor in putrid slime.

Eric pulled out his phone and texted Jeannie. If this many people were ill, they'd be flooding her office, and doctors were always the first to get sick. The thought of losing her to this weird super flu pierced his heart. He'd already lost his ex-wife. He couldn't lose her too.

'Jean Bean, are you okay??? People are throwing up and collapsing here at the bank. I'm coming over, but whatever you do, DON'T GO OUTSIDE.'

The text at the bottom remained stuck on the word 'sending,' and he could only hope it went through.

He dialed nine-one-one, only to receive a busy signal.

"Damnit." What was the point of emergency services if they couldn't answer the phone?

He shoved his phone into his pocket and turned back to Meredith, who had gone still. Pink blood mixed with her saliva, now trickling on to the gray tile. Her eyes remained closed and there were no signs of breathing.

Eric dropped to his knees and tilted her head back, preparing to perform CPR. His inactivity would not be the reason she died. He interlaced his fingers and began the chest compressions, only getting to the count of seven when Meredith's eyes snapped open and her hand clamped around his wrist with the strength of a bench vise.

"What the hell?"

He had little time to react before she bared her teeth and snapped at him, shoving him backward with inhuman strength. His head hit the counter with a crack and his vision blurred. Before he could process what was happening, Meredith was back on her feet, wobbling like a toddler learning to walk. She lunged, and Eric rolled out of the way as she bit into the faux wood drawer behind him.

His mouth gaped, his most colorful words deserting him. His dull morning had suddenly transformed into a bad horror movie, with neither April Fool's Day or Halloween to blame.

Eric sprang to his feet and tripped over a shoelace that had become untied and grabbed the counter for support. The room spun, threatening to send him unconscious as a free breakfast invitation for Meredith. How hard had he hit his head?

Through sheer will, he sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to focus. Meredith straightened and curled her lips into a snarl, revealing enough missing teeth and blood to rival a hockey team. Her eyes were now white, reminding him of Daredevil without his glasses.

So much for zombies having red or black eyes.

Eric stumbled backward, watching Meredith while checking his peripheral vision for anyone who might sneak up on him. He barely registered the screams within the bank or sound of teeth tearing into flesh. There was a part of him, the soldier who wished he was back in combat. At least he knew what to do if someone shot at him. Zombies had him out of his element.

Meredith kept her ravenous gaze on him, growling through her remaining teeth. Eric's back met the wall, leaving him with no escape. Of all the ways to die, he never imagined this, trapped with a counter to his left and a wall to his right. Something hard protruded into his shoulder blade, and a glance at the small glass case beside him presented him with a miracle—he'd bumped into the fire alarm.

He drew a slow, steady breath, never once taking his sight off of Meredith, who tensed, winding herself up like a spring.

It was now or never.

Eric flung himself toward the firebox and yanked the alarm, snatching his hand away just in time to avoid her snapping teeth. High-pitched ringing punctured the air, and she faltered, looking around with an unfocused gaze. Taking his only opportunity, Eric smashed the emergency glass with his elbow and pulled out a red metal mallet. It wasn't as ideal as an ax or his Taurus 9mm, but this was no time to be picky.

It was ride or die time.

He gripped the hammer and sidled around Meredith, unable to swing at her. No longer human, she'd kill him in an instant, but she'd been his friend until ten minutes ago. It didn't feel right to kill her unprovoked.

Once he was around the counter, he surveyed the bloodbath before him. Barfy was tearing into Pearls like he was in a sloppy joe eating contest, going straight for her throat. Her empty eyes stared at the skylight overhead, and Eric was positive her vocal chords were lying on the floor beside her.

Eric didn't think. He allowed his training to take over as he went into survival mode and swung at the man's head.

"This ain't the Golden Corral!"

Blood splattered, the man fell with a sickening crunch, and Eric moved on. All around him, everyone left on their feet were flesh-eating monsters except for a handful of people rushing through the zombie gauntlet for the safety of the doors. With Eric all the way in the back, the entrance never seemed so far away.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Eric sprinted through the skirmish, breaking in his new toy as he went. He swung left and right, bashed in faces, knocked out teeth, and broke a few bones. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn't seem to make a dent, despite the carnage behind him. A few zombies staggered, disoriented from the alarm, but if they were sensitive to sound, it was probably a red bull flag to anyone else within a ten-mile radius.

Oh well. It was too late to worry about the consequences now.

As he neared the main entrance, the zombies slowly caught their bearings, stumbling toward the remaining customers stampeding out the door. A man in a cheap gray suit tripped, pulling a young woman down with him. A toddler in a lavender overall dress, white-flowered sandals, and two curly blonde pigtails waddled towards them, her eyes shining with hungry malice. As she came closer, Suit Guy yanked the young woman's arm and hurled her toward Barbie's undead sister.

The woman threw her hands out just in time to hold off the child's vicious, snapping teeth, shrieking for help.

His first instinct was to neutralize the threat and kill, but she was a child, no older than three or four years old. There was no way he could dispatch her in such a brutal fashion and live with himself.

He always imagined he'd have children with Jeannie someday, and it never once crossed his mind to do something so monstrous. His child could play with a gun and point it at his head or wield a knife like that psychotic boy from The Good Kid, and he wouldn't be able to take them out without paying a horrible price.

She would kill the woman on the ground if he didn't act quickly though. Nudging her between the shoulder blades with the end of his mallet, he stepped backward, checking over his shoulder as he went. She stopped her pursuit of the woman beneath her and looked from left to right, sniffing the air.

"I'm right here," he coaxed, tapping the tile with his weapon. "Your snack is this way."

Abandoning her prey, the toddler turned and waddled in his direction, hissing as she reached for him.

Eric continued to tap the tile until he reached an empty office, where he slipped behind the glass door and waited. Once the little girl was inside, he sidled behind her and pulled the door closed.

The idea of her starving to death or decomposing in here flashed through his mind, tugging at his heart strings. The humane thing to do would be to end it now, but the more gruesome image of what the mallet would do to her fragile body stopped him short. Monster or not, killing her would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Shuddering, he turned away from the office and ran to the woman, who had managed to stand and move to the wall near the door. There was nothing blocking her way to the exit, yet she couldn't seem to make herself move as she trembled.

Eric closed the distance between them and took her by the arm, guiding her toward the glass doors. "Are you alright? Were you bitten?"

She shook her head, tucking her dark hair behind her ears. Tears smeared her mascara, running tracks down her cheeks, making her look like Harley Quinn. Bloodstained clothes and questionable makeup aside though, she seemed unhurt.

A low growl behind him brought Eric back to the surrounding slaughter, and he spun in a perfect arc, slamming his hammer into another monster's face.

Bodies littered the lobby, covered in blood, organs, and unnamed substances. It was like running a dungeon in World of Warcraft, fighting nonstop until all the only thing left between the heroes and the exit was the final boss while everything else lied in ruins around them. The difference between the game and reality was that their armor gleamed without a crack in sight while Eric's shirt hung in ruins, torn and untucked.

He flicked his eyes toward the exit, urging the women to move. "Time to go, unless you wanna stay for the buffet."

Needing no more incentive, the woman bolted for the door. Eric followed her into the parking lot, taking his first real breath since the chaos started. Compared to the inside, the scene outside was a letdown. Instead of muted, gray skies and hordes of undead converging on the lone survivors, the sun shone bright overhead while only two zombies crossed the asphalt, rushing toward their new meal.

Without so much as a 'thank you,' The girl rushed to her car and backed out, bowling over the zombie unfortunate enough to be in her way. Caught on the undercarriage, the asphalt ripped its flesh apart as organs spilled onto the ground, leaving Eric alone with the last zombie.

Well, screw you too.

He sprinted for his Ford and slammed the door closed, barely turning the ignition when Suit Guy approached him, yanking on the locked handle and banging on the passenger-side glass. "Let me in!"

Eric didn't consider himself a savage, even if this man did just tried to kill a helpless woman to save his own sorry ass. He was even about to unlock the door when the second zombie plowed into Suit Guy, ripping into him like Fido's favorite chew toy and growling like the raptors in Jurassic Park.

If the world ever returned to a normal state, he was never watching a horror movie or playing a zombie shooter game again. He might even go to church if he remembered. Just in case, though, he set his mallet on the seat beside him. He still needed to get to Jeannie, and there was no telling what the roads looked like. He only hoped she was safe as he tore out of the parking lot and sped to her apartment.

This was going to be a long day.