In the Lone and Level Sands by David Lovato

well.
    “We have to get somewhere safe,” Evelyn
said.
    “We don’t want to go out there,” John said.
“We’ll likely get killed out in the parking lot.”
    “Why do you say that?” Erin asked.
    “I saw those things out there. They were
eating people—the same things in here. The same ones that’ll eat us
for dessert if we stay behind this counter whispering to each
other!”
    Jordan’s phone buzzed. John glanced down and
sneered. “You’ve got your phone with you while working?”
    “John, you’re seriously worried about that
now?” Jordan shook his head and pulled his phone from his pocket.
It was a text from Ashley, and he sighed with relief, until he read
the message.
    Please Jordan! I’m over behind the meat
counter! I can’t come out the meat guy attacked a man in front of
the meat case!
    “What was that?” Evelyn looked down at the
phone as Jordan responded to Ashley’s text message.
    “It’s a friend,” Jordan said. “She’s trapped
behind the meat counter. We need to find her and get out of
here!”
    “First,” John said, rolling his eyes at the
announcement that blared over the intercom (“Buy one, get one free
in the bakery today. A dozen cookies, buy one for $2.99…”), “we
need a plan.”
    Jordan leaned over to the left a bit,
peering through a break in the counter. He saw blood spilled in
several places. People were still making their way out. Those who
weren’t were eating other people. Jordan turned back around and
looked at the others.
    A few gunshots rang across the store. The
group squatted, frozen. Moments later, Jordan spotted a customer
emerge from aisle seven with a gun in his hand. The man shot
Jordan’s last customer as she bumbled toward him, then he shot
Bradley, and a few other people who had changed. Even Tony Greco
had changed by then, and the man from aisle seven offed him as
well. Then he spotted the four of them behind the counter and
approached.
    He was rough-looking; from his chin sprouted
a graying, unkempt goatee that was surrounded by white stubble. He
wore a do-rag with the American flag on it over his coarse gray
hair, and a worn-out leather biker jacket. He peered at Jordan and
the others through squinted hazel eyes. Jordan had met the man in
the store a few times before, so he was the first to get to his
feet.
     
    11
    On the Bus
     
    It was the last bus of the day. Zoe sat near
the back, her headphones pumping Manchester Orchestra into her
ears, her arms rested on her messenger bag. The sky was darkening,
and Zoe closed her eyes to block out the stinging blur of the
passing streetlights. The bus stopped, let a few people on, and
then progressed along its route.
    Zoe was barely able to hear the screeching
tires over her music. She opened her eyes to see a blur of lights,
and then felt the impact. Zoe lost all sense of direction as the
bus flipped onto its side. It rolled over the sidewalk, flipping
and turning the people inside like rocks in a polisher. Zoe saw a
splash of red across several windows as the bus rolled over someone
on the outside. It continued down a small grassy hill beyond the
sidewalk. The windows shattered and bits of glass were hurled
everywhere, along with the people. Someone slammed into Zoe, and
she hit her head on something or someone. Her headphones coiled
around her neck, still plugged into the MP3 player in her
pocket.
    Finally, the bus came to a stop. The last of
the glass tinkled to the ground, and the screeching of tires and
screams in the distance faded, along with Zoe’s remaining vision as
she blacked out.
     
    ****
     
    When Zoe woke up, daylight was seeping into
the bus, which was on its side. There were bodies everywhere,
strewn about like dolls, all of the visible ones lifeless.
    Zoe was lying on the side of the bus, where
a window had been but now was an uncomfortable metal frame with the
hard ground filling the gaps where there was no glass. A body had
come to rest on top of her legs, and she had trouble