Jacks Magic Beans (5 page)

THREE

“I hope my family is okay.” Sammi’s nose had turned from red to white, and tiny ice crystals clung to her eyelashes. “I promised my little sister I’d help her with her homework tonight. She’s in eighth grade.”

Without warning, she started to cry again.

“Try not to think about it,” Marcel said. “Ain’t nothing we can do for them right now.”

Angie frowned. “That’s pretty cold, don’t you think?”

“No,” Marcel said. “It’s not cold. Just practical. I got people at home, too. And I know they’d want me to stay alive.”

“Cold . . .” Sammi sniffled. “It’s so cold in here.”

The others nodded in agreement. Jack stood up, stretched his stiff arms and legs, and crept to the door. He put his ear close to the frigid metal and listened.

“Hear anything?” Marcel asked.

“No. Nothing. It’s quiet. Seriously, guys—it’s been a while since we heard anything. Maybe they’re all gone—or dead.”

“Maybe,” Marcel said, “or could be it’s just a trap. Maybe they’re waiting right outside the door.”

“Well,” Angie whispered, “we can’t stay in here much longer. That’s for sure. We’ll get frostbite, not to mention there’s no food or water—unless you count that frozen stuff. And pretty soon, I’m going to have to go to the bathroom.”

Marcel pointed to the corner. “Go ahead. Knock yourself out. We won’t look.”

“No thanks. I can hold it a little while longer.”

“I’m staying put,” Marcel said. “You guys will too, if you’re smart.”

Jack returned to the group and hunkered down on his haunches. “Screw that. I’m not starving to death inside a grocery store freezer. I’d rather take my chances out there.”

“Same here,” Sammi said. “I want to see my family. I want my Mom.”

“One step at a time,” Jack told her. “First we have to get out of this freezer.”

Marcel sighed. “Oh fuck me running. I’m not going to be able to talk you guys out of this, am I?”

“No,” Jack said, “but we won’t blame you if you want to stay behind. We’ll send help, soon as we find some. I promise.”

Angie pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open, checking the time. “It should be dark outside. If we’re going to try it, now is the time.”

“We’ve been in here that long?” Jack was surprised.

Angie nodded.

“You know what they say,” Marcel muttered. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

Jack smiled. “Does that mean you changed your mind? You coming with us?”

“I was outvoted, wasn’t I? Either way, you guys are gonna open that door. I’m not staying here by myself. There’s safety in numbers. Besides, my head hurts. Think I’m probably dehydrated, so I need to find some water, at the very least. Either that, or start licking the ice off those boxes over there.”

They fell silent. Sammi, Angie and Marcel stared at Jack, waiting for him to make a decision. It was not lost on him that somehow, he’d become their leader. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“We need weapons, just in case they are waiting for us.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a box cutter. “Look around. What do we have?”

They searched the freezer, hunting through the shelves, racks and drawers, and looking under pallets. Marcel found a jagged length of wood from a broken skid. A nail jutted from the end. He swung the board through the air, testing it.

“That’ll work for me.”

Sammi found an old mop and broke the handle over her knee, creating a makeshift spear. She winced in pain, and rubbed her knee. Although he didn’t say it out loud, Jack was impressed. Sure, Sammi had muscles from her particular type of bulimia, but he was surprised she had enough strength to snap the handle. Maybe her fear was giving her extra power.

Then he noticed that she was also rubbing her wrist.

“You okay?”

She nodded, grimacing. “Yeah. Jeremy almost broke my wrist earlier. It’s just a little sore.”

Angie grabbed a pack of frozen steaks.

“What are you gonna do with those?” Sammi asked.

Angie smacked the steaks against her thigh with a loud whack. She grinned. “Knock somebody out until I find something better.”

Sammi returned the smile. “That’s pretty kick ass.

“I thought so, too.”

Jack extended the blade of his box-cutter. The dim overhead bulb glinted off the razor’s edge. He took a deep breath and shuddered.

“I hope I don’t have to use this. I’ve never . . . cut anybody before.”

“Maybe they’re gone,” Sammi said. “It’s pretty quiet out there now.”

Nodding, Jack looked at each of them. They nodded back in return.

“Okay,” he said, “let’s do it.”

“You guys sure about this?” Marcel whispered. “Maybe we should wait?”

Jack frowned. “I thought you were coming with us?”

“I am. But I’ve never been more fucking scared in my life. Just stalling I guess.”

“We’re all scared,” Angie said. “But if we wait any longer, we’ll freeze to death. Let’s get it over with, before we lose our nerve.”

They surrounded the door, weapons at the ready. Their breath clouded the air. Working as quietly as he could, Jack sliced through the strapping bands and shrink-wrap . Then, with one last glance at the others, he opened the door. It swung slowly outward. Jack’s breath caught in his chest. He shielded his eyes with his free hand. Behind him, the others did the same. The lights were still on in the stockroom, and they were temporarily blinded by the brightness.

Sammi sniffed. “What’s that smell?”

Their eyes slowly adjusted to the light. Angie gasped, dropping her steak. It thumped on the floor. Marcel retched. Turning away, Sammi put her hand over her mouth and nose. Jack stepped out into the wreckage and tried to be brave. His left shoe squelched on something—a kidney, a liver, a spleen—he wasn’t sure what. Some kind of internal organ. That much he could confirm. When he picked up his foot, there was a tread mark in the remains.

The stockroom had been ransacked. Blood-spattered boxes and cartons were ripped open. Some of the containers had been emptied of their original contents and were now filled with gore. Cases of canned goods had been dumped out on the floor. A stack of skids had fallen over. Arms and legs stuck out from beneath the wooden pallets. Blood pooled around an upended pallet jack. The lower half of a naked torso lay on the floor. Innards stretched away from the body like fleeing snakes. A dead man hung from a forklift, the prongs impaling his limp corpse. Severed hands, limbs, fingers and heads lay everywhere, along with unidentifiable scraps of human tissue—cuts of meat that mirrored the choices in the butcher’s showcase up front. The room was silent, except for the incessant buzzing of flies. It stank—blood, shit, slaughter. The unpainted concrete walls were red. So was the floor. Blood had even splattered across the ceiling.

“Well,” Angie said, “the power’s still on.”

Marcel gagged. “I wish it wasn’t.”

Jack tried to respond and found that he couldn’t. He just reeled instead. The stockroom seemed to spin and his vision blurred. He knelt on the floor, leaned over, and vomited. Marcel did the same a moment later. Sammi and Angie stood guard until they recovered, looking around nervously. The room remained deserted. Both men slowly rose, unsteady, wiping their mouths.

“You okay?” Jack rasped.

“Yeah,” Marcel said. “I will be. Getting a killer headache, though. Probably from all this stress.”

“Might be dehydration,” Angie said. “Like you said before.”

“Or stress,” Sammi offered. “Tension. Maybe you should rest.”

Marcel shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I’m all right.”

Jack turned to Sammi and Angie. His cheeks turned red with embarrassment. “Sorry about doing that in front of you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Angie said. “Happens to everybody. If it makes you any happier, I feel like puking, too.”

Sammi giggled. “Nice to see somebody other than me throwing up for once.”

“Girls rule,” Angie whispered, “and boys drool.”

Marcel scowled at the comment, flicking a thread of saliva from his chin.

“You sure you’re all right?” Jack asked him.

Marcel nodded. His expression was one of annoyance.

“You girls ready?” Jack asked.

“Yes,” Sammi whispered. “Let’s quit stalling. The smell is getting worse back here.”

“Okay,” Jack whispered. “Let’s see what is what.”

He led them forward, trying not to look at the carnage, trying not to hear the sounds their shoes made as they stepped through a glistening tangle of stripped flesh or intestine, or the slow drips of blood falling from the stains on the ceiling. Jack wondered how the blood had gotten up there. He could read nothing in the splash patterns. They were everywhere—a crisscross of crimson.

At the end of the warehouse was an employee restroom. The door was slightly ajar. Although it was dark inside, they could make out the form of a woman crouched in front of the toilet. The seat was up. Her shoulders rested on the rim. Her head was deep inside the bowl. Water dripped from the faucet, and the mirror on the wall was shattered. The edges of the white porcelain sink were splashed with red, just like everything else in the warehouse. A sign on the wall next to the bathroom admonished all employees to wash their hands before returning to work. The irony filled Jack with a sick sense of dread.

He turned back to the others. “So far, so good.”

“Maybe they’re all dead,” Sammi whispered.

“Let’s hope so. Just stay quiet and stick together. Okay?”

Angie and Sammi nodded in understanding. Marcel appeared distracted. His eyes were shut and his expression was pained. One hand clutched the length of wood. The other rubbed his right temple, fingers probing deep into the flesh.

“Marcel?” Jack reached for him. “What’s the matter? I know you said you were okay, but you don’t look so hot.”

The older man glanced up at them. His eyes were red and watery. When he spoke, he sounded tired.

“What’s up?” he rasped. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. What did you ask?”

“What’s wrong with you, dude?”

“My fucking head hurts. That’s all. I think Sammi’s right. It’s just the stress. Exhaustion. Just need to get some painkillers.”

“You okay to keep going?” Jack asked. “We can stop if you need to.”

Marcel nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Lead on, kemosabe.”

“Kemo-what?”

Marcel frowned. “You never saw The Lone Ranger?”

“No,” Jack said. “I think my grandfather used to watch it when he was a kid.”

“Never mind.”

They approached the large double doors that led out into the grocery store. Jack and Angie peeked through the windows, while Sammi and Marcel hung back.

“Holy shit,” Jack moaned.

FOUR

The slaughter in the stockroom paled in comparison to what awaited them in the store. They smelled the carnage even through the closed doors—a noxious brew of blood, piss, shit, bleach, ammonia, and other chemicals from the household cleaning products aisle. The stench made their eyes water and their throats and sinuses burn.

“I don’t see anybody moving,” Angie whispered after a moment. “Maybe they all left. I say we make a run for it.”

“What do you guys think?” Jack asked Sammi and Marcel without turning around.

A loud crack rang out behind them. Sammi breathed a long, drawn-out sigh. Marcel laughed—a bubbling, high-pitched croak.

Jack and Angie turned around. Sammi stared at them, her head cocked to the right, her eyes glassy. A thin ribbon of blood trickled down the side of her face. Marcel stood behind her, gripping his club with both hands. The other end—the piece with the nail in it—was embedded in the top of Sammi’s skull. The mop-handle spear slipped from Sammi’s fingers. Her knees buckled. Marcel released the weapon and Sammi toppled to the floor. She thrashed on her side, arms and legs jittering, mouth agape.

“Fuck!” The razor knife shook in Jack’s trembling hands.

“She was stealing from me,” Marcel explained, his voice calm and self-assured. “She was stealing my thoughts. I had to teach her a lesson. Had to curb that shit.”

“Sammi?” Jack whispered, hoping she’d respond. Her convulsions grew weaker.

“You guys would have done the same thing,” Marcel said. “She was inside my head, stealing everything I thought about. If you’re taking her side, then I have to assume you were stealing from me, too. And that means I’ll have—”

Angie’s scream cut him off. “You son of a bitch!”

She lunged at him, swinging the pack of steaks. The frozen meat collided with Marcel’s head, stunning him. Jack heard the crack, even over Angie’s cries. Marcel’s head rocked backward. Grunting, he staggered to the side. Already his ear had begun to swell. Before he could recover, Angie hit him again, breaking his nose and driving the splintered cartilage up into his brain. Marcel made a gulping noise. His eyes fluttered and his hands clenched, then unclenched. A single tear slid down his cheek. He fell forward, his body jittering on the floor next to Sammi. As they watched, Sammi’s movements ceased and Marcel’s slowed. A dark stain spread across his pants. The sharp smell of urine filled the air, mixing with the store’s miasma.