Then, Janus blacks out. He’s screaming but not aware of it. He rips his leg free, losing a large chunk of skin, but no longer feeling the pain. He gets to his feet and begins kicking the boy violently in the face, harder and harder, then he’s stomping, driving his heel down with all his force, over and over, hammering the boy’s head into the vinyl floor until he hears a distinct crunching sound and the boy stops scrambling.
Janus heaves for breath and turns around, suddenly only able to move in slow motion. He sees Sofie lying there, the girl crouching over her. He sees that it’s too late. The floor has already turned red, and the girl is visibly losing interest in Sofie, standing up and sniffing the air greedily, sensing still-alive prey nearby.
Janus just stands there, panting, his mind completely blank, as the girl turns around and growls at him, her face and neck and upper chest all covered in Sofie’s blood.
And as the zombie comes at him, Janus still doesn’t move.
NINE
William stays by the car for what feels like a very long time, but in reality is probably only a few minutes.
He keeps looking in every direction, making sure no one is sneaking up on him. He’s ready to go at any moment, fighting the urge to throw himself in the car and get the hell out of Dodge. He also keeps an eye on the entrance to the supermarket and the girl on the backseat, who’s still unconscious.
“Come on, dude,” he whispers.
He could really use a Kings right now, but he doesn’t want to slack his attention even for a second, in case Janus and Sofie come running out, a mob of zombies at their heels.
From inside the car, Dave Grohl is singing about aviation lessons, and William is not aware that he’s humming along tonelessly. One half of him feels like a coward for letting Janus go in there all by himself. The other half, though, feels like he made the right choice by not leaving the car.
The traffic goes by at a normal, lazy pace. Several of the drivers dart him concerned looks, and one of them—an obese lady—pulls over and rolls down her window. “Hi there! You need help?”
“No, thank you,” William murmurs, realizing how on edge he must look, pacing back and forth, looking all paranoid. He tries to manage a confident smile at the lady, which feels more like an odd grimace. “I’m just waiting for a friend.”
The woman nods, not looking particularly convinced, but seems to accept his explanation.
At that moment, the doors to the supermarket open up, and for a second, William imagines Janus coming out of the store, carrying Sofie in his arms like a superhero. And he’s right: It is Janus coming out. But he’s not carrying Sofie, and he doesn’t look at all like a superhero. In fact, he’s walking in a very weird and unsteady way, his head tilting back and forth like on a toddler who just learned to walk.
William stares at his friend and colleague, at the white hospital shirt which is no longer white, but red from blood.
Maybe he just fell, a single, stupid thought yells out in William’s mind, desperately wanting to cling on to the hope that Janus might be okay. Maybe it’s not even his own blood.
But it’s nonsense, of course. And the last grain of hope is brushed aside when Janus turns to reveal his left side, where both his T-shirt and skin are reduced to bloody shreds. Underneath can be seen a gaping hole with a couple of ivory colored ribs protruding from the red flesh.
There are also the eyes—Janus’s eyes aren’t human anymore, not by any means; they’re milky white, cloudy and dead. And they’re fixing right on William, as Janus starts to stagger in his direction.
“My goodness!” a voice exclaims from behind William, pulling him out of his trance. “Poor guy, what happened to him?”
The heavyset woman has pulled the hand brake and is now fumbling to get her seat belt open.
“No!” William says, going to her car. “You get away from here! He’s dangerous.”
The woman eyes him like he just spoke Chinese. “What are you talking about? He’s bleeding! He’s obviously—”
“He’s a fucking zombie!” William shouts, shoving the door shut as the woman opens it and tries to get out. She stares at him, blinking in surprise. “Unless you want to get eaten alive, I suggest you get the hell out of here—right now!”
William turns his back to the woman and runs to his own car, not looking bad to check if she got the message. If she didn’t, it’s on her. He’s not going to play hero for the sake of some dense middle-aged hag.
William throws himself behind the wheel, just as he catches a glimpse of Janus out of the corner of his eye. His friend has crossed the parking lot and almost reached the street. Exactly what he’s aiming for is hard to judge, because he keeps changing direction, as though the passing cars all tempt him and he can’t decide which one to go for.
Like a kid in a candy store.
William pulls the car into first gear and checks the traffic before turning out onto the road. He notices the doors to the supermarket open once more, and he forgets everything else for a moment, as he stares at the group of undeads who come staggering out into the parking lot.
He knows the girl who died on the backseat of the station wagon. And Sofie, even though half her face is missing. The others are unfamiliar
