Deck the Malls with Bowels of Holly
No one expected
to see Santa Claus leaning against the mall’s dumpster, puffing on a cheap
cigar he held in one hand while taking a swig of whiskey from a 200 ml bottle
of Jack Daniels clutched in the other. A bleached-blonde soccer mom decked out
in a fur-trimmed leather jacket drove past in her Mercedes SUV, covering her
daughter’s eyes so the little girl could not see while flashing him a look that
was equal parts haughtiness and disillusionment. Jack placed the cigar between
his teeth and used his free hand to tip his Santa’s hat to her. The soccer mom
crinkled her face in disgust and sped away.
Jack placed the
Santa hat back on his head and removed the cigar from between his teeth, but
not before taking a deep puff. He blew the smoke in the direction the soccer
mom had driven off. To Hell with her. Jack had met a lot of people like that in
his life, the pampered elite who were arrogant and judgmental. To them,
hardship was when the local wine shop ran out of brie. Let them live his life,
and then we’d see how well they made out.
Four years ago he
never would have guessed his life would have turned out like this. As a major
in the Special Forces, he was a few years shy of putting in his twenty and
cashing in on an early retirement when an IED outside of Baghdad went off next to his Humvee,
shattering his right leg. A year of therapy left him with a limp and an
addiction to pain meds, both of which earned him a discharge from the Army. He
broke his addiction to the pills by climbing into a whiskey bottle, and spent
the better part of the next two years bouncing in and out of rehab until he
finally got his life into some semblance of order. By then, his resume and
reputation left much to be desired. He was forced to take any odd job he could
get, which was how he wound up as the mall Santa. At least he made enough to
pay the rent on his run-down studio apartment, even if it meant he had to take
a few shots of whiskey every now and then to dull the pain in his leg from
having whiny little brats sit on and kick it all day.
Jack took another
swig of whiskey before replacing the cap and sliding the bottle into the
fur-trimmed pocket of his Santa suit. He shifted the padding in his pants and
jacket, grateful that he needed padding. It would have sucked if the mall hired
him merely because he filled the suit. He might have a little more around the
waist than he wanted, but other than that he was in good physical shape.
The door to the employee entrance opened.
Jack grabbed his cigar and prepared to toss it into the dumpster, afraid it
might be Bert, the megalomaniacal security guard who ran his mall like a
third-rate dictatorship. Thankfully, his friend Sammy stepped out. Sammy worked
at the Christmas Village ushering kids to and from Santa. He had a way with
kids. They related to him, mostly because Sammy was a midget. A little person,
Jack corrected himself. Too bad mall management wasn’t as sensitive. The Ice
Princess dressed Sammy in an elf costume and paraded him around the display
like he was one of the decorations. Though Sammy never admitted it, he was humiliated
by the treatment, and probably would have quit if he could have found work
elsewhere.
Sammy pointed to Jack’s
cigar. “Those’ll stunt your growth.”
“How many did you
smoke as a kid?”
“Ha ha,” Sammy
replied good-naturedly. “I’m surprised you haven’t taken over for Jimmy Fallon
yet.”
Sammy leaned
against the dumpster, yanked off his elf cap, and wiped his palm across his
forehead. It glistened with sweat.
“Are you okay?”
asked Jack.
“I’m running a
fever and feel like crap. I think I got an infection from one of the reindeer.”
“When?”
“Earlier this
morning. The big one with the antlers is a mean bastard. It bit me and the
other reindeer in the pen.” To emphasize his point, Sammy shoved up his sleeve
and pulled aside a large white bandage stained with blood. Underneath sat a
nasty-looking bite that cut deep into the skin. Yellow pus oozed from around
the edges. Bluish-black skin surrounded the wound, which gave off the sickeningly-sweet
odor of rot.
“That looks serious.
You need to get to the emergency room.”
“Not until after
my shift.” Sammy replaced the bandage and pulled down his sleeve. “If I leave
now, the Ice Princess will can my ass for sure.”
Jack wanted to
argue, but he knew Sammy was right. The Ice Princess, their less-than-affectionate
nickname for Holly Landers, the mall manager, showed nothing but contempt for
those under her, Sammy in particular. If he left early to go to the hospital,
she probably would use it as an excuse to fire him.
“There’s only a
few hours left to the shift. Try to stick it out. But if you get worse, you got
to promise me you’ll take off early and head to the hospital.”
“If I get any
worse you’ll be picking me up off the floor.”
“Where did they
get vicious reindeer?”
Sammy leaned against
the dumpster for support. “I overheard the Ice Princess telling Bert she got a
good deal on them from a farm up state. I know now why she got them so cheap.”
The back door
opened again. This time Meghan appeared. She was the Christmas Village
photographer, a young woman in her mid-twenties with shoulder-length strawberry
blonde hair. Jack could not help but notice how sexy she looked in her green
mini-skirt elf costume and red nylons. She refused to wear the pointy shoes
with bells on the toes and opted instead for black heels, which the Ice
Princess accepted once she discovered that the slightly-fetish look brought more
fathers to Christmas Village and, by consequence, more money.
Meghan greeted them with a smile warm
enough to melt snow. “I hate to bother you, but Miss Landers is hanging around
the village asking where you guys are.”
“What a….” Jack
checked himself, not wanting to swear around Meghan.
“Don’t worry. I
told her you just gone on break. She’ll never be the wiser.”
“Thanks. We’ll be
there in a minute.”
Meghan flashed Jack
a flirtatious grin and headed back inside. He watched her behind as it jiggled
beneath the elf skirt, wishing he was twenty years younger. Jack tapped his
half-smoked cigar against the dumpster several time to make sure all the loose
ash fell off, and then slid it into a carrying case he kept in his pants
pocket.
He turned to Sammy. “Ready?”
Sammy pushed himself off the dumpster
and staggered to the door. “I feel like I’m gonna puke.”
“If you do, just tell the kids it’s
eggnog.”
As the two approached
Christmas Village, Jack admired the work that had gone into organizing the
display. The village filled the first floor atrium across from the main
entrance, nestled up against the glass-enclosed elevators that led to the
second-level food court. His throne, an old preacher’s chair, sat atop a raised
platform covered with fake snow. To the left stood a fifteen-foot live
Christmas tree strung with colored lights and decorated with large red and
green glass ornaments. To the right, a propane tank fed the flames behind faux
logs in a fireplace. Curved metal poles painted to look like candy canes and
linked together by a garland-wrapped chain prevented the kids from getting too
close to the fireplace. Directly opposite the platform on the other side of the
atrium sat a plastic igloo and half a dozen animatronic penguins, which had
nothing to do with Christmas but did cash in on everyone’s love of penguins. To
the right of the village, a maze of velvet ropes herded nearly twenty kids and
their parents who patiently waited for Santa. Off to the left stood the pen
holding the five reindeer, a twenty-foot square area closed off by a heavy log
fence. The buck with the large antlers stood near the front of the pen, swaying
unsteadily. Behind it, four does walked around lethargically. Jack knew nothing
about animals, but even he could tell they were not feeling good.
What upset him more
than the condition of the reindeer was the presence of the Ice Princess. She
stood with Meghan by the camera, arms tightly folded across her chest, her
frosty glare fixed on the two men. Dressed in a dark pants suit and sporting a
short, professional hair style, she might have been passably attractive if her
face wasn’t frozen in a perpetual frown. As Jack and Sammy approached, she
stepped over to confront them.
“Where were you
two?” she huffed through the clenched teeth of her forced smile.
“Taking our
break.” Jack tried to sound as disarming as possible.
“You’re entitled
to fifteen minutes. You were gone for nearly twenty.” The Ice Princess leaned
forward and sniffed. She grimaced. “What’s that smell?”
“Cigar smoke.”
“That suit’s
coming out of your paycheck if we can’t get the stink out of it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
At that moment,
Bert pulled up on his Segway. He skidded to a halt by the group, the sudden
stop causing the beer belly that strained against his uniform shirt to jiggle
like a bowl full of Jell-O. “You wanted to see me, Holly?”
“That’s Miss
Landers, to you.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“I don’t want to
give the parents any reason to file a lawsuit against the mall, so guard those
unruly beasts and make sure they don’t bite anyone.”
Bert grinned,
revealing a mouth full of yellow teeth. “I assume you mean the reindeer, and
not Santa and his elf.”
“Ha. Ha.” This
time, Sammy did not sound amused. “Did your mother tell you that joke was
funny?”
The smile drained
from Bert’s face. “Blow me, Munchkin.”
“That’s what I
said to your mother last night.”
“Enough,” the Ice
Princess hissed through clenched teeth. “Just get back to work. All of you.”
Bert sneered at
Sammy before whipping his Segway around and driving over to stand guard by the
reindeer pen. Jack and Sammy headed for the platform. They were greeted by a
round of cheers and applause by their young fans. Jack bellowed a hearty “Ho,
ho, ho” and waved. A minute later, seated in his chair, Sammy ushered over to
him a six-year-old with auburn locks who beamed as she approached.
The next fifteen
minutes passed without incident. The Ice Princess hung around, keeping a
watchful and distrustful eye on Jack and Sammy when not telling Meghan how to
take photos. Bert circled back and forth in front of the reindeer pen as if
guarding a federal penitentiary. Jack had finished talking to a boy who
requested the latest edition of Grand
Theft Auto and Sammy was ushering him away all Hell broke loose.
The buck let out
an anguished mewl and toppled over, its head twisted on the floor at an obscene
angle, black fluid leaking from its mouth. The does backed away, moving to the
corner to get as far away as possible. Bert jumped off his Segway and raced
over to the gate, unlatched it, and entered the pen. He knelt down beside the
carcass and placed a hand against its neck.
Sensing a growing
uneasiness among the children and parents still waiting in line, Jack tried to
take control and calm everyone down. He stood up, held his belly, and forced a
hearty laugh.
“Ho, ho, ho. Nothing
to worry about, kids. My reindeer is tired after pulling my sleigh. He’s just
taking a nap.”
“Nope,” Bert
blurted out loud enough for everyone to hear. “It’s dead.”
Parents gasped
and children cried. One little girl looked up at her mother, her lips quivering
as she asked if Rudolph would be okay.
“No, no, no.” Jack
waved his hands dismissively. “He’s just joking. My reindeer is resting, that’s
all.”
“He’s right,”
said the young mother to the little girl who had asked if Rudolph would be okay.
She pointed to the pen. “See. The reindeer’s moving.”
Jack turned to
look. Sure enough, the buck’s legs spasmed, lightly at first, then more
forcefully. It flopped around for a second before struggling to its feet,
eventually standing upright on wobbly legs. Bert moved away a few feet to give
it room to maneuver, backing up against the pen.
The Ice Princess
stepped up to the outer side of the pen. “You idiot. I thought you said that
thing was dead.”
“It was. It
didn’t have a pulse and was cold to the tou—“
The buck spun its
head toward Bert, attracted by the sound of his voice. The once dark brown eyes
were now light gray and lifeless. It bared its teeth, snarled, and lunged. Before
Bert could react, the buck latched its mouth over his face and bit deep,
stopping only when its teeth ground into his skull. It tugged at the flesh. Blood
spurted from around the reindeer’s teeth and poured from its mouth. Bert howled,
as much in terror as in pain, most of his cries muffled down the reindeer’s
throat.
Some of the
parents already had scooped up their children and were dashing for the safety
of the mall entrance. Most stood motionless from shock, too transfixed by the
sight to move. Jack had no idea what was going on, although he knew enough to
realize they all were in danger.
“Sammy!” he
yelled. “Get these people out of here!”
“S-ure th-thing.”
Sammy turned to the crowd gathered behind him in the rope maze and shuffled toward
them. He took two steps, wobbled, and fell forward. His face made a horrible
crack as it hit the floor.
Before Jack could
react, the sound of more bodies dropping to the floor caught his attention. He
turned to the pen as the four does, all of which had been bitten by the buck,
collapsed one at a time.
Meghan took
control of the situation, racing up to the maze full of parents and children. She
clapped her hands in the air to get their attention.
“You have to get
out of here now. Please move in an orderly manner toward—“
No one waited for
Meghan to finish. Shock gave way to universal panic as everyone rushed for the
exit at the same time. Children were knocked down. Parents tripped over the velvet
ropes, collapsing the maze, which caused even more people to get entangled. Meghan
tried to maintain order, but no one would listen.
Jack ripped off
his beard and Santa’s cap, and began stripping out of his padded jacket. Shit, he thought to himself. This can’t get much worse.
He had no idea
how wrong he was.
The Ice Princess leaned
over the pen and pulled the can of pepper spray from Bert’s belt just as the buck
yanked its head back. Bert’s skin slid off his skull like a mask. He fell to
the ground and placed his hands over his face, whimpering into the palms. Blood
gushed between his fingers. As Bert rolled around in agony, the buck chewed the
skin and swallowed. Bits of flesh and gore dangled from its jaw.
“Don’t screw with
me and my mall, fleabag.” Leaning over the pen, the Ice Princess raised the can
of pepper spray and squirted a stream directly into the buck’s face. It mewled
in pain and thrashed around, shaking its head wildly to get rid of the liquid. When
it finally stopped, the buck fixed its gaze on the Ice Princess and sneered.
“Oh, shit!” She took
a step backward as the buck lunged, slamming into the pen. The top log flew
off, hitting her in the chest with a loud crack and knocking her backwards. She
cried out. Putting pressure on her broken ribs, she struggled to get to her
feet, wincing in agony with every move. The buck used its front hoofs to knock
down the last remaining logs, clearing a path for it to escape.
“Holly, look
out!” screamed Jack. Before he could react, a moaning to his left caught his
attention. He looked to the base of the platform as Sammy got to his feet, looking
dazed and disoriented.
“How ya doing,
buddy?”
Sammy spun around
to face Jack, focusing on him with dead gray eyes. He raced up the steps of the
platform, snarling, his tiny arms reaching out for his meal. Jack waited until
Sammy got to within a few feet before kicking out with his right leg, catching
the zombie elf in the chest. Bolts of pain shot up his leg, the damaged nerves
from his war wound protesting the action. The force of the blow sent Sammy
reeling off the platform. He slammed into the floor and slid for several feet,
coming to a rest only when he crashed into the overturned rope maze.
Jack looked
around for a weapon, but Christmas
Village was not what one
would consider an armed compound. He finally spotted something he could use. Rushing
over to the fireplace, Jack disconnected the chain from one of the metal poles painted
like a candy cane and tried to pull it out of the platform. The pole moved only
an inch or two. Jack twisted it to loosen the mounting, pausing when he heard
snarling again. Sammy staggered back to his feet and raced across the atrium toward
him. Jack yanked hard on the pole. It gave a little. He yanked again, this time
with all his strength, and the pole broke free. Jack stepped aside and held the
candy cane like a baseball bat.
When Sammy came
within range, Jack swung the candy cane. It connected with the side of Sammy’s
head with a loud crack. His friend spun around and tumbled back down the
stairs, rolling head over heels twice before flopping to the ground. The body
barely slid to a stop before Sammy started to get back up.
Shit, thought
Jack, this was going to tougher than I
thought. Shifting the candy cane in his hands, he brandished it by his side
as if it were a rifle with a bayonet. Sammy already was half way up the stairs
and gaining speed. Jack pulled his arms back.
“Sorry, Sammy.”
As his friend
closed to within a few feet, Jack thrust his arms forward, aiming the end of
the candy cane right at Sammy’s forehead. The metal end easily punched its way
through the skull, scrambling his brain. Sammy twitched on the end of the candy
cane for several seconds before going limp. His lids closed over the lifeless
eyes. His snarling features softened, finally at peace.
A female scream echoed
throughout the atrium. Jack spun around, afraid the cry came from Meghan. Thankfully,
he saw her standing at the far end of the village by the penguin display,
ushering the last of the terrified parents toward the mall entrance.
The scream had come
from the Ice Princess. After being knocked down by the buck, she had gotten to
her feet. The buck charged, bowing its head and plunging its antlers into her
abdomen. It repeatedly twisted its head from side to side, goring the Ice
Princess with all the dexterity of someone using a chain saw on a piñata. She
pounded futilely on its head and antlers until her screams became a gurgle. With
a strained cough, she spat blood from her mouth and her body went limp. The buck
flipped its head, throwing aside the disemboweled mall manager and leaving a
five-foot length of intestine and a ruptured stomach dangling off its antlers. Holly’s
body hit the floor with a sickening squish. The buck stepped over to her, put
its head inside the gouged-out cavity, and started to feed.
Only then did
Jack notice that the four does also had risen and were exiting the pen looking
for food. The clamor of panicking mall patrons bunched up near the entrance
caught their attention. As one, the four reindeer moved off in that direction.
What could have
been a slaughter was averted when Meghan spotted the does heading for the
entrance. She grabbed one of the animatronic penguins and flung it at the first
reindeer, clipping it on the side of the head. It distracted them, but now
their attention was focused on her. The four does attacked. Meghan ran for the
penguin display, dove to the ground, and scampered on hands and knees into the
igloo just as the does reached her. The creatures kicked and head butted the
igloo, their snarls drowned out only by Meghan’s cries for help. Being made of
thick plastic, the igloo afforded some protection, but for a minute at best. Already
chunks of plastic were being torn off by the onslaught.
Jack quickly
assessed the situation. He stood exposed here on top of the platform, but as of
yet none of the reindeer had noticed him. That was his sole advantage. There
was no way he could take on all five of them with a metal candy cane. And he
couldn’t waste time trying to find another weapon because Meghan would be
zombie reindeer chow long before he got back. So he could either fight a
futile, hopeless battle or….
What was he
thinking? There was no “or”. He couldn’t leave Meghan and the remaining mall
patrons to be devoured by these Christmas nightmares. Running was not an
option.
Jack had only one
chance, as ridiculously slim as it seemed. Running over to the fireplace, he
placed the candy cane on the ground and removed the rear panel to the
fireplace, exposing the propane tank. The meter indicated it was more than half
full. He wished it could have been more, but this would have to do. He closed
the valve on the propane tank, disconnected it, and placed it at his feet. Reaching
into his pants pocket, he rummaged around until he found his cigar case, pulled
it out, withdrew the cigar, and placed it between his lips.
“Hey, walking
wall mounts.”
Five sets of dead
eyes turned toward Jack on top of the platform. Jack lit a match and placed it
against the tip of the cigar, puffing until the end glowed red. He flicked out
the match and tossed it aside.
“It’s time to
play some reindeer games.”
The five zombie
reindeer let out a collective howl and charged, covering several feet in a
matter of seconds. Shit, Jack
thought. Fast zombies suck. Grabbing
the propane tank and the candy cane, he jumped off the rear of the platform and
raced for the bank of glass-enclosed elevators. Behind him, he heard the creatures
crashing their way up the front slope of the platform. As he circled around to
the elevators and slammed his finger against the UP button, he prayed that at
least one of the cars was on the first floor. Thankfully, the doors on the far
left slid open.
The buck topped
the platform first and slid down the back slope. Jack ducked into the elevator,
dropping everything onto the floor and turning to the control panel. He pressed
one thumb each against the second floor and CLOSE buttons, jabbing repeatedly. Nothing
happened. As Jack watched, the buck reached the floor and looked around,
finally spying him. It snarled and rushed toward him, with the does close on his
hooves. Just then the doors began their interminably slow slide shut. Jack
didn’t know if he would make it. He shoved his thumbs even harder against the
buttons and braced himself to be mauled. Thankfully, the doors closed enough
that the buck’s antlers slammed against the outside surface, preventing it from
getting its head inside. It spat at Jack, filling the interior with the stench
of death. The car jerked and traveled up to the second floor.
When the elevator
came to a stop, Jack waited until the doors opened before pulling out the
EMERGENCY STOP button. Working quickly, he used the end of the candy cane to
knock aside the access panel in the elevator’s roof, pushing it aside to clear
the opening. He then placed the propane tank in the raer corner of the car and
turned the valve to the ON position. Gas hissed into the interior. Stepping to
the control panel, Jack pushed in the EMERGENCY STOP button, pressed the button
for the first floor, and stepped out. A few seconds later, the doors slid shut
and the elevator began its descent. As it did, he wedged the end of the candy
cane between the joints of the doors and pried them apart enough for him to reach
in with his hands and open them all the way. He leaned out to watch as the
elevator stopped on the first floor and listened as the doors slid open. It
sounded like a stampede when the five zombie reindeer rushed inside, thrashing
around as they searched for their prey. The buck glanced up, catching sight of
Jack in the open doorway above. It growled and raised itself on its hind legs
as if wanting to climb out and get Jack.
“Ho. Ho. Ho.”
On the last “Ho,”
Jack puffed on the cigar and then flicked it down the shaft. It arched through
the air like a tiny comet before disappearing through the access hatch.
A moment later, a
fireball mushroomed through the hatch as the propane ignited, incinerating the
zombie reindeer. Jack dropped to the ground and covered his head as the tank erupted.
The floor beneath him shook. The explosion took the path of least resistance,
shattering the glass walls into a million shards and venting a fireball out
across Christmas Village, ripping Santa’s chair into kindling and blasting
apart the giant Christmas tree.
Jack got to his
feet and stepped over to the railing, surveying the carnage. All that remained
of the platform was the metal struts of its base. The rest lay scattered across
the area, pieces of wood and particle board mixed in with charred chunks of
zombie reindeer. Pine needles, pieces of wrapping paper, and shattered
fragments of ornaments rained down. Except for the settling debris and the
crackling of a few scattered fires, everything was pleasantly quiet. Not a creature was stirring, he thought.
Jack suddenly
remembered that Meghan was still down there. Running to the stairs opposite the
elevators, he rushed down them two at a time, careful not to slip on the
holiday flotsam. Below him was the igloo, shredded from the blast and partially
melted. There was no way she could have survived that. Even so, he rushed over
to the penguin display and dropped to his knees.
“God, Meghan. I’m
so sorry.”
Jack flipped over
the igloo, surprised to find nothing underneath it.
“Sorry about
what?” The sexy voice came from behind him.
Jack looked over
his shoulder. Meghan stood three feet behind him.
“Aren’t you
dead?” he asked.
Meghan placed
both hands on her hips and rested all her weight on her right leg, striking a
pose that looked all the more erotic in her short elf skirt. “Normally this
would sound like a stupid question, but do I look dead?”
“No.” Jack stood
up and took Meghan in his arms, hugging her tightly against him, or at least as
tightly as the padded pants would allow. “How’d you survive the blast?”
“When I saw you
leading those things away with the propane tank, I knew nothing good could come
of it, so I headed for better cover.”
“Thank God you
did.” Jack broke the hug, but kept one arm wrapped around Meghan’s waist. He
was happy to see that she didn’t protest. The couple headed for the mall
entrance.
“You know,” she
said. “Since you saved my life, you get to buy me dinner.”
“It’s a date. What
would you like?”
“I could go for a
nice steak.”
“Great. I know a
place that serves venison.”
Meghan wrapped
her arm around Jack’s. “Maybe we should go for pizza instead.”
Clint stopped the ambulance a few yards from mall’s main entrance,
fighting back a sense of uncertainty about what they would find. The initial dispatch
had been unusually vague, saying something about reindeer beating people at a
Christmas display, although Kevin swore the dispatcher had said “eating.” Not
that neither one made any sense. In any case, it sounded more like a situation
for animal control rather than EMTs, and Clint had said as much, only to be
ordered to get to the mall pronto. Of course, arriving in time to see swarms of
terrified shoppers shoving their way through the exit and scattering across the
parking lot did not help assuage his uneasiness. Panicked crowds were never a
good sign.
Jumping out of the ambulance and
grabbing their gear, Clint and Kevin rushed into the mall. They had to push
their way past a couple strolling out arm-in-arm, the man wearing padded Santa
pants and the young strawberry blonde dressed in very risqué elf costume. Clint
thought it unusual that, amidst the frenzied exodus, these two seemed not to be
concerned.
Kevin, on the other hand, noticed the blonde.
“Hey, did you see the ass on that one that just walked by?”
“No.” Clint
pointed toward the atrium where the charred wreckage of the Christmas Village
lay scattered around. “I’m more interested in that.”
“Holy….” Kevin
let his words trail off. He broke into a jog, rushing to the scene in case
someone was still alive.
Clint followed, though judging by the
extent of the destruction, he doubted if anyone could have survived. He stopped
by what looked like a pile of dead penguins and scanned the atrium, shaking his
head.
“Man, nothing could have survived
this.”
“Someone did,” responded Kevin. “Over
there.”
Across the atrium, near the remains of
what once was a pen or something, a single figure stumbled through the debris, his
hands stretched out in front of him, fumbling as if he was blind. His back was to
them, so Clint could not tell how badly hurt he was. Given the fact that the
man wore a light blue shirt with the tattered remains of a patch on his sleeve
and a utility belt that hung at an awkward angle from his hips with half the
contents missing, Clint figured he must be mall security.
“Poor guy,” said Kevin. “Probably
stayed behind to help get everyone out, and then got caught up in all of this.”
“You check out the rest of the mall. I’ll
tend to him.”
Clint crossed over to the security
guard. The guard’s hands fell onto the handlebars of a Segway and clutched it
tightly. He attempted to climb on, but could not get his feet up high enough. Probably
shock. When Clint got to within a few feet of the guard, he called out to him.
“Hang on, buddy. I’m a paramedic. I’m
here to he…. Holy shit!”
When the guard turned around at the
sound of the voice, Clint saw that his face had been ripped off. He stared into
a skull covered in gore and blood. Strands of severed nerve endings dangled out
of the sockets. The thing couldn’t see Clint, but it heard him. When Clint
squeaked a muffled cry of revulsion, it dove at him, its exposed teeth ripping
into the paramedic’s throat.
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