A stroll to the mall

Malls were once the preferred place for Sarah to spend her free time. Far from a family that barely acknowledged her amidst the constant parental bickering. She used to roam the large buildings with her friends for whole afternoons, days sometimes. Window shopping mostly, eating snacks, the occasional shoplifting... Despite her issues at home, they were carefree years, when her main concern was to know if she had her chances with Edward from next class.

That was not even a year ago. Edward is a faint memory now, just like her friends. Sarah's most pressing matters at the moment is to keep the newly formed Republic of New Orlando in check to ensure they do not become a threat, at least while her war against the Radova Kingdom lasted. She had her hands full and was grossly outnumbered, owning her survival to Radova's greed. The king bit more than he could chew, declaring war upon all his neighboring factions at once, and now embroiled in a prolonged conflict that he may lose some day.

And yet, despite the impending doom looming at the frontiers of the Velvet Acres, she found herself drawn to this mall. One of her subordinates reported unusual activity around the building, and the four scouts she sent ahead never surfaced again. While it was inside her area, the young woman didn't care to dispatch troops around the mall. It was too close to Radova to be of any strategic relevance, and the surroundings were a nightmare to defend.

Still, that wasn't something she could ignore. At best it was nothing, and she could enjoy a relaxing afternoon in the ruins of a shopping center. At worst... She had her elite guard with her should things go awry.

The front of the mall looked decrepit, as if it was abandoned for much longer than ten months. The faded red paint was cracked in multiple places, and two neon letters were missing, leaving to imagination what was the original name of Wes_at_n Mall. The parking was half-full of abandoned cars, some of them violently folded in a huge accident. The ones who were unscathed were covered in a thin layer of dust, patiently waiting for their drivers to emerge from the mall where they disappeared forever.

The cold void of the mall beckoned her, and Sarah was tempted to go in alone, for a brief moment. Of course she knew better. She hadn't survived so far into the apocalypse by being reckless. Here, a single mistake would put an end to everything that she had build, as it happened with so many others. And so she stopped at a safe distance from the dark entrance and let her loyal guards scout the premices.

Once she got the signal that the coast was clear she made her move, slowly moving toward the broken glass doors. She was barely able to contain her excitement, her heart pounding in her chest like it wanted to run away. Rather than the connection with her old self, it was the danger and upcoming confrontation that made her nervous and strangely excited. Before being old enough to legally drink, she had faced more life or death situations than she could recall. It never got easier, it was not something anyone can get used to. At least, dread had left room for a newfound eagerness.

It was one of these malls that was supposed to be permanently powered, the kind that turned into horror movie sets at night. No window to let the light of the day through, or too dirty to called windows anymore. The girl waited a few seconds for her eyes to adapt to the darkness and took a good look at her surroundings.

The place had definitely been a slaughterhouse when the clock rang Midnight. It was probably early in the morning, clueless people going shopping as usual when the gates became flooded by an endless afflux of deads. Dried blood darkened the ground and walls, stands and bench were flipped over in the hallway, yet no body remained. Just like it was an old haunted mall coming out of an urban legend. In the grim reality, all those who died there rose again a few moments later and shambled away to their next victim, abandoning their makeshift tomb.

Sarah stopped before a clothing store. The window had been smashed to bits and littered the floor with minuscule, sharp traps. Two of the three mannequin were toppled over while the last one stood proudly, undisturbed by the scene it had witnessed months ago. All three were naked, save for a pair of sunglasses that adorn the standing one. It baffled Sarah how, in the chaos of the apocalypse, some people still found the time to try and loot luxury dresses. As she could tell by the torn fabric that had bathed in blood a few meters away, they did not make it far.

She could see her men patrolling in the dark, looking for the unknown threat that roamed around. She wasn't too interested in that part of the mission. She trusted her subordinates, and accompanied them mostly in case they stumbled upon something they couldn't handle by themselves. As she penetrated a toy store to pick up a half bitten plush, Sarah noticed an unexpected movement between the shelves. After a quick check she realized that this specific store had not been checked yet.

Her whole body tensed at once, ready to jump whatever was lurking in the dark. Either she could dispose of it by herself, or running away would not be any good. Still, she silently called to her troops and a whisper spread throughout the mall. She had no gun, but a fireaxe. Experience had largely proven that the latter was more reliable in a pinch. The blade in the front, the young woman shifted through the shelves, keeping low and quiet.

Just as she was about to rush the unknown menace, it revealed itself to her and all the tension dissipated at once. It was just a regular undead, shambling on the floor in a daze. A woman in her late thirties, maybe a bit older, with bone showing through her skin. She was probably thin before she turned, and the ongoing necrosis was only making it worse. Her lower jaw was missing, replaced by a bloody gap from which a long tongue dangled. While hard to stomach, jawless zombies were a common sight with the wild specimens. Usually it was idiots who bit more that they could chew, and their victim opposed enough force to rip the bottom part. It was a very unlikely phenomenon with humans, as the teeth would give in way before the jaw muscles, and yet something seemed to make this part more brittle for zombies.

The reanimated corpse looked at Sarah, disoriented. It was not aggressive, and even then, jawless zombies were among the least threatening creature of the new world. She found odd, however, that it was still within the confines of the mall when all others had left. No, there was a second one, reported one of her aides. A man this time, of roughly the same age but much more muscular, still wearing a baseball cap and a "#1 best dad" shirt. His behaviour was uncommon, for a wild zombie. He was banging his head on a backroom door repetitively, without making any attempt to enter the room.

Leaving the poor zombie behind her, Sarah crossed the gloomy mall straight to the dad zombie. It was just what she was looking for, signs of an anomaly. Violence between zombies was rare, but not unheard of. She had once witnessed a wild zombie bash the the head of another one into the ground and stomping on it until the victim stopped moving. If the banging zombie was one of those, then it may have easily dispatched the scouts she sent beforehands.

The creature was hidden in a drugstore on the first floor. She heard it before she could see it, a repetitive bang that echoed through the eerie silence. She found it just as reported, obsessively hitting a metal door with its forehead. It seemed strong, more than enough to eliminate her own followers in a duel. A shame it died before she met the human, he might have been a great asset. She sighed silently. Dwelling on a past she didn't even experience was pointless. Fireaxe in hands, Sarah approached the undead from behind.

The cut was clean and brutal. In one powerful swing, she decapitated the zombie, sending its head flying. The body paused. In a spasm, it reiterated the banging motion twice before finally collapsing, a lifeless corpse once more. She had a soldier take away the detached head which was out of its lethargy and began to growl and snap at the air as much as its severed tendons allowed it to.

She questioned why the zombie had an obsession with that particular door, if there was more to its lunatic behavior. It was a heavy metallic door, with a regular handle and an electronic lock. The spot where the creature was hitting its head was not consistent, Sarah could identify seven different spots where bits of skin and hair had stuck to the surface in stains of dried blood. She tried the handle, pushing and pulling with increasing force, but the block of metal did not budge.

Sarah could imagine what had happened. In the confusion, this man had tried to find shelter in the drugstore's backrooms, confident that he could barricade himself inside. Without the keycard, he found himself cornered and was ultimately turned. But somehow, his strong will remained even through death, as if he was still attempting to reach safety. An all too common story, after all.

That was something taken care of. She knew, despite her worst expectations, that this excursion was likely to amount to nothing, but Sarah enjoyed this little respite nonetheless. Being in a mall brought back faint but soothing memories, the kind that were too rare lately. She contemplated staying a bit longer, maybe spend the day strolling through the ruined shelves, try on some of the dresses that escaped the looting and bugs. But already a report called for her attention. A group of representative of the new republic was calling in parleys.

She was the last one in the drugstore and about to leave when she froze to the sound of a barely audible beep. She dropped to the ground as the heavy door creaked open hesitantly. The light from inside the backroom shone rays of the afternoon into the otherwise impenetrable store. Two silhouettes detached themselves from the opening, steady. In the quiet room, Sarah heard the rustling of some clothes, then nothing. For a few excruciating seconds, not even a fly could be heard. Losing patience, she risked a peek from behind a shelf, careful not to step into the light.

Two scared teenagers were standing in the doorway, not daring to make a step forward. The oldest, not that much younger than Sarah, was holding a makeshift weapon in trembling hands. The youngest, around ten, was grabbing tight to the leg of what she imagined being his older brother. They were both paler than death, and so famished she could distinguish their skeletons through their skin. There was a gleam in their eye, a spark of defiance mixed with insanity.

It was difficult to believe, but did they both spend the last ten months in the mall, surviving from whatever scraps and canned food they could unearth? If that was the case, they were running out of resources. After assessing that they weren't much of a threat, Sarah revealing herself. The boys flinched and almost slammed the door in panic, but stopped once she raised her hands up. Even driven half mad from the ordeal they have been through, they still acknowledged that zombies did not usually make peace gestures.

— Don't worry, I won't hurt you.

Her voice was croaking from such a long time without speaking, and she was not sure if she could make anyone believe her with her inhumanely dark body and sounding like an old hag. And yet, the initial fright was gone from the kid's eyes, replaced by a different glimmer. Hope. What they had been waiting for so long was finally there. The reason they endured everything, pushed themselves long past their limit was the distant idea that someday, someone would come and save them.

They dropped to their knees and began to cry, warm tears of relief and exhaustion. Sarah walked calmly to them and embraced the kids in a soft hug. They tried to utter words between the cries, but she shushed them, lightly stroking their backs. This went on for several minutes, at which point they were both too exhausted to even cry, sobbing and trying to catch their breath.

— It's okay, Sarah said. It's over, everything is going to be alright.

She tightened her hug, bringing them ever closer to her.

— Everything will be alright.