Pathogen - Chapter 2

“What’s all this nonsense?” Grace couldn’t help asking aloud while she drove around looking for a parking spot. Parking at the DepartMart was usually a bit of a nightmare. It was, after all, one of the world’s largest retailers, and one of the only department stores in Fog City. The fact that it was a Friday night didn’t make things much any better either, since so many people were out doing their shopping. Aaron pointed at an empty space, “How about that one?” “Nope,” Grace shut it down. “Or that one?” Aaron pointed at another space nearby. “Not a chance.” Aaron didn’t understand what was wrong with the space, so he voiced his question, “Why not?” “It’s too close to the other cars,” Grace answered. “So?” “‘So?’ I don’t want my car getting dinged by another driver,” she explained. “Are you kidding me?” Aaron couldn’t help himself, “Who’d even notice if somebody did hit this heap?” Grace glowered at Aaron. She was driving around in an old ‘98 Chevrolet Malibu, which was painted an ugly shade between gray and brown. She believed in function over form, which would explain why she kept her car in good shape yet wouldn’t splurge on a new paint job. “Don’t worry, Vernon,” she patted the dashboard as she soothed her car, “The mean boy didn’t mean it. You’re a handsome car.” “We have to park somewhere,” insisted Aaron as he was growing more impatient, “There are chips to be had!” “Why don’t we park at the back?” Steve suggested, “There should be an empty spot, and I don’t mind the walk.” Scruffy barked when he heard his master say “walk.” Thus far he had been well behaved and sat between Cliff and Steve. Now he felt the need to bark and clamber over the two in the back. His wagging tail smacked Cliff in the face while he barked in Steve’s ear. “Okay,” Grace chimed in agreement, “Anything to get away from that mutt.” Sensing the girl’s displeasure, Scruffy sat back down and covered his face with his paws. Soon they found an empty spot that met with Grace’s approval. She parked the car and everyone piled out, but not before Steve rolled down his window. Grace wouldn’t have any of that, so she confronted Steve, “What the hell are you doing?” “I’m rolling down my window for Scruffy,” he explained, “You can’t keep a dog in the car with the windows rolled up.” “It’s November though. It’s not like he’s going to bake inside my car.” “What if he needs some fresh air though?” Steve insisted. “What if somebody decides to steal my car because the window’s open?” Grace countered. “Yeah, right,” Aaron cut in, “As if somebody’s going to steal your car.” Grace crossed her arms, a very dissatisfied expression painted across her face, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” “Because it’s totally, utterly, worth-” “- So very much,” Cliff interrupted Aaron before he could condemn himself, “Vernon is such a valuable car, that he’d be too hot on the black market. No way you could sell off a beauty like that.” Grace cracked a smile for the first time that day. She didn’t buy a single word that Cliff had said, but she appreciated the effort all the same. “Okay,” she relented as she turned to Steve, “You can leave a window open for Scruffy. After all, I don’t want him getting sick in my car or something because he doesn’t get enough fresh air.” Another crisis put behind them, the gang set off in the direction of the DepartMart. It was after dark and the fog had rolled in. Although the lamps in the parking lot made a valiant effort to light the way, nothing could fully penetrate the gloom of Fog City. The gang couldn’t even see the store from the car, it was so thick. Before too long, however, the retail outlet was fully visible. Fighting their way through a throng of foot traffic, the gang pushed their way inside the store. They were greeted by the harsh glow of fluorescent lights refracting off the pristine white tiled floor. People were frantically hurrying about, looking to get their shopping done so that they could leave. The chips were kept near the back of the store, so they started making their way through the crowds. Aaron, Grace, and Steve split themselves up to weave and squeeze around people while Cliff patiently plodded along. Just ahead of them, a lady was texting on her phone while pushing her cart along. Her teenage son shuffled along a few paces behind her. Neither person was paying attention to their surroundings, and the cart bumped into Grace. The lady looked up from her phone at Grace. “Watch where you’re going,” she told her as her lip curled in disgust. “Excuse me?” Grace hollered at the woman, “You just hit me with your fucking cart! Aren’t you going to apologise to me?” “Why do you want me to say I’m sorry? You should watch where you’re going.” she shot back. “Mom, just say you’re sorry so we can get out of here,” the lady’s son urged, “I don’t feel so good, I want to go home.” The boy didn’t look well either. He was wearing a large, thick hooded sweater but he still had the shivers. His complexion was ashen, his countenance haggard. The boy’s eyes didn’t seem to be focusing on anything; he was just staring ahead. “Geez,” Grace muttered, “Just get out of here and get your kid home.” “Don’t tell me how to raise my child,” the lady gave one final parting shot before walking away and returning to her phone. “Sorry,” the boy wheezed as he shuffled by. “Charming lady,” Steve announced sarcastically. “Whatever,” Grace shook her head, “Let’s just get out of here. The gang continued along their merry way on their quest for chips. Finally, they arrived at the promised land: Aisle 17B - Snack Foods. Cliff was waiting for them, perusing the shelves of fried potato goodness. “How’d you get here so fast?” Grace had to ask. “I saw you were getting into it with that lady,” he explained, “They can’t make me testify against you if I didn’t see anything.” Grace scoffed, “She was a bitch, but I wasn’t going to hit her or anything like that.” Behind her, Aaron and Steve exchanged a look that said they thought otherwise. Cliff changed the subject, “So what kind of chips do we want?” “Potato,” Aaron volunteered. “Obviously,” Grace declared as she crossed her arms. “Well, no,” Aaron explained, “There’s lots of other chips. Like corn chips, or lentils.” “I hear they have banana chips now,” Steve joined in. “Oh yeah? Are they any good?” Aaron asked. “I don’t know,” Steve shrugged, “I mostly just eat ordinary, god-fearing potato chips.” “Won’t you guys just pick something?” Grace was nearing the end of her rope, “I just want to get back to the party and kill things.” “I think we’re agreed on potato chips, so that’s a start,” Steve answered. “Yeah, no argument from me,” Aaron nodded. Grace uncrossed her arms so she could put her hands on her head. She resisted the urge to scream and pull her hair out, and instead just walked away. “Is she leaving?” Aaron asked, “She’s my ride home.” “She’s just going to cool off,” Cliff explained, “You guys drive her crazy.” “Hey, what about pretzels? Pretzels are good,” Steve kept looking through the snacks, oblivious to what had just happened. “Too salty,” Aaron disagreed. “Okay, so just chips then. Do you like salt and vinegar? They’re my favorite,” Steve tried again. Aaron shook his head, “I just said I didn’t want something salty.” “They’re chips, dingus. They’re all salty,” Steve explained. “Yeah, but…” Aaron mind raced as he struggled to come back with something witty, “Shut up.” “So what do you like?” Steve asked. Aaron answered, “I like ketchup.” “So we’ll get some ketchup chips,” declared Steve. “No,” Aaron shook his head, “I just mean ketchup. The question wasn’t very specific.” “Let me rephrase myself,” Steve said through clenched teeth, “What kind of chips do you want?” “Potato,” Aaron answered without missing a beat. “How about barbecue? They’re not so salty,” Cliff ventured. “Sure,” Aaron acquiesced. “I like barbecue.” Steve reached down to grab the barbecue chips, and a bag of salt and vinegar for himself when Grace showed up. “Are you morons ready to get out of here?” she asked, “The line up front is a zoo.” Steve nodded, “It usually is. I try to get rung in at the Electronics counter when I can.” “Isn’t that kind of rude? Those guys aren’t there to sell chips,” Grace expressed her displeasure. “It’s only a couple of things,” Steve shrugged, “I bet they won’t mind if they aren’t really busy.” While they were working out their moral quandary, a woman’s scream pierced the din of shoppers. The store fell quiet as everybody tried to figure out what was going on. Again, the lady screamed. “Where was that?” Cliff wondered aloud. Grace looked around. “It sounded like it came from the front of the store,” she declared. The public address system crackled on overhead, “Attention staff,” a panicky teenager announced, “Code Yellow at the checkout.” “Code Yellow means there’s a violent customer,” Steve declared from his knowledge of retail experience, “Let’s go check it out.” Aaron stayed behind a moment while his friends jogged to the front of the store. “Shouldn’t we be heading the other way? Away from the violence?” he called out. A moment passed while he realised his friends had left him behind. He hurried to catch up to them. As he ran, he bumped into a number of shoppers who were trying to get a better look without getting too close. Aaron was convinced they had the right idea, but he had to meet his friends still. The lady was screaming more frantically now. He wondered why nobody was helping her and doubled his pace. Aaron caught up to his friends, who had found a place in a ring of people surrounding the scene. He pushed his way to the front to get a better look. The lady who had hit Grace with her cart was screaming bloody murder while she grappled with someone who looked like her son. His head was covered by his hood, but Aaron was pretty sure it was him, since he was wearing the same sweater. “I love it when bad things happen to people who deserve it,” Grace laughed, “It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.” The mood took a much more macabre turn as the boy lunged closer to his mom. With a snap of teeth and an arterial spray of blood, the lady gave one final, desperate scream. “Oh my god, I take it back!” Grace screamed, suddenly wishing she hadn’t said anything at all.