Zan: On A Job

Simple enough job for a Monday midnight - the Chaos Kings have a buddy who's managing the Orange Julius at the Altamonte Mall, and he's promised to let them into the mall itself for a little five-finger discount. Of course, the main stores all have metal grating pulled down and locked at night, but the little kiosks are fairly unguarded and they have some nice stuff - cell phones, jewelry, customized license plates, Metabolife...

Two other guys are with Zan - a somewhat porky Puerto-Rican named Edwin and a wiry, rat-faced manic named Pickle. Once the manager opens the door, he tells the three not to get caught (as though that weren't obvious) and then hightails it away, mentally preparing himself with alibis in case the job goes wrong.

Pickles and Edwin are currently enjoying making their own super-sized Orange Julius', and are far more delighted and amuzed by the machine than they are by the prospect of looting the mall's kiosks.

The food court is empty and rather desolate, considering that Zan has never been here when it wasn't full of munching patrons.

Zan grinned and shook his head at his friends and moved on to the kiosks. He liked having fun, but the job was important. Hitting the jewelry kiosk first, he grabbed everything in sight, and began to pick the locks to the good stuff behind glass.

Neither Pickles nor Edwin seem to notice that Zan's gone. They're far too busy playing with the smoothie machine. Kids. What're ya gonna do?

The jewelry kiosk is about twenty feet from the food court, and the whole mall is rather dark. Which is why Zan is able to stuff a few good handfuls of silver charms and earrings into his bag before he sees the corpse.

The corpse who is, oddly enough, shambling toward him from the across the walkway, where the large Sears entrance is located.

(OOC: Orange Julius is located on the upper level, section D. The kiosk is where the dollar sign is.)

Zan stops trying to pick the locks when he notices the corpse. Shambling toward him. Hmm...

Zan drops his lock picking tool and turns to face the corpse, pulling out his gun. He takes a few steps back into the food court as he is pointing his gun at the corpse with one hand, the other hand holding onto the bag of silver.

"Hey fucka...you gonna have to chill, yea?" he calls to the corpse.

If the corpse hears, it doesn't respond. Or, maybe it does - after all, one can't really get more 'chill' than a dead guy. But it's still shambling forward, and now Zan can see that its flesh is somewhat rotted, its tongue lolling black and thick from its mouth.

Zan was getting scared now. It LOOKED like a dead man now. He shook his head and backed into the food court more.

"Edwin! Pickles! We're gettin' the fuck outta here!" He called as he continued to back up, gun still pointed at the corpse. He didn't want to fire just yet. Alerting the cops was a bad idea, dead man or no.

The two call back some indecipherable reply - Zan thinks it's agreement. They're not going to question him, loathe as they may be to halt their fun. He can hear them scrambling to get their gear and maybe take a last swallow or two of Orange Julius.

The corpse is still lurching its way toward Zan and, as Zan back up, its mouth opens to let loose a croaking sound, accompanies by a wellspring of black goo which drools itself down the front of its shirt.

It's at the moment that the dead man's serenade is halted by the sound of a dull THUD. It staggers, drops to its knees and then topples forward. Standing behind it is a lanky young man with tousled hair and a bit of a scraggly beard, holding a metal queue post as a makeshift club. He swallows, then looks over at Zan.

"Put it back!" he says, not angrily but desperately. "I'll cover you, but you've GOTTA put that shit back."

With instinct rather then than thought, Zan's gun goes from the corpse to the new threat: the man who put the zombie down. Cocking the gun, his face goes from scared to defiance. "And who the fuck are you to try and take what's mine? I stole it damn it! Fair and square! What'd you do? Sic the zombie guard on me and then decide that your conscience couldn't handle it if the zombie killed me first?"

"Dude, that gun's not gonna help you. If you shoot me, you get to deal with a horde of zombies coming after you because you stole their shit. If you shoot the zombies, they'll shake it off and come after you anyhow." His expression contorts a little; apparently he's one of those people that doesn't like having a gun pointed at them by the fellow whose life they just saved. Zan can hear Edwin and Pickles clearing out - so much for loyalty.

"And they won't stop coming, either. If you take so much as an earring out of here, they'll follow you. And they go slow - so you'll be home for days and thinkin' you got away with it when you hear breaking glass and see fifty of them crawling into your bedroom. You think if -..." He stops, and Zan knows why - the sound of more shuffling feet and low, keening groans can be heard, from all directions.

"I don't know how you can see these guys," the lanky fellow continues, "but, if you can, it means the Blue Lady's noticed you. And that means I'm pretty much obligated to help you...even though you've apparently got some crazy notion that the living guy who saved your ass just now is your enemy and that a couple thousand dollars worth of jewelry is worth having your brains devoured." He shakes his head.

"So. Put the gun away, put the jewelry back quick and then we can see about an escape route. But...make it fast, 'cause they're coming."

The Blue Lady? Zombies? What the fuck? Zan grimaced. On the one hand, letting go of some hard cash. On the other hand, dying. Though, could he really trust this guy? The gun said no, but instinct said yes...but only so far.

"Fine. I'll put it back, but I'm warning you. Any slick ass moves outta you and I make sure that the zombies get a good meal." He walked around the guy, gun still pointed. The other two got out. That was good. He would talk to the boss later about it. In the mean time...

Zan got back to the kiosk, and started putting the jewelry back. "There. It's all back. I'm taking my bag and my tools and my gun and I'm leaving," he called out toward the noise of the shambling. He looked back toward the only other living thing in the mall, which just so happened to be in his gun's sight. "You, though. You are coming with me. You are going to explain why the Blue Lady is so important and why I am letting go of major cash. Move," he said, indicating the exit.

"You aren't getting out of here like that," chuckles the lanky fellow grimly. "Listen. You seem like you've got more than two brain cells rubbing against one another, so take a second to think." The groaning gets louder and the guy winces. "Okay. Make that half a second. I obviously know what's going on, right? I knew someone was going to try and rob the mall. I came here. I saved you. I've got at least a few answers. Could there also, then, be the possibility that I know how to leave without either of us being dinner, and that if I was going to try any 'slick-ass moves', I would've just foregone clubbing Mr. Zombie and let him have at you?"

He glances over a shoulder, then back to Zan. "But I've gotta be able to think and to focus, and we both need to be able to move fast. I also think I deserve to not have a goddamn gun pointed at me. Come on, dude. Like there isn't enough shit going down right now that you need to bring more danger into it?"

Zan thought for the briefest of moments. Could he trust the guy? But the zombies were getting closer and louder. Zan shook his head. He did not like what he was about to do. But leaving was important so as not to be dinner. He lowered the gun but kept it at his side.

"Alright, Slick. Let's get the hell outta here."

"Right," the guy says immediately. "The food court's overrun by now, so that's a no-go. I think our best option is to get down to the first floor and get out through Dillard's - s'how I got in and their gate is wobbly enough that we can pull it open a bit and squeeze through. Dillard's has a service entrance from the parking lot and the door there is unlocked."

He moves over to the glass-walled railing and peers down. "Drop's gonna suck, but it's still clear down there." He grins wanly at Zan. "I'm Digg, by the way. Pleasure to meet you."

And Digg swings a leg over the railing, scooting down to position himself to drop the ten or so feet down to the first floor.

Zan can see them now - the shadowy outlines of the corpses shuffling toward them. They're coming from all sides and there are at least five or six dozen. The smell isn't exactly pleasant either.

Zan sighs. "Digg huh?" He hops the glass rail, using one hand to send him up and over and lands on the floor underneath them, crouching to catch himself better. Quickly pulling up his gun, he looks around with it, making sure everything is clear.

Digg drops down beside him and chuckles at the gun being swung about. "I mean, if it makes you feel better, sure, but I am telling you it won't do any good. A shotgun, maybe - something with enough kick to blow their heads off, but a handgun? No way."

He gets his bearings, considers, and then nods. "Okay. Let's get to Dillard's. We run fast enough, we should be okay." In the distance, in the darkness, Zan can hear gurlges and grunt and the sound of feet sliding unsteadily along the floor tiles of the mall.

There is a mall directory a few feet away from them, listing the stores and showing a map. At the top of the directory, in the same lettering as it was in, the word 'Altamonte' has been replaced with 'Apocalypse'. Apocalypse Mall.

"Let's do this thing," Digg says grimly, and starts running toward Dillard's.

Zan grimaced as well. His homies had gotten away and his piece was useless. He was not in the greatest of spots. And Digg. Digg seemed...convenient. He shook his head as he followed Digg, keeping up with him as best he can.

"Do we have a place to go? To hide?"

"Well," Digg answers as he runs toward the department store, "once we get out of the mall, we should be okay, so long as you didn't pocket anything from the kiosk. They don't tend to venture out of here unless they've got a reason to."

He stops short about a hundred feet from the gated entrance of Dillard's and winces. "Ah, shit."

There are about twenty zombies milling about in front of the store's front.

"Okay," exhales Digg, "okay. Let's see..." His eyes dart about and finally he leans down to take up a decorative, plastic potted plant that was flanking one side of the inoperational escalator. "Grab the other one. I'm gonna run up there and start whacking at them. See the far left end of the metal grating? You should be able to pull that out enough to get into the store. Once you're in, hold it open for me and I'll come in after." He swallows. "Right. Ready? GO!"

And before waiting for confirmation, Digg is bolting toward Dillard's, plant held aloft. He swipes it down hard onto a zombie, who staggers back and clears a spot next to the side of the metal drop-gate.

Without a second thought, Zan follows. Grabbing a pot, he brings it down on another zombie and lets them both fall to the floor. He grabs the gate and pulls as hard as he can. Pulling enough to make a space, he looks back at Digg. He wasn't CK, but he did help him.

"Come on Digg...les go homie!" he says as he squeezes himself through and holds a hand out to help Digg through.

"Coming, coming!" sing-songs Digg as he takes a few more whacks with his potted plant and sends a couple more corpses sprawling. "Jeez, these guys smell awful!"

He gives a final uppercut with the pot to a zombie's chin and then discards the makeshift weapon in favor of getting his ass over to the gate. There must be thirty undead now, most staggering to their feet after being knocked down by Zan and Digg's amazing Plants of Justice.

Digg grasps Zan's hand and is about to wriggle himself through the gap in the gate, when he looks over Zan's shoulder and pales. "Fuck," he breathes.

There is a teeming mass of zombies milling in the dark between the clothes racks and perfume counters there in Dillard's. They were so focused on the ones in the main mall that the others went unnoticed until now.

For a moment, Digg just holds his breath. Then, his jaw sets and he looks intently at Zan. "1818 Colonial Woods. Blvd. January 3rd, eight o'clock," he says. "Tel Bel I'm sorry. Tell her I think she's...I always...-" But he doesn't finish. "She'll help you and explain everything. For th' love of God, DON'T tell anyone what happened here tonight."

And he lets go of Zan's hand, rises, and runs toward the nearst kiosk - a little cabana that sells sunless tanning lotion. He grabs up as many bottles as he can and raises his voice. "Ha ha! These are mine, now! Good thing there's no one that can stop me from stealing all this..." he glances at one of the bottles, "...Malibu Ultra-Glo! Yes, sir! I love to steal from the Apocalypse Mall!"

That does it. Every zombie turns its full focus onto Digg. Even the ones inside Dillard's with Zan shamble to the gate and try to pull it open to get to him. Zan himself is completely ignored.

And, within moments, the first zombie's laid hold of Digg, with a score more closing in. "RUN, damn it!" Digg yells over to Zan, before screaming in pain as the zombie bites down into his shoulder.

Zan looked back and watched as they began to devour him. He shook his head and lifted his gun to aim out of the hole they had made. He fired at Digg's head, hoping to kill him and end the agony that was about to ensue before turning and running as fast as he could toward the exit and out to freedom.

Damn the Apocalypse Mall. He would be back to exact Digg's revenge...