***
The east side Wal-Mart was open twenty-four hours. Late night to early morning, from around one o’clock to four o’clock, was always the slowest time, and most of the employees working that shift were either cleaning up or stocking shelves. Kelly and Debra worked as cashiers, and when no one was in the checkout line, they stood beside one of the registers near the front doors.
“Oh God, look who just came in,” Kelly muttered.
Debra turned around to see someone walking slowly toward the inner door. He reached out weakly as the automatic door opened for him, and then half-stumbled into the building. He was a dirty-looking young man with a shabby brown jacket and dirty blue jeans. He took awkward, jerky steps forward and looked around as if walking in his sleep.
“Who is he?” Debra asked.
Kelly snapped her gum. “Some guy who lives around here. I’ve seen him before, he comes into the store sometimes. I think he’s homeless, actually.”
As if hearing them, Johnny Tuesday looked in their direction with an empty expression and began to walk unevenly toward them.
“He must be drunk or something,” Kelly muttered.
Debra sighed and wandered over to her regular register. She watched as Johnny walked in her direction, and tilted her head, looking at him suspiciously. She knew what drunk people looked like, and he didn’t look drunk.
“Hey, mister,” she asked. “Are you sick or something?”
Johnny did not respond, but at the sound of her voice he seemed to speed up. She walked towards him, trying to get a better look in his eyes. “Hey, what’s the matter?” she asked as Johnny came up to her. He moaned something and swayed on his feet, fumbling weakly at the sleeve of her shirt.
“Hey Kelly, get security over here. I think this guy’s sick or something. Maybe we should call him an ambulance.”
As Kelly dialed on her phone for store security, Debra reached up and put her hand against Johnny’s damp forehead. He reached and touched her hand and seemed to grumble something, his eyes rolling back in his head.
“You feel cold,” Debra said, and then turned to say something to Kelly.
Johnny grabbed her arm and stuck her hand into his mouth, biting down on her fingers. Debra shouted and pulled her hand away, looking down at the bloody mark across her knuckles, as Johnny stumbled towards her.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” she shouted, stepping away.
Two security guards, Walt and Kevin, came rushing toward the registers. Debra waved them over as she ran from Johnny, who continued to stagger towards her. She showed them her hand and said, “The crazy son of a bitch bit me! I think he’s sick or on drugs or something.”
Kelly leaned against her register, stunned at the sudden turn of events, and looked at Walt and Kevin, not knowing what else to do. She heard Johnny come up beside her and flinched as he grabbed her arm as well. She screamed and the guards ran to pull Johnny away, but he managed to bend down and bite onto her forearm before they could get him off of her. He struggled against the guards and bit down on the shoulder nearest to his mouth, but the shirt was too thick and he didn’t break skin.
Kelly put a hand on her bleeding arm and grabbed the phone again to call the police. As the guards tried to subdue Johnny, he groaned loudly and pushed Kevin away, lunging at Walt to bite down on his shoulder again. Walt shouted in surprise and pushed him back, slamming him into the wall.
“Don’t move!” Kevin yelled, drawing his gun. Some of the Wal-Mart employees had been upset to learn that the security guards carried firearms, but now all their complaints and worries seemed irrelevant. Kevin pointed the gun at Johnny and shouted again for him not to move, but he thrashed wildly and knocked Walt away.
“Don’t come any closer!” Kevin shouted again.
Johnny growled and ignored the order, rushing forward. Kevin braced himself and pulled the trigger. He hit Johnny directly in the center of his chest. Johnny toppled over backward and fell to the floor. Kelly screamed and ran away as Debra stared in horror at the scene in front of her.
“Jesus,” Kevin mumbled, lowering his gun.
Walt shook his head and looked over at Debra. “You called the cops, right?”
“Kelly did,” she whispered.
“Alright, good. When they get here we have to –” he said, and then suddenly shouted in surprise as Johnny grabbed his leg and bit down on his ankle. Walt tried to shake him loose, but he lost his balance and fell down with Johnny still gripping his leg. He fumbled with his own gun as Johnny sat upright and reached for his throat, groaning horribly.
Walt managed to pull his gun out and shove the barrel directly into Johnny’s mouth as he lunged for his throat. Reflexively, in a moment of panic, he squeezed the trigger and a geyser of blood blasted out the back of Johnny’s head, splattering against the wall behind them. Johnny gasped and tumbled to the side, a thin trail of smoke coming from his mouth.
Debra raised her hands to her face and screamed.
“I shot him!” Kevin shouted frantically. “I shot him right in the chest! How could he still be alive? How?”