Part VI...Post Man

A Strange quietness echoed through the store. How could such silence reverberate so violently? Maybe that was the sound of my fear, rising up through every limb, muscle and bone. I shook of a quiver of fear as I saw the postman limp through the shattered remnants of the doorway. My hand flared up in pain as if to remind me that i broke the door. I shuffled backward down the isle, my good hand leaping from shelf to shelf, frantically searching for something to throw or swing at him. In it's panic it flung object after object from the shelf. I began to back up faster as that he came closer. I was abruptly stopped by the back wall with the painful realization that i had no where to run. I glanced around the cleaning isle, grabbing the nearest object i could use against the mailman. I glanced at the shabby wooden mop handle in my hand and prepared myself to swing. I pulled my burning hand from the makeshift sling and firmly grasped the handle. I winced with pain as i lifted it high above my head. All I could do now was wait, it was the only option left. One step closer...Two...My heartbeat rang loudly in my ears as he took his third step. One more to go. I could feel the sweat of anticipation dripping down my forehead, stinging my eyes. I could feel the siring pain shooting up my arm. I could feel the slight breeze dragging bitter air against my face and into my lungs. Four. I swung the handle down with a ferocity I had never witnessed in myself, it was the fierceness that was breed of necessity, and it was power. The post man flew stumbling backwards, releasing an empty moan into the air. He fell into the shelf of cleaning supplies. Several bottles of disinfectant broke open, a dreadful shame. The moaning of the postal worker once again drifted into the empty store, as if to tell me that i had not one. To tell me that I could not win. I lifted the handle above my should like it was a spear and charged forward. I felt my lungs grow heavy and from them a loud heavy battle cried prevailed. I aimed my wooden spear strait at that beast's temple, and thrust forward with all my strength and momentum. I felt it burst through his weak and rotting flesh, shattering his partialy decayed skull and piercing into his brain. No more moaning. The pain in my hand was getting worse...I couldn't shake the feeling of those horrid germs sneaking inside. I glanced down at my shirt, horribly soiled with blood and brain matter. Germs crawling all over it. I had to change. I rushed into the shops pathetic clothing scetion tearing of my infected shirt, and diseased pants. Replacing them with a t-shirt a size too small and a pair of jeans a size to big. I walked back over to the postman's corpse, dead again, and began to undo his belt. It was my little war prize. I slid the belt into the large waste of the new jeans, and my mind was brought again to the girl, wishing I was with her, or she with me, knowing our reunion was only minutes away. I grabbed the shopping cart and head for the street. The sound of thousands of moaning voices comming from the doorway.

To Be Continued...