On Minds.com, I have a post in response to a writing competition. The prompt was as follows:
Write a microfiction or flashfiction story (around 500 words) about HEAT.
This can be funny, sad, exciting, lethargic, a theme, social commentary, fiction, non-fiction, or anything else.
So, in between everything else (I seem to do a lot of writing that way!), I came up with this
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‘Zombies
are attracted to heat,’ Gerry pointed out.
I
hushed him with a frantically understated gesture. I whispered, ‘We’re in
public, you idiot!’ You don’t shout “Fire” in a crowded theatre, and you don’t say
“Zombies” in Starbucks.
‘Shut
up, you two,’ growled the boss. ‘Jim, see if you can get the staff to show you
the back room. Gerry, go outside and look for a gate round the back.’
Gerry
grumbled, but went back outside into the freezing rain. I went to the counter. No-one
was free. I called out to the guy at the sink. ‘’Scuse me, mate! I need to have
a word with the manager?’
The
guy looked worried. I must have looked a bit odd, with my long jacket hiding
the hardware and a wide-brimmed hat. ‘The manager’s not here,’ he said.
Typical,
I thought. I needed to get past this one. The customers were already giving me
the stinkeye. ‘Well, get me someone who’s responsible…’ I beckoned him over. He
came close, and I said in a low voice, ‘There may be a public health problem
with this building, I need to see the rooms in the back.’
The
barista looked a little green. He ushered me through, without question – nice one!
The facilities for the staff in the place were pathetic. I think the stock was
kept in nicer conditions. There was a single toilet in the back, with a tiny basin.
The room had a fair-sized window, taller than it was wide, of frosted glass,
light shining from above, deep green shadow below.
‘What’s
on the other side of that window, do you know?’ I asked.
The
barista shook his head. I looked at the window. There was a handle to open a
small pane above the main one. I froze. There had been a sound. The silence
suddenly became very thick. I listened: there it was again! I turned to the
barista, now a lighter shade of pale: ‘I think you should get out of here,’ and
reached into the lining of my coat for my snawnoff.
‘Are
you packing heat?’ the barista demanded.
I
raised my voice to a police crowd-handling level: ‘Sir, please vacate the
premises! We are professionals, you have to leave now!’
He
fled. I keyed my com, ‘Boss, we have a possible contact in the alley.’
‘I
need more than that, Jim. Do you have visual?’
‘Not
yet, boss.’
‘Get
it.’
I
closed the toilet lid and stood on it. I opened the little hatch window as far
as it would go, which wasn’t very. Gerry’s voice came over the com: ‘I’m at the
entrance to the alley, boss. It’s overgrown with these weeds, and there’s snow
everywhere.’
‘Visibility
low?’
‘Yes,
boss… I’ve got visual!’
I
craned my neck as far as I could. Shit! It was standing right there! ‘So have
I!’ I announced. The zombie heard me, and shambled towards me. From experience,
I knew if I didn’t kill it, it would be on me in seconds. I manoeuvred my
sawnoff through the window, but I couldn’t see the target and use the gun at
the same time. I was going to have to guess! I squeezed the trigger. There was
a bang and a flash, but nothing sounded like it fell. I pulled my arm back in
and peered out. I was greeted by the sight of a zombie face, too close! I’d
missed completely. Its lidless eyes gazed out of a face missing the lower jaw,
teeth hanging into space. It was coated with a thin film of dry snowflakes. It reached
for me, but it was much slower than I’d have expected.
Before
I had too long to ponder my good fortune, Gerry’s subgun crackled loud behind
the zombie. There was the sound of a falling body, and soft footfalls
approaching down the alley. I stuck my gun through the window, blasting the
zombie right in the face. It fell with a dry crack and rattle. I peeped out
again, confirming the kill.
‘Two
of them, boss!’ Gerry’s voice came from right in front of me, in the alley, and
in my ear from the com. ‘They were moving slow, must have been freezing here
all night.’
‘Thank
God for that,’ I said. I’d never seen a Zombie’s face so damn close in my life!
‘Clear?’
‘Clear!’
Gerry confirmed.
‘Nice
going, lads! Get yourselves out here, and let’s leave before the Bill gets
here.’
Saved
by snow. Who’d have thought it? The undead needed heat even worse than we did.
‘Can’t
we get a coffee, boss?’ Gerry pleaded.
‘Van
first, coffee when debriefed.’ I caught up with the boss in the front of the
shop.
‘I’m
bloody freezing! I need to heat up!’ Gerry whinged over the com.
‘I
know, Gerry, but if we stick around there’ll be another kind of heat coming,
and we’re not equipped for that. Let’s go.’
