Blizzard, Baby!

It was like the moment the newscaster announced the approach of a gnarly blizzard, all of the milk, bread, and eggs disappeared from the shelves of every grocery store in my city. This meant that by the time I got to the store to do my own snow-pocolypse shopping after work that evening, I was shit out of luck for half the things I needed. Working second shift is the worst. 

The storm had already started and the streets were empty as I braved my way through the strong wind into my 3rd attempted location in search of supplies. The fat snowflakes colliding with the small space of exposed flesh on my face felt like needles. I didn’t have much confidence the small, mom & pop grocery store would have what others lacked, but it was on a less populated side of the city.

The glass doors slid open slowly as if they were reluctant to expose the store to the storm. As I welcomed the warmth of the building, my brain registered the absence of human life inside. It’s not unusual for me to be the only person in the grocery store after I get off of work at 10:00 pm, but I had a weird sensation of dread that I couldn’t shake. 

I chalked my nerves up to the fact that the snow was beginning to drift, and I still hadn’t made it home with any groceries. Really, it’s my own fault for keeping my fridge so bare. I never think about the fact that I might be stuck in my apartment for multiple days. Honestly, I could probably stick it out, but I only have one can of Fancy Feast left and, while I am comfortable with nibbling on a stale granola bar for a few days if I have to, I could never starve my cat. Plus I was lucky enough to run out of toilet paper on the day of the biggest blizzard this decade. 

Although it is pretty obvious that this place has been frequented more heavily than usual, I was still able to find the items I needed, and the Fancy Feast was flourishing - the various label colors mimicking a field of wildflowers upon the shelves. 

No one else entered the building the entire time I was shopping, but again, it didn’t seem completely out of place. I was used to shopping during dead hours, and still, I felt that nagging ping at the bottom of my stomach. 

That feeling grew to add a racing heartbeat when I approached the cash register and saw no one there. Reminding myself not to panic, I decided the cashier was in the bathroom or working somewhere else in the store. 

I waited for several minutes, and I couldn’t help but notice that it was eerily quiet if an employee was really present somewhere else in the store. My patience was growing thin as the snowbanks grew higher. 

Finally, I decided to say, “Hello?” 

Silence was my only reply. 

“Is there anyone else in this store? Hello?” 

Nothing. 

I let out an irritated groan. I just remember thinking, Am I really going to have to steal these groceries?

I decided to give up and forego my pirating to try my luck with another store. Just as I turned around, the wails of an infant pierced my eardrums that hadn’t heard anything much louder than the hum of fluorescent bulbs for the last thirty minutes. 

And I spotted a tiny, naked baby lying pink and helpless on the floor. Its tiny fists punching toward the sky with no discernible rhythm. Its tiny legs curled against its belly. If it hadn’t been free of any bodily discharge, I would have thought someone had birthed it that very moment. 

Maybe another woman would have gasped and bent to retrieve the distressed infant without thinking, but thankfully I have never had mothering instincts or the desire to raise children. Some might call me a spinster, but I just consider myself content with letting my bloodline die. 

So I paused. There was no one else in that store, I was sure of it. I would have heard and sensed someone placing a baby on the floor behind me. I would have heard the front doors glide open and shut. 

I don’t know how or why I thought it or what told me but I knew this was a trap. The screeching never ceasing. 

Slowly I began walking away from the counter and away from the baby, but my eyes never left it. The cries and wails were so unbearably loud and haunting, making my panic rise. 

I was twenty feet away from the screaming thing on the floor when the shrieking began to morph. The pitch dropping and raising creating a cartoonish sound of a giant crying. Then the tonation began to change too, and I no longer had a frame of reference of sound. It was inhuman. Unearthly. 

The creature on the floor began to jiggle and flow as if it was made of gelatin. Stretching and shrinking and changing shape. I was frozen in horror. My stomach turned. Sweat pooled under my arms and I thought my heart would jump out of my throat. 

All at once the horrifying images and sounds stopped and the form zipped up into what appeared to be my own cat. 

The cat began to approach me. Meowing and stopping to roll over on its back and wriggle around the way my cat does when she wants attention. 

I had no clue what was happening in this store, but I wasn’t stupid enough to stick around to find out. I turned and started in a dead sprint toward the sliding glass doors. 

Again the shrieking started behind me with all of those blood-curdling tones. Then I could hear the crunching of bones which turned into roars and the sound of heavy, fleshy feet hitting the tile. I didn’t dare to turn around to see what was chasing me, but I knew it would probably still reach me before I made it to the doors, so I veered off into the cereal aisle. 

I let out an involuntary scream at the sound of crashing shelves and scattering boxes. The creature let out a snarl as I heard it scrambling over the ruble. But still, I didn’t look back. 

I kept running and I was within feet of the sliding glass doors. Of course, I was running so fast I reached them before they opened wide enough to let me out. My hands pounded on the glass of the doors as if on their own volition. 

Finally, the crack between the doors was large enough my body to slide through. I was steps from the door when I heard the sound of whatever was chasing me slam into the glass behind me. 

I kept running to my car, and, multitasking, started blindly fishing for my keys inside my purse. My fingers found purchase on the plastic key fob, and I clicked the unlock button. My lonely car in the empty parking lot blinked its lights as if it was saying, “Over here, hurry!”

I clambered into my car as fast as I could. 

Slammed the door. 

Turned the key. 

Turned on the lights. 

And light flooded over the creature as it lunged toward the hood of my car. 

The rubber of my tires squealed against the asphalt. 

Claws scraped my hood. 

Before I could even register what happened laughter bubbled out of my chest as I sped away. 

I remember thinking no one would believe me and shouting to no one in particular, “Not today, motherfucker!”