Not A Single Soul

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen a single soul since leaving his apartment. It was pretty late and the weathermen were calling it the “blizzard of the century” so there seemed a reasonable explanation, but still. There had been no cars on the road. He had not seen anyone loading or unloading in the parking lot, although there were at least a dozen cars. Now that he was in the grocery store, Vik had yet to see a single clerk or customer. It was just him and his wet squeaky shoes, echoing throughout the supermarket.

He was getting a little creeped out but if he could make it all the way home without seeing anyone, that would be a story. It would not be much of a story but he could jazz it up pretty easily. Having this new goal eased his tension. 

He usually helped himself to the complimentary burnt coffee. It was just the same large canister cooking down all day, every day. A tentative tug on the handle did produce a drop of black sludge but both the creamer and sugar jars were empty. He left his styrofoam cup at the station and pressed on to the freezer section.

He spent an inordinate amount of time mulling over the five-for-tens versus the four-for-tens. He knew the four-for-tens tasted better but five pizzas for ten bucks was too good to pass up. He placed them in his red basket one by one, careful not to harm it's only other occupant, a single ripe banana per Cassey’s request. Vik grabbed a box of waffles for good measure and headed to the checkouts at the front of the store.

He did not see anyone waiting for him at the row of lanes and felt creeped out for the second time. He considered just walking straight out without paying but he was halfway convinced this was a set up of some kind. He pictured a group of chunky cops, hidden in a side room, scrutinizing him over blurry monitors. He dutifully stopped at the self-checkout and each time he slid a pizza over the scanner, the acknowledging beep seemed a little louder than the one before it. The apparatus gave out a few more beeps as he paid and then one final boop when he removed his debit card.

As he transferred his haul to a plastic bag, he was already rehearsing his abandoned grocery tale for Cassey. He could have rolled out a cart full of steaks! There was no one to stop him! It was on his way to the door that he did see someone, maybe. He was not sure if babies counted as people and spotted one laying on the floor, not too far from the automatic doors.

He peered at the yellow swaddle and the pink scrunched pink face, capped with a mint green sock cap. The tyke seemed to be sleeping. Vik thought babies probably did count as people so his streak of not seeing anyone was over. It would probably make his story better, though. And then there was a baby, just laying there! Vik smiled to himself, flipped up his winter hood, and walked towards the automatic doors to leave.

A deep voice boomed from behind him, “Vikram Maithili.”

What the hell? The pronunciation was perfect, like mightily. People usually emphasized the second syllable like he was an Italian kid from Brooklyn or something. He spun around to see who called him out.

There was no one else but the baby was sitting up now. Its eyes were still scrunched tightly shut. Vik had a thousand questions. How is it sitting up? How does a baby know my name? Why was its voice so deep? Was it actually the baby? Was it someone else? It sounded like a man. Vik pulled his hood down and looked around, slightly alarmed. Was someone hiding?

The babe’s head turned towards him and smiled mechanically. The deep voice emanated from the baby but its lips did not move, “Won’t you play with me?”

Vik backed towards the automatic door. “Uh, no thanks, little guy. I really gotta get going.”

The door should have opened automatically but he bumped into it’s closed doors instead. He reached behind with one hand, keeping his eyes on the strange child. He worked his fingers into the fuzzy crack between the doors but was not able to pry them open. 

He considered dropping his plastic bag of pizzas to get a second hand working on the door but the heft of the groceries seemed to give him some confidence. One swipe from the bag would send that little dude flying. It was just a baby. He felt a little foolish now, more curious than afraid. He stopped fidgeting with the door and took a step towards the tyke, voice calmer than before, “What can I help you with, little man?”

After a second step, the lights flickered and went out. He paused and heard footsteps in the dark. When the lights flickered back on, the baby was gone. He heard deep, demonic laughter from behind the pharmacy area. Vik mumbled to himself, “Okay, time to go.”

He went back to the non-functional automatic doors and pulled at them a few more times. They wouldn’t budge. There was another entrance but it was on the other side of the pharmacy. He took a deep breath, got a better grip on his bag, and started towards the other entrance. His shoes were almost completely dry now, just giving the slightest squelch. 

The pharmacy was a large enclosed room at the front of the store. To skirt around it, he had to go back to the central aisles. As he passed rows of toothpaste tubes, soaps, and razors, he heard the laugh again followed by the distinctive clash of metal carts. He always returned carts to their corral at ramming speed and this was that same sound. 

He then heard the familiar sound of a cart’s wheels over tile in the produce section. It seemed to be moving away. Hopefully, this was another customer. Have fun with the baby, pal. 

Vik continued around the pharmacy towards the other set of doors. They were also locked, although they must have been open a moment ago. Through the glass, he could see carts lined up, one inside the other. Beyond that, through another set of doors, was the blizzard. It was a flurry of swirling white flakes glazed sickly yellow from the lot’s fluorescent lights high overhead.

He heard the laughter again and the cart seemed to be heading back his way now. The lights started flickering again. He peered curiously into the produce section. There was definitely no one in there but the cart was making its way towards him on its own regardless. It was one of the kiddy carts, a plastic molded car with a smaller basket on top. This one looked like a taxi, yellow with a black and white checkered stripe going around it. It was also not the usual cart in that the front of it was festooned with an assortment of large kitchen knives. The baby was at the wheel, of course. The whole ridiculous thing was rolling towards him at a brisk pace.

Vik was cornered between the locked glass door and the pharmacy wall. He hurled his bag of pizzas at the cart and ran back the way he had come. His awkward projectile flew wide and a couple pizzas rolled out of the bag when it hit the ground. The cart put on a burst of speed as it tried to cut him off but Vik made it past. He turned left at the organics, double-checked that the demonic baby couldn’t see him yet, and then turned right at the end of the short aisle. He squatted to catch his breath with his back to a wall of King Arthur flours. He heard the cart rumble past his spot, one aisle over. 

Once he was sure the murder-mobile had moved on, he pulled out his phone and dialed 911. He just got busy signals. He tried Cassey next but couldn’t reach her either. Facebook wouldn’t load. Google wouldn’t load. He heard the cart slow and then turn. It was getting louder again. Vik cursed silently, pocketed his phone and stalked towards the rear of the building, squeaking as quietly as he could. When he was halfway down the aisle, a wall of blades emerged from behind a stack of veggie chips. Somehow the cart had gotten ahead of him. 

Vik sprinted back the way he came and the cart thundered after him. At the end of the aisle, he made a right turn, and then another into the juice lane. He made it to the main thoroughfare and put on speed towards the meat section at the back of the store. The fresh steaks, roasts, and other cuts of meat seemed to be pulsating as he passed them. The flickering lights overhead intensified into a strobe effect. It made him dizzy.

He paused for a second at the glassed meat display, fumbling with the latch on the employee’s only half-door. As he flipped it open, a pork tenderloin slapped itself against the glass with a thud. The end of it was puckered into a mouth that was whispering something unintelligible. Other tenderloins were inching their way over, like huge fleshy worms. He did not wait to hear what these ones had to say.

The room behind the meat counter was heavily refrigerated and filled with mobile stainless steel shelving organized into yet more aisles. These were laden with cardboard boxes and plastic bags of meat. He could see the latter slowly pulsing in unison. He saw the universal glowing orange exit sign above a heavy door in the back. The sign wasn’t flickering like the rest of the lights. 

Breathing heavily and sensing salvation, he strode towards the exit. As he was halfway down that final aisle of freedom, a bloody figure emerged to block the end. It was a young woman glistening red from head to toe. Her eyes were completely black and her smile was eerily white. Vik's heart thumped in his chest. He recognized the woman as his last girlfriend, Tawnia. Things hadn’t ended well. He had blocked her number. She reached one bloody hand out to him and puckered her lips, “Come on Viky baby.”

He turned to go back but the murder-mobile rolled into place behind him. Vik glanced to either end of the aisle several times and knocked over the tall shelving unit next to him instead. It collapsed onto the shelving behind it, which cascaded into further shelves and carts in turn. Cuts of meat fell out of the boxes and onto the floor, flopping around like fish. He started clambering over the whole mess, slipping once and cracking his chin hard. He tasted blood. He was having trouble breathing. His eyes were watering but he could still see another door ahead, at least until the lights went completely dark.

They fired up a full force several heartbeats later. The meats had stopped twitching. The door Vik was so desperate to reach opened and a tall, hip-looking, bearded man walked through. He seemed familiar. He had a large headset and was holding some sort of electronic device in one hand. He grinned wickedly, “Vik! Calm down, buddy. You’re on Scared Straight! See the cameras.”  

Vik scrambled on the pile of metal for another few seconds before registering the words. He followed the man’s pointed figure towards the corners of the room, where small cameras nestled. Tawnia joined the man. She looked concerned. “It’s fake, Vik. A joke.”

Under the steady harsh light, her red sheen looked too vibrant, not real, like the bright red blood they used in older horror movies. The familiar man smiled again and held up his device. Vik had seen the remote control for a drone once and this looked similar. The man flicked one of the joysticks and Vik heard the murder cart clang into a shelf behind him.

Tawnia produced something that looked like a walkie talkie next. She held it up to her mouth and when she spoke it wasn’t her voice, but the deep tones he had heard earlier, “Remember we saw these at the Halloween store before?”

She smiled. 

Vik frowned at first. Realizing he was being recorded, he forced the frown into a smile instead. As true relief began to bubble through him, though, the fake smile became a real one. Perched on his mountain of metal, it all seemed so ridiculous. He could not help but giggle and this turned into full blown laughter. The other two joined in. He had to know more.

“Was the baby real? It was creepy as hell. How did you do that stuff with the meat?”

The fellow, who must have been a TV personality of some kind, shrugged, “We laced the coffee with psychedelics.”

Vik started laughing hysterically at that, “Are you serious? Is that even legal?”

The producer just smirked and shrugged again. Vik saw a pork chop twitch. 

He frowned.

“I didn’t drink the coffee.”

The light flickered and a clambering sound drew his attention back to the cart. The baby had climbed out of the cart all on its own. He had little green pants that matched his little green cap. He seemed bigger than before. His eyes were still shut and he was still smiling. He wasn't old enough to have any teeth but somehow had the strength to hold a cleaver. 

Tawnia's voice seemed raspier than before, “The baby was real. He was yours. Ours.”

Vik turned back to her and saw she was different now. There was no blood. She had sagging gray-green skin and moldy clothes instead. Her nose had rotted completely off and there were writhing worms where her eyes should have been. The director looked even worse. Vik remembered now he hadn’t seen him on TV but a photo instead. Tawnia had shown him a picture of her dad once, dead before they had even met. The walls of the room seemed to be melting. The last thing he remembered was Tawnia saying, “We’re going to be one big happy family.”