Visage | ONC 2023

THREE:

Gerry had his dreams come true that day. It didn't matter that he was ordered to close shop early. Everyone came to the shop before curfew. The questions were endless.

"Which one of you saw them?"

"DID THEY TRY TO BITE YOU?"

"Aren't you worried they'd come back? You know they always strike twice."

"We need them to build stronger q-zone walls! We need to be safe!"

Gerry basked in the attention, serving everyone coffee with a grin. His very line of the day? "You never know when they'll be back. So come by more if you want to see them!"

It was like Bundo's was a dangerous exhibit and he was selling tickets.

But 6:00 P.M. came quicker than we thought. Still needing the hour to clean, sort, and organize, Gerry begrudgingly flipped the store's sign from "Opened" to "Closed." He pressed his forehead against the glass.

"Don't do that," I said from the register, "the grease stain is annoying."

"I'm not greasy." Gerry pushed off the door and came over to me. "What are you trying to say?"

I wasn't sure. Selling large amounts of coffee to the desensitized public mesmerized by the potential danger of death at our doors; pretty greasy.

I pointed at him with my cleaning rag. "That you need a better cleanser. Look at those pores!"

He smirked and laughed, rounding the counter to stand next to me. "Thank you for caring about my appearance, but have you looked in the mirror today?" He popped the register open. "You look sick as a dog."

Did I? After we talked this morning, it took about an hour, but I thought the color was coming back to my face. My teeth didn't hurt anymore, either. Unless I got used to it; occasionally I tasted copper.

"If you don't feel better in a few days," Gerry pulled out the cash and closed the drawer, "see a doctor."

I sighed. I should. But a part of me doubted a doctor could help. If what I was feeling happened because I got too close to Riley, it was it for me. Kyle was near them and turned; ready to bite my face.

What confused me... why weren't they like that? And why would affect us, the uninfected, so quickly?

I wiped at the counter. "I'll do that, boss."

"Good." Gerry counted the bills. Every so often, he licked his thumb. I scrunched my face in disgust; money was the dirtiest item in the world...

He paused and glanced at me because I'd stopped moving. I was stuck on his decision to lick money-grime off of his thumb. "If you're done, take out the trash," he said.

I wasn't done. Looking at the counter, I spotted the crumbs, the fingerprints but I guess it could wait. Tossing my rag on the barely visible mess, I nodded, "Sure thing, boss."

I wasn't going to argue with him. Tossing out the trash was probably easier than scrapping dried coffee stains.

I turned for the back kitchen, letting the heavy door slam behind me. Gerry already sorted the garbage into bags. He was efficient and made my job simple. Grinning to myself, I wrapped my finger around the neat, secured tied trash bag.

Then a knock came on the back window.

My head snapped toward the sound. I half-expected it to be one of the "terror scene" fans that rushed the shop today. Their obsession with death was too much.

But that wasn't who knocked. It was Riley. I knew those beautiful curls anywhere.

Biting my lip, I dropped the bag back in its place. I shouldn't go to her. But there was a piece of glass between us. I spent so long believing she'd died, I needed to talk to her.