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him.
    He grabbed a magazine as
he slid toward the girl. Drunk and
Willing , the magazine said. Park had
several issues himself. He rolled the magazine up and slammed the
girl across the face. Her head whipped to one side but she quickly
corrected. She climbed back up on his chest, hissing and snapping
at his face.
    Park shoved the end of the rolled-up
magazine into her mouth. She gurgled and gnashed her teeth at the
paper, shredding it. Bits of paper floated down to Park's chest as
he pushed the magazine and the girl away from him.
    He shoved hard and she fell back. He turned
and climbed up the shelf. This time he made it over the magazines
and onto the next rack. Auto supplies. Oil and steering fluid. This
was the aisle the teen was in. Park briefly wondered where the
teen's body had gone, then realized it was hidden under the fallen
shelf.
    He cast a glance back at the girl. She was
coming after him but was still climbing up the snacks. Again he
considered the rifle, but he couldn't afford letting go of the
shelf.
    “Sorry kid,” Park said,
“but I gotta go.”
    He turned and started to climb up the auto
supply shelf. A new hand closed on his arm.
    Park looked at the hand and followed it to
the source. The teen, most of his head chewed open, was grabbing
for him.
    “You gotta be fucking
kidding,” said Park, pulling his arm away. The teen was weak. He
moaned softly and moved his head limply from side to side. Dark
blood and slime oozed from the shallow hole in the teen’s
head.
    Park heard hissing from behind him and
turned to see the girl. She was on the magazine rack now. Her
bloody face dripped onto the paper. She gnashed her red teeth at
him. The teen from his side moaned and grabbed for him again.
    Park turned back to climb up the shelf.
Beyond the shelf lay the window leading outside the station. The
teen clutched at his shoulder, stronger now. Park struggled to pull
away. He could hear the girl getting closer behind him.
    Park grabbed a can of motor
oil and turned as best he could with the teen's hand on his
shoulder. He flung the can at the girl as hard as he could manage.
It slammed against her forehead with a loud “crack”. She blinked
her bloody eyes and slid back down the shelf.
    The teen to his side gurgled and leaned in
to bite. Blood pooled in the teen's mouth and drained from his
ears. Park grabbed a second can and brought it down on the teen's
head. The teen gurgled and let go. Park brought the can down again.
The boy's skull popped and brain matter oozed out. The teen gave a
final, soft moan and fell back.
    “Dammit,” said Park. “Stay
down this time.”
    The girl hissed behind him. Park looked back
to see her nearly upon him.
     
    * * *
     
    Maylee watched the sink fill as Dalton
climbed onto the toilet, holding the space heater. Corpses banged
on the door. The door shook and rattled, sounding looser all the
time. Maylee wondered how long they had.
    “Maylee,” said Dalton from
the toilet. He sounded nervous.
    “Hold on,” she said. The
sink filled up and water overflowed onto the floor. Water spread to
Maylee's feet and beyond.
    Maylee turned and looked at the door. The
groans behind it were too numerous to count. The banging and
clawing were coming faster. The door rattled hard, nearly giving
way.
    She ran to the toilet and climbed up next to
Dalton. There was barely enough room for both of them. She
struggled to balance.
    “Give me the heater,” she
said.
    Dalton handed it to her.
“No arguments there!”
    Maylee winced as she took
it. “Shit, this thing is getting hot.”
    “I told you,” said Dalton,
rubbing his hands on his shirt.
    The door shook so hard Maylee thought it was
opening. She tensed, afraid they weren't ready yet. The door held,
but barely. Dalton squirmed behind her. Maylee watched the water on
the floor spreading from wall to wall, sink to door.
    “Maylee,” said
Dalton.
    “Hold on,” she said,
waiting. The heater burned her hands. She held it as loosely as