When Zombies attack Los Angeles Johnny Lawrence finds himself in a desperate battle for survival as he searches for his son during the first weeks of the outbreak, with the help of John Kreese.
A prequel to my fic The Last Coors Banquet in the Vall...
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"Fuck," Johnny said, as he walked into his apartment and realised he'd forgotten to take out the trash again.
He'd just arrived home with a six pack of Banquet in each hand, ready to get wasted and forget about his shitty job for the weekend. The trash could wait. He'd throw it out in the morning... or whenever. What the hell did it matter if it went out now or Monday?
He twisted the cap off a bottle and flipped it across the room, then settled down in a chair to watch whatever half decent film he could find on the TV and drink till he passed out.
Pretty successful Friday night as far as he was concerned.
*
It was far too early to be out, stumbling down the street still half drunk from the night before, and yet here he was, a little before 11am on Saturday heading towards the Mini Mart for more beer.
He tripped over his own feet, his empty stomach growling at him, and he wondered where the hell all the people were.
Usually at this time of day he'd be getting dirty looks from all the judgemental pricks who were out jogging, and the so called normal people who thought they were above him, as they dodged around his drunk ass staggering down the street.
Today there was no one; just the sound of sirens in the distance and the vague smell of smoke in the air.
A car tore past him, luggage tied to a rack on the roof, as it sped down the street doing about 90, and its wheels screeched as the driver threw it around a corner at high speed.
"Idiots," Johnny muttered to himself, shaking his head. It was way too early to be dealing with this shit.
The door of the Mini Mart opened as he approached and he went inside, but the usual guy with the dirty hands wasn't behind the counter.
"Hey, man," Johnny shouted, wondering if the asshole was out the back. "You open?"
The cash register was still turned on, displaying random numbers in red on its screen.
"I'm buying beer, OK?" Johnny shouted, as he went into the refrigerator and pulled out the last two six packs of Banquet.
He looked round the other cases, taking out some cut price Bologna, then moved over to the counter.
"Where is that slacker?" he asked, looking around. He shouted, "I don't have all day, man. You better come out here and serve me now or I'm leaving with all this shit."
He waited for a response, then pulled out a few bills from his pocket. "OK, I'm just gonna leave the money by the register. Don't send the cops after me 'cause you're too lazy to do your damn job."
Johnny leaned over the counter and tucked the money under the lip of the register, but when he pulled his hand back his fingers were tinged with red.
"What the hell?" he said to himself, wiping his hand against his shirt. "You should clean this place up before someone gets food poisoning and sues your ass."
