Singing Parasite [On Hold]

Who is she?

Paco first led them to the grocery section. Most of the top shelves were empty, but the bottom half had several things on them such as mustard seeds, coffee, cookies, baking supplies, rice, wheat, flours, pulses, and snacks.

Duston prowled along the aisles, his eyes hopping from one product to another. There went chocolate cookies and that seemed like cheese nuggets.

As he walked, he realized that his shoelace had come undone. He bent down to tie it when his eyes just brushed by a blue box. He stopped and looked up at the blue box. Written in big, red letters was this:

Plain-salted chips.

Plain-salted chips had always been his favorite.

He plucked off the box, checked the date, and began munching on the crispy potato chips. But something sparked in his mind and he stared at the box. Gingerly, he kept it back on the shelf and did an internal gasp. He picked up a yellow can from the shelf below it. Put it back. Closed his eyes. Randomly picked up a box. Opened his eyes, stared at the box, then down at the empty floor. Kept the box back and stared at his shaking hands.

"I..." Duston said under his breath. "I... I didn't knock anything." He turned his hand and examined his fingers. "Whose hands are these?" Raised them to the dim light of the ceiling and flexed his fingers. "Are these the hands of a God?"

"What are you doing?"

Duston looked away from his hands and stared at the old chiseled face. "Coming to terms with my character development," he muttered.

"What?" Paco frowned, increasing the number of creases on his face.

"Nothing," Duston said, feeling a little cocky and confident. "By the way, I didn't see any zombies here?"

"There are two of them in the weapon section."

"I see." Duston nodded. "Wait. DEPARTMENT STORES DON'T HAVE A WEAPON SECTION."

"This one does," Paco said in a calm voice. "Come, I'll show you."

"A-alright..." Duston said and searched for the blue box. Found it beside the yellow can of nuggets.

He picked it up and was about to start following Paco when the box miraculously slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor, spraying some of the chips.

He looked down at the box and then at his hand.

What happened here? he thought; No need to worry. Most of the chips are intact.

With that thought in his mind, he bent down and picked up the box, but he didn't realize that he had scooped the package from the wrong end. All the chips streamed down onto the floor.

He stepped back and looked to his left. There was no other blue box there. This was probably the last of the salted-chips.

Never mind, Duston thought; I still can salvage some of them.

Hopeful, he stepped forward to pick up some of the chips. But his shoelace got stuck under his other foot, and he tripped forward.

Crunch.

Raising his foot, Duston slowly looked down and moaned. "You got to be kidding me."

He stepped back and, like a tragic hero, took the support of the rack. Maybe he kept too much weight on it because it started tilting.

Duston jerked away from the rack and stared in horror as it tumbled down and with a loud crash knocked off the adjacent rack, sending packages of several sizes and colors to fly and roll across the floor.

"Are you coming or not?" Paco's voice floated into his ears.

"Coming," Duston shouted back, and gazing at the rolling can, he thought; there goes my character development.

"Obviously," Duston muttered, slapping his nose and forehead. "Weapon section meant plumbing section."

They were standing before rows of racks stacked with the glossy-red pipe wrench, hoses, hose cutters, and many such items. Two zombies were standing in one of the aisles, their teeth dug into each other's shoulders.

"What in the world are they doing?" Tyce asked.

"They have been like this for the past two months," Paco said. "Didn't move an inch."

"Two months." A whistle ran out of Duston's lips. "And they are still alive?"

"I told you," Paco said, "they can't be killed. Let me show you." He picked up a knife from a nearby shelf and went near the two zombies who were busy feasting on each other's shoulders.

Paco glanced back at them and buried the gleaming blade into the back of the zombie who seemed to be wearing a blue T-shirt. Paco wriggled the handle, and Duston winced.

A few seconds later, Paco pulled out the knife, revealing a grey gash.

Duston waited for the blood to seep out, but nothing like that happened. The skin around the wound began to foam and ripple. The wound started becoming smaller and smaller and finally disappeared.

Duston glanced at Tyce and was not surprised to see his agape jaw.

"Instant regeneration," Tyce muttered.

"Ay-huh," Paco said. "That's why don't waste bullets. Instead." He went over to a shelf and returned with two hockey-stick-length iron pipes. "Use these."

"Let's bring the machine here," Tyce said, swinging his pipe around, as they walked out of the plumbing section.

"H-how?" Duston, walking beside Paco, asked. "Each of its parts weighs half a tone."

Tyce went silent. A moment later, he said, "Let's use that truck we saw while coming here."

"The one with the traffic lights?"

"Yes," Tyce said. He looked over his shoulder at Paco. "We will need your help."

"Sure," Paco grunted.

"Let's hope that truck will work," Duston said.

Tyce stopped and looked back at him. He said something that sent a shiver down Duston's spine. "Let's hope that Hermes will work."