(EDIT: Added author's note, fixed a few typos, mainly formatting issues with FF)

AN: Ironically, I have a very good grasp of the English language, but I'm not marvelous at story telling. Especially when it first starts out. It'll begin to flow naturally, though, I promise.

Everything you see is uneditted, straight from my mind onto Wordpad (for some reason, I can't stand MS Word.) Therefore, there probably will be a few typos. If you point them out to me, I'll gratefully correct them.

I do, in fact, work at Wal-Mart (silly formatting doesn't let me include the hyphen for some reason) so I know the layout of the store. I'll be assuming, for the sake of ease, that you know the store fairly well too, so I don't have to consume your time drawing out a map. I may be adding features that don't exist in reality - bullet proof glass, sectional panels that divide the store, removing emergency exits, stuff like that. Just to make the Wally World a little safer to live in, at first.

My name is actually Joseph, that much is true, but any other characters will be figments of my imagination. The character "Joseph" in the story is me, so you may need to know some stuff about me. I'm 20, I smoke, I'm male, approx. 5'10" and 160 lbs. I'm a likable person, but a bit shy and not very outspoken. However, as the only person with a clear head and a (virtual) map of the store, I'm elected leader. Whether or not this works out to everyone's advantage...

This story will be less about slaying zombies nonstop, and more about teamwork and leadership. A team of people trapped in a supercenter festering with the undead, how will they survive? Will they find out what happened in the outside world?

Make no mistake, several characters will die. Random, pointless deaths that could have been averted. Even the main character, me, might die if something goes wrong. I'm just a character in this story, not some super powerful God author. Just like in real life. I'm a sadistic writer... I'll try my best to make you fall in love with a character, to want him or her to live, to thrive, to survive... and then... who knows? They might open a broom closet no one bothered to check... fall off the roof... go crazy...

So, let's end this author's note, and begin the story. Without any further ado, I present to you the first chapter in...

Associate Evil

"Why couldn't you have said you were sick?" Anna asked laconically. The man sitting next to her twitched, then raised his head slowly, blinking.

"Well, sorry, but they caught me off guard, calling me like that. Ring ring, can you come in to work immediately? I didn't know what else to say, I didn't really have any plans anyway..."

Anna sighed. "Don't you have caller ID on your phone?" The guy shook his head.

"Batteries ran out on the caller box. I didn't know who it was until I answered." He yawned, and stretched both hands above his head. "Jesus, I wish I didn't work nights."

"Well, good thing I was still awake, otherwise your ass would have been walking." Anna smirked at the thought. "Anyway, whats up with all this freaking traffic? It's -" she paused to glance at the dashboard, "- already ten fifteen. Christmas Eve or not, these idiots should be at home right now. Anyway, we're almost there."

"Ugh, don't remind me. Running off to work through Christmas Day, the family'll kill me." He chuckled. "Oh well, an excuse to get out of dealing with the blood relatives."

Anna looked over curiously. "You know, you never tell me anything about your family. What're they like?"

"Well, they're pretty much all as crazy as-"

Sudden horn. Squealing tires. Screams. A crash. Blackness.

---

The faint light flickered at the edge of his attention. He squinched his eyes tighter, hoping to block it out. No such luck. The flickering intensified, accompanied by a raw smell. Strong. Like gas. His head pounded. Wasn't he supposed to be in bed right now?

Joe opened his eyes slowly, grunting with exertion. The flickering, he saw, was a fire a short distance away. Good. He liked fires. Very festive decorations. He decided to close his eyes again. He didn't need to work today, after all.

Then it came back to him, and he jerked up in his seat. The seatbelt clenched against his chest, slamming him back into the seat.

"Anna, what the hell happened?" Joe asked, swiveling his head towards her seat. It was empty. His mind struggled with this. Did she abandon him? Then, piece by piece, it came together. Seat belt undone. Windshield shattered. Trail of blood on the hood.

"Anna?" he roared, fear flooding him. He struggled momentarily with his seatbelt, which seemed partial bent. Finally, the strap ripped, releasing him abruptly. He hit his head against the dashboard, and suddenly a white fist shot out and punched him solidly in the face.

"Ooomph." He groaned, reaching up to rub his forehead. "What the hell is wrong with this car, released the air bag now?" He reached over and fumbled with the locking mechanism on the door. A click, and he was free. He stepped out and headed towards the hood.

The trail of blood lead from the hood to the bottom of the car. He bent over to look under the car. And immediately jumped back up as a sharp pain arched up his back.

"Ow, fucking Jesus." He slowly bent back over, sweeping the underside of the car with a long glance. A drop of blood dripped onto his glasses, causing him to jump back again. But he had seen enough to confound him.

The blood ended in a large pool under the car, but no body was present. Maybe a medical team had already recovered her? He looked around the vehicle curiously, but saw nothing other than Anna's car and a small blazing truck - the source of the flickering he had seen earlier - a few meters away. He rubbed the blood off of his glasses while surveying the lot again. The store he worked at loomed in the background of this macabre scene, only a few blocks away.

Maybe she was fine, and checking on the passengers in the truck? He walked towards it slowly, unsure if it was going to explode or not. The road was strangely silent - no incoming or outgoing traffic, no insects chirping - and the lack of noise was adding to his discomfort. As if on cue, a piercing wail suddenly erupted from the truck.

"Anna!" Joe screamed, adrenaline flooding him. He ran, ignoring the blistering heat radiating from the truck, and jerked open the passenger side door.

The lady sitting in the driver's seat continued to scream, unaware of Joe's presence. He looked on in horror, watching as her face continued to drip onto the floor mat, blood and skin melting together into a puddle of gore. As her throat burnt open, the screaming died down to a shrill whistling. An eye popped, landing face up in the mush below her.

"Oh... God... the... fuck..." Joe lurched back away from the truck, turning towards the car, the only familiar thing in this awful situation. Get to base and you'll be safe. Get to base and you'll be safe. His vision blurred, his head drooped. The concrete looked inviting. Comfortable. Safe. He didn't even feel the pain as he crashed into unconsciousness.

---

A sudden explosion, the feeling of cartwheeling. Slippery blood on polished metal beneath him. His eye cracked open, making out the faint blue hue of Anna's car, shaded purple from the red flames behind him. He pulled himself into a sitting position, sliding around over the hood. The truck had exploded. That made sense. Burning vehicles blew up. The passenger's side door popped open. Also made sense. Air pressure inside the vehicle. The woman, still ablaze and missing several limbs, began to crawl one handedly out of the truck. That didn't make much sense. Maybe he should just go back to sleep...

His hand shot up, balled up, punched his own face. You aren't going to pass out again! He tumbled off of the hood, recoiling from the triple pain coursing through him. The punch hurt. The hot sunburnt feeling on his face hurt more. Hitting the gravel hurt the most. He jumped back up and looked towards the truck, certain he had hallucinated. The girl was surely dead.

For a quadripeligic, she had made good progress. Maybe he had passed out again. Groaning and flailing, she had almost cleared the short distance between the truck and car. His eyes locked upon her remaining eye, and what he saw there convinced him that he wasn't hallucinating. Hunger. Prey. Hunt. Her eye was full of what he had only seen once before, in the eyes of a timber wolf.

The childhood memory resurfaced... alone, lost in the woods, uncertain he was going to live. The creature had growled and jumped in front of him, its eyes full of the malevolence of a predator. And the woman's eye was flooded with the same. So he did what he had done then, to survive.

He ran.

Slowly, the store came closer. He refused to stop. Surely, the monster was behind him, was going to get him if he slowed down. He reached the door, risked turning around to check. She was a few feet behind him, standing on her stumps and sliding smoothly towards him.

"Let me in, God, let me in!" The interior was strangely dark and empty. He couldn't even see into the shopping area proper, a silvery wall blocked his view. He needed to get in. God damn it, the only thing between him and death was a sliding glass door. A sliding glass door! Sliding...

His hands fumbled towards the jam, his fingers seeking a grip on the sectional divide he knew must be there. He pushed with all his strength, but it wouldn't open. He could feel her hot breath on his neck. He wondered why it wasn't opening when he was pushing...

A sudden change in direction, he began to pull on the door and it slid open smoothly. He tumbled into the room, changed direction, slammed the doors back shut again, slid the latch into place, gracefully jerked the one key on his keyring he needed out and locked it shut. And began to breathe again.

The girl hadn't gotten anywhere near him. She was still just a few meters away from the car, unmoving and smoldering. He had in fact hallucinated how close she was. But now, at least, he was safe.

A door clicked open behind him, and every hair stood up on his neck. He moved as in slow motion, towards the security post behind him. A woman with sharp blue eyes leveled a handgun at his head, began to depress the trigger. Aware that his narrow escape wasn't over yet, he yelled out the only thing he could think of in this situation.

"Don't shoot, I'm a human!"