Fries With that?

To Read more about the Florida Zombie Outbreak, Check out Hargood and the End.

She only had one leg. The undead girl on the other side of the counter, that is. Carey wasn't sure where the zombie's right leg had gone, but she could surmise from the trail of blood running out the door that it was nowhere nearby. The two girls, close in age (as best Carey could tell), stared at each other, a cash register standing between them. At least, for the moment.
"Um..." stuttered Carey, in her red and yellow uniform. "Welcome to Fire Buns, we have... a um... a special on" - bloody drool streamed onto the counter - "a special on our three-meat and pimento with pickles on your choice of bread." She rushed through the last part, holding back a gag reflex.
The undead girl just stood there, no response, no motion; nothing. She leaned heavily on the counter, supporting herself sans leg. Only in Miami. Carey hadn't even seen her come in. She'd just appeared when Carey wasn't looking. What had she gone to get from the back, again? Mayonnaise or something. And what had she done with it? Why had her boss left her running the whole shop by herself? Where was everybody, anyway? The poor 16 year old employee was about to break down in tears when her customer finally responded.
Much to Carey's horror, the creature reached lazily over the counter, past the register, to grab at her face. Carey stepped back just in time to avoid the hold, and slid to her left, toward the kitchen. If she could just get there, she thought, she could use the back door to escape this nightmare. But it was then that she remembered what had happened to the mayonnaise. She remembered just as she set her tennis shoe into the milky sludge and found herself face-first on the linoleum floor.
As she squirmed around helplessly on the slippery floor, amidst broken jar glass and white goop, Carey looked up to see the zombie climbing over the counter. It pulled itself over by the register, which toppled away with the weight. Carey pulled herself along the floor as the undead girl came falling into the mayonnaise pit as well. The two scrambled to no avail in the mess, one reaching for the other. The zombie finally took hold of Carey's leg, and the living girl reacted in a way she never imagined for herself. She kicked her pursuer in the face. One swift foot between the eyes did three things: it stunned the zombie, if only for a second; it freed Carey's gripped leg, if only barely; and it propelled her further away from the undead girl, if only a few inches. It did slide her far enough to reach a handle on the back cupboard, which she took hold of to steady herself.
The slothful, desperate creature clawed and stretched to move toward its prey. Carey, keeping her eye on her attacker, reached up blindly to the counter top and realized what was there. A blender. Her shop made milkshakes. Of course! She was hoping for a knife or roller pin, but this would do just fine. What had she become in the last few minutes that she was thinking this way without remorse? She didn't have time right now to worry about it. She'd linger on it later when she was still alive. For now, there was a blender at her fingertips and she needed to get it into her hands. She pushed herself up as best she could, despite the slick surface below her, but the thick, glass contraption was just too far back on the shelf. She grabbed hold of the counter's edge and pulled herself up as well, her feet slipping this way and that. And at her shifting feet, the zombie writhed ever-closer.
Finally, she got her aching hands, raw from the shards on the floor, around the blender. It was heavier than she remembered, but she was also exhausted from the fight thus far. Still, it had to be done, so she held her breath and heaved the appliance off the counter and over her head. Carey had three older brothers, so she'd seen (much to her disgust) all the cult zombie films. She just hoped they had been right as she took aim now at the devil before her.
Maybe she should say something witty, she thought. Do quips happen in real life? She knew her brothers would take the time to say something, but she decided otherwise. So, with a grunt and a prayer, she flung the heavy blender down upon the zombie's ugly head. With a crash of glass and blood, the container burst upon the skull and the skull gave way.
Carey slid back to the floor and relaxed for a moment. The motionless body prostrate to her left and the base of the blender still in her right hand. She rested her back against the counter and slowed her breathing. Was she supposed to clean this up for make a run for it? She debated this halfheartedly in her mind as she stretched her rubbery legs. Amid the terror, she hadn't realized the cuts and bruises she'd gained from scrambling on the floor. She wiped her hands on her shirt and pouted at the pain.

Just then, the bell for the front door range and Carey responded with her second-nature greeting. "Welcome to Fire Buns," though she only managed it in a pitiful whimper. No one replied, and it came to her then, the reality of the situation, as she heard the limp of death approach her overturned cash register. The back door was still an option.