DOOMSDAY LEDGER

Chapter 2: Not a TV Prank

Rico's cream-colored Bogo helmet flew through the air in a beautiful parabolic trajectory before hitting the heavy-set man's face with a satisfying thud. The man staggered backward, his feet tripping on the automatic door threshold, then he fell flat on his back on the wet asphalt terrace.

However, Rico didn't stop to celebrate his accurate throw. He leaped into the store, slipping slightly on the floor Lina had just mopped, then slammed the manual button for the automatic door on the wall next to the cashier.

The glass door hissed, trying to close, but was blocked by the leg of the heavy-set man, who was still thrashing in the doorway. The door mechanism buzzed in protest, moving back and forth like a broken tape recorder.

"Hey, help me out! Don't just stand there like a mannequin statue!" Rico shouted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His denim jacket was torn at the sleeve, revealing a long scratch that was oozing fresh blood.

Elian snapped out of his shock. He was still holding the mop handle like a Spartan spear. Without thinking, he ran closer, not to help the heavy-set man, but to kick his leg out of the door sensor.

"Get his leg in, quick!" Elian kicked the man's dress shoe with all his might.

The heavy-set man roared—not a cry of pain, but a wet growl that sounded like a clogged drain. His pale, dirt-covered hand snatched Elian's ankle. His grip was cold and hard as iron.

"Damn it! Let go!" Elian panicked. He slammed the mop handle onto the man's arm repeatedly.

"Move, El!" Rico charged in, delivering a stomping kick to the man's chest.

*Thump!*

The man was pushed out completely. Elian quickly pressed the door button again. This time, the glass door slid smoothly shut. The click of the magnetic lock sounded like the sweetest music to Elian's ears tonight.

Outside, the heavy-set man got up again with jerky movements that would make anyone who saw it cringe. He slammed his body against the glass, leaving a trail of black mucus and blood that slowly slid down.

The atmosphere inside the store was instantly silent, filled only by the sound of Elian's heart pounding and the hum of the beverage fridge in the back.

"What in the world is this..." Mr. Hendra finally spoke. His face was flushed red, his neck veins bulging. He walked toward Rico, who was bent over holding his knees, trying to catch his breath.

"Rico! Do you realize what you just did?" Mr. Hendra yelled, his finger pointing at the Bogo helmet lying outside. "You threw a helmet at a customer! That's a criminal act! Assault! If he reports it to the police, store management won't take responsibility, you hear! I'm firing you as a parking attendant!"

Rico looked up, his eyes wide with disbelief. His long hair was slick with rain and sweat. "Sir, are you kidding me? Didn't you see that guy trying to chew my neck? He's not a customer, sir! He's a cannibal!"

"Watch your mouth!" Mr. Hendra wouldn't back down. "That's Mr. Bambang, a resident from the next neighborhood who often buys cigarettes here! Maybe he has a skin condition or caught that viral monkeypox virus. We should call an ambulance, not throw a helmet at him!"

"Monkeypox my ancestors' somersaults!" Rico shot back aggressively, forgetting all decorum with his superior. "What kind of pox turns people into zombies! Look at his neck! Torn, sir! His jugular is severed, but he can still walk!"

Elian didn't join the ridiculous argument. His eyes were glued to the TV screen in the upper corner, whose volume suddenly felt louder.

"Guys... quiet down," Elian cut in, his voice cold.

"Don't you get involved, Elian! I'm about to write a warning letter for Rico—"

"MR. HENDRA, LOOK AT THE TV!" Elian shouted loudly, making Mr. Hendra and Rico fall silent.

On the 32-inch TV screen, the news broadcast that Mr. Hendra had dismissed as a movie promo now showed total chaos. The footage came from highway CCTV cameras relayed to the TV station.

Thousands of cars were stuck in gridlock. But not ordinary traffic. People were running between the cars, chased by crowds of other humans moving wildly. In the corner of the screen, a traffic police officer was seen firing his pistol at a woman running toward him. The woman fell, but the next second she got up again and lunged at the officer's neck.

The news headline changed: CIVIL EMERGENCY: AVOID PHYSICAL CONTACT. DO NOT LEAVE HOME. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

Then the camera switched to the news studio. The news anchor, a beautiful woman in a neat blazer, was visibly trembling while holding her script papers. Behind her, studio crew members were running around in a panic.

"Viewers, we... we have received confirmation from authorities that this unrest is caused by the spread of an unidentified pathogen," the anchor's voice trembled violently. "The military advises citizens to lock their doors and..."

Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass was heard in the TV studio. The camera shook. From the right side of the screen, a technical crew member ran in, chased by his own colleague whose face was half-destroyed. The news anchor screamed hysterically as the creature leaped onto the news desk.

The TV image swayed wildly, showing the studio ceiling, then shoes, then blood splattering onto the camera lens. The audio was filled with screams, the sound of flesh being torn, and a horrifying choking noise.

The screen turned to static for a moment, then the TV station logo appeared with the text: WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INTERRUPTION.

Silence.

Inside Cosmo Mart, the four people were frozen. Lina had slumped to the floor, crying silently. Rico held his spinning head. Elian still gripped the mop handle until his knuckles turned white.

Even Mr. Hendra, the most skeptical manager in the world, now had his mouth agape. The clipboard in his hand slipped, falling with a thud to the floor.

"That... that was a national TV station, right?" Mr. Hendra asked faintly, his voice stripped of authority. "That... wasn't a horror movie channel on cable TV?"

"No, sir," Elian replied flatly. He walked to the glass door, peering outside. "And if you still don't believe it, try looking at the highway."

The street in front of the store had turned into hell. The heavy rain couldn't extinguish the fire that was starting to burn from a delivery van overturned in the middle of the road. Dozens of people ran under the downpour, chased by dark shadows moving fast and brutally.

Elian saw a mother carrying her child fall onto the asphalt. She didn't have time to get up. Three figures immediately swarmed her like piranhas. Elian turned his face away, unable to watch what happened next.

"We're trapped," Rico muttered. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled and wet pack of cigarettes. "Damn it. I just wanted to work to earn cigarette money, and I get an apocalypse instead."

"Don't smoke inside the store!" Mr. Hendra reflexively scolded, though his voice was weak. "There's a smoke detector."

"Oh come on, sir. The world is ending, and you're still worried about a smoke detector?" Rico lit his lighter with a trembling hand. Tobacco smoke billowed, slightly calming his frayed nerves.

Lina suddenly stood up, her eyes wild. "My mother... I have to go home! My mother is alone at home, she had a stroke, she can't run!"

The girl ran toward the glass door, her hand reaching out to press the open button.

"DON'T!" Elian and Rico shouted simultaneously.

Elian leaped, restraining Lina before she could touch the button. "Lina, listen to me! If you go out now, you'll die. You won't make it home. Do you see what it's like out there?"

"But my mother, Elian! Who will save her?!" Lina struggled, hitting Elian's chest with her weak hands. Her tears soaked Elian's uniform.

"Lina, stop!" Elian shook the girl's shoulders. "If you die out there, who will save your mother? We wait until things calm down a bit, or until help arrives. Don't commit stupid suicide!"

Lina finally went limp, slumping back to the floor, sobbing. Elian looked at Rico, signaling him to guard the front door.

"Mr. Hendra," Elian called. He turned to his manager, who was still staring blankly at the chocolate rack. "Sir, lock the rolling door now. This glass won't hold if they rush us all at once."

Mr. Hendra flinched, as if just waking from a nightmare. "Rolling door? But... but we haven't closed the books yet. Our operating hours are 24 hours. If head office finds out we closed..."

"Sir, head office has probably been eaten by zombies!" Rico exclaimed exasperatedly. "Look at Mr. Bambang out front! He brought his friends!"

It was true. Outside the glass, Mr. Bambang the heavy-set zombie was no longer alone. Two other figures had joined him. A young woman in a party dress torn at the abdomen, and an online motorcycle taxi driver whose helmet was still attached but the visor was full of blood from the inside.

The three of them began to pound on the store window.

*Thump. Thump. Thump.*

The sound was rhythmic, monotonous, and terrifying. Small cracks began to appear in the corner of the glass near the "Push/Pull" sticker.

"Where's the key, sir?!" Elian demanded.

"In... in the safe drawer," Mr. Hendra stammered. "But the key is held by the morning shift... wait, no, I have a duplicate in my pocket."

Mr. Hendra fumbled in his cloth pants pocket frantically. His hands trembled so violently that the key fell twice before he managed to grip it tightly.

"Come on, sir! Let's pull down the rolling door!" Elian pulled Mr. Hendra's arm toward the door.

However, just as they took two steps, a loud crash came from the back storage room.

*CRASH!*

The sound came from the iron door connecting the store's storage room to the loading area in the back alley.

All four of them turned simultaneously toward the storage room door, which was covered by a plastic curtain.

"Sir..." Elian whispered, cold sweat running down his temples. "The back loading door... was it locked after the goods came in this afternoon?"

Mr. Hendra's face went pale, whiter than the corpse on the TV earlier. "Earlier... the bread supplier was late. I told the intern to open it... but I forgot to check if it was locked again."

*CRASH!*

The storage door was rammed again from the outside. This time, the sound of metal hinges screaming under duress could be heard.

"Rico, guard the front door!" Elian ordered quickly. He tightened his grip on the mop handle. "Mr. Hendra, find a weapon! Anything! A box cutter, scissors, a bottle of syrup!"

"I... I can't fight..." Mr. Hendra backed away, bumping into the medicine rack.

"You don't have to fight, just don't die!"

Elian ran toward the storage area. The plastic curtain parted. He saw the back iron door was slightly ajar. There was a gap of about ten centimeters. From that gap, a thin, dry hand with long black nails was fumbling, searching for a grip to pull the door open.

"Hello, is anyone home?" a hoarse voice came from behind the door. The voice sounded human, but the tone was flat, emotionless, like a broken answering machine recording. "I'm hungry... please..."

Elian shuddered. Could this zombie talk? Or was this a different kind?

"Sorry, the store is closed!" Elian shouted, trying to sound brave. He jabbed the tip of the mop handle toward the fumbling hand.

The hand retreated for a moment, then with lightning speed, it gripped the end of Elian's mop handle. Its strength was incredible. Elian was yanked forward, almost dragged toward the door.

"Damn it!" Elian cursed, bracing his feet on the slippery ceramic floor.

The iron door slowly opened wider. Beyond the dark, rainy back alley, a pair of glowing red eyes stared at Elian. Not the white, cataract eyes like Mr. Bambang's in the front, but red eyes full of hatred and... intelligence.

"Fresh meat..." the creature hissed.

This was not just an ordinary zombie. Elian felt a strange sensation in his stomach, a primal instinct screaming that the creature in front of him was the apex predator.

"Rico! Get over here quick!" Elian shouted desperately while trying to pull his mop handle back.

At the front of the store, the main glass was severely cracked. Mr. Bambang and his friends were becoming more aggressive. In the back, the red-eyed creature began to push the iron door with unnatural strength.

Tonight was no longer about the night shift or broken sausages. This was the beginning of a nightmare that wouldn't end when the sun rose. And unfortunately, Elian realized, his best weapon was just a discounted floor cleaning tool.