I turned the corner and slammed into the bandleader's cart. I fell to the ground in fear, cringing. They all stared at me and pushed on in single file. The carts were customized for each lurker and probably contained everything they owned. Not a soul noticed. Except the person they meant to--me.

They disappeared down the street. I decided to get the hell out of there and started to cross the empty street when all of the sudden a beat up white pick-up with "Fred Meyer" painted in red pitched around the corner in vagrant front of me. I jumped back and nearly got taken out by the gang of shopping carts that trailed at least ten feet out of the back of the truck. The driver was out of control and lost about ten of the carts along the block. He didn't dare stop because lurkers appeared from nowhere and snatched up the carts instantly. They were hungry and descended on the carts like they were freshly killed game. Those that didn't get a cart chased wildly after the truck and the driver just floored it and laugh ed crazily.

Holy shit. I turned and walked away, wondering how mainey that guy's job must be. They must know that you can stop people from taking those carts by putting up a barrier outside the store. But then the old lady with a box of crackers couldn't use the cart as a walker to get home. I swear old people whorde those things and use them to get from their house to Freddy's.

I wanted to get away from this side of the river and headed across the Burnside Bridge. I stood on the bridge and looked out over the city. Damn weird shit going on. Something shiny caught my eye. I looked down, and there on one of the tiers was a shopping cart graveyard. There was at least a hundred -- well, maybe ten -- carts that had met the end of their service and got tossed into the pile. At least now they wouldn't be able to bother me anymore. backmenu