Jude glimpsed the numerous saw-toothed blades hanging, their dull sheen indicative of decorations typically associated with a convenience store interpretation of Halloween, amongst swaths of pumpkin orange gauze suspended from the ceiling. They shivered, the sensations of a million spiders’ spindly legs suddenly enveloping them.
They were led through a curtained doorway, the butcher’s daydream swiftly replaced with an imitation of a hospital ward. In the far corner, a man stood with a cigarette dangling from his lip, his straitjacket sagging around the waist where he had removed one hand to quell the nicotine craving. A woman trussed up in a bright, latex imitation of a nurse’s uniform greeted them with an equally manufactured smile. The fluorescent lights reflected off the folded cap situated in her hair, morphing the innocence of the red medical cross into a sinister scythe. Jude swallowed, mimicking her expression with some effort.
When she spoke, she did so without inflection or emotion. Perhaps this was due to the energy expanded during the pantomime she was conducting behind her back, attempting to alert her companion to his need to disperse. He, unfortunately, did not manage to grasp her intention. Instead, the man put his cigarette out on the wallpaper- An action, usually despicable, which rather improved the aesthetics of the room- before approaching just as Lennon inserted her debit card into the proffered machine.
Jude was not privileged to witness the ensuing discussion as Lennon clutched their arm. They moved as if Lennon was single-handedly propelling an unwilling sack of flour toward bakery, approaching a flimsy imitation-oak door. Beyond, the anguish of the undead wailed from cheap speakers. Lennon, naturally, slammed the heel of her boot into the wood.
