Chester began to worry when the front doors to the south entrance began to shake. The door quickly fell, but the ingenious barricade he had constructed held firm. The General Manager himself went up to the roof and peeked over the edge to get a look at the parking lot. A makeshift camp had been erected there. Camped out in front of the store were around a hundred people. They were patiently waiting as if the front doors would simply slide open so they could come inside and buy all the groceries that their hearts desired, gladly paying cash and smiling at the kind door greeter on their way out.
Chester was confident that all he had to do was keep the citizens of the makeshift camp at bay for just a little bit longer. He just knew that rescue had to be coming. If he could just manage to hold on for one more night they would be saved, and he would be moving to Bentonville to live the good life.
Chester knew he had little time left when a few tired, broken and hungry souls figured out that they could go around to the back of the store. The boys with BB guns did manage to scare them off. Some creative citizens of the makeshift camp returned with garbage can lids to deflect the BBs. When the first one of them had his foot blown off from a shotgun blast they quickly retreated. Chester knew he had a day at best before they regrouped and tried to attack the store with different tactics. He was wrong. He didn’t have a day, he had less than six hours.
Chester never dreamed that it would come to this. He had exhausted every good idea he had in fortifying the store. His first mistake was that he didn’t camouflage the pedestrian entrance to the loading docks. The second mistake he made was failing to secure the hatch leading up to the roof. The third and final mistake was underestimating the primal and unrelenting will to survive at all costs — the same drive that kept his species alive.
Chester had no idea he had even committed these crucial errors. He was still quite confident that his fortress would repel any attack. He knew without question that he would be greatly rewarded for his efforts when this was finally over. When the end came, Chester would not be rewarded, he would not be promoted. The new boat he had picked out would not be purchased. He definitely would not be leaving Orlando to join the big wigs in Bentonville.
The leader of the makeshift camp was a man named Benjamin Black. Ben was not a man of influence or authority; he was the manager at a nearby Jiffy Lube. Benjamin told his employees to bring their families to the Jiffy Lube so they could ride out Luther in the pit underneath the shop. A few residents did so, and Ben offered them shelter. An hour before the full force of the hurricane was due, some frightened motorists pulled into the shop and Ben offered them shelter as well. Ben and his employees emptied out the stock from the pit and they all hunkered down, shoulder-to-shoulder, to ride out Luther’s punishment. They had no idea if they would drown from storm surge; they took their chances underground anyway.
When Ben and his people managed to get out of the pit, they emerged into a new world, one of Armageddon. They could stand in one place and see in a straight line to sections of town miles away. Homes and buildings should have obstructed their line of sight. Instead they saw complete destruction and devastation. They could see dogs climbing over rubble, pieces of human flesh in their mouths — fingers, hands, and scalps with matted bloody hair. Ben found two boys, both under the age of ten, covered in dirt and blood, walking down the road adjacent his shop. A few women in the group tended to the boys and tried to get them to talk.
Ben knew these people were counting on him. He had to get them to a central location so they could be rescued. They walked for most of the day and set up camp in a vacant parking lot that was somewhat clean and free of debris. Ben tried to figure out what business had used this parking lot, but had no idea without any buildings nearby to use as a frame of reference. The group set up camp and built signal fires. Next they used debris to spell out the word HELP in big letters that might be seen by rescue aircraft. Slowly, people joined the group, a few each day. Safety in numbers was the key to survival.
They waited for almost a week for help to come. Ben knew that all they had to do was wait and they would be saved. Much like the employees at the Kissimmee Wal-Mart Supercenter, they slowly began to realize that no one was coming. They were cut off from the rest of the world. They were alone. They must take matters into their own hands if they would survive.
The first step was to find transportation. They managed to salvage a few damaged vehicles; some vans, an RV, and a SuperTruck. Next they had to find supplies. Doing so in the barren wasteland proved very hard. They managed to find enough food and water from the rubble to keep themselves alive. They sent out scouts in all directions in the hopes that they would either find supplies or someone to rescue them from this nightmare. One of the groups came back with the best news they had heard since before the storm. A Walmart had survived Luther.
Ben and the group packed up and headed off to the Kissimmee Walmart Supercenter. They arrived to find one of the entrances filled with cars, the other heavily barricaded. Ben understood the need to keep the store safe from looters. Maybe they were rationing out supplies from just one entrance for reasons of safety. They knocked on the door for the better part of a day waiting for someone to answer. No one did. Maybe it was empty. After the sun went down, they could see the beams from many flashlights bouncing around inside the store, so they knew it was occupied. Eventually, they managed to break down the glass door but to no avail. The barricade was far too strong to breach.
Ben decided to call off the attempts at getting into the store. He figured if they showed the people inside that they were civilized and posed no threat, surely they would see the error of their ways and let them inside.
One afternoon it occurred to Ben that they could go around to the back of the store to gain entry. He laughed at himself for still maintaining the polite relationship between owner and customer. The consumer did not go behind the counter with the owner; it was just rude. Ben and a few men went around to the back and were quickly greeted by a hail of BB gun fire. What the hell is wrong with these people? Are they crazy? They returned with trash can lids to deflect the BBs. They just wanted to talk reason with the manager, no need for violence. Ben knew exactly what kind of game these assholes were playing when his assistant manager had his foot blown off with a shotgun.
It was time for war. The Great Battle of the Kissimmee Walmart Supercenter had begun.
The first stage of the battle was to take down the south entrance. Chester was incorrect that it would take a dump truck at full speed to breach the south entrance. It didn’t take a dump truck. It took one full-sized Ford 650 SuperTruck only ten minutes to breach the door. The angry mob had outfitted the grill of the truck with the rims of a full sized van. The battering ram they had constructed worked perfectly. The A-Team/MacGyver SuperTruck sat on the opposite side of the parking lot and launched full speed at the barricade. It rammed into the first row of pallets and backed out. Next, a few people quickly moved in to remove the debris. Then a man with six-foot long bolt cutters came in and cut the chains and mangled shopping carts. He stepped aside and let the busy workers clear out the mess. The second trip of the battering ram slammed into the second row of pallets, sending debris flying into the store. Flying car batteries thrown from one of the pallets killed two of the blue-vested soldiers. The pallet had been selected because of its sheer weight. The employees never anticipated that the choice would kill two of their own.
The man with the six-foot bolt cutters joined three men on the roof, ready to pierce the trap door leading down into the store. The bolt cutters were not necessary since Chester had left the door wide open. The four men descended into the store and quickly stopped at the sporting goods section to arm themselves with guns. Finding all the ammo missing, they instead settled on baseball bats.