by Zuko, Joseph
“Do me a favor. Take care of that tub of guts,” I point a thumb over my shoulder. Frank catches his breath and re-slings the bag. He pulls out his revolver and BOOM. He gets it right in the forehead. Bullseye. The monster slumps over and blocks up the window so none of the other infected creatures can get out that way. My ears ring from Frank’s gun. As the ringing trickles off we hear a horrible sound coming from inside Calvin’s bedroom. Screams. Worse than any I have heard today. I look at Frank and then Devon. Their faces have the same look of disgust that I feel deep in my heart. That poor old man, he did not deserve to die like that. He seemed like a good man and now...now he is being shredded by the hands of those disgusting monsters. I nod in the direction of the windows and we move.
We creep across roof and reach the windows. Sara sits perched at the top of the roof above the first one. The roof has a fairly steep pitch to it. If you move slowly it is not so bad but if you start to slide you will definitely fall over the edge. I prop myself up at the top of the first glass window. It is about two feet by four feet in size. It will be tight but we should all be able to fit. Devon locks his arm under my armpit and Frank does the same on my other side. They hold me tight. I slide down on my butt to get close to the window. I use the heel of my boot to kick down into the glass and my boot bounces off the glass. The next time I use both feet. I come down on the window hard. It shatters under the pressure. I slide over to the right of the window. Devon and Frank lower me down the roof so I am parallel with it now. I am able to let go of them and grab the edge of the frame.
“Pass me the dowel,” I reach up as Devon lowers the piece of wood to me. I place it at the base of the window and drop the sheet down into the garage. The window sits about fifteen feet above the concrete floor.
“Slide down here next to me,” I signal to Devon. Frank and Sara help him move slowly down to me. I help prop him up next to me. “Okay, Sara come down,” Frank holds her hand and she slides down next to Devon.
“We’re gonna lower you,” she takes my hand and then Devon’s. Sara drops her legs down into the window and slides her butt over to the edge. Together we lift her up and over the window and then slowly drop her down so that she is eye level with the dowel.
She lets go of Devon to grab the sheet. For a couple of seconds I am the only thing keeping this girl in the air. I freak out, just a little, but once she has ahold of the sheet I know she will be okay.
“Got it!” she breathes heavily. We let go of each other and she climbs down. When she gets to the end there is a couple feet drop but she lands it perfectly. It is dark down there.
“I’m fine!” she calls up at us. Seconds later she finds a light switch and kicks it on.
“Frank, come help me with Devon,” Frank lets go of the peak and slides down. We set up the same as before and lower Devon down. It took every fiber of muscle to keep him from falling through the window when he let go of Frank. How I am going to get Frank down into this thing. Devon lands it with no problem.
“Toss the bag,” I tell him. He lowers the bag down into the window and lets go. They catch it with a loud grunt. “You’re gonna have to hold the dowel yourself,” I tell Frank. “It’s no problem,” he quickly drops his feet over the edge and wraps the sheet around his foot. He gets down onto the sheet all by himself. He gets to the bottom. Now it is my turn. I wrap my leg around the sheet like Frank did. I am sweating like a pig and my arms tremble. I use my foot to pin the sheet to my leg. My legs are holding most of my weight. I grab ahold of the dowel. It is not so much the physical act of dropping down into the window that is scary. It is the concrete below that scares me to death. If I fall I would break my ankles or snap my knees and then game over. Frank would have to put a bullet through my head. Why am I being so dramatic? Why am I concentrating on the bad? I need to stay positive. My family needs me to stay positive. This crew of people below needs me to stay positive. So, no more thoughts about falling and suffering a compound fracture, no more thoughts about becoming a cripple that slows the group down and gets everyone killed. No more thoughts about not seeing my family because I fell to my death. Oh my feet just touched down. That was not so bad. My muscles burn so I give my arms a good shake as I look around the garage.
Calvin drove a mid 2000’s Toyota Camry. I feel weird. I guess I feel let down. The house was so nice I thought it would be something more exotic.
“What a bummer,” Devon shakes his head with disappointment.
“Hey!” I whack him in the arm.
“What?” he rubs his sore bicep.
“Show a little respect. It has four wheels, what else do you need?” Sara whacks his other arm.
“Stop hitting me,” he rubs his other arm.
The monsters claw at the garage door.
“Now what?” Frank and I look around the garage. It is so clean. Everything has its perfect place.
“We need something to clear a path to the street,” I whisper. “Why don’t we drive through them?” Frank asks.
“It will kill the car. This Toyota can’t take many hits before we blow the radiator,” Sara says leaning up against the drivers’ door. I open cabinets and look through shelves. I don’t know what I am looking for. Something to distract them would be nice, but it is a normal garage filled with tools, cleaning rags and Christmas decorations. I open the last set of cabinets and I find what I was looking for. I pull out two propane tanks. They must be extras for his outdoor barbecue.
“Sara, pop the trunk to the car,” I grunt as I carry the two heavy tanks. She pulls out the keys from her pocket and opens the trunk. Calvin seemed like the type to always be prepared. I was right, there in his trunk is an emergency kit. I drop the tanks and open the kit. It has exactly what I am looking for. Road flares.
“What are you thinking, bro?” Devon scratches at his neck.
“We’re gonna Duct Tape these flares to the tank. Pop the flare and roll them out under the garage door. Frank shoots them. Boom. What do you think?”
“That’s idiotic.” Sara shuts the trunk.
“You want to open the door?” Devon shakes his head and thumbs at the garage door.
“What if it blows the door down on us?” Sara shakes her head at me too.
“It’s all I got,” I rest my hands on my hips. They look at each other and shrug their shoulders.
“Lets do it,” Frank nods his head. I grab the roll of Duct Tape off the work bench. I also pull a drawer out of the tool box. It is full of all different sized screwdrivers. I tape a flare to the side of the tank and then I tape down over twenty screwdrivers to each tank. I hope when it blows it will fire these screwdrivers in all directions, taking down a few more of them. Devon and I drag the tanks over next to the car. Sara and Frank push the big toolbox. It is a heavy-duty steel box that is thirty-six inches wide, and they push it over to the garage door. If we stay behind it we will hopefully be safe from the explosion. Frank picks up a drill out of the toolbox and puts a one-inch bit on it. He drills a hole into the garage door. I unhook the garage door so that the chain is not pulling it open or closed anymore. Now I can lift it open myself and close it when we are done. I grab a wrench and stick it into the track that holds the wheels. I set it so that we can lift the door about two feet before the wrench stops the door from going up any higher.
I look through Frank’s newly drilled hole and there are nearly forty of them milling around out there. I need to get the tanks as far away from the door as I can, but there are so many infected in the way. If one of them steps in front of it and blocks the tank we will be in trouble.
“Devon, you open the door. I’ll roll out the tanks. Sara you be ready to cut down anything that climbs under the door. Frank, clear me a path,” I give Devon a nod and he pulls up on the door. It stops against the wrench and the foul smell of them rushes into the garage. Frank fires six rounds.
“Now!” He yells. I pop the top off the flare. It fires up and burns hot next to my hand. I take a run at the door and then release the fi
rst tank like a bowling ball. I give it everything I got. I let out one hell of a grunt when the tank leaves my hand. I angle it to the right. Devon drops the door right away. The tank rolls and rolls. Frank watches through the hole.
“We’re good,” Frank gives me a nod.
I grab the second tank. Devon lifts up the door. A set of busted up arms reach under the door and grab Devon by the shins. He squeals and let go of the door. It crashes down on the arms. Another set of fingers reaches under the door. They lift up the door and it comes to a stop at the wrench. Devon takes a few steps back. Frank steps on the handle of the garage door and stomps it down. The arms keep it from closing. Sara shoves Devon back as she strikes with her machete. She chops off the monster’s arm. Then she rears back and takes another chop. The severed limbs gush black blood into the garage. Frank quickly fires six shots and pulls back up the garage door.
“Now!” he yells. I pop the flare and run for the door and sling this tank to the left. I grab the door and slam it shut with Frank.
“Look,” Devon points down at his feet. I look back and the two arms are still attached to his shins. He does a little dance to shake them off. It takes a good bit of foot work to loosen their grip.
“Are we ready?” Frank has his gun up and ready to fire.
“Here,” Sara hands me the car keys. I open the driver side door and put both Devon’s and my spear into the car. We leave all four doors open so we are ready to roll. We group behind the toolbox and Frank takes careful aim. I plug my ears. Frank pulls back on the hammer and then squeezes the trigger.
BOOM and then BOOM!!! The garage door rocks and almost comes down off the tracks.
“Oh, God!” Frank’s the only one that can see what has happened out there. He has already got the next tank in his sights.
BOOM! BOOM!!!
That one finished the job and the garage door falls fully off the tracks. Frank and Devon push the toolbox back out of the way. I give the door a good hard kick and it falls out and onto the driveway. The tanks put two massive craters outside the garage. Every one of the infected monsters are down on the ground. The ones closest to the blast were set ablaze. The screwdrivers and tank shrapnel absolutely shredded them. The monsters are laid out on the ground twitching and convulsing. It looks like a war zone.
“Jim!” Sara yells at me. I turn and the three of them are already in the car. Frank is in the passenger side and the kids are in the back. I pull the keys out of my pocket and run for the car. I start up the Toyota. I drop it down into low and hit the gas. We ride quickly out of the garage and over the fallen door. It is hard to describe the sound of our tires as they crush the skulls of the infected. It is kind of a pop, but with a lot of crunch, a squish and squirt. We roll over twenty of them to get to the gate. I pull the car up to the end of the driveway. I look at myself in the rear view mirror.
I look ridiculous with this bandage on my head. Why am I the one driving? I am sure I have a concussion. I have black eyes now from my broken nose. I look back at the house. The infected flood the front yard. I turn the steering wheel to the right. This is a little road that connects all these million dollar homes on the riverfront. The road is clear. No cars blocking the way, no infected roaming around looking for their next meal. I step hard on the gas and then the car dies. We come to a complete stop. I look down at the console. The gas gage reads empty.
“No!” I hit the steering wheel. What the hell! I turn the key again and nothing. The starter tries to turn the engine over but it does not catch.
“What happened?” Sara yells.
“We’re out of gas!” Frank groans. I turn the key again and pump the gas and keep one eye on the rearview mirror. I watch the horde get closer and closer.
Chapter 14
When I was in college I had an old Volkswagen Rabbit. It had chronic electrical problems. Actually it had a leaking problem. Every time it rained, water would leak somewhere in the windshield-dash area and drip down onto the electrical circuits. Sometimes the lights did not work. Sometimes the blinkers did not work. Most of the time it would not start and I would have to reach up under the dash, give the electrical box a wiggle and then it would come back to life. I got used to having an unreliable car. Worse case scenario involved calling a tow truck. It was a pain in the ass and it cost me money, but I loved the car. It was the first one I had bought with my own money so it had a special place in my heart. It was also the car I first made out with my then girlfriend and now wife, so it had real sentimental value. Never in the three years that I owned it, was my life in danger if it did not start. As the four of us sat here in Calvin’s car an extreme sense of dread fills my core.
I try again and again to start the thing, but it will not turn over. The infected have surrounded us. They scratch at the windows and bang on the roof. My three passengers scream at the top of their lungs for me to do something. As a father you develop a level of tolerance to all kinds of noise. You can tune it out to a certain degree. The amount of noise, panic and despair I am going through would cripple the average father. I look out my window and face a creature so horribly disfigured, the fact that it is still up and walking around is a crime against nature. There is more bone showing than anything from the neck up. Milky eyes floating in a red skull is a good way to describe it. The jaw is held on by only the slightest of muscle fibers. The tips of its fingers have been worn away and now only the bones remain. Over the screams I hear the tapping of its hand on my windowpane. I turn the key again and the engine starts. I can’t believe it. I waste no time and punch the gas.
We tear out of the driveway and leave the disgusting freaks behind. I get the Toyota up to sixty and we all let out a triumphant yell. In the rearview mirror I watch as they follow us out onto the street.
Every house we pass looks as nice as Calvin’s. A nice little community of million dollar homes right on the riverfront. We are almost to the intersection we need to turn onto. After the turn it is all uphill for a few miles. If this car is anything like my Mitsubishi the second we start up the hill the gas moves around in the tank and it will cut off again.
Frank pulls his bag up into his lap. He unzips it, pulls out a black case and digs around a little more and finds a shoulder harness. It is a double gun harness, one under each armpit. He opens the case and there is a set of matching nine millimeter Berettas. Frank pulls out four clips and he slides one into the bottom of each gun. He puts one gun into each holster, drops the leather straps down onto his shoulders and clips it to his belt. In a few seconds it is strapped to his body and ready to go. The last two clips slide right into his front pants pocket. He digs a little more into his bag and pulls out a small revolver. It is already in a holster and he wraps it around his right ankle. By my count the man has about thirty to thirty five shots before he has to reload. From the bottom of the bag he pulls out a big black gun.
“What’s that?”
“SKS.”
It looks like an AK-47. It fit in his bag because the stock has been sawed off and it looks like its barrel is shorter than normal. He snaps the banana clip into the bottom of it. Then he pulls out a second clip and a roll of electrical tape. Frank quickly tapes the two clips together.
“Holy moly!” Devon sounds like a kid at Christmas.
“What?” grunts Frank.
“Can we have some guns?” Devon begs. Frank turns back and looks at him.
“You know how to shoot?” Franks says flatly.
“No,” Devon’s eyes drop.
“I don’t want to get shot by a kid.”
I hang a left. It is a slight hill at first, but the Toyota keeps moving. It feels good to be on a road that is not heavily traveled. There are no cars and trucks whizzing by at a hundred miles an hour. No big rigs or snow plows destroying every vehicle on the road. We cross over the train track. There are a few abandoned cars I have to swerve around. The next road we are going to cross is a major highway that runs from downtown Vancouver almost all the way to Idaho. We round the last b
end in the road and there is the highway. Traffic is moving. I can’t believe it. There is no crowd of dead people smashing from car to car eating the passengers.
“There’s a gas station right there,” I point up on the hill on the other side of the highway. At the intersection a nice soccer mom waves me through and we take off up the hill.
“That was weird,” Devon looks out the back window at the cars patiently waiting their turn. On and off the highway they go like nothing has happened today. There is no one at the next intersection so I blow through the red light and turn into the gas station. The Camry runs rough as we pull up to the pump. We survey the area.
“Looks clear,” Frank pops open his door.
“How much should I get?” I pull my wallet out and get my debit card ready.
“Fill it if you can,” Frank grunts as he steps out of the car.
Sara looks over at the convenience store part of the station. “We should get supplies. Water and some food.”
“I’ll like go with her,” Devon volunteers. I pop the door open and step out. My neck kills but I keep my head on a swivel. Devon and Sara climb out and head for the front door of the store. Frank stands guard by the passenger door. I slide the card into the machine and grab the nozzle. I watch Sara and Devon fill a basket in the store. The pump fires up and drops gas into the tank.
A big truck pulls into the station. A rough redneck type is at the wheel. He screeches to a stop and rolls down his window.
“They still got beer?” he calls down to us.