Trey and Leticia hurriedly clambered into the car interior. Mancini realized they hadn’t noticed him approaching.
“Hey, wait up,” he shouted, deciding he had to risk blowing his unobserved position.
Sonny heard somebody shout and snapped his head around to the source of the voice. He saw a scruffy guy wearing sunshades, running towards the vehicle, holding what looked like a blood stained shaft above his head.
“The crazy fuckers are coming. Where the hell is your pal in the Beetle?” He aimed his Beretta at the approaching figure and fired two shots.
“What the fuck?” Mancini barked, before he hit the deck. He heard the double crack of a firearm and heard two rounds zip either side of him.
The erratic wind whipped through the town center once again, showering the main street in a cloud of sand and partially covering Mancini as he lay on the ground.
“What the hell was that?” Trey shouted, shielding his eyes from the blowing sand. “Who were you shooting at?”
“One of those crazy heads was coming close,” Sonny yelled. “I think I got the bastard but they’ll be others on their way, soon enough.” He turned his attention back to the road ahead. “Where the hell is this guy of yours?”
Trey and Sonny both directed their attention to another side street to their right. They first heard a roaring engine before the blue VW Beetle hurtled onto the main street, fishtailing and skidding on braking wheels. At least a dozen infected personnel gave chase behind the VW, running full pelt, with more stragglers behind, hobbling on chewed and injured legs.
“There he is,” Trey yelled.
“All right, let’s go,” Sonny said, hammering his foot down on the gas pedal.
Jorge righted the VW and glanced in his rear view mirror. He saw several infected still after him but thankfully so too, the red Thunderbird, emerging from the swirling dust. He accelerated harder, heading for the outskirts of the town.
Sonny dodged the infected in the road but they continued to give chase. The ghouls who ran alongside the car on the sidewalk soon began to drop behind.
Mancini heard the engine sounds receding and lifted his head slightly. He saw both cars drawing further away before they were swallowed up in the churning dust cloud. He heard the snarls and shrieks of the infected and knew he had to find some cover before he was spotted; he had to get off the street. Trey hadn’t closed the garage doors after the Thunderbird had reversed out onto the road. He might be safe for a while inside the building if he could shut the sliding doors before the infected were on top of him.
Patting the ground beside him, Mancini felt the wooden pole and gripped it with his right hand. The damn fence pole wasn’t much of a weapon but it was all he had for now. He used the stick to push himself up, again feeling a dull ache in his knee, caused by the fall in the house hallway.
The grunts and growls of the infected, who had become disorientated by the dust cloud reverberated through the main street. Mancini had to get to the garage before they caught his scent. He hurried along the center of the road and saw the gaping garage door a few yards in front of him. Running footfalls behind him alerted his senses and he put an extra spurt of energy into his own effort.
The rumbling, snarling noise was getting closer but Mancini didn’t dare stop or take a look over his shoulder. Either action could have rendered him vulnerable. He didn’t know how many infected were behind him but it sounded as though a single attacker was in immediate pursuit.
Mancini swung around when he reached the garage’s sliding door. One male assailant followed closely behind. Mancini jabbed the sharp end of the pole at his attacker but his aim was hurried. The spike end pierced the ghoul’s throat and Mancini quickly crouched and angled the pole so it pointed upwards. He then rammed the wooden stake towards the sky, skewering his assailant’s brain with one hard shove. The infected man gurgled but went limp at the end of the pole. Mancini let his attacker’s body drop to the ground and pulled the pole from his skull. He hurried to the edge of the sliding door and began to heave the frame across the entrance, tossing the wooden stake onto the garage’s concrete interior.
As the dust began to settle, Mancini saw another wave of infected people charging in his direction from the main street. Their faces twisted and contorted in fury as they ran towards him.
“Shit,” he croaked, resisting the urge to cough, due to the dust in his throat.
Mancini shoved the sliding door and began to run it closed. The growls of the infected drew nearer. He wasn’t even sure if the doors would lock or secure when he shut them. Glancing quickly over the height of the edge of the door, Mancini noticed long locking bolts at the top and bottom of the frame. He slammed the door into place but one of the leading infected personnel hooked their arm around the frame in a sweeping arc. The door jammed against the frame but Mancini couldn’t insert the bolts. He needed to slide it that last couple inches so the bolts jammed into the housing.
Mancini dodged the grasping fingers and caught hold of the ghoul’s wrist. He rammed the whole arm backwards out of the door frame and hurriedly slid the door the last couple of inches. The door slammed into place and with shaking hands, Mancini inserted the bolts into place. Breathing heavily, he slumped with his back against the door and allowed himself a couple of seconds of respite. Furious pounding on the opposite side of the door jolted Mancini from his temporary reprieve. He knew the infected would try and find a way into the building and wouldn’t let up until they discovered a weak spot in the garage’s defenses.
Mancini hurried further inside the garage and scooped up his trusty wooden pole as he moved. He hoped to find another exit route out of the garage, otherwise he was screwed. He’d never fight his way through the numbers of infected outside and he’d be cornered if they broke through the limited barricades.
Glancing around the interior, Mancini hoped to catch sight of some sort of firearm left behind by the former owners of the garage. Why had that guy driving the Thunderbird fired at him? Was he the garage owner and had he really fixed up the car? Why did they run out on him like that? The answers to his questions would have to wait for another time. Right now, he needed to find an escape route.
He searched the work benches and shelving racks but couldn’t see anything he could use as an alternative weapon. A tire iron or a wrench was sturdy enough but didn’t allow an adequate reach to defend himself at distance.
An old pickup truck with its hood propped up, sat astride an oily inspection pit and Mancini wondered if the old banger would actually start. The shadows inside the garage grew longer and the light began to fade. Mancini glanced at his watch and saw the time was closing in on seven p.m. He wanted to be out of the town before nightfall or he’d never catch up with Trey and the others.
The sound of smashing glass caused Mancini to whirl around to face the front of the garage. He saw two infected men clambering through the broken window panel at the top of the front door. Mancini had nowhere to run and no way out of the confines of the garage.
Chapter Forty
Trey turned in his seat, glancing at the road behind him. Plumes of dust billowed in the Thunderbird’s wake and the chasing infected faded from view. He sighed in relief and flashed Leticia a wink in the backseat. She still looked anxious and was still obviously concerned about Sonny’s twisted later intentions. Trey swiveled back around in his seat and the feeling of temporary relief soon washed over him. The demise of Mancini soon hammered home and he wondered how the hell he was going to continue the mission without him. They were going to have to cope with a parting of the ways with Sonny somehow, a task which would neither be pleasant nor straightforward.
Mancini’s limited options seemed to be drying up very quickly. The garage interior was now breached and he had two fast moving hostiles to immediately deal with and undoubtedly, more infected would be pouring through the broken window in the next few seconds. Surrendering wasn’t an option. The damn ghouls would tear him apart and he certainly didn’t want to
join the ranks of the contaminated. Mancini gripped his fence pole, ready to fight to the death if he had to. He glanced around the back wall for another exit route or a fire escape but couldn’t see any alternative way out.
The two infected males, dressed in ripped dark blue store clerk uniforms, charged across the concrete floor towards Mancini. Snarls and growls echoed through the building as they closed the space between them. He noticed another ghoul scrambling through the broken window behind them and more bobbed around in front of the door, jostling each other to get inside the garage. Mancini quickly circled around the garage interior, avoiding the two infected men’s swipes. He hurried to the partition wall, which separated the reception area by the front door and the main workshop, then closed the glass paneled door so more ghouls couldn’t get immediate access to his position. It wasn’t much of a defense against the infected already tumbling through the front door.
Mancini turned and grabbed some tubs of oil and loose tools on the work bench behind him. He hurled the objects one handed in the ghoul’s direction, in a futile attempt to halt their progress as they stalked him. He took a few hurried strides closer to the pickup truck and glanced through the driver’s window. The keys hung in the ignition and Mancini wondered if the old crock would actually start. Anything was worth a shot in his bleak predicament.
The first ghoul swiped the air in front of Mancini and he batted the grasping hands away with the pole. The second infected man rounded to Mancini’s right flank and tried to leap on top of him. In a combination of a side-swipe and a jerk with the end of the pole, Mancini counteracted his attacker’s momentum to flip him through the air. The ghoul landed heavily on the concrete but was soon scrabbling to his feet.
The first assailant lunged at Mancini again but this time the wooden pole was in a perfect offensive position between his hands. The ghoul roared as he came forward but Mancini rammed the spike between the infected guy’s rows of teeth, shoving the point upwards into the brain. A spurt of blood fired out of the back of the man’s head when the wooden stake rammed through his skull.
Mancini retrieved the pole from the first ghoul’s head and took a defensive stance, ready for the next attack from the second assailant. He’d have to dispatch the guy quickly if he wanted to gain a vital few seconds before the infected crowd were all over him. Mancini took a chance and went on the attack. He took a forward step, holding the pole like a bayoneted rifle and thrust the tapered end into the contaminated man’s face. Bone and sinew shattered as the stake smashed into the ghoul’s nose and upper lip. The jab wasn’t sufficient enough for a kill strike but it did send the infected guy down onto the ground. Mancini rushed forward, aiming the spike down at the man’s eye socket. He stabbed the pole downward and heard a squelching noise, before bone and skull shattered and the man’s face caved inwards.
Mancini wrenched the wooden stake from the ghoul’s mutilated face and glanced towards the garage’s front door. Already, a bunch of infected had gathered in the reception area and collectively they hammered their fists on the flimsy glass partition separating the main workshop and the foyer. He calculated he had roughly twenty seconds before the glass shattered and the assailants would be inside the workshop. They’d be crowded around the street outside the garage too, which made escaping on foot impossible. Mancini’s attention turned back to the battered pickup truck. The vehicle was an old Dodge and had obviously seen better days.
Mancini took a quick glance inside the engine compartment. Everything seemed to be in place but red and black leads, belonging to a charger, were clamped to the battery terminals. Rapidly running out of alternative plans, he decided to give the ignition a try. He opened the door and turned the key. The starter motor whined but the engine didn’t fire.
“Shit,” Mancini hissed and glanced over his shoulder, back at the reception area. The whole glass partition was rocking under the strains of the massing infected.
Mancini tossed the wooden pole across the front seats and tried the starter again, keeping the key turned. He could have kissed the old banger when the engine finally spluttered into life and rumbled in echo around the building walls. Now all he had to do was try and drive the thing out of an overrun garage. He pulled the battery charger leads off the terminals and closed the hood, then hurriedly returned to the cab. Mancini’s heart sank when he saw the red gas light flashing and the needle on the gauge pointed to less than zero in the tank.
He jumped out of the cab and frantically gazed around the workbenches and on the ground beneath them. He saw a green Jerry can and hoped it was maybe full of gas or at least something to run the old Dodge on. Mancini grabbed the container and it felt heavy, at least the damn thing was topped up. He slid the Jerry can across the floor towards the pickup truck bed and flipped open the lid. The unmistakable stench of gasoline burned in his nostrils.
Mancini knew he didn’t have time to fill the gas tank so he decided to take the Jerry can with him. He turned towards the truck bed when he heard the glass partition to his left crack and splinter. The infected were on their way inside. Now he had to hurry all the more.
In his plight to flee, Mancini didn’t notice the second dead ghoul’s trailing arm on the ground as he stumbled towards the truck bed. His left foot snagged on the man’s arm and Mancini toppled forward, dropping the Jerry can as he fell.
“Fuck, no!” Mancini yelled, as he hit the deck.
The container fell sideways, slopping out gasoline that began to pool on the ground beside the pickup truck. Mancini had no choice now but to try and escape in the low fuelled vehicle. He hoped he’d have enough gas in the tank to at least flee the garage.
The first waves of infected demolished what was left of the partition window in the reception area and began tumbling into the workshop. Glass shards that remained inside the frame tore at their flesh, inflicting huge gauges in their torsos, limbs and faces. The infected people’s injures didn’t hamper their pursuit of Mancini.
Chapter Forty-One
The cell phone in Sonny’s pocket chimed with Trey’s ringtone once both vehicles were out of the town’s limits and heading back out into the desert. Sonny flashed Trey a glance and fished inside his pocket for the phone. He looked at the screen and held it up for Trey to see.
“Is that your buddy in the Beetle calling?” he asked.
Trey glanced at the phone screen and saw Mancini’s name as the caller ID. “Yeah, it’s him.” He turned back to face the front of the car and saw Jorge with the phone held to his ear in the VW ahead of them.
“Better see what he wants,” Sonny said, tossing him the cell.
Trey took the phone and answered the call. “Yeah?”
“Who is that guy driving you?” Jorge asked, staring in his rear view mirror.
Trey didn’t have the phone on speaker but he still had to be cautious. “Ah, he fixed up the car and helped us get away, man.”
“So, what’s his angle?”
“Nothing, he just wanted to get out of town, the same as us,” Trey said, glancing at Sonny.
“And you?...What do you intend to do now Mancini is no longer on the scene?” Jorge wanted the money back but knew Trey was armed and could cause him problems.
Trey didn’t know what to say. The situation had rapidly deteriorated since they’d entered the small town. Should he just cut his losses and try and get back to LA? But without resolving the issues and returning empty handed, he’d only endure the wrath of Oreilles and thought of as a total failure. Besides, he and Leticia were still held captive and had to dispose of Sonny before they could progress on their journey.
“Nothing has changed,” Trey snapped. “We’ve still got shit to do.”
“Tell him to pull over at the next stopping point,” Sonny instructed, pointing through the windshield. He wanted to find out exactly what the situation was.
Trey nodded and relayed the message.
“Why is that guy issuing orders?” Jorge asked. “I heard him in the background. Is he dan
gerous?”
Trey wasn’t sure how much of the conversation Sonny could hear. His mind was fogged and he didn’t know what to do for the best. Was it an advantage to warn Jorge or keep in the dark? Trey needed Jorge more than he needed Sonny but Sonny didn’t need Jorge at all.
“Uh…no, we just want to check under the hood to see the T-Bird engine is still running okay,” he said.
“Okay,” Jorge agreed and cut the connection. He decided to stay on the side of caution as he slowed the VW and pulled onto the shoulder.
Sonny took the phone from Trey and followed Jorge onto the shoulder, nosing the T-Bird behind the Beetle. He knew the guy in the VW was carrying a firearm, as he’d seen it in his hand when he was circling in front of the garage. No matter, Sonny decided. He had two firearms and a couple of hostages. He also held the advantage of surprise.
Jorge brought the VW to a halt but remained in his seat. He watched in the rear view mirror, waiting for Trey and the other guy to climb out of the Thunderbird and check the engine. Jorge felt the butt of the Heckler and Koch handgun resting on the seat below his thigh. He was prepared to use the firearm if he had to. The only reason he hadn’t shot Mancini was to let him suffer a while before he was inevitably brought down by the infected. Who knew, Mancini may have managed to hole up someplace, away from the ghoulish hordes. At least Jorge had provided him with a sporting chance. Either way, Mancini would never catch Jorge now or locate the house in La Paz where Luiz had met up with Logrono. Mancini was history. If he survived, he’d have to crawl back to LA somehow, empty handed and full of excuses. Oreilles wouldn’t look on him too favorably and he’d probably be demoted to a lesser role in the organization.
Jorge needed that cash to make his getaway and didn’t care if he had to kill all three occupants of the Thunderbird to get it.
Trey and Sonny hauled themselves from the front of the Thunderbird. Sonny popped the hood and decided to take a look to see if his fix up job was still holding up.
Green Ice: A Deadly High Page 20