Green Ice: A Deadly High

by Christian Fletcher

  “Stay where you are,” Sonny instructed Trey. “I can still draw a weapon and shoot your ass before you make it over to that VW to warn off your buddy.”

  Trey sighed and shoved his hands in his pants pocket.

  Sonny gave the rubber hoses at the bottom of the engine a brief once over and was satisfied they were still in place. He dropped the hood cover and pressed it back into place until he heard it click.

  “Call out to your pal over here,” Sonny demanded.

  Trey turned to the VW. “Hey, Jorge, come here a minute,” he shouted, waving his arm.

  Sonny turned to face the back end of the VW and leaned against the Thunderbird’s nose, waiting for Jorge to exit his car. His right hand drifted around his back, touching the handle of his Beretta then moving to the butt of the Heckler and Koch.

  Trey and Sonny waited but Jorge didn’t budge. Trey looked around to check if Leticia was okay. She sat in the backseat staring into the desert to her left. Trey didn’t want her caught in the crossfire if the standoff resulted in a shoot out. She was the only innocent party in the whole, sorry situation.

  “What’s he doing in there?” Sonny hissed. “Is he jerking off or something?” His impatience was evident. “Okay, go over there and tell him to get out of his car real slow,” he ordered Trey. “And if you try and warn him, I’ll shoot your girlfriend, understand?”

  Trey sighed and nodded. He was growing sick of all the threats every time Sonny wanted him to do something. He considered trying to warn Jorge or somehow telling him to slip him Mancini’s handgun. Alternative scenarios raced through his mind as he slowly made his way towards the VW driver’s door.

  Jorge watched in the car’s mirrors as Trey approached. His body language seemed tense and his facial expression looked stressed and uneasy. Jorge knew Trey wouldn’t exactly be ecstatic that Mancini had departed but he didn’t seem as though he was relieved to have just narrowly escaped a sticky situation with his life either.

  “What’s up?” Jorge asked Trey when he drew alongside the driver’s side window.

  “Uh, we need to talk about what we’re going to do next,” Trey muttered. He glanced back to Sonny, which tipped off Jorge something was wrong.

  “Okay, we’ll talk right here.”

  “I’m finding it difficult to talk through a window, Jorge,” Trey said. “Why don’t you step out here and we can talk in the fresh air, man?”

  Jorge realized he wasn’t going to get his hands on the money by staying put inside the car. He didn’t fully trust Trey, though and he certainly didn’t like the look of the guy standing in front of the Thunderbird.

  “All right,” Jorge sighed. “Step back away from the door, will you? Give me some damn room here.”

  Trey took a few backward paces. Jorge slipped the handgun into the front of his waistband, where he could easily reach it. Then he slowly opened the car door and hauled himself out of the seat. He leaned against the side of the VW, facing Trey.

  “So, what you got in mind?” He didn’t want to talk about the money in front of the new guy.

  Sonny’s hand hovered over the butt of his Beretta. He was pondering at what point to announce his future intentions for the party. The guy in the VW didn’t seem like just a hitchhiker, the way he talked to Trey.

  Trey glanced cautiously at Sonny. Jorge noticed the look and went to draw the Heckler and Koch from the front of his waistband. Sonny’s fingers gripped the Beretta handle and he whipped the firearm out from around his back. Trey took another couple of backwards steps, out of the firing line.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  As Mancini lay on the ground inside the garage, he saw several dozen figures swarm into the workshop. The gasoline from the Jerry can flooded the floor and ran towards the reception area. He reached into his pocket and took out his Zippo lighter, flicked open the lid and ran the flint wheel along his leg. The lighter sparked and produced a flame. Mancini brushed the naked flame by the gasoline puddle, setting it ablaze. Most of the infected were caught in the flaming gasoline patch and screamed as their clothes caught fire. The animated bodies flapped around in the flames, their attack temporarily halted. Black smoke billowed towards the garage roof and now Mancini had inadvertently caused himself another problem. He replaced his lighter in his pocket and scrambled towards the pickup truck. More infected clawed their way through the smashed front door and headed straight for the workshop.

  Mancini slammed the Dodge pickup truck door shut and rammed the transmission into reverse. Somehow, he had to break out of the garage. He didn’t have time to open the sliding doors so he dumped his foot hard on the gas and hoped the truck bed was strong enough to break through the heavy wooden panels.

  Flames licked around the Dodge’s tires as Mancini twisted in his seat and headed for the sliding doors. Burning infected figures leapt at the vehicle, trying to throw themselves onto the cab roof.

  The burning gasoline reached the racking and other flammable materials sizzled and also caught fire, causing a bright fireball, which sent the garage into a raging inferno around the interior walls.

  Mancini felt the heat increasing inside the cab. The transmission whined in protest as the truck gathered speed in reverse gear. He realized he’d probably only get one chance at breaking through the doors. If he failed, he’d either burn to death or be eaten alive. He didn’t have any grand desire to endure any of those options.

  Two burning figures leapt from the gulf of the flames and landed inside the pickup bed. Mancini couldn’t do anything about the situation, he had to keep going.

  The rear end of the truck slammed into the sliding door’s wooden panels. Mancini heard a thunderous shattering and creaking sound as metal collided at speed with wood. The two flaming figures were hurled out of the truck bed and onto the blackening concrete with the force of the impact. The Dodge’s speed slowed almost to a standstill while Mancini was thrown around the cab. The whole vehicle jolted to the right side but the tires regained a grip and drove the truck further backward.

  The rear window in the cab shattered, showering the back of Mancini’s head and neck with small chips of glass. He caught the scent of fresh, early evening air and risked a quick glance through the cab windshield. The smoke cleared slightly and Mancini saw the sliding door in tatters in front of the pickup truck and half the wooden panels were smashed and broken. He was out of the garage and positioned at an angle in the main street but dull thuds reverberated around the cab, which indicated he was surrounded by numerous infected.

  The passenger window shattered and several sets of bloody hands reached inside the cab. Mancini yelled in a combination of triumph and self motivation. He slammed the gear shift into drive and thumped his foot down on the gas pedal. The truck lurched forward and Mancini had a tough job steering in a loop, away from the burning garage. Smoke and flames roared from the gap he’d recently created in the sliding door and burning figures moved at speed out onto the street.

  The steering didn’t feel right and pulled to the right as Mancini accelerated away from the burning building. He was concerned with the amount of bodies still clinging to the vehicle on the passenger side and he glanced in his rear view mirror to check the truck bed. A lone figure of a young infected woman rocked around, crawling her way towards the back of the cab. Around thirty more contaminated ghouls gave chase behind the truck, running down the street at speed.

  Mancini waited until he’d put a few yards distance between the truck and the chasing pack then stamped his foot on the brake. The Dodge jerked to a halt, causing the hangers on to tumble onto the dusty road alongside the pickup. Their bodies rolled through the sand but within a fraction of a second they were scrambling to their feet.

  Mancini heard a loud clanging noise as the woman inside the truck bed slammed head first into one of the support bars. He quickly turned his head and saw the woman had ceased moving. She lay face down on the metallic bed with blood pooling around her head. Stomping on the gas pedal once again, Mancini de
cided to deal with her body once he was clear of the town.

  The lack of fuel in the gas tank was a major concern. He’d have to stop as soon as possible, which would also slow him down in his pursuit of Jorge and Trey. Jorge wouldn’t take flight and go totally under the radar as long as Trey kept hold of the money. Mancini had to catch them up before they split. As for the guy who’d fired at him, Mancini wasn’t sure how he fitted into the scenario but knew he’d have to be extremely wary. He wondered how the whole state of affairs was going to pan out and couldn’t even begin to imagine how perilous the return journey back to LA was going to be. Even if they made it to La Paz and resolved the situation, they were still going to have to endure traveling back through the infected towns and road stops.

  A loud explosion echoed through the streets as Mancini sped through the town’s outer limits. He turned his head and saw a huge fireball loom into the darkening sky above the town. Mancini assumed the flammable material inside the garage had caused the explosion and hoped the blast had wiped out the majority of the town’s infected population. At least, that particular scenario would give him one less thing to worry about.

  Jorge first aimed his Heckler and Koch handgun at Trey then switched his direction when he saw the guy in front of the Thunderbird pointed his own firearm at the same target. Both armed men flashed expressions of confusion for a spit second, before they re-aimed their respective firearms at each other.

  Jorge flashed Trey a concerned glance. “What the fuck is going on, Trey? I thought you were going to pull your piece on me. Who the hell is this guy?”

  “Hold your horses there. I might ask you the same thing, Sparky,” Sonny shouted. “The kid told me you were just some damn hitchhiker. I figured on you and him were some kind of team.” The scenario hadn’t gone as Sonny had planned. He figured Trey and Jorge would have hatched some plot against him.

  Jorge snickered. “You don’t know a damn thing, do you?”

  The conversation was immediately halted when a booming fireball erupted into the sky, a couple of miles behind them.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Mancini decided to dump the dead girl’s body at the nearest pull over. The battered truck was conspicuous enough without a mutilated corpse in the rear compartment. Mancini wondered if any of the rear lights still worked or if they had all been smashed when he’d broken through the garage door. He’d ditch the truck as soon as a better vehicle presented itself and hoped it would be before the damn gas ran dry.

  His gaze alternated between three positions as he drove away from the town of Chorro de Arena. Mancini kept his eye on the road ahead, the fuel gauge and the road behind via his rear view mirror. The last thing he needed was to stop and dump the girl’s body and be surrounded by the chasing pack of infected.

  “Come on, you guys,” Trey groaned. “We’re wasting valuable time here.” His gaze alternated between Jorge and Sonny, aiming their respective firearms at each other. “Those infected goons could be on their way here, right now.” He was also worried about the cause of the explosion they’d recently witnessed. Was it the military or the police authorities finally attempting to end the aggressive outbreak?

  “What was this talk of money?” Sonny barked at Jorge. “I heard you and him talking about money on the phone.”

  Jorge flashed Trey a concerned glance. “Nothing to concern you. If you have any sense, you’ll get yourself out of Mexico, while you still can.”

  “Is that right?” Sonny said, nodding.

  Mancini saw a couple of vehicles stopped on the shoulder up ahead. He slowed the pickup truck when he recognized the rear end of the Thunderbird and the VW Beetle. Jorge stood at the side of the VW, aiming his firearm in the direction of another guy standing between the two vehicles. Leticia sat in the backseat of the Thunderbird and Trey stood a few yards from the side of the Beetle. Mancini quickly surmised that Jorge was holding them all at gunpoint and demanding repossession of the money.

  Jorge heard a vehicle approaching and glanced further down the highway. He considered lowering his firearm but saw the oncoming vehicle was only a beaten up old pickup truck. Probably some guy trying to flee the outbreak by whatever means possible. Sonny heard the truck too. He couldn’t look behind him but gambled on Jorge’s reaction. If it was the cops, Jorge would probably lower his weapon. The handgun remained pointed at him, so Sonny didn’t alter his own stance.

  Trey put his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the glare of the setting sun. He heard a vehicle approach and wondered how it would affect their circumstances. Neither men lowered their firearms and Trey knew the situation was going to continue in a stale mate.

  The wooden fence pole wasn’t much of a defense against a loaded gun but it was the only weapon Mancini had in his possession. He wasn’t going to take Jorge on with only a wooden stake but he did have the element of surprise on his side. As he drew level with the vehicles, Mancini noticed the guy standing in front of the Thunderbird also brandished a firearm. He recognized the surly man as the one who had fired on him outside the garage, back in the town. The strange guy and Jorge were involved in some kind of standoff and too busy glaring at each other to notice Mancini in the truck’s cab.

  Trey watched the truck slowly draw alongside their position and nearly called out when he recognized Mancini in the driver’s seat. Surely, he’d have some plan up his sleeve now he’d witnessed what was going on at the roadside.

  Mancini wasn’t sure what the hell was going on but he knew he had to get Jorge back under his supervision. He’d worry about the other guy and his motives after he’d resolved the current situation.

  When the pickup truck was level with the VW, Mancini sharply turned the steering wheel and put his foot on the gas, heading towards Jorge’s car. He braced himself for the crunching impact of metal against metal.

  Jorge heard the pickup truck’s engine roar as its speed increased and turned his head slightly. He saw the truck hurtling towards him, with the VW Beetle between them.

  For a split second, Mancini saw the panic on Jorge’s face, before the pickup truck slammed into the side of the VW and sent the vehicle reeling onto the sand bank verge at the edge of the shoulder. Jorge scurried out of the way of the collision but lost his footing and fell face first into the dirt, the handgun spilling from his grasp.

  A wave of sand billowed up into the air after the collision, masking all three vehicles for a few seconds.

  Mancini knew he had to get out of the cab and find himself some cover. He grabbed the fence pole and quickly got out of the pickup truck.

  Sonny spluttered in the dust cloud but couldn’t see anybody amongst the swirling sand. Who was the crazy bastard in the truck, who’d just crashed into the VW?

  Jorge couldn’t see anything. He coughed out a combination of phlegm and dust from his throat and patted around in the sand beside him, trying to relocate the firearm.

  Leticia knew she had to move under the brief cover of the dust cloud. She didn’t relish the outcome of the standoff, whoever was victorious. She crawled out of the backseat and over the Thunderbird’s trunk, feeling her way. Sliding down the rear of the car, she crawled between the two back wheels and took sanctuary in the shadows beneath the Thunderbird.

  Trey crouched down, waiting for the dust to settle and to see who he’d be faced with tackling first.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Mancini waited beside the rear wheel of the pickup truck. He resisted the urge to cough out the dust in his throat and up his nose. The sand began to settle or was gusted away in the wind. Somebody staggered forward towards the truck, coughing and retching. Mancini gripped the wooden pole at the ready. The figure stumbled closer through the diminishing dust cloud with the recognizable outline of a handgun held in his right hand.

  Mancini watched the figure reach the Dodge’s open driver’s door and lean inside the truck cab. He recognized the figure as the guy who stood in front of the Thunderbird, aiming a handgun at Jorge. Mancini didn’
t know who the guy was or why he was brandishing a firearm but wasn’t in the mood to ask questions first. He crept along the side of the truck to within a few feet of the armed man.

  The dust totally cleared in the breeze and Sonny sensed somebody behind him. He began to turn and felt something club his right wrist. Searing pain jolted up his right arm and he cried out in agony as the Beretta fell from his hand.

  Mancini followed up his first swing of the wooden pole by aiming at the guy’s head. He’d already managed to disarm the man but he wanted to immobilize him further. The wooden pole struck the man at an angle, across his forehead and the bridge of his nose.

  Sonny felt the impact of something hard strike him on the head. His vision blurred and he felt himself sinking away from consciousness.

  Mancini watched the man go over and land in the sand on his back. He tossed the pole into the truck bed then stood over the guy and checked his pulse. The man was still breathing and alive but rendered unconscious. Mancini frisked him down and found a Heckler and Koch, similar to his own inside the guy’s waistband and a cell phone he recognized as Trey’s. He picked up the guy’s other firearm and quickly studied it. The handgun was a Beretta M9, probably a U.S. military issue weapon. The guy didn’t look much like a military man, more like a gangster or gang member.

  Jorge stumbled to his feet, still searching for the Heckler and Koch he’d dropped.

  “Stay where you are, Jorge,” Trey ordered.

  Jorge half turned and saw Trey crouching beside the sand bank, aiming the weapon at him. He groaned when he realized Trey had scooped up his discarded firearm and he was now a prisoner once again.

  Mancini edged around the truck with both his acquired handguns held out in front of him. He saw Jorge and glanced beyond the cowering figure to see Trey covering him with the handgun.