Chapter Sixty-One
Mancini slowly turned around and crawled back along the plant bed, the way he’d entered the parking lot. He didn’t want to retreat but knew he had to retrieve some items if he wanted to progress further with his mission.
The shadow beneath the café canopy swallowed Mancini up in blackness when he reached the corner of the building. He stealthily crossed over the road, back to the bar doorway. The drunk was still unconscious in the doorway but his prized possession, which was the liquor bottle, lay on the sidewalk a few feet away.
Mancini checked the hobo was still breathing freely then scooped up the liquor bottle. He resisted the urge to take a swig and shoved it into the back of his waistband, alongside the Heckler and Koch handgun. The drunken guy wore dark colored cargo pants and Mancini crouched down and tore away the pocket flap from the left leg. He tucked the cotton strip of material in the front of his waistband and made his way back to the row of shrubs beside the warehouse parking lot.
When Mancini was back in position behind the last plant in the line, he rose to a crouch and sunk into the shadows around the parking lot perimeter. He slowly moved to the nearest vehicle, which looked like a Chevrolet parked at the far end of the lot. Crouching beside the car’s back door nearest the gas tank, Mancini lay the shotgun down beside his feet. He took out the liquor bottle and retrieved the torn pocket flap from the hobo’s pants. First, he unscrewed the bottle cap and tossed it over his shoulder. Then he poured a small shot of liquor over the pocket flap. Mancini quickly stuffed the cotton strip back in the neck of the bottle. He fished around in his pocket for his Zippo lighter.
The orange flame illuminated Mancini’s position and he knew he’d have to be quick now if the plan was going to be a success. He held the Zippo flame to the cotton pocket flap until the alcohol caught fire in a sudden, whooshing flame.
Mancini shoved the lighter back in his pocket, scooped up the shotgun with his free hand and stood up. He faced the Chevrolet’s back window leveling the shotgun and bracing himself while holding the flaming liquor bottle.
Already, the infected milling around the parking lot had spotted him and jerked suddenly into action. They began to run towards Mancini, attracted by the flame around the top of the bottle. Mancini fired the shotgun at the car’s window. The small round pellets from the cartridge tore their way through the air and obliterated the glass panel in the side of the vehicle. The back window on the opposite side also smashed into nothing more than thousands of tiny chips.
Mancini hurled the flaming liquor bottle through the open window, aiming at the solid surface of the dash. The bottle struck the control panel with force and broke into several pieces. The liquor ignited and spread in an eruption of flame throughout the Chevrolet’s interior. Mancini heard growls and shrieks from the infected around the parking lot, the walkway and the fire escape. The two smashed windows on either side of the car caused an oxygen flow, which helped fan the flames and accelerate the spread of the fire.
Mancini stepped back out the way of billowing black smoke spewing from the broken windows. He ducked back into the shadows under the cover of the fire and smoke and stealthily made his way back to the last plant in the soil bed. Dropping down again behind the spiky leaves, Mancini studied the walkway and the fire escape door. Most of the infected hordes were attracted by the brightness of the burning car, the shotgun blast and the sound of smashing glass they’d heard a few seconds previously. They tumbled down the staircase in droves, falling over each other in attempt to be the first on the scene.
The infected crowding around the fire escape door dispersed and followed those stumbling down the walkway. Mancini waited a few seconds with his cell phone in his hand until the walkway was clear. When the last infected person staggered from the walkway and took a few steps into the parking lot, Mancini hit the call button for Trey’s number. He answered on the first ring.
“What’s going down, big guy?”
“Are you at the back door? I’ve drawn them away from the walkway but you only have a few seconds before they come right back,” Mancini whispered.
The infected surrounded the burning Chevy, flapping at the flames with their hands while groaning and screeching. Mancini knew they’d soon realize no humans were inside the car and head on back up the staircase.
“Ah, yeah, we’re almost there…”
Mancini heard a gunshot on the other end of the line. “Trey…what’s going on? Come on, get out of there.”
“One of those suckers in here got a little too close. I’m nearly out of ammo, man.”
“Just get to the door and I can provide you with some cover but you have to get out of there now,” Mancini growled. The line went dead and Mancini wasn’t sure if the signal had died or Trey had cut the call. He slid his phone into his pocket and waited.
The flames grew larger inside the Chevrolet and the remaining windows popped and shattered under the intense heat. The rush of air acted like a chimney and the fire roared higher, shooting out of every side of the car. Some of the infected who stood close by were engulfed in the flames and their hair and clothing were set ablaze.
Mancini kept his eye on the fire escape door, willing Trey and Leticia to hurry up and exit the building.
“Come on, Trey. Where the hell are you?” Mancini muttered.
He moved slightly to his left and the thorns on the spiky leaves brushed against his cheek, causing a thin scratch. He dabbed his fingers against his face where he sensed a slight stinging sensation and felt a smear of blood.
“Shit,” he hissed. Mancini knew the infected people’s sense of smell was heightened and hoped they couldn’t sniff out fresh blood amongst the stench of the burning Chevy.
If Trey left it too long, Mancini would have to abandon the rescue mission and continue on his way without them. He wondered if the fluids inside the engine compartment would heat up and cause an explosion. He knew the gas in the fuel pump and line, the air conditioning system, brake, battery and power steering fluids could cause a blast if heated to an extreme temperature.
The fire escape door opened a crack and Mancini saw somebody peeking out into the parking lot. The door swung open and Trey emerged with Leticia following closely behind. Trey held his handgun in his right hand and gripped Leticia’s wrist with his left. He glanced first at the brightness radiating from the burning car, then in all directions, obviously looking for Mancini but aware of the imminent danger from the infected close by. Mancini couldn’t afford to compromise his hiding place, as he was too close to the infected throng. He scurried across the soil, making his way along the row of bushy plants.
Trey tentatively led the way out of the doorway, across the walkway and started down the staircase. Mancini gazed back to the infected bunch surrounding the flaming car. Some of them sniffed the air as if they could sense a different element to the combination of burning plastic, rubber and metal. Mancini glanced back to the walkway and saw a figure emerge from the fire exit door behind Trey and Leticia. He realized they hadn’t seen the infected guy following them down the staircase.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Mancini wasn’t in a position to call out and warn Trey and Leticia of their pursuer. Trey was glancing in all direction except behind him. Maybe he thought the immediate danger lay right ahead of them and the warehouse interior was no longer a concern. Mancini laid the shotgun in the soil next to him, then hurriedly pulled the semi automatic rifle around from his back to his shoulder. He aligned his aim down the scope and flicked on the laser sight. The scope whined in a high pitched tone and a thin, green laser beam cut through the darkness beyond Mancini’s position.
Trey and Leticia paused at the foot of the staircase, glancing in all direction with worried expressions on their faces. Mancini calculated the distance between his weapon and the moving target. Approximately twenty five yards he surmised. The infected guy stumbled down the steps with his arms raised and his mouth wide open. Mancini guessed he was going to leap on top o
f Trey or Leticia from the staircase. The car fire still burned intensely, casting the rear of the warehouse in an orange hue. Mancini felt the heat on the side of his face as he lined up the target. He moved the rifle slightly, so the green laser sight aligned with the infected guy’s forehead.
Mancini breathed gently through his nose and squeezed the trigger. The round tore through the air at high velocity, following the path of the green laser beam. Trey heard a clanking sound on the walkway behind him and turned his head at exactly the same moment the rifle round penetrated the infected guy’s skull.
“What the fuck, man?” Trey squawked.
The infected guy’s head jerked backwards and the rifle round’s momentum caused his whole body to divert in the opposite direction to which he traveled. He hit the metal staircase hard on his back and slid down the remaining steps, leaving a bloody trail on the treads behind his head.
Alerted by the crack of the rifle shot, Leticia spun around in a circle, searching for the shooter. Trey spotted the green laser beam and followed its path to the bushy plants across the driveway. He pointed towards the spiky foliage with his handgun in an instinctive defensive reaction.
The infected surrounding the burning vehicle became less interested in the flames spiraling into the night sky. They began to turn away from the inferno in small groups and gazed around the parking lot for another objective to focus on.
Mancini knew they didn’t have much time before Trey and Leticia were spotted. He hoped the brightness of the flames had temporarily hampered the infected people’s vision. Trey shuffled forward towards the plant bed, still aiming his firearm at the position where Mancini lay. Mancini couldn’t call out to the couple, fearing the infected would hear. He flicked off the laser sight and stood up, hoping Trey would immediately recognize him and not fire his handgun in a state of gung-ho surprise. Mancini raised the rifle above his head and prayed the glow from the burning Chevy would illuminate him sufficiently for Trey to see him clearly.
Trey gasped and his finger edged back on the Heckler and Koch trigger but not sufficiently to discharge a round. He saw a guy in the shadows behind the row of plants and held his fire.
“Mancini?”
Mancini glanced to the blazing Chevrolet to his left, slung the rifle around his shoulder and picked up the shotgun. He had to move immediately while they still had a short distance between them and the infected horde. Using the shotgun butt to brush aside the spiky leaves, he strode through the plant bed towards Trey and Leticia. The infected growled and sniffed the air, edging through the parking lot back towards the rear of the warehouse. Mancini aimed the shotgun towards the back end of the parking lot, where the infected began to bunch together into a solid crowd.
Trey lowered his firearm and gestured with his head towards the street beyond the warehouse driveway.
“Let’s move,” Mancini muttered, before breaking into a fast trot towards the street.
Trey nodded and headed after Mancini, tugging Leticia’s hand as he moved. They heard the infected snarl and shriek behind them as they fled the parking lot. Mancini didn’t bother to look around or glance over his shoulder. He knew the infected gang was coming after them.
“This way,” Mancini grunted, as he veered right when they reached the street.
Trey and Leticia followed, their heads swiveling back to the warehouse.
“I think they’ve seen us,” Trey hissed.
“No shit,” Mancini snapped. “Get your car keys ready so you can fire up the T-Bird as soon as we get back there.”
“Where’s Jorge? Didn’t he make it?” Leticia asked.
“He’s safe enough, for now,” Mancini muttered. He upped the pace and broke out into a gallop, leaving Trey and Leticia a few yards behind.
Mancini led the way back through the alleyway. He slowed to a brisk walking pace, partly to allow Trey and Leticia to catch up and partly to scour the darkness for any signs of sudden movement. Rapidly moving foot falls behind him caused Mancini to spin around, aiming the shotgun at the source of the sounds.
“Mancini?” Trey called out, squinting into the dark alley. “You there, man?”
“Hurry it up,” Mancini growled. “Let’s get out of this fucking city.”
They huddled close and hurried through the alleyway, moving in hunched stances with Mancini and Trey at the front. Leticia gripped Trey’s free hand as she followed behind.
“Jesus, man,” Trey muttered. “I thought we were out the game in that damn warehouse, man.”
“We’re not in the land of milk and cookies yet, dude,” Mancini snapped, mocking the way Trey spoke.
They stopped moving and drew close to the wall at the opposite end of the alleyway. Mancini scoured the litter strewn street for any signs of infected hostiles or cops. The Thunderbird was still in its same position and the Nissan was still parked on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. Mancini couldn’t see anybody roaming around the vicinity but heard shrill shrieking and grunts from behind him.
“Looks all clear out there,” he murmured, nodding ahead. “But it sounds like those goons are right on our tail.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
Mancini led the way, edging onto the street and approaching the Thunderbird. Trey and Leticia slowly followed, nervously glancing behind them, back down the alley.
“Where the hell is Jorge?” Trey hissed.
“Just get the car fired up, I’ll get Jorge,” Mancini barked.
Trey shrugged and jumped into the Thunderbird’s driver’s seat. Leticia clambered over the side into the back, breathing heavily with exertion. Mancini ran over to the Nissan and rapped on the back window with his knuckles, glancing back to the alley.
“Come on, Jorge. Time to shake, rattle and roll.”
Mancini impatiently waited a few seconds without a response. He tapped on the window again, this time with the shotgun barrel.
“Hurry it up, Jorge. Don’t jerk me off here. We have around ten fucking seconds to get out of here or we’re in a world of shit.”
Mancini tried to open the car’s back door but it was locked. He peered into the interior but couldn’t see anybody inside the vehicle. Jorge would definitely have been left stranded if Mancini didn’t need him. The rumble of the Thunderbird engine reverberated around the street.
“Hey, come on, man. Let’s go, already,” Trey called above the engine noise.
Mancini glanced behind him towards the alley entrance, then back to the Nissan in front of him. He calculated the infected crowd was approximately fifteen yards from the street.
“Fuck it,” he hissed, leveling the shotgun barrel and angling it high against the Nissan window.
“They’re coming, man. We have to go or they’ll be all over us,” Trey yelled from the Thunderbird.
Mancini fired the shotgun, obliterating the Nissan’s back windows on both sides. The boom of the firearm, combined with the sound of shattering glass echoed across the street.
“Ah, good call, man,” Trey shouted, throwing up his arms in exasperation. “Let the whole world know where we’re at, why don’t you?”
Mancini reached through the shattered window and opened the back door. A ghost like face loomed from the blackness inside the Nissan interior and Mancini jumped backwards, re-aiming the shotgun. He was a millisecond from discharging the firearm before he recognized the worried, hang-dog features on the emerging face.
“Jesus Christ, Jorge. You scared the crap out of me,” Mancini barked. “Why the hell didn’t you reply when I knocked on the window?”
Jorge blinked sleep away then shrugged. “You scared me also. Why did you have to shoot the windows out? I found a blanket on the back shelf and made myself comfortable. I didn’t hear you, I was sleeping. What the hell is going on now?”
Mancini didn’t bother to respond to Jorge’s gripes and queries. He reached into the Nissan interior and grabbed hold of the front of Jorge’s shirt and wrenched him up and out of the foot wells. Jorge winced and moaned
in pain as his injured ankle snagged against the ridge at the bottom of the open door. Mancini propelled Jorge over the sidewalk, hurling him towards the Thunderbird.
“Get the fuck in the car,” he yelled.
Jorge stumbled, crying out when the pain shot up from his ankle through his body. He fell against the side of the Thunderbird and clung on to the top of the passenger door.
“You are nothing but a thug, Mancini,” he spat. “You are a violent bully. The world would be a better place without people like you.”
Shadows of human shapes with raised arms emerged across the Thunderbird’s headlamp beams. High pitched screams and low grunts grew in volume, almost drowning out the rumble of the car engine.
Mancini glanced at the alleyway and saw the infected horde pouring from the narrow passage onto the street.
“Get in the fucking car, asshole,” Mancini growled, pointing the shotgun barrel at Jorge’s head. “I don’t like you and I don’t give a shit whether you live or die after this is all over but right now, I need you alive so move your crippled ass into that back seat or I’ll blow out one of your kneecaps right here on this damn street and give you something serious to piss and whine about.” He lowered the shotgun parallel with the middle of Jorge’s leg.
Jorge made a snorting protest but complied with Mancini’s threatening request all the same. He hauled himself upright, using the side of the Thunderbird as leverage. Leticia leaned across the backseat and helped pull him inside the interior. Jorge winced and cried out when his injured ankle bumped against the side of the car as he crawled inside. Mancini jumped into the front passenger seat without opening the door, placed the shotgun and the Heckler and Koch handgun at his feet then wrenched the semi automatic rifle from his shoulder.
“Hit the gas, Trey,” Mancini instructed.
Green Ice: A Deadly High Page 29