Part 11 (2/2)
”Must have heard the shotgun,” Shaun offered.
”Yeah, figured they might,” Frank replied.
Dejah watched the grainy black and white of the monitor closely. ”Maybe we can outwait them.”
”No. It's time to go. It was nice while it lasted, but the Bocadomart honeymoon's come to an end. I think our best bet is for me to back the Hummer up to the front door. Get in as tight as I can. We'll load the stuff up through the back of the vehicle. That way none of those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds can get to us while we're loading.”
”But what about while you're running out there to get into the Hummer?” Dejah said.
”It's right there. I'll be in and turned around in a few seconds. Y'all stand ready to open this security door when you hear me backing up.”
”Okay,” Dejah said, a scowl on her face. ”You're going under a crack in the metal door to get outside?”
”Well, I ain't doin' the Limbo, but yeah, I'll go under the door and run to the Hummer.”
Frank loaded a Glock and stuck it in the front of his pants. He fished his car keys from his pocket and waited for Dejah to get ready to open the security doors.
”Wait,” Dejah said, panic in her voice. ”Let me try calling Thomas one more time.” Shaun and Frank stood there, silent, as she ran to the phone, and dialed the number. They waited for what they knew she knew she'd hear. Dejah put the receiver back onto the phone with a look of despair. She stared at the phone, and then said, quietly, ”Okay. Let's go.”
Dejah pulled up the security door, revealing a sliver of darkening twilight and concrete, while Frank scurried outside. She quickly closed the door as soon as he slipped out. Shaun monitored the surveillance screen. ”Okay! He's in!” They heard the rumble of the Hummer starting up outside, and Dejah listened for the sound of Frank backing the truck up against the door.
Shaun shouted from the monitor. ”Open the door!”
With an upward thrust, Dejah let the security door roll. They yanked open the back door of the Hummer and began pus.h.i.+ng the supplies inside. Frank had previously removed all but the front seat. Obviously, he'd thought of this before. The two of them handed things to Frank inside the Hummer and he arranged the gas toward the back with the food and ammo in the front. He left a hole for Shaun to sit and a small pa.s.sage to squeeze through to get into the vehicle so no one would have to go outside the Hummer.
As they packed, the moans of the infected could be heard coming closer. Finally, they heard fists pounding on the sides of the vehicle, and talon-like scratching on the Hummer's exterior.
”That's it,” Dejah said. She cracked the top of a bottle of water and gulped it. ”Last chance for a cold drink.”
”Or hot coffee,” Frank said with a sorrowful laugh.
Shaun rolled up a few crossword and comic books, tying them with the blue pen and chain, and tucked them under his arm. ”Adios, Bocadomart!”
Frank and Dejah crawled into the Hummer. Shaun jumped in after them, pulling the Hummer door closed.
The Hummer rocked with the force of the gathering infected. Faces smashed against the windows, smearing mucous and blood around on the gla.s.s like mud from a rainstorm.
”Oh G.o.d!” Dejah shrieked as a large man leapt toward the front grill of the Hummer.
”Hold on to your hats!” Frank shouted and floored the gas. The Hummer's tires screeched as it shot forward, sucking the snarling man under the front of the vehicle. The thud and b.u.mps of several other zombies falling beneath the wheels were loud inside the cab, like tennis shoes thumping inside a clothes dryer.
They tore out of the parking lot as the street lamps came on, illuminating the night in a white glow that showed the full extent of the neighborhood's decay on every street corner. Dejah looked through the rear window, over the bouncing boxes of supplies, at the crowds of the infected that stirred at their vehicle's pa.s.sing. Shaun clutched the nearest box for stability, his eyes glued to the road in front. Their eyes met for an instant, full of fear, and grim determination.
CHAPTER 18.
Frank drove the Hummer over a curb and around the three cars blocking the street. Carefully, he wedged between two trucks, pus.h.i.+ng one slightly to the side to fit through. Vehicles were stalled everywhere. And, where there weren't cars, there were bodies. Bodies of the ones fortunate enough to be immune from the infection, but unfortunate enough to have fallen victim to the infected. Gutted corpses lay face down with black puddles coagulated around sprawled limbs. Dismembered bodies lay belly up, hollowed cavities burrowed through tattered fragments of clothing where flesh and innards once were. Dogs gathered around the body of a hitchhiker, his guitar case still clutched in one rigid hand. Frank slowed the Hummer to a crawl as they observed the scene. The man was long since dead - whole sections of his legs already gnawed, one of his arms missing. The dogs were just cleaning up the sc.r.a.ps.
”Those dogs don't look infected,” Dejah said.
”Probably not, but they still need to eat.” Frank resumed speed, swerving to miss the grisly congregation.
They drove on for an interminable period of time. It was slow going, stretching into hours. Dejah felt as if her internal clock was slowed by the lurking sense of hopelessness that still tried to overtake her. Time crawled and tortured her with potential horrors. To make things worse, moonlight cast long shadows over the terrain before them, and the awful realization that they'd spent a whole night just getting from Duncanville through Lancaster weighted her heart. A drive that wouldn't have taken any more than 20 minutes on a good day ... now it had taken them all f.u.c.king night.
This stretch of Interstate 20 was a mess, but nowhere near the congested impa.s.se that Arlington had been. The road was navigable, especially with the Hummer, and that was blessing enough to tide her over. Still, there were a lot of the infected out among the wreckage. Presumably, they were busy cleaning the sc.r.a.ps among the gathered shadows of night.
Occasionally a h.o.a.rd of wandering Sickies would snap their heads in the direction of the moving Hummer, cognizant enough to realize that someone alive and uninfected must be driving the vehicle. A few of the Sickies would begin to trail after them, but were usually distracted by some other noise, meandering off other directions. One persistent zombie jogged along behind them at a pretty good clip. Obviously, this one had been an athlete before the infection hit. He ran with a determined pace, eyes fixated on the b.u.mper of the Hummer, running until a big gray cat rummaging through wreckage caught his attention. The man stopped, turned to the cat, s.n.a.t.c.hed it from the bench and bit into it like a pita sandwich. The cat screeched and shrieked, thras.h.i.+ng, making every attempt to escape the clutches of the zombie, but the fiend held fast. Two good bites and the furry pet went limp in the hands of the infected jogger. They drove onward, glancing back as the man buried his face in the s.h.a.ggy blood-dripping feline.
Dejah s.h.i.+vered. They were everywhere. She looked back toward Shaun. He was curled into a ball, a beach towel pulled over him, snoring softly. She returned her gaze to the road, which seemed a little less clogged with abandoned vehicles now. ”Looks like the cars are thinning out.”
”Yeah, hoping our luck holds out. Maybe they're all at church.” He chuckled.
Dejah frowned. ”Church is probably over by now.”
”Yep. You're right. It's a few minutes after midnight.”
”It seems like it's been a million years.” Dejah watched through the tinted window as buildings and empty sidewalks flashed beside them.
”Funny how time moves when you don't have the daily grind to remind you of schedules and routines.”
”Or you're separated from the ones you love.”
Frank gave an ambiguous grunt. ”You miss your husband?”
”I miss my baby girl. I'm crazy with worry, Frank. It's driving me nuts not knowing what's going on with her. Only thing keeping me together is heading that direction. Getting a little closer.”
”What about Thomas?” Frank asked. ”That his name?”
”Yeah. I don't know about Thomas.” Dejah wasn't lying. She didn't know how she felt about Thomas. She wasn't angry anymore. Too much had happened to put all that in perspective. All she cared about now was getting to Greenville and finding her child. Everything, everyone else was secondary.
”Having problems?”
”In our marriage?”
”Well, I don't mean to pry, but ... well, h.e.l.l, yeah I do. Figure it doesn't matter much if I use my manners anymore. Not that I was ever good with them to begin with.”
Dejah regarded his profile silhouetted against the driver side window. His eyes squinted into the night, deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and in the furrow of his brow making him almost handsome. She imagined him as a younger man and wondered how much his wife had loved him, and what their relations.h.i.+p was like to have lasted so long.
”We've had our problems for a long time,” she said. ”Part of it is me, I guess; part of it is him. I admit I could try to change, but he won't tell me what it is that's eating at him, and refuses to admit that he needs to change at all. It's all me in his eyes. I tried for a while. I really did. But you can only go on so long banging your head against a wall that doesn't budge. I guess I came to the point where I realized nothing was going to change. And our problems, I just chose to ignore them. I guess I figured if I could ignore them long enough, they'd stop being factors working against me. Like I could drain them of their power. Then maybe they'd go away.”
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