by MJ Ware
Chapter 12 – Kid to Work Day
The late afternoon sun melted below the trees. In our narrow valley, there're hours more light after sunset. But we still needed to get moving on our new plan. I think the idea of doing something—anything, besides hiding out—sounded good to all of us.
Kali grabbed four big weed sprayers from the garden section and Misty showed him how to mix the juice so the zombies wouldn't burst into flames.
We couldn't take the Mustang; Kali thought the acid stuff might be in fifty-five gallon drums. Fortunately, an old flatbed truck sat in the parking lot out by the auto center. I figured there was a good chance the keys might be hanging on the wall behind the service desk.
"There's three pairs of Ford keys—better grab 'em all," I said as we stood around nervously. "If none work, we'll have to get back quick."
"If needed, I believe I can bypass the lock cylinder and engage the vehicle's engine using the starter solenoid, at least in theory," Kali offered.
"You mean you can hotwire it?" asked Misty.
"Let's see how it goes," I said. If the keys didn't work, I wasn't about to stand around and see if our wiz-kid could hotwire it while we fought off every zombie in town.
"It would be prudent to bring this pallet lift to assist in maneuvering the barrels."
"I hope he's right and the paper factory actually has the acid," I whispered to Misty as we moved the pallets blocking the garage door. "We're taking a big risk on the word of a nine-year-old nerd with a girl's name."
"Have a little faith, Nate." Misty climbed on a pallet of dog food and looked out a small window built into the door. "Looks as clear as it's going to get."
Every time that door opened, my heart raced. We never knew how many zombies would be waiting.
There were a lot of them. They wandered aimlessly; bumping into each other like slow, bloody pool balls. They looked desperate now; more were bleeding, some missing bits and pieces. Almost as if they'd been nibbling on each other.
Fortunately, we only had to deal with three between us and the truck. I took out two and Misty got one.
Kali carried the extra sprayers and looked a little dazed. Misty grabbed the pallet jack and I ran, keys in hand, to the truck. It looked a whole lot older up close: graying white paint marred with dents, scratches, and lots of mud.
Finally, we had a bit of luck. I guessed the right key on the first try. The door opened with a rusty creak.
Misty and Kali were having trouble getting the jack up into the bed. "Just a sec, I'll help," I yelled.
I quickly sprayed two approaching zombies and ran back to assist. By now, I could pretty much block out their death screams as they fell to the asphalt.
With a lot of effort, we got the jack into the truck. It had those tie-down things, so securing it was a snap.
By the time we loaded into the cab, all the walking-dead in the parking lot were heading our way. We got out of there right before things started to get ugly.
"Nate, take the second left," Misty said. "It's a block out of the way, but it's a wider road. Less likely to get clogged with these freaks."
"Hey, don't call Kali a freak; geeks are people, too."
"Shut up and concentrate on your driving. We don't want to stall again."
Misty and Kali cracked the windows and stuck the sprayer nozzles out. I left my Super Soaker backpack on. I wasn't taking it off again, even to pee.
The gears in this old truck were super wide apart, but I think I was starting to get the hang of driving stick. I only stalled once.
"Hey, guys. Just thought of something. Might be sorta important." Misty had a big curl of hair in her mouth.
"What?" I asked with a sigh.
"I just remembered Foley Paper is right next to the city cemetery," she said as she shot her sprayer at a passing zombie, hitting it right across the face.
"Oh, this is bad," I said. We'd seen lots of undead, but most didn't appear to have been in the ground for long. I'm guessing they were victims before becoming zombies. You know—bitten, managed to get away, only later to be zombified themselves.
"I don't think we have much choice. Our whole plan centers around getting the acid," Misty replied.
As we approached the cemetery, I dropped into first gear—we crawled along.
We rounded the corner, prepared for the worst. But our luck held out—well, sort of.
"The cemetery gates are locked. They can't get out," I said enthusiastically.
Most were caked in dirt, half dressed, many missing limbs. Some had ripped their lips to shreds trying to get their wired-shut mouths open. They all pressed up against the wrought-iron fence like rioters at a European soccer match. The ones closest to the gates had been trampled. But besides that, they didn't look to be pushing too hard. The fence seemed to be holding.
"Geez, look how many of them there are," said Misty, pointing.
Kali stuck his oversized nose between us from the crew cab. "There must be hundreds more inside. That cemetery holds thousands of graves."
Kali wasn't a bad kid, but for some reason even when he was right, he got on my nerves. Like just then, I wanted to grab his head and push him into the back seat.
"It doesn't look like they're too serious about breaking the gate down. If we're fast, we might be all right," I said.
Misty pointed. "There's loading ramps around on the left. Maybe they'll be open."
We drove around back to find all the loading doors closed. The building was huge: two massive smoke stacks, conveyors and pipes running everywhere. But the whole place seemed shut up.
"Just like Foley Paper, making everyone lock up before evacuating," I said.
I drove right up to the front door, and started to get out. Misty put her hand on my arm.
"Nate, drive the truck around to the loading dock. I know my way around. Just keep honking so we'll know which dock you're at."
"No, I'm coming too. Once we get-—"
"Nate, there's no time. If those zombies smell us, they're going to start pushing that fence." She dashed through the front door.
I clenched my jaw as I thought about staying behind, though I knew she was right.
"Hey, do not worry, Nate. I will protect your girlfriend." And Kali ran off too.
"She's not my girlfriend!" I yelled to myself; he'd already gone. How did Kali get off calling Misty my girlfriend? Where'd he get an idea like that? It's not as if we held hands or anything.
The loading dock sloped slightly up, which made backing up a little tricky. Twice, I smashed into the side rails—low speed, not much damage. I managed to grind up the gears pretty good, though. I'm sure the owner wasn't going to be happy when he went to Walmart to pick his truck up. If he was even still alive.
From the dock, I could make out the corner of the cemetery a good hundred yards away. I might have been imagining it, but I think the zombies had started pushing against the fence. Maybe they really could smell us.
As soon as I finished backing up, I started laying on the horn. I turned on the radio, thinking maybe I could get the emergency alert station. Tuned it to AM sixteen-ten and sure enough, over the wail of the horn, I heard that familiar buzz that always seemed to interrupt Kung Fu Theater every time a thunderstorm rolled in.
A second later, Misty smiled in my rear view mirror.
"Sorry, the loading dock is closed due to the Zombie Holiday."
"Ha, ha," I said without smiling and started to get out of the truck.
"Nate, keep the engine warm. Kali's already found where the chemicals are stored. He's locating the sulfuric acid. Stay in the truck; we've got it covered."
I frowned, but got back in. Misty stepped onto the bed to get the pallet jack. The flatbed was a couple of inches higher than the dock, making it almost the perfect height.
"Need some help with that?" I asked Misty as she pulled the jack onto the dock.
"No, thank you. I've got it—just stay put."
I was trying to think of a reason to join them wh
en the emergency alert started.
"This is the Emergency Alert System. This is not a test."
No duh, I thought.
The voice sounded a little freaked. Like they'd just handed a script to someone off the street and told him to read.
"The Cities of Greenburg, Indian Springs, and Quincy are under mandatory quarantine by order of the Federal Emergency Management Agency. Under no circumstances should anyone enter these restricted areas. Persons found attempting to enter quarantined areas will be detained and subject to mandatory medical quarantine."
The message stopped. It sounded as if they didn't give a rat's rear about anyone unlucky enough to still be in the quarantine zone.
When it started up again, I expected a repeat, but it was different. "On May twenty-seventh at seven p.m., the following areas will be sterilized and are subject to ordnance detonation. These areas should be avoided, including a radius of one mile." Ordnance detonation, yeah, I think that should be avoided.
"Greenburg funeral home, Greenburg mortuary, Indian Springs Cemetery, Quincy East Lawn—" Wait, did he say Indian Springs Cemetery? What time is it? Oh, crud it's seven-fifteen. We had to get the heck out of there, and fast.
I grabbed the keys and ran to the dock. As I climbed up, I saw Misty and Kali coming my way, both pushing pallets with large drums on them.
"We located a second pallet lift. I should have deduced there would be several at this facility," Kali said.
"Nathan, I thought I told you to stay in the truck. We don't need any help. You're such a chauvinist. I can—"
Misty must not have got a good look at me or she probably would have noticed the expression of utter terror that must have been on my face. "Quick, we've got to get out of here, now!"
"What are you blabbering about?" she asked.
"Bombs—they are going to bomb the cemetery!"
"What? When?"
"Now, at any time—let's go." I started climbing back down the dock.
"Wait, it's essential we procure the sulfuric acid. It will only take a moment to load, and if we fail, so might any hope of survival."
I could have cared less about the acid, but this wasn't a time for arguing and Misty wouldn't have let me leave without Kali. I jumped up and helped him push his pallet over the lip and into the truck. It only took us a minute to load and strap down both pallets. We didn't even bother removing the jacks.
"Get your rears in the truck!"
There was just one problem: our luck ran out.
I turned the key, but the truck wouldn't start. It turned over, groaned and moaned, but didn't start.
