by MJ Ware
Chapter 13 – There Goes the Cemetery
"Darn it, Nate. I told you to keep the truck running."
"You said keep it warm, not running. How was I to know it wasn't going to start?"
"It was sitting in front of an auto center!"
Crack, crank, crank—still nothing.
"They only do oil changes, tire rotations."
"Your quarreling is comparable to a proverbial married couple. Misty, open the door. I have an idea."
"Kali, stay here—" but it was too late. He was already out of the truck, heading to the dock.
"Where's that little dork going?"
"Cut him some slack, will you?" Misty said with more anger than I expected. "I don't think Kali socializes with kids his own age much. He told me his mom homeschools him."
I tried to start the truck again. Now it wouldn't even turn over. "I hope he has a plan because we are seriously hos—"
"Look..." Misty pointed at the sky. A pair of jets flew overhead.
"Maybe if we flag them down," I suggested.
"No, they—" suddenly we heard a loud thud and felt something smash into the truck. I looked into the rear view mirror just in time to see a forklift rock backward.
Kali had smashed the forks into the back of the truck, which began to slowly roll forward. He unbuckled the seatbelt, jumped down, and ran to the car door.
He didn't get in, but started pushing. "Nice try, but you can't push us all the way home," I yelled.
"No, Nate. I think we're going to pop the clutch. Kali, how do you do it?" Misty asked.
We started picking up a little speed heading downhill, but we only had twenty feet or so before the parking lot leveled out.
"Nate, fully engage the clutch and put the transmission into first gear. Then on my mark, as quickly as possible, fully release the clutch and re-engage it," Kali yelled.
"Are you sure this is going to work?" I frowned, sweat suddenly dripping down my forehead.
"Nate, I've seen my dad do it lots of times." If anyone knew how to pop a clutch, it would be Misty's dad. Their station wagon always broke down.
"Yes, my friend. This will work, but you must fully disengage and re-engage the clutch as quickly as possible."
"Okay, I'm in first gear. Say when." I had no faith this would actually work, or more precisely, that I could do it right. But I didn't have a better idea.
"On my mark...a second more." Kali still pushed and we'd picked up a little more speed.
"Wow, he's strong for a little nerd," I said.
Just when I thought the car would start slowing down, he dove in face-first, right onto Misty's lap, his head almost in mine.
"NOW!" he screamed.
Clutch out, clutch in.
The truck bucked like we'd hit a brick wall, but sure enough the engine revved to life.
"I can't believe that worked," I said.
"Excellent maneuver, Nate." Kali sat up and Misty swung the door closed.
"Just don't stall on the way back," she added.
All eyes were on me. If I stalled now, we couldn't get it started back up. I was about to say don't worry, when we heard the scream of low-flying jets.
"Here they come." I don't recall who said it, because the next second everything went seriously crazy.
We'd made it to the edge of the parking lot when the cemetery went up in flames. Huge flames that seemed to reach up past the sky. Sound so loud it hurt, not explosions, but a roar. I felt the heat through the windshield, quickly drying the sweat off my forehead.
I knew we couldn't get out through the driveway. It was way too close to the flames. So I made a sharp turn, flew over the curb and the truck went sliding down a small grass hill. The barrels shifted and I thought they might fall off.
Somehow, we made it to the street in one piece. I glanced over. Even though Kali had a dark complexion, he looked white as paper. Misty looked no better.
"That was fun. Anyone care to do it again?" I asked.
"Napalm," was all Kali said.
I'd heard of the stuff, but didn't really know what it was. Now at least I knew what it did.
"Oh no. Two more jets coming this way," Misty said. The jets flew directly opposite us. They were huge and so low I could read the numbers on their wings as they passed overhead. I thought they might land right in the street.
Carefully, I put it into fourth gear and smashed the gas pedal.
As we drove farther away, I tried to calm down. But still pushed that old truck as much as I dared.
The sky rang with an explosion, and another, and another—bombs landing back at the cemetery. Still it felt like they were aiming for our rear bumper.
"It would seem the military is following up their deployment of napalm with some form of explosive ordnance," Kali yelled over the thunder of exploding bombs.
"Probably want to make sure they're all dead. That's a pretty big cemetery," I said.
"That is precisely what has me concerned. This barrage will unquestionably destroy at least a portion of the perimeter fence. Any zombies that survive this offensive will be free to roam the streets."
"They might even dig up more graves with those bombs, who knows?"
"Stop it, guys. You're worrying about nothing. The government knows what they're doing," Misty said.
I wanted to ask if she was talking about the same government that left three kids to fend for themselves in a city full of the living dead, but thought better of it.
As we approached Walmart, I could feel that something was wrong with the clutch. By the time we pulled into the parking lot, the truck had a big problem. I kept giving it more and more gas to keep it going. The engine revved up really high, still it barely crawled along.
"Do you guys smell that?" asked Misty.
"I think that's the clutch," I tried to say with a smile. "I'm going to coast into the garage. Kali, jump out and open it for me."
"I'll do it," Misty said.
I wanted to tell her no, but I knew she'd accuse me of being a chauvinist and do it anyway. It wasn't that I thought of Misty as weak. I mean, I always picked her first for dodgeball. I just couldn't live with myself if I let anything happen to her.
I slowed way down and just sort of rolled toward the door. Misty jumped out and ran for the garage, dodging a couple of zombies reaching out to get to know her. They smacked into each other, their heads clinking together like a pair of bowling balls. She managed to get the door open right as the truck rolled up.
The truck died as we rolled into the garage. Smoke streaming out of the undercarriage.
