by Shana Festa
We were in a short hallway with a clear view to the service desk. The metal roll-down shutters were lowered and signs of a struggle were evident. A long-dry mess of blood and scattered papers littered the area in front of the desk. Something dead had wanted whatever was behind those shutters, which meant at one time there was something alive behind them.
To our immediate right was the service bay, dark behind a large set of glass doors. It was a no-brainer. We went left, toward the showroom, which was much brighter due to the wall of windows. Halfway down the hall were two vending machines. I noted that they were both intact, and the clear panel covering the front of the candy machine made it easy to see the full stock of goodies. Its condition would have been much different had there been people left alive in the building.
Vinny put his arm out, blocking our passage and whispered, "Listen."
I heard it, a soft rhythmic thumping.
"What do you think it is?" asked Meg.
"Nothing good. Be ready for anything."
We continued to the opening of the showroom. The first smell of death hit me and I knew we weren't alone. The cavernous room made it difficult to locate the thumping. Vinny gave Jake the sign to go left, indicating he would take the right. A wave of sadness rushed through me, remembering a time not so long ago that Seth had made up hand signals to mess with me, and to try to cheer me up after Jake's team went missing.
Meg and I stood guard at the opening, ready to take out any threats that came at us head on. Okay, so maybe ready was a bit of an overstatement. It was more like we stood there huddled together ready to shit our pants at the first sign of trouble.
Daphne shifted in the bag, jostling the strap's position on my shoulder and nearly causing the strap to slide off. Jesus, I thought, please just let her stay quiet for a few more minutes. Meg cocked her head, questioning my sudden stiffness and, without moving, I shifted my eyes to the bag. Realization dawned and I saw her fear.
I saw Jake through a gap between two display models; he was almost to the front of the showroom. Vinny mirrored his progress on the other side, pointing to something outside my line of sight. When they both raised their weapons and began moving closer to each other, I knew they'd spotted a bogey. Both men disappeared behind the massive SUV, and I held my breath waiting for something to happen.
An oomph echoed in the big room, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.
"Clear," boomed Jake.
I rolled my eyes at Meg and gave a mock salute. "Aye Aye, Captain."
The inert form of a man lay face down on the linoleum, the Nissan logo on the back of his short-sleeve shirt and—what I hoped were grease stained—pants identifying him as a service employee.
"I cleared the offices on my way up," said Jake, who was currently lying flat on his stomach and panning the showroom floor to check for any hiding mobs. "I think we should stay in the biggest office for the night. When the sun starts to fade, it will be easier to see us moving around in here. I don't want to gather a crowd."
"Before we lock ourselves in, let's go liberate the vending machines of their spoils." I held up BB, the nickname I'd bestowed upon my crowbar since The Brain-Biter was quite the mouthful, and smiled mischievously before turning back to do a little shopping…apocalypse style. Holding up my hand, I ordered Daphne to stay. There were too many nooks and crannies for her to investigate and I didn't want her to get into any trouble.
The four of us eyed the Armada in the middle of the showroom. Sleek black metal with windows tinted almost as dark as the paint. With its third row of seating, that thing was big enough for a family of seven.
"Gas is going to be an issue," pointed out Vinny, reading the window sticker's claim of fifteen miles per gallon for city driving and 19 for highway mileage.
Meg stood at the back of the beast, peering into the cargo area. "Not to mention, storage. Hmm, I wonder what this button does?" I heard a mechanical buzz and watched from the passenger seat as the third row disappeared, leaving ample space for supplies. "Scratch that, storage is a go for liftoff."
"Gas is still going to be an issue," Vinny deadpanned, "unless you can find another magic button."
The keys sat in the middle console. Well, the key fob, rather. The car ignition was a button on the dashboard. I pushed the button and the interior controls sprang to life. "Only an eighth of a tank."
"That's a problem we'll have to figure out tomorrow," said Jake. "There's a bit too much activity for my liking out there. Let's batten down the hatches and get some shuteye."
Without any windows, the small space was utter blackness.
"Ow!' exclaimed Vinny. "Fuck my life. Who the hell just hit me in the nuts?"
It was a happy accident that I stumbled into him and elbowed him in the junk, but I decided to capitalize on the moment to declare retribution. "Told you I’d make good on that earlier promise."
I shimmied closer to Jake on the unpadded commercial carpet and winced when my hip dug into the floor. This was going to be a long night.
* * *
"I've been in there before. Straight ahead is the pit, to the left is the parts storage, and to the right is the bay door." I cupped my hands around my eyes and pressed my nose against the glass to get a better view of the service bay.
"It's so dark," said Meg. "How are we going to see anything?"
"Yes!" Cheered Vinny, spotting a shelf stocked with emergency kits. "Ask and you shall receive, my child."
"Dork."
Vinny looked at me, annoyed. "Is she a dog or a fucking baby?"
Daphne was locked up tight for safe keeping in the office we'd slept in. She was apparently having some separation anxiety and throwing a fit. She bounced between a variety of sounds—barking, whining and howling—and each of them pierced through the otherwise silent dealership.
"Child," I said, "definitely a child."
We tore open the kits, each containing a small Maglite, and prepared to enter the dark service area.
"Time to nut-up," joked Jake. He was dancing around like Rocky preparing to step into the ring, and Vinny was squeezing his shoulders like his trainer.
"Limber up. Get that blood pumping," he encouraged.
Vinny was still behind him, but now he was singing the opening to Eye of the Tiger.
"Dun. Dun-dun-dun. Dun-dun-dun. Dun-dun-DUN." And I'll be damned if that song wasn't a master motivator. Meg and I started to air punch, pretending to spar.
"Yo, Adrian," Jake said in his pitiful attempt at a Stallone imitation. Play time over, he gave us all a hard look. "We good?"
"Good," we replied in unison.
"Goddammit!" I started. A hand slapped against the glass door, followed by the gaunt face of death. It appeared disembodied against the background of the dark room. The swinging door pushed in infinitesimally and slid back into place. We jumped at the frightening surprise, each of us clutching our chests to stop our hearts from pounding through. The hand slid down the glass, leaving bits of sloughed off skin and making a squeaking sound that raked my ears like nails on a chalkboard.
"Motherfucker!" blurted Vinny. We all turned to him and saw him holding his head in his hands.
"What?" asked Jake.
"Son of a bitch scared the piss outta me."
Our heads lowered to his groin region where, sure as shit, a tiny dark spot had appeared through his pants.
"Dude," was Jake's only reply.
Another slap jarred us back to the moment and the door swung a little further, this time gaining enough momentum to swing back at the corpse, bounce off its forehead, and come away with a bit of yuck.
It gave me an idea. "Ready? Set?" I asked, bracing myself. "Go!"
I charged the door, leaning in with my shoulder, and shoved it with all my might. The sudden impact caused the zombie to fly backwards a few feet and hit the floor with a sickening crunch.
The four of us stood in the open doorway. We must have looked like a bunch of idiots, all leaning in and gawking at
the scene. The crunching sound was the zombie's skull splitting open on the concrete floor, and it was down for the count. I was slightly more proud of myself than I probably should have been.
"Nailed it in one," I said, raising my hand for a high-five. My family just looked at me like I was a dumbass, which technically I was. So, I high-fived myself. "What?" I asked them. They were still staring at me.
"Dumbass," said Vinny.
We stepped cautiously into the dark bay, scanning as much of the area as our small Maglite beams could cover. The open pit revealed several undead scratching at the concrete around it. My internal threat detector read minimal and I continued panning the area toward the outer door. Because this was the area customers drove their cars into, there were no places any zombies could skulk behind.
Satisfied that I could safely turn my back on the area, I changed directions and slowly swept the light along the workbench lined behind the pit. The area looked like a macabre canvas, painted with blood and butchery. I felt the muscles of my face contort into a look of revulsion.
I could hear all of us breathing heavily. I'd always had an issue with dark places; they just weren't my cup of tea. In addition to our breathing, the pit zoms were making quite the racket. Between their scratching, moaning, and wait…did one of them just growl? Creepy. All that noise made it difficult to hear if there was anything else in the space with us.
As a unit, we inched our way to the far end of the bay and closer to the parts department. Something metal rolled on the concrete behind us, and we turned, flashing the lights every which way in panic. A rat scurried out of a large can that had tipped on its side.
"Ew, ew, ew," cried Meg. "I hate rats."
Content that the rat had caused the noise, and not seeing anything to convince us otherwise, we turned back to our destination.
Five sets of dull eyes were trained on us, advancing slowly in the dark. They'd silently closed the distance while we were rodent hunting. I must have gotten used to their stench because I could usually smell zombies approaching.
"Fall back!" yelled Jake. "Get back to the door. We'll get them as they come through one by one."
I ran at a full sprint, Meg in front of me, Vinny behind, and Jake bringing up the rear. Jake was nearly through the glass doors when one of the zombies broke from the pack and came at Jake at a near run.
"Look out!" I yelled. Jake stopped abruptly after clearing the door, and sidestepped to the right, tripping the uncoordinated zombie and bringing his screwdriver down in a fast lunge. The sharp tool struck the back of its skull before it hit the floor and gravity did the rest.
With no time to spare, Jake was back on his feet and waiting for the first shambler to breach the door. A foul stink unlike any I'd smelled before blasted us and nearly brought the lot of us to our knees retching. The infamous hork-hork melody of dry heaving made an appearance from all of us, and we looked at each other with pleading eyes for no one to open the floodgates. We were sympathetic pukers, and if one of us spewed right here and now, the rest of us would follow.
"Jesus," said Vinny, his voice muffled from burying his nose in the crook of his elbow. He reminded me of Dracula holding up his cape. "What is that?"
Using both hands, I thrust my crowbar through the cheekbone of the next zombie to come through, and Meg got the next one when it tripped over its fallen comrades.
"I can't take it," said Jake between jabs to the next two zombies. "It's rancid."
"There's no doubt about it," I replied. "That is the worst thing I have ever smelled."
With no more threats appearing at the door, we stepped back to give ourselves some breathing room, literally.
We finished our check of the service area. No other baddies were hiding, unless you counted the three still trying to escape the pit. Jake and Vinny dispatched them, and we did a second sweep just to be thorough. The last thing we wanted was another surprise.
"Hey, look at this," shouted Meg from the far wall. "There's windows over here. They must have covered them to hide."
She made to pull the taped cardboard from the wall, but Jake stopped her.
"Wait," he said. "Let me do it."
He grabbed a utility knife from a workbench and cut out a small hole. Repeating the process in a few more areas, he finally removed the coverings, reassured by the lack of a mob waiting beyond. The room flooded with sunlight. Looking around now, it was easy to spot items that would prove invaluable to us. Gas cans, oil, and a slew of replacement parts for the Armada. Not to mention a long row of car batteries.
"Wow," exclaimed a wide-eyed Vinny, "I feel like I just won the lottery."
The window's lowest points were at chest level, which meant unless something was up against it on the outside, or we stood close on the inside, we remained invisible. With the new light, I now saw a solid metal door along the wall near where we'd entered.
"Hey, guys," I called to the others. "Remember those shutters at the service desk? I think this is the door to that office."
They gathered next to me, and we huddled at the door, listening intently for any noise.
"What should we do?" asked Meg.
"Let's see what's in there," answered Jake. "Meg, open the door when I tell you to. You up to it, bro?"
"Fuck yeah. Let's get 'er done."
"On three," he instructed Meg, who had her hand on the handle and was calming herself with deep breathing exercises. I stood behind them to provide backup if needed. My curiosity was piqued.
"Three!" he barked.
The door flew open, and this time there was no stopping the unified projectile vomit. In front of us, seven corpses sat against the far wall. Their bodies were mummified from having been in a room without light or air for two months. The scene was something made of nightmares. Not one body had a wound. These people had died of starvation and dehydration, too afraid to leave the tomb because of the dead in the service area.
As if the smell of death, feces, and urine weren't bad enough, each corpse bore a twisted expression of torture. Long dead mouths frozen open in eternal screams were filled with flies.
Less than a minute. That's how long the door was open before Jake slammed it shut again.
"No fucking way," was all he said.
"I need air. And a breath mint. Christ, what I wouldn't give for some mouthwash right now," I bitched. I was sick of finding things that made me vomit.
We dragged the corpses into the bay and rolled them into the pit. Ironically…they were now six-feet under.
"Hey!" shouted Meg excitedly. "I think I just solved our gas problem." She jingled a set of keys and pointed to the sign above where they had been hanging. The sign read Gas Pump.
"Oh, duh!" I said, chastising myself for being such an idiot. The others looked at me for clarification. "I forgot about that. When I bought the Murano, they brought it out back to what they called the Make Ready area. It's where they clean and prep all the new sales for delivery. There's a fenced in gas tank back there, too."
"Jake," said Vinny, "let's go scout it out."
The two of them went alone, despite protests from Meg and me. While they were gone, we started picking through the service area for anything we thought we could use. By the time we'd finished gathering our haul, they were back.
"What's the story?" I asked.
"It's relatively clear. A few roamers, but nothing we can't handle," Jake reported. "Someone up there is looking out for us; it's a gravity system."
"Which means?"
Vinny rolled his eyes at me, "Which means it doesn't need electricity. We don't have to jump through any hoops or MacGyver anything. Just grab the nozzle, stick it into the container, and pump. Gravity does the rest."
"So why do you look annoyed?"
"Because if we bring the truck to the tank, it will make too much noise and draw them in like bees to honey."
"Which means?" I prodded.
"We have to fill gas cans and carry them back to the truck. The tank holds twenty-eight g
allons. I found six five-gallon gas containers in the shop. If we make three trips, we can fill the tank and also have another full tanks worth of gas to pack for the trip."
"Sounds like a plan," I said, not entirely convinced it was a good one.
Vinny left his spot at the window, where he'd been diligently watching to make sure nothing followed them back. "If we're gonna do this, let's get everything else loaded first. That way if the shit goes sideways we can make a quick getaway."
We packed, unpacked, and repacked the car with anything of value. Our major find was a stockpile of hand sanitizer and wet-naps. The wet-naps confused me a little, but Meg suggested they were for the service guys. We emptied the small rack of Nissan apparel, which was unfortunately limited to shirts, and each took a turn in the office giving ourselves a wet-nap bath. I decided I was going to miss the ability to have a real shower the most. We'd been spoiled with the houseboat.
I put Daphne in the truck, and she curled up on the leather captain's seat and eyed us warily while we loaded everything into the truck. She was probably still annoyed about being locked away in the dark office that morning. I repacked our bug-out bags with Nissan shirts, vending machine food, and a hearty supply of wet-naps. Our bags were our lifeline, and I placed them next to our respective seats for easy access.
Against my longtime claim of shotgun, I put Vinny's bag up front and mine in back. I figured he was a much better shot and it would be wise to keep him in an effective position. We left room in the cargo area for the extra gas tanks and whatever food we could pilfer along the way. We had a limited supply of vending machine food and sodas, plus eight waters, to get us through the next few days.
I grabbed Jake and pulled him aside before they left on their first run for fuel. "Be safe out there," I told him. "I can't lose you. You're too important."
He looked down at me, searching my eyes. "Everything will be okay. I'll be back before you can even miss me."
"I miss you already," I said, and looped my arms around his shoulders, rose up on my tiptoes and kissed him.
He kissed me back with such passion that my knees wobbled, and when he pulled away, I nearly crumpled to the floor. "I love you, Emma."
