“I’m good!” she hollered back up the shaft “I’m clear of them now.”
The bodies were still falling and she could hear the splattering and squelching sounds they made when the impact would echo up the chamber. She managed to flip over so she wasn’t upside down then pushed off the cables towards the back wall and to the relative safety of the ladder. Her hands were greasy and she wiped them as best she could on the carpet strips, then started climbing back up towards the opening. They had stopped diving in after her in a bloodlust but were still falling as they were pushed from behind. She didn’t know how many had plunged down into the darkness, it had been a rain of undead for a few minutes, but something in their brains finally registered that the first step was a big one. They stood on the threshold, peering into the black but unwilling to leap into it.
They tried calling to them and a few more were pushed over the edge but the rest simply reached and keened. A most delicious treat just out of their grasp.
“I’m going to have to give them a little incentive.” She told Phil after a few minutes. “I need to re-tie this harness then I’ll swing over towards them, let them get a good look at me.”
She winced as she pulled the rope away from her chaffed and raw skin. It had bit and scrapped her bloody in places.
Phil nodded and started rewrapping the rope around his arms, getting a better grip. She found the break after wiping as much grease as she could off of her hands and was retying it when she felt a warm drop of rain splash down. Except it wasn’t rain. It was red. It was blood. She looked up at Phil and saw him wrapping his hands with pieces of his shirt. The blood was soaking through and dripping down.
“Oh, Phil.” Was all she could say, her heart aching, when she saw his grimace of pain and determination. The rope had cut deep into his flesh when he had stopped her out of control tumble. He didn’t utter a single word of complaint, just winked at her and she saw his smile bloom in the dim light.
“I told you I wouldn’t let you fall. We’re almost done, Miz Lacy. Just a few more minutes. We can deal with this.”
When they had her securely fastened again and Phil was set with the coils wrapped tightly around his arms, she took a leap of faith and swung out to the cables. They heard her and a few more fell into the abyss but she needed to get them into a frenzy again. To have them charge at her. With Phil supporting most of her weight, she slipped back through the cables, got her feet against them and leaped right at the crowd standing in the open door, screaming at them. They roared in answer and the push for her was instantaneous. They reached and fell, each maddened by their need to bite, heedless and unaware of the 100-foot drop that awaited them. Lacy kept it up, taunting and swinging for them, coming within inches of their outstretched arms, actually grabbing some of them and pulling if they were a little reluctant to die the second death. She didn’t know how long they kept it up. The homemade ropes were cutting into her and Phil could only support her for short periods before they both needed to rest. It seemed like it took forever with the undead screaming and reaching for her. Something in their simple minds kept them from taking the first step over the edge unless they were so frenzied they forgot and took the next step. There were hundreds of them and after the first frantic rush, the rest had to be lured and taunted over the edge. She repositioned her carpet pieces to make the harness more comfortable and tried to help Phil by padding his arms. She would leap out, pull a few more down or get some in the front to fall from the crowd behind. It was tedious and painful work. She wished she just had a shepherd’s crook to pull them towards her. It took hours and she and Phil both were utterly exhausted by the time the last one reached out and then disappeared below. It fell into the squishy pile and suddenly the doors to the lawyer's offices across the hall sprang open. Mr. Sato, Carla and Alex were there reaching for her to help pull her back to the safety of solid ground.
She was covered in sweat, her muscles ached and she smelled like old fear but they had done it. One of the stairwells was empty of the undead and they had a clear path out.
Chapter 14
Lacy
Escape
Day 10
Lacy gingerly unwound and untied the harness with Carla’s help as the others fussed over Phil and dressed the gouges on his hands with strips of clean t-shirt. They had been trapped for over a freaking week in here and they finally had a way out. She had been despondent over Jessie for a while but she made herself buckle up. He had either turned into one of those things or he hadn’t. He was dead of dehydration in the detention room or he wasn’t. He was home waiting on them or she would probably never find him. They’d played the survival card games around the table and had the ‘what if’ discussion. What if tornado, what if nuclear war, what if EMP burst and all the rest of the scenarios. Do what you could but in the end, the final answer was always to meet back at the house. If he were still alive, he’d be there.
It was late in the afternoon and as much as she wanted to leave right then and there, she knew it made sense to wait until they had a full day ahead of them. It was going to be bad enough on the streets, they didn’t want to try it at night.
She slept well on one of the couches and in the morning there was a sense of anticipation in the air as they ate. For her, it was the joy and dread of finally seeing whether her son was alive. All they had to do was walk down some steps, find a suitable vehicle in the valet area, get the keys then drive home. Simple as that. She didn’t notice the glances and long silences from the others as she chatted away at the prospect of getting to the house. They had guns and food and everything they needed there.
She wondered how the screaming woman who had decided to stay behind was doing up on the twenty-eighth floor. Should someone go back up and tell her the path to her car was clear? Lacy said she wasn’t running up eighteen flights of stairs. There were more shared looks from Mr. Sato, Alex and Carla.
She and Phil started putting on their battle gear. The carpet strips were quickly taped on their arms and legs and they grabbed the few weapons available. They were armed, armored and ready to go. They didn’t bother packing any food or any other supplies. All they needed were weapons. If they didn’t make it back to Lacy’s house in the next couple of hours, it meant they were probably dead. Phil handed her his gun and the extra magazine. With his hands so heavily bandaged, he was clumsy with it.
She noticed the others weren’t gearing up when she asked them if any of them needed her roll of duct tape.
“What’s up?” she asked, seeing the hesitation in them.
Lacy and Phil were ready to go, he was already cracking the fire door open to peek out into the stairwell. They had to get out, to check on families but she sensed something in the others. She stopped and turned to face them.
“Hold up a sec, Phil.” she said
She looked at them and they looked at each other, with furtive glances. They looked guilty of something.
“Uh…” Alex started
Lacy got it. Instantly and clearly. It made perfect sense. She had been so caught up in her own world, she hadn’t noticed the mood of the others. She thought Alex and Carla had hooked up during the insanity of their all-day drunk and neither one of them had any real reason to leave the safety of the building. Sure, the food situation wasn’t good but they had free reign now that the stairs were clear. The Canteen on the second floor probably had a lot of things that were still good. They would find enough to last for weeks easily, maybe even a month. More time for those undead things to wander off or rot away some more and slow down. There was no reason for them to risk their lives going outside. Mr. Sato’s situation was similar. What did he have outside the protection of the building except probably an agonizing death.
Carla started to say something but Lacy reached out and hugged her tight.
“I understand.” She said. “I really do. If I were you, I would stay, too.”
Carla hugged her back, tears starting in her eyes.
“You don’t have to
go, Lacy. You could stay. It’s bad out there.”
“Could you live with yourself if you had a child and you didn’t try? If you just abandoned him?” she asked
Carla shook her head. She had a choice, Lacy didn’t. Phil had family here, too. He had to know, he couldn’t just abandon them either.
They said their goodbyes quickly and within minutes she and Phil had their ears pressed against the lower level doors, listening for any sounds of movement. They had come across a few mangled crawlers on the stairs but they had made quick work of them with short thrusts to the head. They were standing in piles of rags that used to be thousand dollar suits and random discarded shoes. The stench was cloying and gaggingly thick. Nearly bad enough to make the eyes water. The LED safety lights were nearly done for, the batteries on the last bit of life so they could barely see. That was probably a good thing, Lacy thought, because some of the clothes she was stepping on felt like they might have body parts still in them.
Phil pushed against the door and felt resistance. Something or somebody was up against it. He tried a little harder, not wanting it to spring open to far and alert any undead out there. It gave a little, enough for Lacy to see out. The natural light from two stories above filtered down enough for her to spot the problem. A car was backed up against it. It had run over the railing that protected the walkway and came to a rest against the door. She could see the driver’s door was open. She’d bet dollars to donuts the owner hadn’t bothered to throw it in park before he bailed out in such a hurry. She looked all over for movement and didn’t see any.
“Push harder, it’s just a car.” She told Phil
He rolled his eyes, grunted and put his back into it. It moved forward enough for her to slip out and she grabbed the lumpy thing she was standing on to use as a wheel chock. Phil pushed a little harder and she kicked the arm under the rear tire to hold the car in place long enough for him to squeeze through the opening.
She made a face and wiped her hand off on one of the carpet strips taped to her arm.
“This way.” Phil whispered and they hugged the wall, moving slow and staying in the shadows, making their way to the parking attendants’ booth. The windows were shattered, old blood was sprayed across the keys hanging neatly in rows and the door was hanging askew on one hinge. They stepped quietly over the threshold, trying not to crunch on the glass. The keys were each hanging above a numbered parking spot. Phil pointed to a black rectangle with Range Rover imprinted in chrome on the B-97 hook.
“That one.” he whispered, looking over his shoulder for any movement. “That’s Mr. Young from 38th.”
“Good call.” Lacy whispered back as she snagged the smart key and they headed into the dimness half a story below. A Range Rover was a good choice. They’d never owned one, a little too rich for them, but she knew they were legendary for their toughness. They were four-wheel drive and could climb as well as a Jeep but you’d get to the top of the mountain with massaging leather seats while listening to a premium sound system and eating a fancy man’s sandwich slathered with Grey Poupon. When they came up to the parking spot she stopped short and looked at Phil.
“Whose car is this?” she asked just staring at in disbelief.
“Armani Young.” Phil replied. “He’s a hip hop producer. They got offices on the 38th.”
Lacy didn’t know what to say. She had expected a beefed-up luxury truck. A city guy’s idea of an off-road vehicle. Maybe some oversize mud tires, a big brush guard and not a spec of dirt on it. What she saw was a lifted SUV backed into the parking spot with tall, tall tires. One of those cars the kids called Donks. She was surprised it cleared the low ceilings. Phil saw the look on her face and quickly explained.
“We’re not in Ellijay, Miz Lacy. You won’t find any redneck pickup trucks in here. It’s got 33’s and all-wheel drive. He’s got a gold-plated skid plate up front. It’s got lots of ground clearance and we ain’t going mudding. Those tires will climb over anything that gets in our way.”
He was right, of course. She just hadn’t expected to make her getaway in a hundred thousand dollar rappers car. She nodded and they slipped up next to it.
“What about him? What if he comes down and needs it and we’ve stolen his car?”
“He just parks this here because we have the cameras and 24-hour security.” Phil said “He usually drives a white Audi. An R8.”
She shook her head, staring at a car that cost as much as their house. “We were in the wrong business, Phil. Do the lights flash and the horn blip when we unlock it?” she asked examining the fob, looking for the button that would extend the key so she could start it up as soon as they jumped in. This was so far above her pay grade, she couldn’t even figure out how to open the door.
“Naw.” Phil said. “He let me park it once. Just push the button.”
She did and the door scissored up towards the ceiling, Lamborghini style.
“Can you drive with your hands cut up?” She whispered and offered him the fob. “I’ll do the shooting if it comes to that.”
He nodded and they climbed in and pulled the doors back down as quietly as they could. The gauges all came on and the shifter knob popped up when he hit the start button once. Soft classical music came over the sound system. They both smiled. Not at all what she had expected.
“You ready?” he asked one last time, taking a deep breath and pulling the seatbelt tight.
“Let’s roll.” she said and he hit the start button again, bringing the big V-8 to life
Chapter 15
Jessie
Leaving Lake House
The refrigerator reeked when they opened it so they pulled out everything that had spoiled and tossed it over the railing. After a few minutes debate, they took all the shelves out. It would make a ‘very last resort’ safe place to go. The absolute last line of defense for two of them if the house was overrun. Doug grabbed two of the pistols and put them in. One in the freezer, one in the refrigerator. No one asked what they were for. It was kind of obvious. If you were forced to hide in the side by side, you didn’t have many options left. A bullet in the head was better than slow starvation or insanity from hearing them clawing at the doors night and day.
They rigged one of the office chairs up for Gary. With a belt helping to hold him upright and a couple of sticks with balls of tape wound around the ends, he was able to maneuver around by himself.
They checked their defenses.
Jessie’s mom had one of those gutter chains that fed into a rain barrel with a spout that she used to water her plants on the upper deck. They had gotten it for her for Mother’s Day last year. There wasn’t a hose spigot up there and she hated dragging the garden hose up the steps. It would provide plenty of water whenever it rained.
Jessie's dad had nearly any tool they wanted in the garage and after a little experimentation, they got the noise level down to almost nothing on the .22 rifles. Gary remembered a game where he used an oil filter as a silencer. After rooting around in the garage, Jessie came up with some for his dad’s truck and the Merc. A little tape around the end of the barrel and the oil filter could be shoved on and fit snugly. By mounting scopes from the big rifles, the cross hairs were up high enough to see over the canister. It took them a while to zero them in, but they had plenty of time and plenty of ammo. Soon, they were all getting headshots with every round. The bodies started piling up and soon they were tossing things out in the yard so they would chase it. Once they were away from the deck, they would drop them on the hillside. By late afternoon, there were hundreds of bodies spread out all over the grass. Probably got most of the zoms that were still in the neighborhood, they figured.
Sheila and Gary made pasta for dinner, heating up the sauce and water on the grill. Jessie dug out a deck of playing cards from the junk drawer. They didn’t know many games, they hadn’t grown up playing with these kinds of cards. They had Pokémon or Magic: The Gathering cards. Jessie had his decks of those but not enough to pass around to everyone.
After the third argument of which hand was a winner in the poker game they were trying to play, Jessie had an idea.
“Hey.” he said. “You guys know Caleb?”
They did and the looks on all of their faces said they knew him well. He was the uber-dork in the school. Every school had the best football player, the prettiest girl, the smartest math whiz and the dorkiest dork. Caleb was him. He was the guy who would eat his boogers in class. He would put hot sauce in his pudding. He still played with action figures at lunch time, even though he was in the tenth grade. He was also the president of the Society of Middle Earth Recreative Exploration. Better known as the Dungeons and Dragons club that met at the comic book store every weekend.
“And you know this how?” Sheila had asked sarcastically when he told them he had the best D&D games and books. She was miffed that they had overruled her poker win. They insisted that three of a kind beat two pairs but she still wasn’t convinced.
“He lives five houses down.” Jessie said.
The boys looked at each other appraisingly. They had all played. Doug and Jessie quite a bit. They were kind of too cool for it now but it WAS the apocalypse and it was fun and they were bored. They used to spend days at a time playing campaigns. If they didn’t have the game consoles, it was the next best thing.
Zombie Road (Book 2): Bloodbath on the Blacktop Page 12
