Well, there’s an enemy I’ve made today.
The loading dock had two types of bays. The slot the semi-trailer occupied allowed it to back into the wall of the dock. It was possible that the exterior doors of the trailer were open on the inside of the warehouse, but they’d need to get inside to be certain. The rest of the dock had a shallow walkway at the edge of the roll-up bay doors. Vir reasoned these doors were for smaller, local haul vehicles. This dock was a bit shorter than the area intended for semis. The difference was such that there would be a few inches of drop off into the bed of their trucks. An inconvenience, but the tailgates would function as acceptable ramps once lowered.
All the roll-up doors remained closed. A metal access door stood in front of the personnel staircase. A sign on the door read ‘Authorized Personnel Only’ in faded red letters. An electronic access card reader sat on the wall to the side of the door handle. The lights on it were dark, to no one’s surprise.
Buck tried the handle, then shook his head. “No such luck today. Joey, grab the Halligan tool out of the back of my truck.” He stood back and studied the door for a moment, then accepted the tool as Joey returned.
The Halligan tool was like nothing Vir had ever seen before. The combination of crowbar and pick-ax on steroids topped a long, thick handle. Buck inserted the curved blade of the tool into the seam between the door and jamb and heaved. For a long moment, nothing happened. Buck redoubled his efforts, and metal gave a dull groan. He removed the blade, inserted it at a lower point and repeated the process.
The metal of the jamb and door crumpled with each iteration. Finally, the latch was free, and Buck tugged the door open a bare six inches. Satisfied, he turned and handed the Halligan back to Joey. “Stow this and grab some tow straps. We’ll need to hold the door shut from the inside.” He looked at Vir and winked. “Need to cover our six, right?” The rest of the group, save for Donald, shared a quick laugh. “Everyone get ready,” he said.
Buck wedged the heel of his boot against the door to prevent it from coming open, then pounded on it with the palm of his hand. He continued for a ten-count, stopped, and then pounded for another ten-count. He peered inside the gap. After a moment, he cocked his head to one side and said, “Huh. Weird.” He moved his foot away from the door and pulled it the rest of the way open. “I think we might be all right, people.”
The interior of the warehouse was well-lit, to Vir’s surprise. Skylights in the ceiling at regular intervals allowed for plenty of natural light. The towering rows of shelves cast shadows galore, but the interior was navigable. The group stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind them as they went. After a moment of study, Joey looped the tow strap around the door handle and a support track for one of the roll-up doors. With the strap ratcheted tight, the personnel access door could only open a few inches.
Inside, back-to-back desks sat in the dead space between the doors. Workday litter was still spread across the tops, as though the occupants had left a few moments ago. A wheeled cart sat next to each desk. Each cart had a pair of flat decks with low rails — to keep cartons from sliding off, he assumed. As Vir looked down the warehouse, he noted a handful of long-dormant forklifts and more of the carts. The most overwhelming part of the interior were the rows of shelving. Each unit was perhaps six feet wide and stretched to just below the ceiling some forty feet above. Palletized cardboard boxes overflowed the shelves, with the excess piled on the floor. Other than that clutter, the warehouse looked pristine.
“All right,” Buck whispered. “Donnie, you used to work here. What’s the layout?”
The other man looked up and down the length of the warehouse. “There are two sections — cold storage, and the part we’re in now. Cold storage is down at the far end of the building. I wouldn’t bother with anything in there. If it needed refrigeration it’s gone bad a dozen times over by now. It doesn’t look like things have changed much since I left.” He pointed at the row in front of the personnel door. “The narcotics and other controlled substances are in a restricted-access cage down there. We’ll have to use the Halligan or a set of bolt cutters to get it open. The rest of the general pharmaceuticals are down at the cold storage end. Antibiotics, anything that required a prescription but wasn’t a painkiller, that sort of thing. General goods throughout, anything over the counter is at the opposite end.” Donald paused. “It’s kind of a cluster, but management would go on and on about how efficient the layout is. All I know is, I walked my ass off when I worked here.”
Buck slapped the other man on the shoulder. “Good deal.” He turned to the rest of the crew. “Allie, you take Melanie and Joey and head down to the other end. You’ve got the antibiotic list?”
“You know I do.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he winked at his wife. “We’re loading the first truck with the high priority pharmaceuticals and vitamins. Sorry Joey, you’ll have to wait a while for your Vicodin fix.” Everyone chuckled save Vir, who kept his face blank. “Donnie, Vir and I are going to start loading up the vitamins. Once we fill the first truck up, we’ll start loading the second with toilet paper and lady stuff.”
“Thank God,” Melanie muttered. “Those makeshift pads are terrible. And don’t forget the baby wipes.”
Buck grinned. “Take your time, folks. We’re going to strip this place to the bones, and it’s not going to get done in one go-round.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got a couple hours of daylight, let’s see if we can’t make a good dent on the first truck. Let’s move like we got a purpose!” Buck turned back to Donald as the other three headed toward the far end of the warehouse. “Donnie, lead the way. Vitamins, ho.”
Buck held back for a moment as Donald headed toward the front of the warehouse. “You good, Singh?”
Vir glanced over at the other man, then turned back. His eyes flickered back and forth from in front of him to the empty aisles on the right. The loaded shelving blocked much of the light from the skylights and the gloom in the aisles was quite heavy. Their noise should have attracted anything in the warehouse, but Vir hadn’t survived this long to let his guard down now. “I am good,” he muttered. “Just a little wary.”
Buck frowned. “Relax, buddy. This is going smooth as silk.”
“That is exactly my concern. This close to an urban area, the population should be much higher. Why is it not? The truck driver might have been one of the biters outside, but there are two more vehicles. Where are their drivers?”
“If they’re in here, maybe they walked until they gave out. We’ll find them in some random spot, struggling to get up. I’ve seen it before.”
Vir considered it for a long moment. “Perhaps you’re right,” he admitted. “It has been a while since I’ve been outside the walls. It is possible I’m just nervous.”
Buck clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit!” Ahead, Donald had stopped a couple of rows before the warehouse wall and he stood, rubbing his chin. “What’s up, Donnie?”
“It’s one of these, I think, but I’m not sure.”
Buck considered for a moment, then said, “All right. I’ll take the far aisle, you take the next one in. The cases have labels, right?”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, Vir . . . Ah, crap. We didn’t bring a cart. I’m not hauling this stuff by hand. Go grab one of those carts and we’ll start ferrying this stuff to the door.”
Vir nodded and began walking back the way they’d came. After a moment, he glanced over his shoulder and noted that both men had already stepped into the aisles. Shadows danced as each clicked on flashlights and began to scan cartons. Turning back, Vir began to move, then stopped once more. That sound — what had that been? Turning back around, he cocked his head and strained to listen. There. A ripping noise — cardboard?
Vir turned into the aisle next to Donald’s and crept down it. He paused every few steps to peer through the gaps in the shelf stock. He was halfway down the aisle when he saw the glow from Donald�
�s flashlight. It seemed low, and after he shifted to get a better look, he realized the light was resting on the ground. A torn-open box sat on the floor nearby. Despite the light, Vir couldn’t make out the labeling through the shadows.
The suspicion that arose when he’d heard the sound deepened. Why is he tearing boxes open? It’s simpler to pack and haul them intact.
Stepping at a languid pace, he scanned the lower shelves until he found an area missing a good bit of its material. He crawled up onto the lower shelf and wormed his way through. It was slow going, and awkward, but he made it through with little noise. As he breached the other side, he turned to get a better look down the aisle.
Donald knelt in front of the opened cardboard case with his back to Vir. As he pulled the individual boxes out of the case he ripped them open. Vir was unable to read the labeling, but he could see that each box contained bubble-packs of pills. Once they were open, Donald transferred the foil bubble-packs into an olive-drab duffel bag. The growing pile of debris to his side bore testament to his progress.
Vir didn’t recognize the bag, but it looked to be quite collapsible. It was possible that the other man had rolled it up and concealed it under his jacket on the way inside. He glanced down at the floor to make sure it was clear, then extended his legs, and stepped down with care. He paused for a moment to see if the other man sensed his presence. Oblivious, Donald continued to transfer foil packs into the bag. Vir reached down and eased his sidearm from his holster.
He tip-toed forward with excruciating slowness. Around fifteen feet away, he brought his thumb up and snapped the Beretta’s safety off. Donald stiffened at the sound.
“That seems to be quite a lot of decongestant,” Vir mused. “Do you have a particularly bad case of hay fever?”
Donald eased around and met Vir’s eyes. The look of anger he’d been giving Vir before had faded into placid calm. “You’re right, fella. You do have a pretty good sense of humor.”
“Stand up,” Vir said, pantomiming the motion with the barrel of his pistol. Nice and slow. Hands up.” Donald followed his instructions. “You know, in all honesty, I rather wish I’d made that bet with Miles. He was quite certain that Joey was the culprit. The activity seemed to heat up ever since he joined your team.”
Donald gave him a crooked grin. “Nah, he’s just a dumb kid. Didn’t make sense to involve him. He’d be liable to mention it to the wrong person, and boom, out go the lights.”
“I don’t suppose I can convince you into a bit of a chin wag, maybe give me a name or two. Unless, you’re the chef, of course.”
“I ain’t talking,” Donald said with a sneer. “Not to you, not to Miles, and not to that asshole Larry.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I hear that Pete sometimes comes down and provides assistance with interrogations. Must be something he picked up overseas.”
The other man shrugged. “I have nothing else to say. So what’s your plan now, hot shot?”
Vir reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a set of handcuffs. Miles had given them to him when Vir had finally agreed to the job. “I tie you up, we find you a cozy spot somewhere, and we get this sorted. You can ride in the back with the supplies. Once we’re home, you and Pete can chat.” A cold circle pressed into Vir’s neck just above his collar, and he stiffened.
“Sorry, son, but I don’t think that’s in the cards just now. Gun. Hand it back, how was it? Oh, right. Nice and slow.”
Blasted idiot, Vir raged at himself. Having so much fun playing at being a policeman you didn’t think this was more than a solo act. He passed the gun back, and Donald’s grin widened. Small wonder the man had been so complacent. For a moment, Vir considered going for his shotgun, but no way was he faster than Buck’s trigger finger.
“Back against the shelf, over there.” A hand pushed at his shoulder, and Vir moved to comply. His new position against the shelf made a neat triangle of himself, Donald, and Buck. He gave the team leader a questioning look.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Buck engaged the Beretta’s safety and handed it to Donald. The other man stuck it in his waistband. “It’s not like I’m forcing people to smoke the crap. The fact of the matter is, there isn’t much left to distract a man from his troubles, these days. Now myself, I’m partial to a good bottle of Scotch now and then. One of the nice things about this job is I get first dibs on pretty much anything I find.” Buck chuckled. “Hell, if I’m being honest, maybe I’m just bored. If nothing else, at least being an outlaw is different.”
“What’s the play, boss?” Donald said. “Can’t just plug him. Sheriff Rick will know something’s up if we bring his secret agent back with a bullet hole.”
Buck frowned. “Donnie, what was he thinking? Climbing up to the top of the rack like that. Damn shame, he missed one step and fell the whole way down.” He glanced further down the aisle and pointed at a wheeled utility staircase. Buck offered Vir a joyless smile and said, “Get to climbing.”
A high-pitched shriek filled the warehouse. A crescendo of gun fire followed, along with another sound that Vir couldn’t identify. It sounded like a hundred people clapping, as fast as they could, but with no rhythm.
Ignoring Vir, Buck and Donald turned and sprinted toward the end of the aisle. When they reached it, they hesitated for a moment, and then Buck shouted. “Door!” The pair of them sprinted back toward the entrance.
The clapping noise continued, though the gunfire had ceased. Vir sprinted to the end of the aisle and turned to look.
For a moment, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, to such an extent that he froze. At the opposite end of the warehouse, a broad sea of biters surged forward. They filled the entire aisle, packed in like sardines. To make matters worse, they moved faster than any of the dead Vir had even seen. Feet slapped on the concrete floor in a discordant rhythm as they surged forward in a wave of dead flesh.
They aren’t supposed to be that fast!
At the door, Donald and Buck struggled with the tow strap. The two men shouted at each other until Buck finally pulled a knife from under his coat and began to saw at the strap. Vir glanced back at the mass of dead, then back at the two men, and knew right away that they weren’t going to make it. Donald looked, and the other man must have thought the same, because he drew Vir’s pistol and began to fire.
Donald might as well try to stop an avalanche with a fire hose. Vir forced himself to turn away and sprinted back down the aisle. He heard a pair of screams over the sound of running feet, but they were both cut off in one disheartening moment.
Vir leaped over the pile of debris Donald had left in the center of the aisle and continued running. His Mossberg flopped around on his back, and he grabbed the sling with one hand to keep from dropping it. The shotgun would be of little use against the horde, but it was his only remaining weapon save for his knife. Years of hard-won survival instincts made him loathe to lose any weapon.
The utility staircase that was to have been his demise was now his only source of salvation. He bounded up the steps, his boots rattling the metal lattice. The sound of running feet filled the air around him, making the sounds of his own frantic flight seem somehow muted.
The staircase jerked as the leading edge of the surge hit the bottom of it, and he almost lost his balance and fell off. Recovering, he planted a foot on the safety rail at the top and jumped onto the highest shelf he could reach. Behind him, the staircase tipped and clattered to the floor.
Vir’s heart pounded in his chest as he turned to look down. The silver-eyed dead stood shoulder to shoulder in the aisle beneath him, staring up as one. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, and the sound of his own voice was a shock in the sudden silence of the warehouse.
The crowd rippled, and those closest to him began to attempt to climb. Their movements were awkward, and many of them fell. Those that did fall, though, became stepping stones for those who came after. Grasping hands began to draw closer.
There was about five feet between each shelf. This high up, the shelves weren’t so packed. The top racks were empty save for a few shrink-wrapped pallets. Vir supposed they served as long-term storage, since it was higher than the staircase. For the moment, it was a moot point. He glanced down. The pile of dead had risen to just below the second shelf, perhaps fifteen feet below him. At this rate he didn’t have much time at all.
He looked up to gauge the distance, and then reached out at his furthest extension to no avail. The metal support structure of the warehouse roof was ten feet above the top shelf, far out of his reach. The skylights and rippled steel surface of the roof were three feet beyond that. Short of sprouting wings, he had no escape in that direction. He turned in a desperate search, then stopped.
There was a roof-access ladder bolted to the front wall of the warehouse. The first two-thirds were simple rungs. From that point a metal safety cage encircled the ladder until it terminated at a hatch leading to the roof.
The shelving shifted under his feet with the groan of metal. The weight of the dead pushing against it was threatening to tip it over — it was now or never. Vir adjusted the sling of his shotgun so it crossed his chest in a more secure diagonal fashion. He studied the distance to the top of the next shelf over. He took a deep breath to fuel his courage, then jumped.
His primary concern had been falling short, but it shouldn’t have been. He cleared the aisle with room to spare. The biggest problem was not going too far. He arched his body in a desperate attempt to slow himself without falling. Even then he came close to going over the edge.
The sounds of running feet filled the warehouse once more, and he gritted his teeth. “Hope you dead bastards are enjoying the show,” Vir said. He stood on the last shelf, the one next to the warehouse wall. Any thoughts of climbing down to the ladder ended when tentacles of the dead started to flow around either end of the shelf. This is going to be one dandy of a story to tell if I’m lucky enough to make it back. Vir spread his arms wide and jumped again.
A Place Outside The Wild Page 10
