Green Ice: A Deadly High

by Christian Fletcher

  “I don’t think so,” Sonny whispered. “They can probably just smell the T-Bird engine.”

  Trey ushered Leticia deeper into the garage so they stood against the back wall. He leaned forward to get a peek inside the engine.

  “I’m nearly there,” Sonny hissed. “A couple more hoses and I’m done. I just hope the damn water pump still works or we’re screwed. It still looks okay.”

  “Can they get inside here?” Leticia asked, glancing at the shadows bobbing by the front windows.

  Sonny looked up. “If they see us, they’ll jump right in through those glass panes. We have to hope they go away before we start the car or they’re going to hear us in here for sure.”

  Leticia hugged Trey tighter. “We’re never going to get out of here, are we?” she sighed.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Mancini waited for what seemed an eternity but still didn’t hear the anticipated gunshot from behind him. Instead, he heard a car engine rattle into life from outside the house. Jorge had left him in the hallway and was now making his escape in the VW Beetle. Mancini hauled himself to his feet and grimaced at the pain in his knee from the injury incurred when he’d slipped over. He didn’t have time to nurse his wound or rest up. He had to get back to the garage and somehow stop Jorge from leaving town or he’d be stranded. Jorge had his firearm and his cell phone, so Mancini knew he was going to have to do a lot of improvising.

  Mancini hurried into the alley just in time to see the VW disappear from view amid a foggy cloud spewing from the muffler. The car didn’t sound in great condition and was throwing out a lot of black smoke. Jorge turned right onto the side street and accelerated away in the direction of the town’s main thoroughfare.

  “Shit,” Mancini hissed. He glanced around and saw the alleyway continued further down in a vertical route, behind the row of houses. He gambled that the alley must lead to the main street if he headed deeper on through it.

  The sunshades he’d picked up from the hallway floor luckily weren’t broken, only one of the arms was a little bent. Mancini slipped them on and ran further into the alley. The pathway dog-legged to the left and Mancini came to an abrupt halt when he was faced with three infected people standing in a huddle across the width of the alley. The trio consisted of two tall males and a female. All of them looked as though they were in their late teens and wore the torn remains of basketball shirts, jog pants and white sneakers. One male had three blond streaks in the front of his hair and the other guy had a messy quiffed hairstyle. The female still had a gold ring on each blood stained finger and wore her long dark hair in a ponytail. The three zombie-like figures turned when they heard Mancini’s footsteps.

  The male with the blond streaks hissed at Mancini, his open mouth revealing broken and blood stained gold teeth. Mancini instinctively went to reach for his handgun in the back of his waistband.

  “Shit,” he hissed, when he remembered Jorge had taken his Heckler and Koch firearm. He was going to have to either fend off the ghouls with his bare hands or find an alternative weapon.

  The guy with the quiff ran at Mancini, baring his teeth in a scowl and raising his arms above his head, with his fingers hooked like claws. Mancini could have easily dealt with one individual; he’d been fending off attacks from drug induced or hot headed guys most of his adult life but three infected personnel were going to be a big problem. He bounced on his toes and took up a boxer’s defensive stance.

  Quiffed guy swiped thin air as Mancini dodged backwards. Mancini delivered a couple of swift left hand jabs into the quiffed guy’s face and followed up with a right hand punch that would have knocked most people out. The quiffed guy rocked back and went down onto the ground on the seat of his pants but was soon scrabbling up to find his feet again. Snarling and shrieking, the female and the youth with the three blond streaks made a dash forward towards Mancini.

  Mancini took a couple of backward steps. He glanced around in desperation, searching for something he could use as a weapon against the onrushing trio of infected. A wooden pole, loosely propping up a wire fence to his right caught his immediate attention. Mancini dodged the female as she rushed at him and managed to deliver a blow with his elbow to the back of her head. She sprawled headfirst into the fence and her head and right arm entangled between the wire strands.

  The guy with the blond streaks took a swipe at Mancini with his left hand. Mancini ducked backwards, edging closer to the fence pole. He caught the guy’s hand as it brushed by his face and twisted around. Under normal circumstances, the guy would have cried out in pain and been rendered ineffectual but the infected didn’t seem to feel pain and he carried on with his attack on Mancini. Dodging the swatting hand, Mancini punched the guy directly on the bridge of his nose and released his grip at the same time. The infected young man rocked backwards, allowing Mancini a few seconds to try and retrieve the fence pole.

  The wooden pole stood leaning at a slight angle, with the wire strips wrapped around its shaft. Mancini grabbed the top of the pole and hurriedly wiggled it backwards and forwards, attempting to free it from the dusty soil. The wire rattled against the other poles, dotted at six feet intervals along the fence. The infected female thrashed around between the wire lengths in a frenzy to wrench herself free, a few yards from Mancini. The two contaminated male youths regained their balance, roaring with burning rage and preparing to pounce.

  Mancini gritted his teeth and jerked the wooden pole from the ground, grunting with exertion. He was briefly and pleasantly surprised when he noticed the pole was tapered to a point at the end that had been buried in the ground. The two males rushed at him quickly, Quiffed guy to his left and the one with blond streaks to the right.

  Mancini braced himself with his back towards the fence, twirling the pole in his hands and holding it like a spear with the sharp end pointing at his assailants. Quiffed guy approached first and Mancini hollered in defiance as he jabbed the tapered end of the pole through the guy’s open mouth with as much force as he could muster.

  The pole skewered through the quiffed guy’s brain and shattered the back of the skull. Covered in blood and brain matter, the spike briefly protruded out through the back of the attacker’s head. Mancini knew he didn’t have time to congratulate himself on dispatching the first of the ghouls. He still had another two to deal with.

  Mancini wrenched the fence pole backward from the youth’s head and the body dropped to the ground in a twitching heap. The kid with the blond streaks was quickly all over Mancini before he had time to adjust his stance. Mancini rocked backward under the onrushing weight of his attacker. He held the pole in a horizontal position a few inches from his chest. The infected guy snaffled the air between them and clawed at Mancini’s face. Mancini raised the pole to protect himself, leaning back into the bending wire fence behind him. He knew if he didn’t react quickly, the pair of them would topple over the fence and land on the dusty ground behind them. Worse cased scenario was Mancini would then have to fend off his attacker, while laying on his back and hope the female didn’t yank herself free to join in the assault.

  Mancini gritted his teeth and twisted at the waist, smashing the end of the pole into his attacker’s face. The infected guy lumbered backwards under the force of the blow, which allowed Mancini a split second to alter his stance. He rolled the pole in his hands, jabbing the sharp end with force at his aggressor. The tapered point rammed into the infected youth’s right eye socket, producing a sickening squelching sound. A combination of blood and a black jelly like substance squirted in a jet from the guy’s wrecked eyeball.

  The female screeched, still attempting to tug her arms and body free from the constraints of the fence. The wire sliced through her flesh every time she jerked herself backwards against the metal strips.

  Mancini pulled the pole from the infected man’s skull and watched his immobile body sag to the ground. He allowed himself a couple of seconds to regain his composure and his breath before he turned towards the female. She
roared and gnashed her teeth as Mancini cautiously approached her. He held the pole out in front of him, aiming the tapered end at the girl’s face. He delivered one thrusting jab, piercing the woman’s left eyeball and putting an end to her shrieks.

  The battle in the alleyway was an interlude Mancini could have done without. He guessed Jorge was already back at the garage by now, probably loading the VW with the holdalls full of money from the Thunderbird. He had to get back to the garage before Jorge took off again.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The hollow thumps and bangs on the sliding doors ceased and Sonny, Trey and Leticia glanced around when they heard the sound of a rattling vehicle engine approach from somewhere outside.

  “Somebody is coming this way,” Leticia hissed.

  “We better see who the hell it is,” Trey muttered, staring at Sonny. “It could be the cops.”

  Sonny drew his Beretta and in a hunched stance, edging towards the windows but ensuring he kept out of sight from the street beyond. He hunkered down behind the door panels and took a peek through the window onto the street.

  “It’s some guy in a beat up old Beetle,” he hissed. “Looks like one of those guys you were with earlier.”

  “Which one?” Trey asked, cautiously making his way over to the front door.

  “Stay out of sight,” Sonny warned. “The street is still full of those crazy bastards out there.”

  Trey nodded and crept to the door, positioning himself alongside Sonny. He craned his neck and took a look out onto the main street. The dark blue VW approached, sending up plumes of sandy dust in its wake. Trey could clearly see Jorge behind the wheel with a steely expression of determination on his face.

  “What the hell is he doing?” Trey muttered.

  He watched Jorge scanning the front of the garage, searching for the Thunderbird. At least two dozen infected people milled around the sidewalks and in the center of the road. A couple of them ran to meet the VW head on. The expression on Jorge’s face changed to one of panic when he realized the Thunderbird was gone.

  “Looks like he found an escape vehicle and came back to fetch you,” Sonny whispered. “Aw, that’s really sweet of him.”

  Trey wondered why Mancini wasn’t with him and hoped he hadn’t been infected. Jorge nudged the onrushing attackers out of his path, carefully ensuring he didn’t hit them head on. Instead, he bumped them out of the way with the side wings. As the VW drew closer, Trey noticed the firearm in Jorge’s hand and then it dawned on him that Jorge had only returned to try and grab the money in the Thunderbird’s trunk before attempting a getaway.

  “He’ll be overrun in no time unless he high tails it out of here,” Sonny snickered. “Those fuckers will be all over that car in a few seconds. I’ve seen it happen, man.”

  “What are we going to do?” Trey asked. “Just sit here and watch him get ripped to pieces?” He knew they needed Jorge alive. The alternative was to go home empty handed without the money and without the crystals.

  Sonny thought for a moment. “He could be the decoy we need to get out of here in the T-Bird,” he said. “I just need to top the radiator with water and we’re good to go.” He shuffled back towards the Thunderbird’s open trunk and searched the racks for a water jug.

  Trey knew he had to quickly think of a plan to save Jorge. He glanced out of the window again and saw the VW loop around the center of the main street in a tight circle. Jorge held a cell phone to the side of his head and he looked absolutely terrified. Trey wondered who he was calling then remembered Jorge’s cell phone was broken. If he had Mancini’s handgun, he probably also had his phone.

  Trey turned around and saw Sonny pouring water from a bottle into the radiator compartment in the engine. He scurried over to the front of the Thunderbird.

  “Maybe I should call the guy out there. I’ve seen him on a cell phone,” Trey said. “He may be trying to call me. We can synchronize an escape plan or some shit. I can call him if you give me my phone back.”

  Sonny poured the remainder of the water bottle into the radiator in silence, mulling over Trey’s suggestion. He was originally planning on leaving Leticia and Trey inside the garage once he’d got the Thunderbird up and running. Once Trey had opened the sliding doors and he was out on the road, he was planning on putting his foot hard on the gas and getting the hell out of town. Now the crazy gang was meandering out front, he’d have to change his schedule a little. But the kid’s proposal may work, with a few alterations.

  Sonny tossed the water bottle aside then drew his Beretta and pulled out Trey’s cell phone. He aimed the firearm at Leticia, who gasped in fright. “Okay, but if you try to warn him off in any way, I’ll shoot your girlfriend in the face and then I’ll shoot you. Got that?”

  Trey gulped and nodded as Sonny handed him his phone.

  Mancini had been right in his thinking. The alleyway did lead back onto the main street but the situation had unexpectedly twisted since he’d left the scene. He still gripped hold of the wooden fence pole, while he crouched in the shadows at the mouth of the alley, beside a darkened shoe store. His vantage point was roughly twenty-five yards from the garage but the scene seemed totally surreal. Jorge circled around the center of the main street with gathering speed in the VW and the broken down Thunderbird had somehow disappeared, along with Trey and Leticia. Jorge was flanked on all sides by a horde of infected, who battered the sides of the Beetle as it swirled around in the dust, causing sand clouds to billow on either side. Some of the contaminated fed on the dead body of the guy, still lying in front of the garage.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Mancini muttered to himself.

  Trey glanced nervously at Leticia as he hastily dialed Mancini’s number on his cell phone. A voice told him his call couldn’t be connected after hearing an elongated bleep. He had the call on speaker so Sonny could hear the conversation.

  “Come on, come on, he’s right fucking there outside,” he seethed and tried the number again. The phone rang on the second call.

  “Where the hell are you?” Jorge screeched. His voice was slightly distorted with the elevated volume of his tone.

  Trey flashed Sonny a brief glance. “I don’t have time to go into detail right now but we’re trapped inside the garage and we need you to get those goons out the way so we can get out of here, man.”

  “You still got the money?”

  Trey gulped. He hoped Sonny hadn’t understood what Jorge had said. “Can you give us a diversion, man? Yes or no?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Trey brushed his hand through his hair. “I don’t know, man. Just drive around a few blocks, make sure they follow you. You outrun them and make your way back here. By that time, we should have the T-Bird fired up and ready to go.”

  “All right, I can do that. But make sure you wait for me.”

  “Where the hell is Mancini anyhow? I can see you from the window. You’ve got his gun and his phone, so where is he?”

  “Err…we got jumped,” Jorge stammered. “He didn’t make it.”

  “But you managed to get his gun and his phone off him?” Trey knew Jorge was bullshitting but he didn’t have much time to discover the truth.

  “Listen, I’m going to circle around the block and you better be ready to roll by the time I get back,” Jorge snapped and cut the phone connection. He steered the Beetle back into a straightforward direction and headed south. Jorge took a side street to his right, hoping not to run into Mancini as he sped away from the following infected horde.

  Sonny made a few minor adjustments on the water hoses and closed the hood cover. “Okay, let’s roll.” He jabbed the gun barrel at Trey. “What was that about money? What did that guy mean?”

  “Ah, he lost his wallet and he’s got no cash on him. He wanted to borrow some greenbacks.” Trey hoped his lies sounded convincing as he handed the phone back to Sonny.

  “Open the doors once the engine starts,” Sonny instructed, jumping into the Thunderbir
d’s driver’s seat. He knew Trey was covering up by the shifty expression on his face. Something about this crowd didn’t quite add up and now Trey had clammed up at the mention of money. Sonny planned to find out what was going on, so he was going to play along and help Trey and his companions escape from the infested town. Once they were back on the open and deserted highway, he intended to discover exactly what was occurring.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Mancini observed Jorge circle around once more before tearing off into the distance. He took a right turn and disappeared down a side street in the VW. The infected gave chase, snarling and clawing the air as they pursued the vehicle. Why was Jorge suddenly fleeing the scene so quickly?

  He waited a beat for the last of the contaminated ghouls to withdraw into the distance before he emerged from his hiding place in the alleyway. Mancini stopped in his tracks and hunkered down in the shadows when he heard the garage’s doors sliding open. An engine roared, echoing inside the garage interior and the Thunderbird, driven by a rough looking guy reversed out onto the street. Mancini wondered who the hell the guy was then recognized Trey and Leticia as they sprinted from the garage towards the Thunderbird. Maybe the unknown guy was the garage owner or a mechanic and he’d managed to fix up the car after all. The T-Bird certainly sounded like it was running better even though the dents and broken lights were still apparent.

  Mancini had to reach the vehicle before they sped off without noticing him. He didn’t want to holler in case the infected heard him and returned, cutting off their escape route. Besides, more contaminated people surely lurked in the vicinity, ready to pounce. The Thunderbird’s engine was loud and probably could be heard from several streets away.

  Mancini broke from his cover and rushed towards the Thunderbird, waving the fence pole above his head in an attempt to get himself noticed.