The infected guy’s head jerked backwards and he went down on his back, lying in a horizontal position to the front of the Thunderbird.
“Shit, man. What did you do?” Trey hissed. “There are cops all over the damn place and you go shooting the guy in the street.”
Mancini glanced up and down the side road. “There’s nobody around. The cops are too busy with their road block. Something is going down in this city and I don’t want to be caught in the center of it all.” He crouched down and grasped hold of the dead man’s wrists then dragged him to the side of the road. He rolled the body behind an abandoned car with all the windows smashed out. “Let’s roll,” he said, jumping back into the passenger seat.
Trey hit the gas, keen to get away from the scene of execution.
“They obviously have an outbreak of the infection in the city,” Mancini said. “They’re probably trying to contain it but have no idea how infectious this thing is.”
Trey followed a dog leg in the side street but was met by a myriad of flashing orange lights in the center of the road.
“Ah, crap. What the hell is this now?” Trey slowed the Thunderbird and saw a red colored road sign placed between the sets of flashing beacons. “Alto! Policia – Camino Cerrado,” he read aloud. “That means…uh…Stop! Police…”
“Road Closed,” Leticia finished for him. “We can’t go any further. We’ll have to turn back and take our chances through the road block.”
“We’re not going back and we’re not going through any road blocks,” Mancini growled, hauling himself from the passenger seat. He glanced up and down the street. A few people hurried along in the shadows of the buildings beneath the sparsely positioned street lamps. Mancini moved towards the rows of flashing orange lights and black and white barriers. He shoved the barriers to one side, kicked over the stop sign and pulled over the light stands. “Can you fit through the gap?”
Trey nodded and rolled the Thunderbird forwards between the barriers. Mancini hopped back into the car and Trey accelerated away down the street.
“No cops are around to stop us,” Mancini said. “They’re all probably tied up, trying to contain the outbreak. We won’t have long before the whole city is in lock down.”
Trey reached the corner of the side street and took the left turn onto another block. Mancini consulted the map once again and found their location.
“Keep going straight down this road as far as you can go, then take another left turn, which should bring us back out onto the highway beyond the main route through the city.”
The buildings lining the road stood on several levels and were higher than those on the previous side street but similarly as dark and gloomy. Piles of trash bags lined the sidewalks and sheets from discarded newspapers blew across the street on the night breeze.
Trey was limited to driving at a slow speed due to the poor light and the narrowness of the access road. Mancini glanced along the deserted sidewalks, wondering how bad the outbreak was in the hub of the city. He half expected more complaints about the neighborhood from Jorge behind him but was pleasantly surprised by the unexpected silence.
Trey was forced to halt the Thunderbird once again, due to a stationary Nissan car, parked at a horizontal angle across the street, stopping their progress.
“What the hell kind of parking is that, man,” Trey sighed, flapping his hand at the immobile vehicle.
“Don’t be too hasty,” Mancini warned, carefully studying the interior of the static Nissan. “And don’t honk that damn horn again.”
Trey and Mancini both glanced over the Nissan for any sign of movement inside. The lights were turned off and all the doors remained closed.
“There’s nobody in that car, what do we do, man?”
Mancini turned his head and looked at the road behind them, then scoured the immediate urban vicinity.
“There’s nobody around. Let’s see if we can shove that piece of shit out of our way.”
Mancini cautiously exited the Thunderbird, holding his handgun low to his side. Trey followed him out of the car and they both slowly made their way to the immobile Nissan. Mancini leaned forward and peered through the driver’s side window, cupping his hands over the glass to shade the glare of the Thunderbird’s remaining headlamp. He saw the car interior was heavily blood stained, with crimson pools on the two front seats and smears across the central console.
“Looks like somebody had a real mash up in there,” Mancini muttered. He tried the driver’s door and was surprised to find it unlocked. He checked the ignition but no keys hung from the slot. “All right, at least we can push this damn thing out the way.”
Trey tried the front passenger door and opened it up. “Smells kind of funky in there, man,” he said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Wouldn’t surprise me if there’s a stiff in the trunk.”
“As long as it’s not coming after us, I don’t give a crap,” Mancini said, tucking his firearm into his waistband. “Come on, let’s push this piece of filth out of our way.” He reached inside the interior with his foot and released the park brake, carefully avoiding the blood spatters.
Mancini turned the steering wheel to the right as far as it would go before the steering lock engaged. Trey shoved from the opposite side, gripping his hands against the column to the right of the windshield.
“Fuck, this thing is heavy,” Trey grunted, exerting himself with the pushing.
Mancini shoved the car forward from his side and it began to roll forward slightly. He glanced back to the idling Thunderbird.
“Feel free to give us a hand anytime, Jorge,” he barked.
Jorge nodded and clambered out of his seat. He slowly made his way to the Nissan.
“I figured you two were doing okay without me,” he said, shrugging.
A sudden patter of heavy footfalls caused all three men to turn to the source of the noise. They ceased pushing the Nissan, more concerned with the approaching footsteps.
“Somebody’s coming this way,” Trey muttered. “Through that alleyway.” He pointed to a narrow walkway to the left of the street.
“Sounds like they’re in one hell of a hurry,” Mancini said, drawing his Heckler and Koch.
A long shadow spread across the sidewalk, beneath the dim illumination of an overhanging street lamp. The shadow perfectly mirrored a running figure, with their arms and legs furiously pumping back and forth.
A terrified looking man appeared from the alley, running at full pelt. The guy was young, probably in his early twenties and his long, dark frizzy hair flopped from side to side as he ran. His eyes bulged wide in fear and he breathed in wheezing gasps.
Mancini hunched and raised his handgun, his arms resting on the Nissan roof, aiming at the approaching figure.
The young guy navigated his way around a toppled trash can, nearly slipping in the process but carried on moving at speed by the side of the Nissan. He muttered something as he ran by Trey’s side of the car and kept going into another alley on the opposite side of the street.
“What did he say?” Mancini asked, lowering his firearm.
“I don’t know, man,” Trey said, shrugging. “I didn’t catch it. I thought he said something about his hair.”
“He said huir ahora!” Jorge rasped. “It means run away now!”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Mancini, Trey and Jorge glanced back towards the alley situated to their left. They heard more slapping footfalls and saw a cluster of shadows dancing against the walls either side of the alley and across the sidewalk.
“Shit, looks like a whole mob is heading our way,” Trey hissed.
Mancini glanced back to the Nissan and the small gap they’d created between the vehicle and the narrow sidewalk. Trey guessed what he was thinking.
“Forget it, man. We’ll never fit through there,” he sighed. “The street lamp will still block our way through.”
Snarls, shrieks and moans echoed from the alley. The shadows grew larger and the noise of once hu
man creatures increased in volume with every second that ticked by.
Mancini swiveled his head back to the Thunderbird, then at Trey. “Okay, get Leticia and get the car keys and then we move, right?”
Trey nodded. An anxious expression engulfed his face as he sprinted back to the Thunderbird. Mancini knew how futile the situation would be if they tried to stand and fight off the approaching mob with only two handguns. They didn’t have time to turn the car around and heading back on themselves would only lead to the police road block. He kept his eyes on the alley and heard the Thunderbird engine peter out. Trey returned, dragging a worried looking Leticia by her hand.
“Okay, I got the keys, man,” Trey said. “I sincerely hope my ride doesn’t get looted while we’re away.”
“Let’s move,” Mancini instructed, jerking his head to their right. The others followed in a hurried jog. “We’ll scoot through that alleyway opposite and try to double back. Hopefully, we can lose that mob around the next block.”
Mancini glanced behind him when they reached the mouth of the opposite alleyway. He saw a bunch of growling, snarling figures clawing the air as they spilled out onto the street. Mancini estimated the whole mob was around thirty in number. Some of the infected leapt on the hood of the Nissan and ran across its roof before jumping down the other side. The leaders of the infected pack sniffed the air and seemed to catch the scent of Mancini and the others. The first three figures sprinted across the street and the remaining horde followed towards the second alleyway.
“We need to move faster,” Mancini hissed. “They’re right on our tail.” He placed a hand on each of Jorge and Leticia’s backs and tried to hurry them forward.
Trey led from the front but the alley was almost totally dark and he couldn’t see where they were heading. He nearly ran straight into a block wall as the passageway doglegged to their right.
“I can’t see shit,” Trey hissed in protest.
“Just keep going,” Mancini growled, glancing over his shoulder.
Shrieks and howls echoed around the block walls from somewhere behind them.
“It sounds like the hounds of hell have come to eat us alive,” Jorge stammered, almost turning around.
“Quit bellyaching and keep moving, Jorge,” Mancini grunted, shoving Jorge forwards. He was worried at how far they’d moved through the alley and realized how easy it was to lose their bearings in the darkness.
“I wish we had a damn flashlight,” Trey muttered.
“The light would only help give away our position,” Mancini snapped.
Trey wailed in terror when a figure stepped out of a doorway, recessed in the side of the alley wall.
“What the fuck, man?” he gasped, stopping in his tracks.
Mancini fumbled for his Zippo lighter and lit the flame. An old guy, probably in his late sixties, with a saggy face and wispy white hair stood in the doorway glaring in their direction.
“Quien es usted?” the guy croaked. “Que esta pasando?” He was solidly built and wore a white string vest and striped short pants. He held a small wooden Billy club in his hands.
“You’re going to need more than that damn club, dude,” Trey muttered. “There’s one hell of a shit storm heading our way.”
“What did he say?” Mancini asked Leticia.
“He wants to know who we are and what is happening in the city,” she answered.
“Tell him to go back inside and lock all his doors and windows,” Mancini said, glancing over his shoulder. “Those goons are going to be on our asses any moment.”
Leticia conversed in Spanish with the old guy and he made surprised sounding grunts between her sentences. Mancini was keen to get going and not hang around the alley. Every moment they stood still was more ground gained by the chasing infected pack.
The old guy took a backward pace and gestured towards the open door in the wall recess. He grunted something to Leticia and repeated it to the others.
“He’s offering us a place of sanctuary,” Jorge explained.
Mancini was hesitant but the reverberating shrieks and howls from somewhere close behind changed his mind.
“Okay, we stay until they pass and then we’re out of here,” he hissed.
Leticia stepped through the doorway first and the others followed. The old guy closed the gate behind them and engaged the bolts at the top and bottom. He ushered them through a paved yard, towards the back door of his small house, where a dim light shone from the ground floor window.
The back door stood open ajar and a thin ginger and white cat poked its head through the gap. The animal sniffed the air then turned and fled back into the house as the old guy waved the party inside.
Leticia entered the dwelling first, followed by Trey, Jorge and Mancini at the rear. The old guy came into the room behind them and closed the door. They huddled further inside with their feet clattering on bare wooden boards. Mancini glanced around the small, sparsely furnished room. An old TV set sat on a table, propped up by a packing crate where one of the legs had broken. The TV and table stood opposite a worn leather backed chair. A ceramic lamp without a shade sat on the window sill, dimly lighting the room.
“Tell him to turn off that lamp,” Mancini instructed Leticia, pointing to the window sill. “Those creatures seem to be able to home in on anything that produces a smell or any kind of lighting.”
Leticia passed on the message and the old guy complied, blinking out the lamp and plunging the room into darkness.
“I just hope we’re not making a big mistake by coming in here,” Trey groaned.
Mancini thought the same but didn’t say as much. “Let’s keep the noise down to a minimum and hope that bunch of freaks pass us by out there.”
The old guy muttered something in Spanish and Mancini resisted the urge to tell him to shut the fuck up.
“He says the news has been on the local radio that some sort of illness has taken hold of the surrounding area but the reports are very vague,” Leticia translated.
“All right, but tell him to keep quiet for now,” Mancini hissed. He worried now the outbreak was out in the open, the military and law enforcement departments would be all over the city. They couldn’t hang around too long without being caught up in a quarantine situation.
They stood huddled in silence in the old guy’s living room, listening and waiting for any sounds of the infected horde. A shrill shriek pierced the night air from outside the gate in the alleyway beyond.
The sound of the gate rattling in its frame caused Jorge to gasp aloud and flinch. He stumbled into Mancini, who propped him back upright again.
“Stay cool,” Mancini growled quietly in Jorge’s ear.
The sound of something scampering across the wooden floor alerted Mancini’s senses. He saw the silhouette of a cat appear on the window sill next to the lamp.
“Gus, Gus,” the old man whispered at the cat.
The cat responded with a yowl and brushed its head against the unlit light bulb on the lamp. The heat from the bulb startled the cat and it leapt from the window sill back into the darkness, knocking the lamp from the flat surface.
Mancini held his breath for a fraction of a second before he heard the ceramic lamp shattering on the floor.
Chapter Forty-Nine
The shrieking and screeching sounds from the alleyway increased with fresh impetus after the lamp crashed onto the floor. The old guy murmured under his breath and stumbled through the darkness towards a doorway leading to another room in the house. Mancini knew their cover was blown. They had to move to anyplace away from their compromised position.
Trey moved to the small window and peered out into the backyard. He saw the silhouettes of shadowy figures appear at the top of the wall in front of the alley.
“They’re climbing over the top of the wall,” he hissed, turning his head back to the others. “We have to get out of here.”
“Where did the old guy go?” Mancini asked Leticia.
“I don’t know,�
�� she whispered. “He said something about getting his gun.”
“It’ll take more than some old pop gun to stop those fuckers,” Mancini grumbled. “Let’s try and see if we can get out through the front of the house.” He led the way, stumbling through the darkness towards the doorway where the old guy had disappeared through.
Jorge immediately followed Mancini and Trey grabbed Leticia’s hand before they tagged along at the rear. They padded slowly through a narrow corridor towards the front of the house. Screams and throaty growls echoed from the backyard as the infected closed in on the property.
The old guy emerged from a room to the right of the corridor, causing Mancini to flinch. He carried a flashlight in one hand and an old, long barreled revolver in the other.
“No good,” Mancini said, pointing to the pistol. “We have to leave.”
The old guy shone his flashlight towards the far end of the corridor, illuminating a wooden door, which Mancini presumed led out of the front of the house.
“We have to go,” Mancini repeated, pointing to the back door.
Leticia translated but the old guy shook his head and muttered a reply. His eyes were wide and his face was fixed with grim determination.
“He says he is not leaving,” Leticia said. “This is his home and he is going to protect it.”
“Well, good luck with that,” Mancini hissed. “Come on, let’s go.” He pressed forward to the front door and heard the windows rattle at the rear of the house.
“Go, man,” Trey whispered. “They’re at the back door.”
Mancini continued as the old guy brushed by Jorge, heading in the opposite direction on his way to the back room. Leticia thanked the old guy for his hospitality as he swept by. The back door rattled on its hinges and they heard the small window shatter as they reached the front door. Mancini depressed the latch and opened the door a crack. He peered out onto an open deserted street, similar to the one where they’d abandoned the Thunderbird.
“All clear out there,” Mancini whispered, turning back to the others.
Green Ice: A Deadly High Page 23
