Storm Horizon Page 14

  "That's if the place hasn't been… como se dice, cleaned up," Andro said.

  Danny tapped on the dash. "Cleaned out. I'm not saying it hasn’t been, Ese. Just saying it’s possible. Let's go see. Make sure you have your handgun and a weapon. Rules of engagement- no gunfire except for an emergency." He pulled the magazine from his vest and handed it to Willa. "We have one extra magazine. Willa's got it. Jobe, leave the keys. It’s the rally point. If we need to run, run here. If you can't run here, the backup is the west side of the school." He pointed a finger at the western sky. "West is that way. If the truck leaves with three people in it, and you don't know where the fourth person is, the person driving goes to the west side of the school." He took a deep breath. "Any questions?"

  The others shook their heads. "Andro, watch the perimeter. Jobe, you stay close to Cassandro. Willa, you’re with me. Let's go.”

  Thirty-Eight

  * * *

  They crossed the concrete pads in front of the body shop in a fast jog. There was a weatherbeaten and rotting entrance door on the left side of the building and they gathered around it.

  Danny gestured at the door. "Andro."

  The big Latino nodded, looked around, and backed a few feet away. He took a deep breath, surged forward, and slammed 220 pounds of muscle into the door, shoulder first. It shook in its frame but didn't fall. Andro let loose a string of Spanish curses and backed up, rubbing his shoulder. He held one finger in the air. "One more," he said, to no one in particular. He tensed, gritted his teeth, and sprang forward again. On the second impact the door flew inward and the frame shattered, sending wood shrapnel flying in all directions.

  "Good job," Danny told Andro. "Is your shoulder all right?"

  Cassandro puffed out his chest and gave Danny two thumbs-up.

  Danny's lips turned up at the corners. "Okay, tough guy. You take the back." He pulled his knife and stepped inside.

  The mixed odors of paint, sweat, and hydrocarbons assaulted his nostrils. He winced and glanced around. A small waiting area with a battered couch and a Vietnam War-era TV was to the left as you walked in. In front of him stood a counter covered with invoices and work orders; a cramped office was behind it. On his right, an open door led to a three-bay workshop. Big, boxy hydraulic lifts covered the first two bays; the third was behind a floor-to-ceiling wall. The wall was stark white and startling amid the dust and grease.

  Jobe pointed at it. “What’s that over there?”

  “That’s the paint box,” said Danny. “You want your auto painting done in a particle-free environment. No dust, no loose hairs, no foreign objects of any kind. You’d be amazed how a few tiny flecks of dust can ruin a paint job.”

  Jobe was wide-eyed. “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. Someday, have me tell you about the paint room at the Ford plant in Claycomo. I toured that plant about five years ago. They spent a billion dollars on that room. It was like a top-secret lab.”

  Willa cleared her throat. “Uh, this is fascinating. Honest. But can we get to the matter at hand before the creeper hotline tells all the dead fuckers in town we’re here?” She shook her head and walked toward the back of the shop. She pointed toward a row of big oaken tables that lined the back wall. "What's on those tables?"

  Danny glanced at the first table in the row. "Yes!" he crowed, pumping his fist in the air. It held welding equipment and a myriad of tools. On the other tables they found a propane torch, several hacksaws, a drill press- everything on the list except for the copper tubing, end caps, and tee-fittings.

  Working fast, they loaded the equipment in the bed of the truck. Once they finished, they gathered in the center of the workshop.

  Willa asked the question on everyone's mind. "Will we go on to Golden City to see if we can find the tubing?"

  Danny thought for a long moment, then crossed his arms and frowned. "No, fuck it. We've done our part. They sent out five teams. One of the other four will find it."

  Willa scrunched her mouth to one side of her face. "What if none of them do?"

  Danny gave her mirthless grin. "If that happens, they'll know we can't find it in these little towns. They'll have to decide if we need fuel bad enough to send a couple of crews to the bigger towns."

  As they talked, Jobe wandered to the paint box. He ran his hands over the smooth, cool wall, then stopped. From the corner of his eye, Danny watched him lean against the door and press his ear to it. He was about to call out Jobe when the newbie reached out and pulled the handle. The door flew open behind the force of a dozen creepers all trying to shuffle through at once.

  "Son of a bitch!" Jobe cried, trying to push it shut. He got it halfway shut before it stopped against the weight of the dead on the other side.

  "Ah, shit," Danny breathed. He raced across the room, weaving around equipment and leaping over the lifts. He got to Jobe seconds before Andro and Willa. Jobe couldn't get any traction on the concrete floor; his feet slid backward along the smooth hard finish. Danny jumped in next to him and together they stopped it from opening further. Danny leaned his weight against it; his feet scrambled as his boots fought for traction. The gap wasn't big enough for the creepers to fit through; instead, they reached through and grasped for Danny and Jobe.

  Willa hurried between them, pushing backward with her butt and back. Andro ran up and swung his machete at the arms as they snaked through the gap, cleaving off five of them. Danny’s team gained an advantage behind the actions of Willa and Andro and the gap shrunk, inch by slow inch.

  Blood flowed from the amputated creature’s arms and pooled on the floor around the box, causing their boots to slip and slide on the bloody floor. Danny cussed a blue streak and tried to find traction but it was like trying to make forward progress on a treadmill set on high. The gap stopped closing, stayed the same for several seconds, and grew as they became unable to keep their blood-slicked boots from sliding backward.

  Jobe’s feet slipped from underneath him; he fell to his knees, banging his head on the way, and crawled away from the paint room. Danny and Willa by themselves were no match for the hunger-crazed creepers inside the box. The door swung open and a surge of creatures limped and stumbled out of the box. Danny hooked his arm around Willa's waist and jerked her out of the way, and they ran for the opposite side of the shop.

  Andro’s machete hacked and slashed and his feet moved in an exquisite ballet as he put down the creepers shuffling out of the box. But they poured from the paint room in a steady flow, more than Danny imagined could fit in such a space; he had to get his man out of there before they overwhelmed him.

  He yelled so Cassandro heard him over the moans and groans and the wet slaps of metal on bone. “Andro- go!” He pointed at the exit. “Go, get out of here. Meet me at the school.”

  Cassandro hesitated, his face full of doubt.

  “Go!” Danny ordered.

  Andro lifted his head in acknowledgment. The nearest creeper reached for him, its hands opening and closing in anticipation. He squatted and swung the machete low, cutting its leg off just below the knee. Blood splattered in an arc as the creature fell; Andro stood up and planted his blade in the creature’s head. He took one last look at Danny, then turned and trotted to the exit.

  Five creepers stumbled around the workshop: more tripped and shuffled out of the paint room. With Andro gone, their attention turned toward new prey.

  Jobe was still on his knees, bleeding from a head wound. The dead locked their eyes on the trio and limped in their direction. Danny grabbed Jobe by the collar and jerked him to his feet. He kept hold of his collar, took Willa by the arm, and ran to the back of the room, pulling them along with him. The building echoed with the moans of the dead.

  There was a back door at the rear of the shop. He ran to it, stood the newbies against the wall and tried to open it. It was locked, and he gritted his teeth in frustration. “God dammit.” He kicked it just under the knob; it didn't budge, but his knee erupted in an explosion of pain. He clutched the joint
with both hands and ripped off a string of curses. A peek over his shoulder revealed the creepers were halfway across the building.

  "Help me find something heavy we can use to force this," he said, grasping his knee with both hands.

  Willa bridled and pointed at the knob. "Danny- just turn the button thingy." She looked back at the dead as they closed in and gasped. "Hurry!"

  Danny peered at the knob and saw it locked from inside. Chagrined, he twisted the lock, turned the handle, and pushed the door open. He leaned close to Willa and Jobe. "You two- through here and around the building to the truck. I'll keep them from chasing you and meet you over at school." He fired his Beretta three times, dropping the three closest creepers.

  Jobe looked at the door, a dumb expression on his face. Willa argued.

  "There's no time for this," he yelled, his face inches from hers. He grabbed her arm and pushed her through; Jobe hurried after her. "At the school," he repeated, then closed the door.

  Thirty-Nine

  * * *

  Willa held Jobe’s hand and led the way, guiding him around the building and back to the Ford out front. She kept a concerned eye on him as they trotted through the dead grass behind the shop and the paved parking lot out front. He was bleeding like a gunshot victim, but his mind seemed clear. He jogged in an awkward fashion, favoring his left leg as if unable or unwilling to bend that knee.

  They saw Andro when they rounded the corner of the building. He paced the length of the truck, his clothes flecked with gore and his machete dripping blood. The flat report of gunfire echoed from inside the body shop; one shot, then three more in quick succession. Jobe jumped as if goosed after each one. Andro pressed his lips into a tight line. He turned and walked toward the entrance with a sense of purpose, as if going back in, but faltered after a few steps. His shoulders sagged and his head drooped, and he turned back. He walked past them to the truck’s passenger door. “Danny say if three, drive to the school. One of you drive.” He opened the door and pulled himself up.

  Jobe pressed a hand against the cut to his head. She laid a gentle hand on his arm and spoke in a soft voice. "Are you okay to drive? Cassandro and I are better with a gun, so we should keep ourselves free to shoot in case we have to fight our way out of here.”

  He seemed to consider the question, squinting his eyes and looking far away at nothing.

  She tapped her toe on the parking lot, trying to keep her patience. After a few seconds, it boiled over. "Are you kidding me? Come the fuck on Jobe, it's not like we have a lot of time. Can you drive?"

  He regarded her for a few seconds and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."

  "Then drive!" She held her hands up in exasperation. "Let's go. Chop fucking chop. Get in." She pushed him toward the driver’s door with both hands then opened the door to the back seat.

  Jobe got in; Andro leaned across the seat and peered at his wound. Blood flowed down the side of his face and dripped onto his shirt. Cassandro lifted the cover to the console between the seats. He dug around and pulled out a package of gauze pads, ripped the package open, and handed one to Jobe. "Hold those against cut. It will help blood to…" Stuck for the word, he made half-circles with his hands and mimed working a ball of dough.

  Willa craned her neck over the seat, a fresh cigarette clamped between her teeth. “Clot.”

  “Yes. Help blood to clot.”

  Jobe thanked him and held a pad to his head. With his free hand he turned the key, and the engine roared to life. He guided the truck out of the parking lot and started down the road.

  Cassandro pointed to his right. "Turn right at the stop sign a couple of blocks up. Drive past the school and turn in on the other side. Park up close to the building to hide."

  Jobe didn't give any indication he heard; instead, he rattled about what happened. He sounded nervous, and he too spoke fast. "Damn, that was hairy. What a mess. That was, that was something." He laughed, a sound that came out high-pitched and wrong. "I didn't think we would make it out of there. Danny's a hero- he saved Willa and me."

  In the back seat, Willa clutched the armrest and listened. She didn't like it. Something about Jobe was off. She didn't know him- in fact, today was the first time they had spoken. But something was off about the man.

  The crossroad to the school approached fast and Cassandro motioned at the stop sign. "Turn right here, man.”

  Jobe didn't acknowledge him. When he got to the stop sign he braked just enough to keep from flipping and turned left.

  Cassandro looked at him, his eyes wide. "Ese, what you doing? You're going wrong way!"

  Jobe jerked his head from side to side and clutched the steering will with determination. He accelerated and the Ford gained speed as it passed through the small downtown.

  Cassandro sputtered, turned to Willa, then back to Jobe. "Dude, what you doing? You go the wrong way." He spoke slowly and enunciated each word as if talking to a young child. "Turn around and drive to the school. That was the plan."

  Jobe jabbed a bloody finger at him. "That was the plan before the plan turned to shit. We barely escaped with our lives. It would be suicide to go back."

  Willa shook her head. She spoke in a quiet voice without looking up. "Jobe, don't do this."

  "Listen- will you listen a minute?" A note of panic crept into Cassandro's voice. "Stop and talk for a minute."

  Jobe shook his head vehemently. "Fuck that. Four of us came in, we got almost everything we needed, and three of us are going back. That's the way it is sometimes."

  Andro’s left arm moved fast and suddenly he held a gun to Jobe’s temple. "Motherfucker, stop this truck or in two seconds your brains will be splatter all over the window."

  Jobe took a sharp breath and his face paled. He stared straight ahead as they slowed and came to a stop in the middle of the deserted street.

  "Now get out!" Cassandro opened his door without taking the gun off Jobe.

  Willa opened her door and raced around to intercept Cassandro. "C'mon," she pleaded, placing both palms on his chest, "don't do this. He's a weasel, but that doesn't mean he should die. Get in the truck and go back for your friend."

  He looked around her and glared at Jobe as she spoke. He pushed against her, but not hard. When she didn’t give way he reached over her shoulder and pointed his finger at Jobe. His face was a mask of fury. "Leave him? Leave him? Do you know who that man is, esse? Danny-fucking-Wilson. He save more people than penicillin. And he’s worth ten of you, you puta."

  "It doesn’t matter who he is because he's dead, asshole." Spittle flew from Jobe's mouth as he raged. "He's fucking dead and you know it. He may have been Danny Wilson but now he’s just another creeper- and if we go back, we'll be creepers, too."

  Cassandro's mouth worked, but no words came forth. Willa turned to Jobe and spoke in her calmest, gentlest voice. "You can't know that, Jobe. I don't know why you would even think it."

  "Oh, come on!" The color had returned to Jobe's face and hectic red spots stood out on his cheeks. "There had to be fifty of those things. Who lives through that? You heard the gunfire- four shots and it stopped. Don't you think if he would've emptied his clip if he lived?" He turned his attention back to Cassandro, and his voice took on a pleading tone. "Look, man- he sacrificed himself to get us out of there. He's a hero, all right? Let's not waste his sacrifice by going back and getting killed. Let's have more respect for him than that."

  Cassandro's eyes were black with fury and hatred. "You are the most pathetic man I ever met. You child. You nothing. You waste. If you say another word, I shoot you in the street like a dog."

  Job didn't respond. His eyes wet, he looked at the ground, out at the horizon, or anywhere but back at Cassandro.

  Andro walked to the truck. "Get in, Willa," he said. In a louder and harsher voice, he spoke to Jobe. "Stay here, asshole. If you lucky you won't get bit. And maybe I pick you up on way back.” They got in and Andro restarted it. He guided it through a wide and tremulous 180-degree turn and sped back in t
he other direction.

  Forty

  * * *

  Two blocks from the school, Andro saw Danny hurrying down the street. He cursed in Spanish and floored the accelerator, throwing both he and Willa back in their seats.

  Danny moved in a limping jog and looked at the pavement in front of him, paying no attention to the pack of creepers shuffling in pursuit. He looked up; a grin split his dirty, sweaty face, and he moved into the path of the oncoming truck.

  Andro pulled to a stop beside him. Danny gave him a thumbs up and vaulted into the bed. He half fell, half sat down amid the tools and equipment and banged his hand on the wheel well. "Go, go, go!"

  Cassandro made a rough and timorous three-point turn, mumbling under his breath through most of it. By the time he had the truck pointed the other way, the herd chasing Danny had caught up to it. They moaned and slapped at the side of the bed; one blood-encrusted hand got close enough to scratch against the passenger window. Willa squealed and leaned away and Andro cursed louder.

  He got the truck going and the dead shrank as they slipped into the distance. He leaned toward Willa and tipped an imaginary cap. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t drive too much.”

  “No shit… I can see why,” she groused. “Do you want me to check on him?”

  “No. I’ve got it.” He pushed a button on the dash; a small motor whirred and the back glass rolled down. After a minute Danny’s hands grasped the bottom of the window frame and he pulled himself up.

  “Is there any water up there?” he called, yelling to make himself heard over the wind blowing through the cab. Willa was in the middle of extracting a cigarette from her pack; she set it aside and felt around the floorboard behind her until she found a water bottle. She handed it back to him with a timid smile.