Sometimes We Ran (Book 3): Rescue (15 page)

There was something else on the air. Claire waved her hand in front of her face and said, “What the is that smell?”

Lyle raised his head to take in the odor. “Solvent, maybe paint thinner or rust remover. Must be a  bad spill somewhere.” 

I walked over to one of the tables for a look. Welding equipment and folders full of diagrams and assembly drawings covered the surface. It was plans for whatever they used to build in this space.

Claire joined me, and touched me on the shoulder. “I'm going with my initial assessment. This place is creepy.” She paused to look around. “And it smells bad.”

“It's out of the rain,” I said. “But, I agree with you. Very creepy.”

Lyle and I went back to the van. Lyle popped the hood,and I checked out the damage from the chase. Deep creases and scrapes marred the right side of the van from nose to tail. The edge of the sliding door was bent up and folded over at an odd angle. I grabbed the handle and pulled, but it refused to budge. The door is really stuck now. We were damn lucky to still be moving.

Lyle stood on a small stool to check out the engine. All the components under the hood looked alike, and it was hard to tell what was wrong. I reached in and wiggled a few plugs and wires. “Find anything?” I asked.

Lyle didn't say anything at first. He just continued his recon under the hood. Slowly, he pulled back and jumped off the stool. “Nothing really looks wrong. Found a plug out of its socket. Don't know  if that did anything.”

“Water in the fuel, maybe?” I said.

Lyle stroked his chin, leaving a little grease on his face. “Could be. Maybe we could drain the fuel filter or something.” He turned in a circle, looking around the shop. “Need some tools to try and get the filter off.”

“We got some in the van. Maybe this place has a vehicle service bay,” I said.

Lyle looked around some more. “Looks like they're pretty stocked.”

I closed the hood, and Claire joined us at the van. “Were you guys able to fix it?” she asked.

“Don't know...maybe.” The afternoon was fading. Soon it would be getting dark and traveling at night was not recommended. “Sorry to say we might have to spend the night here.”

“We're going to have to go back to Cannon Fields, I guess,” Lyle said.

“Maybe, but we're pretty close to your people. Be kind of silly to give up now.” I looked at our ailing vehicle. “Tomorrow, we'll play around with the van again and see what we can do. Maybe we can still go get them.”

“Sounds like a plan. We'll look around this ugly place for something that can help us,” Lyle said.

Claire was still concerned. “You're not serious. Stay the night in this creepy-ass place? No way!”

“Not here in the shop. The office probably smells a lot better,” I offered.

A noise came from the darkness behind us. A piece of metal dropped on the floor with a loud clang. We all turned around at once, weapons drawn, and walked the few feet into the open space of the shop to face our attacker. The noise had come from the shadows near the side wall.

We froze in place, afraid to tip anything off to our presence. Claire was in the middle. I was to her left, and Lyle was to the right and slightly behind. The tension zoomed to the breaking point. I turned my head to different angles and moved around a bit. Claire was doing the same. In the right conditions, the eyes of the zombies can glow with a faint red light giving away their hiding place. Doctor Connelly would be able to tell you why their eyes did that, but Claire and I only knew it was a good way to find the bad guys. Lately, the Red-Eyes had learned a new trick. They kept their heads down, only raising them for a few seconds to hunt, so it was getting harder to spot them in their hiding places. I squinted and strained my eyes to see anything, but saw only gray formless shadows moving around. 

I took another sniff of the air. One thing they couldn't hide was their scent. Under the heavy smell of the solvent was a faint whiff of dead. Red-Eyes might be near.

“Get ready to run like hell,” Claire murmured under her breath.

She stumbled out of the darkness, almost like someone pushed her. Her head was down with dirty blonde hair covering her face. Very unsteady, the zombie tripped over her feet a few times as she tried to track us. She had been a receptionist or maybe one of the designers at the plant. Now, she was a shambling mess, her nice white blouse ripped open to the waist and blackened by blood and gore. Her shoes were missing, and her pantyhose were in tatters, with deep open gashes up and down her legs. A plastic nametag still hung around her neck from her former life. Something had worked her over good.

She walked like a drunk, swaying back and forth as she tried to reach the van and her possible next meal. The effort to remain mobile caused small grunts and cries as she walked in the open space of the shop. Blood, body fluids, and God knows what else trailed behind her on the floor.

We stood frozen in morbid fascination. None of us could move as she continued her death dance in front of us. She reached a point a few feet in front of me and raised her head. Twin red orbs greeted me from beneath her matted hair.

She showed her scary, red eyes.

The lower part of her face was blackened by past meals, like her pretty white shirt. She saw me and started to screech raising the hairs on my neck. Arms raised, the monster began her attack. She lunged at me to take a bite. I aimed and sent a bullet through her face. She crumpled to the ground, a dying moan in her throat.

But she wasn't alone.

From the dark corners of the shop, more Red-Eye zombies woke up. They came out at us in all directions. We needed to move fast or be surrounded.

The three of us took off for the van. Several Red-Eyes materialized from the darkness behind our vehicle, and headed for us to cut off our escape. Something was off about these particular Red-Eyes. The flesh was burnt and discolored, like they had been in a bad fire or an acid spill. Their horrible, drawn out moans were different from the usual growls or hisses. Some of them were still wearing the remains of their work clothes from the plant. The first wave stumbled into the shop, and blocked our way to the van.

Claire engaged first. She ran up to the nearest blackened zombie and hit him square in the head with the meaty part of her bat. The zombies head split open, and black blood and other bits of gore splattered everywhere. She had to kick the stuck zombie off her bat to continue the battle. These Red-Eyes really were in bad shape. She turned around and brained another one as it tried to approach her from behind. 

Lyle was in trouble. A pair of zombies, flesh dripping off their arms, was in his face. I looked at Claire, and nodded in Lyle's direction. She ran to help him. I began my retreat to the driver's side of the van.

A Red-Eye came up and was hanging on to the hood of the van. I put it down, and it fell away to the concrete floor. Another one was waiting by the driver's door, hissing and snarling. There were huge red gaps where there had once been skin on its face. A slug in the side of the head from close range sent him to the floor with his companion. More pairs of glowing red eyes were appearing in the shadows. We had to get out of the shop, or be overrun.

Claire and Lyle were in the act of dispatching the two zombies in Lyle's personal space. Another one, this one dragging a shattered leg behind him, approached them from behind. I carefully aimed over the sloping hood of the van, but before I could pull the trigger, I heard a drawn-out hiss behind me. A nasty looking zombie with an eye blown out reached for my shoulder. Without thinking, I swung my gun hand and hit the monster in the face. It was like hitting an overripe melon.

The nose and upper lip collapsed, and my gun and gloved hand got stuck. The Red-Eye with the busted leg was getting too close to Claire, and was going to strike. With great effort, I tore my hand free from its sticky prison. Aiming as carefully as I could as to not shoot Claire, I fired. Busted leg zombie went down, a foot from Claire's feet.

It was time to leave. I got inside the van and shoved the keys into the ignition. A quick glance out of the windshield showed the gravity of the situation. More of the undead marched from the darkness of the shop. The entire work force looked to be infected.

The passenger door opened, and Claire entered the van. I reached over and pulled her in by the scruff of her neck. Lyle followed. After smashing a few hands that were trying to reach in, he slammed the door closed.

And then we were surrounded.

Most of the zombies stumbling out into the light were sidetracked by the Red-Eyes we had dropped. They feasted on their companions' flesh like they were the living. Zombies could be scavengers as well as predators. Some were more occupied with getting a fresher meal. They came and stood around the van looking at us through the windows as we cowered in fear. They were very hungry, and began pawing at the glass, leaving slimy pink and red streaks from their melted flesh. The moaning and growling reached deafening levels.

That was enough for me. I prayed to whoever was in charge of making sure vans started and turned the key. After a few long, agonizing cranks, the van came to life. I slammed it into reverse and stabbed the gas pedal to the floor. We shot backward out into the open at great speed. A few undead that were checking out the rear doors got flattened as we exited out of the shop, their heads making huge thumping noises as they rebounded off the van.

We slid into a U-turn on the wet parking lot, and wound up pointed toward the driveway out to the road. With Red-Eyes hanging off the door handles, I put the gear lever into drive and took off. The dead workers held on for a while, but one by one dropped off into oblivion.

I held the gas down as we hurried down the drive. The van fishtailed back and forth as we rode, the attention light still glowing yellow on the dash. After almost hitting one of the many decorative trees planted in the median in the center of the drive, the van suddenly lost power. I cursed under my breath and pulled off into a small parking area crowded with former employees' cars.

With the van shut down, we stayed still for a few heartbeats. The three of us were still trying to catch our breath. I turned to Claire. She had turned a few shades south of white - except for her cheeks, which were a little crimson. “You okay?”

Claire was breathing a little harder than usual, so she couldn't answer right away. Small splattered dots of zombie blood and brain matter stained her face. She nodded and patted me on the shoulder. “What was wrong with them? Their skin...it was falling off,” she managed to say, between breaths.

“Don't know. Maybe it had something to do with that heavy solvent smell. Chemical burns, or something.” I turned to Lyle. “You okay?”

Lyle nodded. He was shaking in his seat. “Bastard bit my jacket.” He showed me the cuff. One of the Red-Eyes had left a bite impression in the leather. Lyle was a lucky man. Another inch or so, and I would probably be throwing his zombified corpse out in the rain by now.

“What do we do now?” Claire asked. She was wiping the zombie blood off her bat and face.

“We have to find a new hiding place. Wait it out till morning, and see if we can fix the van,” I said. Turning the ignition key resulted in a few cranks, but the van wouldn't start. After three tries, I finally got it to run. The idle was unsteady, and the warning light was still glowing on the dashboard. I put the van in gear anyway, and left the parking area. “We'll take it from there.”

The ailing van managed to make it to the road. I took a right turn, and started looking for some shelter. The cold rain that started when we pulled into the nightmare zombie factory was now a torrent. I pressed the accelerator down to put some distance between us and the terrible Red-Eyes from the plant. We had to get some shelter soon before the van died, and we were all walking the road.

I
t was our third circuit through the old subdivision. Lyle and I were looking out the windows at the passing houses, looking for a place to hide. As we drove to the back of the neighborhood, the pouring rain subsided to a light drizzle. The houses we passed at a slow crawl were all the same: Dark, foreboding, and overgrown. All the yards looked like jungle habitats. The winter had not been kind to these old homes. Several were severely damaged by weather or fire.

We were looking for a particular house. One with a spacious, van-sized back yard and intact walls and roof. Something on the corner, with good access and exit possibilities. A house we could hide behind and wait out the night. By now, the sun had gone behind the trees. Night was upon us, and you didn't want to be out at night. It was beginning to look a little grim.

“Looks like a dead end,” Lyle said. “Maybe there's something down the road.”

The yellow malfunction light on the dashboard cast an eerie glow in the cab of the van. “I don't know if the van can go much longer.” I turned onto a long road at the back of the development for the third time. “Let's try the back street again. Maybe that one on the corner will work.”

I found the yellow house on the corner, and stopped in front. It wasn't perfect. I would have to pull the van far into the back yard so it wouldn't be seen. The trees and other growth in the yard would hide us for the night.

“Let's give it a try,” Claire said. “Doesn't look like we have much choice.”

I carefully pulled the van around our potential sanctuary, trying not to make too many tracks in the wet grass. The grass wasn't too wet, so traction was okay. The backyard was clear, so I pulled up as far as possible into the overgrown bushes and trees. With the lights off, the black color of the van would blend into the background.

Shutting down the van, I silently prayed it would start in the morning. “This will have to do. Lyle and I will get up early and try and take a look under the hood. We'll get away before someone sees those tire tracks in the side lawn. For now, let's just get warm.”

We exited the van with weapons ready. Anything could be waiting for us in the dying light of the day. In past experience with houses on the road, they usually had a couple of zombies stuck inside. When it all went to hell, people went to their homes only to let their dead neighbors turn them into walking corpses. We were going to have to be careful.