'Til Death Do Us Part (10 page)

Gary noticed that the dome light was very dim as he opened the driver side door and popped the hatch to the rear so that he could get to the jack.

“
What do you think?
”
BT asked as Gary placed the jack on the frame of the body.

“
Well if this thing isn
’
t so rusted out that it could support its own weight I
’
ll be able to put on that spare tire that is barely better than the one I
’
m replacing. And once I drop the car back down and the tire seems to have some air pressure
,
we have to contend with a battery that may or may not give us three engine cranks before it craps out
.
W
e might need more than that because of any condensation that may or may
not have got into the gas tank,
”
Gary told him.

“
And if all of that goes our
way?
”
BT asked further.

“
Well
,
then at that point
,
the worst of all possible scenarios happens.
”

“
And what
’
s that?
”
BT asked, thoroughly concerned.

“
We
find ourselves in a lime green P
into.
”

“
Should hav
e known I was being set up, yo
u are a Talbot. Do what you can.
I
’
m going to see if there is anything in h
ere that we can potentially use,
”
BT said
,
clapping him on the shoulder.

Mrs.
Deneaux
had found a small stool and was flicking her ashes within inches of a red gas can.

“
You know that
’
s gas right?
”
BT asked grabbing the small container.

“
A dehydrated ant coul
d piss more than is in that can,
”
s
he answered as she took a pull from her smoke.

BT unscrewed the top. S
he was mostly right, there was at most a half gallon of fuel
;
and by the look and smell of it, it had some motor oil mixed in.
“
Must be for a weed whacker,
”
h
e said aloud, Mrs.
Deneaux
paid him no attention.

“
Twit,
”
s
he said again looking in Gary
’
s direction.

***

Gary had just tightened the last lug nut and was setting the car down when the shed shook. Even the slumbering
Deneaux
looked up.

“
What the hell was that?
”
BT asked, looking up from the hatch where he was placing anything that could be used as a melee weapon.

Gary quickly dropped the car
,
and when he was confident the tire would hold, he threw the jack in the back ju
st as the shed again shook.
He
would have sworn
it moved on its slab foundation.
Dust
and debris began to rain down from the rafters.

“
Shit,
”
BT said looking up. Flimsy sheets of plywood held
up storage boxes;
some labeled, Christmas, Halloween and even one ominously named Bowling. BT didn
’
t want to be anywhere in this garage when those boxes began to fall.

“
Get in the car!
”
BT urged them as the wooden garage door splintered from another assault.

“
What
’
s going on?
”
Gary asked a
s he stared in horror at the large bay door that was beginning to buckle.

“
Pretty sure it
’
s not the cavalry
, Gary,
”
BT said pushing him into the car.

“
Get that piece of shit started.
I
’
ll hol
d off whatever it is,
”
BT said. Hi
s words held more conviction tha
n the tremor in his voice.

Deneaux
was already seated in the back of the car.

Gary turned the
ignition and was rewarded with—at first—nothing.
Then came the slow wind of an under-
powered starter,
then three loud clicks before Gary turned the key back to off.

“
Gary?
”
BT asked tremulously as the garage door was rapidly becoming wood scraps.

“
Trying,
”
Gary said as he pumped
the gas and turned the ignition…
this time only receiving the loud clicking noise.

“
Oh
, God,
”
BT said softly as he began to back up.

Gary looked up from the dashboard.
“
Oh shit,
”
h
e said as he
began to furiously pump the gas
in a fervent hope that the friction from the action would somehow send power to the dying battery.

“
Shoot it!
”
t
he usually reserved Mrs.
Deneaux
shouted.

The beast struck again, the only thing holding it back now was the thin strips of metal that had been part of the door
’
s support. BT had seemingly
forgotten
about the firearm in his hands.

“
Shoot it!
”
Deneaux
screamed again.

Her shrill voice seemed to aw
a
ken something in BT. H
e raised h
is rifle and pulled the trigger and
the behemoth on the other side barely moved as its head rocked back an inch or two. White bone shone through
on its forehead
for a moment before it was covered in a brackish black goop.

“
Get in the car
,
BT!
”
Gary screamed, not even caring that his voice was at least three octaves higher than it normally
should be
.

“
It
’
ll kill us,
”
BT said
,
not willing to look back at Gary.
The beast was pulling the metal
strips apart with a dexterity
that
the zombies had not shown previously.

The car settled down appreciably as BT got in quickly closing his door
to the nightmare beyond the too
thin glass windshield.

“
Please
, God,
I
’
ve always tried to live my life as
best I could,
”
Gary said as he
again
turned the key in the ignition.
For
a moment there wasn
’
t anything
,
not even the dead
clicking, merely dead silence—
that and the grunts and groans of the be
a
st trying to get at them…
and then the engine roared to li
fe. Although to say that a four-
cylinder Ford Pinto engine was roaring to life would be like saying that Paris Hilton was a fantastic actress (although if you count her night vision adventures she was alright).

The giant zombie was in the garage
,
it brought its honey
-glazed-ham-
sized fists do
wn on the hood of the small car.
Giant
imprints were left behind as it raised its hands up to do more damage. Gary was afraid the monster would drive the hood into the fan blades
,
then their escape would be over before it ever even started. Gary th
rew
the transmission into drive
,
and for one long
, heart-
stopping second
,
the engine sputtered and threatened to die before the car lurched forward and was immediately stopped as it ran into the zombie
’s tree trunk-
like legs.

“
Go
,
Gary
,
go!
”
BT yelled.

“
Sounds like Dr. Seuss,
”
Gary said.
“
Through the zombie
,
then we
’
re free.
Go,
Gary
,
go.
”
Gary pressed gently down on the gas pedal
,
trying to find a balance between more engine thrust and the car
’
s ability to take the
influx of gas without flooding and stalling.

A deep moan came out of the zombie
’s mouth.
Gary had initially thought the vibrations he felt in his chest were coming from the car until he saw the zombie
’
s throat warbling.

“
Gary?
”
BT pleaded.

“
I
’
ve got t
he gas half
way down, we
’
re not moving!
”
Gary replied excitedly. Smoke was billowing all around the garage from the effort.

“
Maybe you should
put it all the way to the floor,
”
Mrs.
Deneaux
said
,
leaning forward.

“
I thi
nk I agree with her on this one,
”
BT said
,
leaning as far back as he could—
which wasn
’
t far considering the confines of the small car.

A stiff wind had kicked up
,
and the
roadway was surprisingly clear.
Gary was able to notice that more zombies of the traditional variety began to make their way over towards them.

“
Now or never bud,
”
BT said noticing the same thing.

The engine popped and sputtered as Gary pressed
his foot into the nearly rusted
out floor board. The giant zombie had bent down and was now trying to lift the front end of the car off the ground
.
It
appeared to be having some success.

BT quickly
,
and against his better judgment
,
rolled
down his window and fired twice; o
ne bullet tearing through the right side of the zombie
’
s jowl. Gnashing teeth shown through like a doctor
’
s examination room diorama.
The second shot caught it in the forehead an inch or two from the previous wound. The zombie did not fall
;
but at least
it
dropped the car and staggered back.

The zombie was still moving backwards when the engine finally had enough thrust
to get the transmission moving. T
he car shot out like a turtle wading through molasses. Gary did his best to avoid the behemoth
,
but with limited room and the size of the beast
, it was easier said than done.
The
car was rocked to its rivets as it struck the zombie.

BT
’
s head almost made contact with the dashboard
. T
he only thing preventing it was that he was wedged in tighter than a tick on a moose
’
s ass. Gary took a hard left away from the majority of the zombies, but it was still no easy feat avoi
ding them. H
e knew the Pinto could not sustain any more damage
than it already had; a factory-
new Pinto was suspect
,
and this had seen its best days decades earlier. Gary wouldn
’
t swear to it
,
but he thought he heard a maniacal laughter emanating from Mary
’
s house as they passed on by.