Time of Death Book 2: Asylum (A Zombie Novel) (11 page)

I saw Jake through a gap between two display
models; he was almost to the front of the showroom. Vinny mirrored
his progress on the other side, pointing to something outside my
line of sight. When they both raised their weapons and began moving
closer to each other, I knew they'd spotted a bogey. Both men
disappeared behind the massive SUV, and I held my breath waiting
for something to happen.

An oomph echoed in the big room, followed by
the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

"Clear," boomed Jake.

I rolled my eyes at Meg and gave a mock
salute. "Aye Aye, Captain."

The inert form of a man lay face down on the
linoleum, the Nissan logo on the back of his short-sleeve shirt
and—what I hoped were grease stained—pants identifying him as a
service employee.

"I cleared the offices on my way up," said
Jake, who was currently lying flat on his stomach and panning the
showroom floor to check for any hiding mobs. "I think we should
stay in the biggest office for the night. When the sun starts to
fade, it will be easier to see us moving around in here. I don't
want to gather a crowd."

"Before we lock ourselves in, let's go
liberate the vending machines of their spoils." I held up BB, the
nickname I'd bestowed upon my crowbar since The Brain-Biter was
quite the mouthful, and smiled mischievously before turning back to
do a little shopping…apocalypse style. Holding up my hand, I
ordered Daphne to stay. There were too many nooks and crannies for
her to investigate and I didn't want her to get into any
trouble.

The four of us eyed the Armada in the middle
of the showroom. Sleek black metal with windows tinted almost as
dark as the paint. With its third row of seating, that thing was
big enough for a family of seven.

"Gas is going to be an issue," pointed out
Vinny, reading the window sticker's claim of fifteen miles per
gallon for city driving and 19 for highway mileage.

Meg stood at the back of the beast, peering
into the cargo area. "Not to mention, storage. Hmm, I wonder what
this button does?" I heard a mechanical buzz and watched from the
passenger seat as the third row disappeared, leaving ample space
for supplies. "Scratch that, storage is a go for liftoff."

"Gas is still going to be an issue," Vinny
deadpanned, "unless you can find another magic button."

The keys sat in the middle console. Well, the
key fob, rather. The car ignition was a button on the dashboard. I
pushed the button and the interior controls sprang to life. "Only
an eighth of a tank."

"That's a problem we'll have to figure out
tomorrow," said Jake. "There's a bit too much activity for my
liking out there. Let's batten down the hatches and get some
shuteye."

Without any windows, the small space was
utter blackness.

"Ow!' exclaimed Vinny. "Fuck my life. Who the
hell just hit me in the nuts?"

It was a happy accident that I stumbled into
him and elbowed him in the junk, but I decided to capitalize on the
moment to declare retribution. "Told you I’d make good on that
earlier promise."

I shimmied closer to Jake on the unpadded
commercial carpet and winced when my hip dug into the floor. This
was going to be a long night.

* * *

"I've been in there before. Straight ahead is
the pit, to the left is the parts storage, and to the right is the
bay door." I cupped my hands around my eyes and pressed my nose
against the glass to get a better view of the service bay.

"It's so dark," said Meg. "How are we going
to see anything?"

"Yes!" Cheered Vinny, spotting a shelf
stocked with emergency kits. "Ask and you shall receive, my
child."

"Dork."

Vinny looked at me, annoyed. "Is she a dog or
a fucking baby?"

Daphne was locked up tight for safe keeping
in the office we'd slept in. She was apparently having some
separation anxiety and throwing a fit. She bounced between a
variety of sounds—barking, whining and howling—and each of them
pierced through the otherwise silent dealership.

"Child," I said, "definitely a child."

We tore open the kits, each containing a
small Maglite, and prepared to enter the dark service area.

"Time to nut-up," joked Jake. He was dancing
around like Rocky preparing to step into the ring, and Vinny was
squeezing his shoulders like his trainer.

"Limber up. Get that blood pumping," he
encouraged.

Vinny was still behind him, but now he was
singing the opening to Eye of the Tiger.

"Dun. Dun-dun-dun. Dun-dun-dun. Dun-dun-DUN."
And I'll be damned if that song wasn't a master motivator. Meg and
I started to air punch, pretending to spar.

"Yo, Adrian," Jake said in his pitiful
attempt at a Stallone imitation. Play time over, he gave us all a
hard look. "We good?"

"Good," we replied in unison.

"Goddammit!" I started. A hand slapped
against the glass door, followed by the gaunt face of death. It
appeared disembodied against the background of the dark room. The
swinging door pushed in infinitesimally and slid back into place.
We jumped at the frightening surprise, each of us clutching our
chests to stop our hearts from pounding through. The hand slid down
the glass, leaving bits of sloughed off skin and making a squeaking
sound that raked my ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Motherfucker!" blurted Vinny. We all turned
to him and saw him holding his head in his hands.

"What?" asked Jake.

"Son of a bitch scared the piss outta
me."

Our heads lowered to his groin region where,
sure as shit, a tiny dark spot had appeared through his pants.

"Dude," was Jake's only reply.

Another slap jarred us back to the moment and
the door swung a little further, this time gaining enough momentum
to swing back at the corpse, bounce off its forehead, and come away
with a bit of yuck.

It gave me an idea. "Ready? Set?" I asked,
bracing myself. "Go!"

I charged the door, leaning in with my
shoulder, and shoved it with all my might. The sudden impact caused
the zombie to fly backwards a few feet and hit the floor with a
sickening crunch.

The four of us stood in the open doorway. We
must have looked like a bunch of idiots, all leaning in and gawking
at the scene. The crunching sound was the zombie's skull splitting
open on the concrete floor, and it was down for the count. I was
slightly more proud of myself than I probably should have been.

"Nailed it in one," I said, raising my hand
for a high-five. My family just looked at me like I was a dumbass,
which technically I was. So, I high-fived myself. "What?" I asked
them. They were still staring at me.

"Dumbass," said Vinny.

We stepped cautiously into the dark bay,
scanning as much of the area as our small Maglite beams could
cover. The open pit revealed several undead scratching at the
concrete around it. My internal threat detector read minimal and I
continued panning the area toward the outer door. Because this was
the area customers drove their cars into, there were no places any
zombies could skulk behind.

Satisfied that I could safely turn my back on
the area, I changed directions and slowly swept the light along the
workbench lined behind the pit. The area looked like a macabre
canvas, painted with blood and butchery. I felt the muscles of my
face contort into a look of revulsion.

I could hear all of us breathing heavily. I'd
always had an issue with dark places; they just weren't my cup of
tea. In addition to our breathing, the pit zoms were making quite
the racket. Between their scratching, moaning, and wait…did one of
them just growl? Creepy. All that noise made it difficult to hear
if there was anything else in the space with us.

As a unit, we inched our way to the far end
of the bay and closer to the parts department. Something metal
rolled on the concrete behind us, and we turned, flashing the
lights every which way in panic. A rat scurried out of a large can
that had tipped on its side.

"Ew, ew, ew," cried Meg. "I hate rats."

Content that the rat had caused the noise,
and not seeing anything to convince us otherwise, we turned back to
our destination.

Five sets of dull eyes were trained on us,
advancing slowly in the dark. They'd silently closed the distance
while we were rodent hunting. I must have gotten used to their
stench because I could usually smell zombies approaching.

"Fall back!" yelled Jake. "Get back to the
door. We'll get them as they come through one by one."

I ran at a full sprint, Meg in front of me,
Vinny behind, and Jake bringing up the rear. Jake was nearly
through the glass doors when one of the zombies broke from the pack
and came at Jake at a near run.

"Look out!" I yelled. Jake stopped abruptly
after clearing the door, and sidestepped to the right, tripping the
uncoordinated zombie and bringing his screwdriver down in a fast
lunge. The sharp tool struck the back of its skull before it hit
the floor and gravity did the rest.

With no time to spare, Jake was back on his
feet and waiting for the first shambler to breach the door. A foul
stink unlike any I'd smelled before blasted us and nearly brought
the lot of us to our knees retching. The infamous hork-hork melody
of dry heaving made an appearance from all of us, and we looked at
each other with pleading eyes for no one to open the floodgates. We
were sympathetic pukers, and if one of us spewed right here and
now, the rest of us would follow.

"Jesus," said Vinny, his voice muffled from
burying his nose in the crook of his elbow. He reminded me of
Dracula holding up his cape. "What is that?"

Using both hands, I thrust my crowbar through
the cheekbone of the next zombie to come through, and Meg got the
next one when it tripped over its fallen comrades.

"I can't take it," said Jake between jabs to
the next two zombies. "It's rancid."

"There's no doubt about it," I replied. "That
is the worst thing I have ever smelled."

With no more threats appearing at the door,
we stepped back to give ourselves some breathing room,
literally.

We finished our check of the service area. No
other baddies were hiding, unless you counted the three still
trying to escape the pit. Jake and Vinny dispatched them, and we
did a second sweep just to be thorough. The last thing we wanted
was another surprise.

"Hey, look at this," shouted Meg from the far
wall. "There's windows over here. They must have covered them to
hide."

She made to pull the taped cardboard from the
wall, but Jake stopped her.

"Wait," he said. "Let me do it."

He grabbed a utility knife from a workbench
and cut out a small hole. Repeating the process in a few more
areas, he finally removed the coverings, reassured by the lack of a
mob waiting beyond. The room flooded with sunlight. Looking around
now, it was easy to spot items that would prove invaluable to us.
Gas cans, oil, and a slew of replacement parts for the Armada. Not
to mention a long row of car batteries.

"Wow," exclaimed a wide-eyed Vinny, "I feel
like I just won the lottery."

The window's lowest points were at chest
level, which meant unless something was up against it on the
outside, or we stood close on the inside, we remained invisible.
With the new light, I now saw a solid metal door along the wall
near where we'd entered.

"Hey, guys," I called to the others.
"Remember those shutters at the service desk? I think this is the
door to that office."

They gathered next to me, and we huddled at
the door, listening intently for any noise.

"What should we do?" asked Meg.

"Let's see what's in there," answered Jake.
"Meg, open the door when I tell you to. You up to it, bro?"

"Fuck yeah. Let's get 'er done."

"On three," he instructed Meg, who had her
hand on the handle and was calming herself with deep breathing
exercises. I stood behind them to provide backup if needed. My
curiosity was piqued.

"Three!" he barked.

The door flew open, and this time there was
no stopping the unified projectile vomit. In front of us, seven
corpses sat against the far wall. Their bodies were mummified from
having been in a room without light or air for two months. The
scene was something made of nightmares. Not one body had a wound.
These people had died of starvation and dehydration, too afraid to
leave the tomb because of the dead in the service area.

As if the smell of death, feces, and urine
weren't bad enough, each corpse bore a twisted expression of
torture. Long dead mouths frozen open in eternal screams were
filled with flies.

Less than a minute. That's how long the door
was open before Jake slammed it shut again.

"No fucking way," was all he said.

"I need air. And a breath mint. Christ, what
I wouldn't give for some mouthwash right now," I bitched. I was
sick of finding things that made me vomit.

We dragged the corpses into the bay and
rolled them into the pit. Ironically…they were now six-feet
under.

"Hey!" shouted Meg excitedly. "I think I just
solved our gas problem." She jingled a set of keys and pointed to
the sign above where they had been hanging. The sign read Gas
Pump.

"Oh, duh!" I said, chastising myself for
being such an idiot. The others looked at me for clarification. "I
forgot about that. When I bought the Murano, they brought it out
back to what they called the Make Ready area. It's where they clean
and prep all the new sales for delivery. There's a fenced in gas
tank back there, too."

"Jake," said Vinny, "let's go scout it
out."

The two of them went alone, despite protests
from Meg and me. While they were gone, we started picking through
the service area for anything we thought we could use. By the time
we'd finished gathering our haul, they were back.