Carl threaded the Escalade through the remaining undead roaming the Albertsons parking lot and then turned northeast on US Route 17.
Fort Bragg, North Carolina was roughly 150 miles away if they went via the large main thoroughfares. He decided to circumvent the populated ocean front by staying on back roads and then cross into North Carolina on one of the rural routes that were less likely to be blocked by the Carolina National Guard.
Raven was sitting up and taking in the scenery along Frontage Road. There were still pockets of undead but their numbers diminished the farther they traveled away from Myrtle Beach.
Carl swerved the SUV around the larger groups of undead but couldn’t resist giving the lone walkers “love taps” with the Escalade. Every thump of Cadillac and zombie colliding provided Carl a little satisfaction. After seeing the little car high centered with the occupants surrounded by the undead horde, Carl did his best to avoid running over any zombies lest they befall the same fate. Even though the Cadillac was much bigger and had more ground clearance, if enough of them went underneath and got stuck he would be forced to stop and clear them out. There was also the outside chance of a big femur or tibia bone puncturing one of the tires and forcing them to stop and try to put on the spare, potentially leaving them surrounded.
In his peripheral vision Carl noticed the sun flash off of the speeding car a second before impact. The interior of the Cadillac erupted with a whirlwind of flying glass and the horrible sound of compacting sheet metal. Before they could even comprehend what had just happened, the airbags exploded, leaving all of the windows obscured. The big luxury SUV spun three full revolutions before coming to a stop in the middle of the far right lane and then it rocked back and forth on its suspension for a short duration.
Carl came to. His head throbbed , his back was killing him and he had momentarily forgotten where he was. The silence was eerie. White powder from the deployed airbags swirled around his face reminding him of feathers floating in the air after a pillow fight.
Brook had taken a blow to the head when it bounced off of the passenger side glass. She was fortunate to have suffered only a mild concussion. Most of the windows were now in thousands of tiny pieces all over the road and the inside of the SUV.
Brook’s first instinct was to look for Raven. Her little girl was curled into a ball on the floor of the third row of seats. Raven coughed and called out for her mom.
In the seconds after impact Carl shook his head and felt his extremities checking for anything broken. Satisfied there weren’t any nonworking parts, he looked out through the imploded windows for any threats. A midsized, black 6 Series BMW sat fifty feet away leaking fluids, smoke starting to billow from the engine compartment.
As the airbag powder finished settling in the SUV’s interior, Carl asked his sister and niece if they were OK. Waving the dust from in front of her face, Brook replied, “I’ve had better days. My head really hurts.” From the back of the Escalade Raven continued calling for her mom. Brook unbuckled her belt and crawled into the backseat to reassure her daughter and check her over for injuries.
Still surveying the intersection, Carl noticed a handful of the undead on the other side of the now burning BMW. He turned his attention to the occupants of the car; the passenger had just started stirring. The driver was slumped over the deflated airbag.
“Brook, get Raven out and cover me with the shotgun. I’m going to check on those people,” Carl said, pointing towards the wreck.
He found that running wasn’t easy. The violent impact had caused his knees to knock together and they both hurt like hell.
Arriving at the Beemer’s passenger side Carl tried to open the door. It was jammed shut by the crumpled metal around the frame. The dazed passenger pleaded, “Save my wife, please!”
Carl circled the car, taking note of about a dozen walkers half a block away. One look at the woman in the driver’s seat said it all. Her head was misshapen and her skull was visible where her scalp had been peeled back; blood trickled from her ears and nose. He was about to make another effort to extricate the man when a whooshing sound and a blast of superheated air came from under the car, followed by angry flames licking up the doors.
Carl hobbled backwards, hands up warding off the intense heat and then rejoined his sister and niece. He watched the man in the BMW cross himself as the undead walkers arrived at the car. Oblivious to the searing heat they attacked the passenger’s head and upper body, rending chunks of flesh off of him with their teeth and hands. Fully aware of his fate, the man emitted a high pitched warbling howl that turned into shrieks as they continued ripping into him.
Taking advantage of the BMW occupant’s unwitting sacrifice, the three left the ruined SUV and made for the sprawling industrial buildings on the other side of the highway. Behind them a loud secondary explosion rocked the intersection, scattering and setting a number of the zombies afire. Still, a few of the walkers took chase.
Dodging the light traffic, they safely made their way across all six lanes. Carl held Raven’s hand as Brook lugged the shotgun and her shoulder bag. Some of the dead weren’t as lucky crossing the roadway. Looking back, Brook was relieved to see half of the pursuers get mowed down by a speeding passenger car.
A sign on the first building they happened upon read “Gunderson Tile Works.” The door was locked and the metal garage door was closed. On they went deeper into the business park, the undead still hunting them, their moaning and stench carried on the wind.
Brook rounded the corner and caught a whiff of rotten flesh. There was an undead man in coveralls sitting on its butt; it was holding a human leg and gnawing on the foot. Lying near the feeding ghoul was a one-legged corpse dressed in the same type of coveralls; the logo read “Grimes Heating and Cooling.”
The open garage door beckoned to the fleeing trio. The sign above also read “Grimes Heating and Cooling,” and in small print right below it read “Specializing in Rooftop Installation.”
Noise discipline went out the window; Brook shot the zombie in the face at pointblank range before it could stand up. Everything evaporated from the neck up. The now decapitated corpse rolled over and lay unmoving next to its deceased co-worker.
Brook followed Carl and Raven into the building. Carl grabbed the chain next to the door and pulled it hand over hand until the door kissed the ground with a metallic clang.
“Raven, come this way and stay behind me,” Brook said while she felt for the light switch. The smell of death wasn’t as bad inside the building. Interior details emerged as their eyes adjusted to the dimly lit garage. Most of the bay was occupied by a very large, bright red, industrial truck with a forty foot cherry picker basket on top. The “Grimes Heating and Cooling” logo was painted on the truck’s door. Boxes were stacked everywhere. Some of the boxes were open revealing tin pipes used for HVAC installations.
Carl felt for the door knob and intuitively groped up and to the left for the light switch. With an audible click, then a hiss followed by a faint hum, the overhead fluorescents warmed up.
More was revealed. Heavily frosted skylights were spaced in intervals on the ceiling. A glass window with closed metal mini blinds was next to the closed office door. Around the back of the small office were two vending machines, one full of snacks and candy and the other containing cold beverages. A closed door presumably led deeper into the building.
Brook opened the breech of the Ithaca and replaced the spent round with a new 12 gauge shot shell. She then opened the door and cautiously ventured into what turned out to be a large storeroom, gun barrel leading the way. Satisfied the building was walker free, Brook sat down heavily on a plastic folding chair. Raven plopped on the floor by her feet, sighing loudly and laying her cheek on her mom’s thigh.
Brook asked Carl, “How long do you think we’re going to be safe in here?” As if in response to her question a series of loud bangs made her visibly jump. Her nerves shot, she flipped the source of the banging the finger. Raven whimpered.
“I figure the garage door will hold for a while, it’s the small side door that worries me.” Carl started sliding a box containing a large commercial air conditioning unit towards the small door. Brook and Raven added some muscle and together they positioned it in front of the door, and then for good measure they piled still more boxes on top of the larger one.
Carl ran his hands over the door. “This is a steel core door; it’s the frame and hinges we have to worry about. It’ll only take a few of those things to forget about the roll up door and start in on this one. If they do we are hosed.”
Carl checked the door to the internal office. Finding it locked, he kicked the door. The wood around the lock splintered and the door flew inward. He flicked on the light and looked around the twenty by twenty foot room.
BANG.
A cheap particle board desk sat in the center of the room. They rifled through the drawers and found a number of full key rings.
BANG. BANG.
The zombies wanted in bad.
BANG. BANG.
“While I try these keys in the truck can you two unload the vending machines?” Carl tossed the keys labeled as “Soda/Candy.” They fell near Brook’s feet and she scooped them up.
Carl tried the keys in the truck’s ignition while Brook and Raven looted both vending machines.
BANG.
The garage door moved inward, partially buckling under the pressing weight of the dead. Apparently Carl’s theory about the strength of the garage door was being severely tested.
Having tried half of the keys, Carl finally found the right one. He turned the ignition slightly, and the noisy seatbelt warning bell chimed intermittently. He quickly turned the key to off. Talking over the persistent pounding, Carl explained how they were going to extricate themselves from the fix they were currently in.
Brook would drive the five ton truck with Carl in the bucket. This was necessary because someone tall and possessing good upper body strength would have to pull the chain to work the garage door up. The process would take him about thirty seconds, he estimated, based on the time it took to close the door when they arrived. Pulling the chain while standing on the ground would be suicide; the undead would flood the garage as soon as the crack under the door was big enough. Brook and Raven would occupy the cab of the truck and lay flat on the bench seat to avoid notice until the door was open far enough to allow their egress. If all went well they would pull out of the garage with Carl riding in the bucket and then drive to a safe place and let him in the cab.