Sometimes We Ran (Book 3): Rescue (27 page)

Up ahead, Claire was at the gate. I watched as she swung away and blew the kneecaps out of a former cop. Another zombie blocked the gate. It reached with a quick hand to snatch her by the hair. Clare ducked, and slammed the meaty part of the bat into the center of the zombie's skull with an uppercut swing and a shrill, barbarian yell. Both Red-Eyes dispatched, she pulled up the gate latch and ran inside.

I followed closely behind, but not before I had to send another deadhead to the ground. A teen-age male with a bloody striped shirt was moving along the fence, using it as a guide and a crutch. He went down with a slug in his leg, and I shot another one to prevent it from getting inside the gate. After clearing the way, I stumbled through the gate, and took it from Claire. Before any zombies could wriggle in, I closed it and put the U-shaped latch down with a metallic clank. The zombies, stirred up by the possibility of a meal, hit the fence. It began to shake and undulate along its length as the zombies tried to rip it out of the ground. Looking around, I realized there was no way to lock the gate. The zombies got right into my face on the other side, and tried to tear the gate out of my hand. I was the only thing keeping Claire and I from being swarmed.

“You've got to be kidding,” I said, frantically looking around for something to jam the latch in place.

Claire picked up a thin shard of scrap metal. “Here...I've got something.” She shoved it in the hole where a padlock would usually reside and bent it into a u shape. I let the gate go, and took a step back. The angry zombies continued to shake the chain-link gate, but it held.

We didn't have long, and Lyle looked to be late in coming. “Claire! Get that door unlocked,” I shouted over the groans of the gathered dead.

Claire got her lock-picking tools out of her jacket sleeve, and took off for the door. “On it.”

I took another step back from the fence. It was now a race between Claire's lock-picking skills and the strength of the chain-link fence surrounding the old drugstore. The zombies along its length shook and pulled, trying to topple the structure. They stuck their bony fingers through the chain-link and curled them around posts to try and pull everything out of the ground. The fence was only temporary to protect the former construction site, and a few weak spots began to develop.

And then it got worse.

From their hiding places among the ruin and rot of the small town - the broken storefronts, the open sheds, and the woods - came undead reinforcements. These were the top of the line, undamaged, apex predators of the Red-Eye species. They poured out of the town and galloped toward the fence. They shoved lesser zombies out of the way to take their place at the head of the line. Soon, the fence line was a snarling, growling mass of zombies looking to rip everything apart to get some fresh meat.

A few of the brighter ones began to climb the fence. A horrible hissing sound came from above me. A young female had made it to the top of the fence, and was looking for a way down. Taking careful aim, I shot her in the chest. She fell backward, teetering on the edge of falling back into the mass of zombies gathered below. I shot her again, and she fell to the ground outside the gate.

Another Red-Eye not afraid of heights began to scale the fence. This time it was a big male, eyes glowing a deep red as he climbed. I didn't give him a chance to even reach halfway, sending him to the ground with a carefully placed head shot. A few more Red-Eyes started to climb up the fence, too many for me to shoot them all. As the metal posts grew more and more fatigued from being shaken by the mob, the fence began to creak.

I took two giant steps away from the failing fence. “Claire! Now would be a good time to get that door open.”

Claire didn't answer. She continued to try to solve the lock, her small hands flying around trying to find the right combination of tool and finesse to open the door. We were running out of time.

Movement from down the street. Something big. Every body on the street, alive or dead, turned to see what was headed our way. Bright headlights swept across the road. It was Lyle and our bus.

Like a rampaging elephant, the bus swerved around the concrete and junk barricade. It cut a straight path up the street, then turned toward the fence and the piled-up zombies. Some of the undead that still had self-preservation ability began to run away from the approaching doom. The less mobile ones just tried to shield themselves from the inevitable.

Lyle steered near the fence and cut a path right through the Red-Eyes. Zombies were crushed under the wheels and scattered all over the road. Their heads made odd thumping sounds as they rebounded off the mirrors and fenders of the bus. Lyle tried to preserve the headlights and grille area. After all, it was our ride home.

The bus roared past the gate and up the street in a cloud of zombie entrails and diesel fuel. Lyle drove at full speed until he found a convenient driveway. I watched in awe as the bus heeled over into a sharp left turn into the drive. Lyle then executed a perfect U-turn, and headed back towards the drugstore. The bus once again cut through the remaining zombies it didn't get in the first run, and with a squeal of brakes, stopped perfectly, with the folding door lined up at the gate. Dark blood and other things from inside zombies stained the white flanks of the bus. Lyle looked through the bi-folding doors and shrugged his shoulders.

“Not bad, Lyle,” I said to myself, flashing him the okay sign. Lyle had effectively cleared the gate. The Red-Eyes he didn't run over or injure were wandering around the street in a daze. We had some time while the undead recovered their wits.

“Got it!” Claire stood up, and opened the door. She stepped in, and I followed. I locked the door, and we sank to the floor to catch our breath for a second. “Someone installed the lock upside down,” Claire said, between gulps of air.

“I guess they were afraid someone would try to pick it,” I said. Claire just glared at me.

We caught or breath, and stood up. Claire turned on her flashlight to take a look around. Her beam revealed an old style drugstore with a big, wooden counter on the left wall of the building. It had fittings and nozzles for ice cream sodas and stations for food service, along with a grill. Padded stools were bolted to the floor around the counter. There were gaps here and there in the stools, as a few were still being stored under plastic tarps on a pallet. The right side of the building was devoted to shelves for merchandising. All of them were empty, and a few were pulled down to the floor. Along the back wall was a set of double swinging doors and the pharmacy.

Like the rest of the buildings in town, the drugstore was undergoing a restoration. Piles of new tile, wood, and other trim sat on pallets here and there on the floor. I took a step, and tripped over a “Pardon Our Mess” sign. The whole place was damp and moldy, and I could hear the distinct sound of water dripping somewhere in the building. All of the wood, including the old counter along the wall, was waterlogged and bloated.

Claire and I took the two small steps to the sunken main floor, tiled with grimy black and white tiles. Every step we took echoed in the empty space. Claire made a face. “Smells like an old locker room in here.”

“Roof must be leaking,” I said, taking another slow step inside. “Water is getting in and damaging everything.”

We walked slowly over to the shelves. Claire shined her flashlight down each aisle as we passed. All the shelves were empty, and nothing much was left behind. Just paper and empty packages were on the floor between the shelves.

“Not much left. Looks like someone took everything with them,” Claire whispered.

“Scroungers,” I said. My foot kicked a spent shotgun shell. “Looks like it was by force.”

A noise came from the pharmacy area along the back wall. Someone or something was watching us. Claire and I turned and went into action, rushing up the aisle to the back of the store.

We ducked down at the end of one of the aisles to take a look. The pharmacy had a long counter, and behind it was an office and work area. The middle of the counter had an opening with a locking half-door. It was a great place for something to hide.

I whispered to Claire. “We'll take it slow.”

She nodded, and stood up. Claire had taken about two steps towards the pharmacy when something came out of hiding and attacked. Claire went to the ground, and barely had time to block the attack from the side with her bat. The flashlight came out of Claire's hand and rolled away, leaving the pharmacy in semi-darkness. A fast-moving shape with something in its hands stood above Claire, and took another overhead swing at her head. She blocked it with her bat turned sideways. The store filled with the sounds of metal hitting metal, like a medieval sword fight. The attacker stood back to swing again, and I realized the weapon was an axe.

Unless Red-Eyes were now using tools, the attacker was living.

In an instant, I was on my feet. The attacking shape had raised the axe again and was threatening to split Claire's head open. Running into the shape, I caused us to tumble to the floor. After wrestling and rolling around for a while, I managed to get face to face with our potential murderer. It was an attractive woman, thirty years or so, with out-of-control red hair. I grabbed her by the throat  and put my gun in her face. Claire kicked the yellow-handled axe away, and stood by to help if needed.

With my gun pointed at her head, she stopped struggling. Pleading with her eyes, she tried to pull my hand off her throat. “John...you're choking her,” Claire said.

In all the commotion, my grip on her throat had tightened. Relaxing my hand, I let her go. She rolled over to the right, and began to cry. “My girls. Please don't hurt us.”

With my gun still aimed at her face, I asked, “You wouldn't happen to know someone named Lyle?”

Her face brightened, and her tears went away. “Lyle's here? Thank God. He said he was going to come back. I'm Rose Lipton. I'm a teacher. The kids call me Miss Rose.” She stood, and extended her hand.

Claire was right. They made it across the street. I put my gun away, and took her hand. “John Linder.” I pointed behind me. “This is Claire.”

“Lyle said he was going to find someone,” Miss Rose said, trying to smooth her wild red hair. It had been a rough apocalypse so far for Miss Rose. She was very skinny, and was wearing second-hand clothes from the road with no jacket. Her shoes were oversized work boots, several sizes too big. “Uh...sorry about the axe. I didn't know who you were, and I wanted to protect the girls. I thought maybe you were from the road looking for trouble. Is Lyle with you?”

“He's outside. We have a bus,” Claire said.

“Thank God,” Miss Rose said, hugging us both. She smelled rough, but the hug was nice. “How did you find us?”

“Claire figured it out. We went to the bank first. What happened?” I said.

Miss Rose looked at the ground. “Our bus died a few miles from here. We hiked into town to find a safe place. The bank's windows were intact, so Lyle thought it might be safe.”

“Shatterproof,” I said.

“Yeah...they must be.” Miss Rose continued, “Lyle set us up inside the bank. He brought in all the supplies we had, and made a campsite for us. When we were settled, he told us he was going to take the motorcycle south to find some help. He said he be back as soon as he could. We hunkered down, and waited.”

“The bank wasn't secure,” I said.

Miss Rose choked back a few more tears. “No. One of the girls got bored and went exploring. There were two of those...things locked in one of the offices. We had to fight for our lives. Jeanie...” Miss Rose broke off as tears rolled down her face.

“Jeanie sacrificed herself. To save you and the students,” Claire said.

“Yes.” Miss Rose wiped her eyes. “She stayed behind while the rest of us escaped. She locked herself in, and distracted them.”

There were a lot of bad people in the post-zombie world that just liked to take things and cause trouble. Hearing about Miss Jeanie's sacrifice for her friends was sad, but refreshing. “Brave lady.” It was all I could say.

“She sure was.” Miss Rose paused to remember her lost friend, then continued with her story. “We were going to stay with the cash machines, but the bank door began making cracking noises. So, we ran over here. I thought the fence around the building would give us some protection, but I didn't know how Lyle was going to find us.” The story faded into some more crying.

“It's okay. We'll get out of here. Where are your students?” I asked.

Miss Rose turned, and opened the half-door in the pharmacy counter. “This way. In the office.”

We followed Miss Rose into the interior of the pharmacy. Time was short, and we had to move. Packed into one of the corners were the students. When they saw Claire and I, they cowered and hugged each other. I took a quick head count, and got seven female students. The didn't scream or make hardly any noise. They started to scatter, and get up to run.

Miss Rose stepped in front of me. “No...No. Girls, look at me.” She began moving her hands in front of her. Several of the girls answered back.

They were spelling letters and words. It was sign language.

Miss Rose finished calming everyone down. “These girls are deaf?” I asked.

“Yes. I told them you were here to help.” Miss Rose started signing again as we talked to let the girls know what we were saying. “Didn't Lyle tell you he was driving a bus for a deaf children's school?”

I shook my head, and looked at Claire. “No. He left that out that little detail.”

“Is it a problem? They are all fine young women. The field trip we were on with Lyle was a reward for being on the honor roll,” Miss Rose said.

Handicapped people were a rarity in the world these days. Not being able to see, hear, walk, or having a mental handicap decreased your chances of survival. I suspect many handicapped individuals didn't make it through the first stages of the outbreak. “No...not a problem. In fact, it's great. I guess you're going to have to teach us all some of that sign language.”

Miss Rose smiled. “I'd be glad to.”

“We have to go. Time is running out,” Claire said.