“We’re okay,” she assured Ken. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest she couldn’t imagine stepping out into the street. Her heart might explode from fright.
She could hear the distant cries of the dead, but the banging on the door had ceased. Mr. Cloy was doing a great job keeping the dead around the corner of the street, but the undead cannibals were still terrifyingly close.
In silence, they set down their things and moved to the wardrobe. They tried to be as quiet as possible and flinched when the wardrobe groaned and banged as they scooted it away from the door. They froze and waited, but none of the dead were drawn to the sound.
Ken snatched Cher’s carrier off the floor and hoisted his golf club into a defensive position. Lenore grabbed the trusty coat rack and took a deep breath. Nervously, she stepped to the window, peeked through the curtain and examined the conditions on the street. It was empty of the dead, but the crashed cars were an obstacle. Mr. Cloy’s fancy navy-blue truck was parked across the street just beyond the wreckage.
“Okay, get to the truck and get in. Don’t freak out. Keep calm and keep moving until you get to the truck.” Lenore held the truck keys firmly in her hand and took several deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves.
“I’m scared,” Ken whispered as his cat let out a soft, questioning meow.
“Yeah, me, too. But keep moving. Don’t slow down. Just go,” she ordered. She took a deep breath and forced herself to open the door.
Lenore froze in terror as the sound of the zombies nearby suddenly seemed much louder. For a second, they both didn’t move, then Ken barged past her and ran as fast as he could, his cat carrier banging against his side. Cursing all the noise he was making, Lenore forced her body into motion.
Ken was light on his feet and maneuvered easily and swiftly around the cars. Lenore was much slower and she pumped her arms in an effort to move faster. She was barely clearing the first car when Ken reached the truck and scooted around to the passenger side.
Lifting her arm, she punched the button to unlock the truck. To her horror, she also hit the panic button and the truck erupted into shrill shrieks and loud honking.
“Lenore!”
“Shit!” She paused in the middle of the road and fumbled with the keyless entry remote. Valuable seconds rushed by then she found the button and pressed it again, silencing the alarm.
Moans and the sound of many feet took its place.
Lenore fearfully glanced toward the intersection.
Zombies flooded around the corner.
10.
Into Hell
This was definitely one of those damn fool things people in horror movies did to get themselves killed, Lenore thought. Grunting with frustration, she shook off her temporary paralysis and lumbered toward Mr. Cloy’s truck.
“Unlock it!” Ken’s voice was almost shrill in his panic.
She hit the UNLOCK button this time and kept hitting it as she ran forward, scooting around the abandoned cars, and trying not to slip on the dark red puddles of blood.
Ken whipped the passenger door open, tossed the cat carrier in, and climbed in all in one seamless motion. He scooted across the cab to the driver’s door and motioned to her frantically to hurry.
As if she needed urging...
She heard the footfalls of the approaching zombies gaining on her and she didn’t need Ken flapping his hand at her like some sort of crazed traffic cop. Her body felt heavy, her large breasts heaving, her solid legs shoving her body forward. She hated running. She hated it with a passion, but the sound of the snarling, hissing zombies drawing closer was more annoying than her heavy bosom painfully jostling around.
“Lenore!” It was Mr. Cloy’s voice.
She swung around, wielding the coat rack like a sword and ended up smacking it into the bloodied and torn face of a female zombie scrambling over the trunk of a car to get to her. Lenore smashed the coat rack down on the thing’s head a few times, then used the end to shove the zombie off the car and away from her.
“Just run! Just run!” Mr. Cloy’s voice urged.
Her eyes flicked upward. Mr. Cloy’s tragic form stood on the edge of the building. He was listing to one side and looked scarily like a zombie already.
“Run, Lenore!” His voice was ragged, but fierce.
The zombies scrambled around the cars, coming straight for her. She whipped around and ran the last few feet to the truck. Ken threw open the driver’s door for her and scrambled into his seat. Turning, she threw the coat rack at the zombie three feet from her. Its feet tangled around the coat rack, and it fell. As it thrashed around, trying to get up, other zombies tripped over it, forming a writhing, moaning pile of dead flesh.
Lenore heaved her body into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut just as a horribly disfigured woman threw herself against it. Ken promptly locked the doors, sealing them safely inside.
Lenore sat in silence for a few moments drawing in deep ragged breaths. Beside her, Ken stared at the female zombie clawing at the windshield.
“Can we go now?” His voice was small.
Lenore slid the keys into the ignition, then shook her head. “I don’t know how to drive a stick.”
“Okay, switch!” Ken scrambled forward and over her.
Cussing under her breath, Lenore slid over to let him behind the wheel. The steady thump of the zombies slapping their hands against the truck made her stomach churn and she avoided looking at the snarling faces outside the passenger door. The truck was either rocking from the zombies’ assault or all the trouble she and Ken had moving about so he could get into the driver’s seat.
“Ouch, I need those!” Ken slapped at her hand as she tried to shove him off her.
Lenore just snorted and tried not to end up groping him again. Finally, she managed to squeeze into the passenger seat over the damn console wedged between the seats and got her legs adjusted on either side of Cher’s carrier. The cat peered up at her through the grate and let out a low hiss.
“Don’t make me feed you to the zombies,” Lenore threatened.
Ken settled himself into the driver’s seat and fumbled with the seat settings.
“Ken!”
“My feet aren’t reaching!”
The zombies smashed their hands against the doors and windows over and over again. Blood and chunks of flesh smeared the windows. Some of the zombies were munched down to the bone and one was thumping its stumpy wrist against the windshield over and over again.
“I want to go now, Ken! Now!”
Ken’s seat whined as he adjusted it and he screamed at her, “Hold on!”
“Zombies, Ken. Zombies trying to eat us. Let’s go!”
The seat finally seemed to be in the right position for Ken’s feet to reach the pedals and he turned on the engine. It roared to life, as did the radio. Both Ken and Lenore screamed at the sound of Kenny Roger’s voice booming out of the speakers. Lenore reached out and punched the radio off.
“Oh, God, my heart hurts,” Ken exclaimed.
Lenore hit him in the arm.
“OUCH! That hurt!”
“Them zombies eating your sweet flesh is gonna hurt a lot more. Drive or I will hit you again!”
Lenore was determined not to die today and that was that.
Ken shifted gears and cautiously drove forward. Lenore gripped the dashboard. The zombies were all around them now, moaning and howling, their disgusting bloodied hands clawing at the car. The cat let out a low yowl of disapproval and Lenore silently agreed with her.
The situation was getting fucked.
Ken carefully maneuvered the truck around the cars blocking the street. He was obviously nervous driving such a big vehicle. They both held their breath as Ken squeezed the truck between two cars. There was a loud screech as the back of the truck caught one of the vehicles. Lenore twisted around in her seat to look out the rear window. Some of the zombies were holding onto the truck bed. Maybe they were trying to stop the truck, or maybe hoping to be carried along with it.
“We’re a freaking Happy Meal on wheels,” Lenore said with a frown.
Ken grimaced as he inadvertently ran over a few mangled zombies crawling on the ground. “Oh, God, Lenore!”
“They ain’t people no more! Don’t freak out!”
Ken nodded and edged past a police car, driving close to Mr. Cloy’s store.
Pushing on the horn, Ken honked twice and waved to the silhouette of Mr. Cloy on the roof above them. Lenore waved too, but she only caught a glimpse of their friend.
There was a crash as something hit the truck bed and the vehicle rocked violently. Ken screamed and mashed on the brakes. Lenore whipped around to see Mr. Cloy’s body fall off the back of the truck. Blood was splattered all over the interior of the truck bed.
“Mr. Cloy!”
“Go,” Lenore said.
“Was he dead? Was he a zombie and trying to get to us? Did he kill himself?”
“Just go, Ken!” Lenore yelled at him. “Just go!”
Tears wet her cheeks as she gripped the back of her seat tightly. As Ken drove on, she watched zombies gathering around the fallen form of their friend. She clenched her eyes shut and tried to erase the vision of his battered body from her mind.
