Posted on November 20, 2007

Part 49

Evajean screamed something, but he didn’t hear her. He couldn’t figure out what to do, couldn’t think of any way to get these damn crazies off the truck. So he drove. He kept his foot pressed all the way down on the gas, the truck accelerating, its frame shaking as it passed forty miles per hour. The crazy on the front slipped back onto the grille, its hands flailing out across the truck’s rusted hood, finding no purchase. It didn’t come all the way off, however. Elliot could still see the top of its head rising just beyond the broken metal lump where a hood ornament used to be.

Up ahead, a road sign told him to get in the right lane for the freeway. To the left, a side road ran into a collection of warehouses and large, fenced in parking lots full of tractors, buses, and other industrial vehicles. Elliot looked at the crazy on the front and, through the rearview mirror, the two on the back. He was out of options, really, and there was only one thing left he could think of to do. Yanking the wheel, hoping to dislodge at least one of their unwanted passengers, he took the turn to the left, into the industrial park. This is stupid, he told himself. Easily the dumbest move you’ve made in a long time. But what choice did he have?

“I want you to get ready to run,” he said to Evajean as he slowed around a curve leading to a collection of large and dark warehouse buildings, surrounded on all sides by stacked shipping containers and palettes of lumber.

“Run?” Her voice was weak and out of breath.

“Get ready to. When I stop.”

She spun to face him and Elliot accelerated again, relieved to see the gate to the complex was open. “You’re stopping?” she snapped at him. “Why are we stopping?”

“Just get ready.” He leaned forward, over the dash, scanning for a good place. There, a hundred yards ahead, along the barbed wire topped fence, was a pile of massive metal shipping crates, tumbled over and laying in a mound twenty feet high. The smashed remains of other items, wooden palettes and and a crushed tractor, spread out from underneath. He turned the truck in that direction.

“What are you doing?” Evajean shouted at him, but he ignored her. She pulled Hope close to her chest.

“Get ready,” he said. “Take off your seatbelt.”

She nodded, confused, and did as he asked. Elliot, without taking his eyes off the pile, let the truck begin to slow, and unbuckled his own. The crazy in front had pulled itself all the way back up and clawed its fingers into the gap between the back of the hood and the windshield. It yanked forward and its face had just touched the glass when Elliot rammed his foot down on the break.

“Now!” he yelled and, as soon as their forward motion ceased, he pulled open his door and sprinted away from the truck, into the obscuring tangle of broken plywood. Only when he felt a safe distance away did he look back for Evajean.

She was ten paces behind him, running full out, the dog barking from inside the flap of her jacket. “Run!” he called to her and when she was close, he began moving again as well. They dashed around the pile, not glancing back, not seeing if the crazies had managed to follow.

“Where are we going?” Evajean asked, panting.

“Away. We’re going to hide.”

“So they–”

“Hide until it’s dark or they wander off. Until we can get back to the truck.”

“They’re not following us,” she said.

Elliot looked back, slowing his sprint to a jog. She was right. Through the breaks in the wood pile, he could see the truck. The crazies were still there, though the one on the front had climbed into the back to join the others. Elliot stopped running and stared. “What are they doing?” he said.

“I think they’re waiting,” Evajean said. “For us to come back to the truck.”

“I don’t think they’ll stay.”

Evajean reached into her jacket, took out the dog, who twisted and nipped at her, and stuffed it back inside. She stared at Elliot.

“They’ll come look for us,” he said.

“And we’ll hide.”

“Yes.” He looked around. They were near the side of one of the warehouses, corrugated aluminum rising two stories above them. A little way down was the square protrusion of an entrance. “There,” he said. “Let’s see if we can get inside.”

“Yeah,” Evajean said. “Okay.”

They stayed close to the wall as they approached the door, staying low. The moon was bright enough that they could see their shadows.

“What if it’s locked?” she asked, when they were half way there.

“We find somewhere else. We get further away from here. When it’s morning, we go back to the truck and try to hurt them if we need to.” He thought of the woman in Wal-Mart, of the rage he’d felt as he drove the mannequin arm into her, over and over. He could do it again. If he had to, he could kill all three of them.

The door was, astonishingly, unlocked. Standing open a few inches, it creaked as he pushed it the rest of the way. Evajean hissed in breath at the sound and they both waited, frozen, listening for the crazies. But there was nothing and so they squeezed through the opening, not risking pushing it further. Hope panted inside Evajean’s jacket, calmed.

They were in a tiny office, though Elliot could only tell by the dark shape of a desk and the moon glint off a wall clock. Otherwise, he couldn’t make out anything. “Stay low,” he said to Evajean, “and go careful. Don’t bump into anything.”

He moved in front, feeling out with his hands, reminded of their flight through the caves. His fingers brushed a mesh trash can and the plastic base of a office chair. There had to be another door at the back of the room, one that lead into the warehouse proper. Once in there, they’d find a spot as far from this entrance as possible, so they’d have the most time to react if the crazies discovered their hiding place.