here,” Josh said. “Fuck, that was close.”
The button clicked. Josh started to open the front passenger door.
“The back! Get in the back!” Stan tried to catch the door handle with his foot and pull it shut. Josh left the front passenger door cracked. A moment later, the back door opened and his round face appeared right behind the front seat.
“Thought I was going to steal this,” Josh said. “Maybe I’m just borrowing it.”
“Where’s Ian?” Stormy asked.
“I’m gonna go back for him. He’s hurt. Over there.” Josh looked where he pointed.
“Where’s your car?” Stan asked.
“In the junk yard. Car accident. Escape by foot was a bad idea.”
“Escape by car hasn’t been a marvelous plan either,” Stormy said.
“This is your boyfriend?” Josh asked.
“No, and you don’t want to run into him either,” Stan said.
“Oh, okay. Whatever.” Josh slammed the door and ducked next to the vehicle. “Going to get Ian. I’ll be right back. Don’t fucking leave me.”
Minutes passed and the Jeep was being shot to pieces. Stormy feared they would have to make a run for it. After tending to her wound with one of Matt’s old tees, she pressed down on the accelerator with her hand and gloried in the sound of the engine revving. The Jeep was still down for this mission. Stan’s fingers danced along the seat cushion. She could tell he wanted to get going, with or without Ian and Josh.
She pulled herself off the floorboard. “I’m going to help.”
Stan pushed her back down. “No, you’re not.”
Her eyes flared. She reached up again. Stan returned a similarly threatening glance.
“Fine. I’ll go,” he said.
He snaked his body across the Jeep and kicked the door open. A barrage of bullets responded. “I’m gonna give them a minute,” he said.
A fair sixty-three seconds passed. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be shot to shit, Stan slammed the door behind him and crouched beside the vehicle. As soon as he was outside, Stormy got back in the driver’s seat and scanned the window. Stan huddled behind an AC system. The bullets came in harder on that side of the vehicle now. A side mirror flew off the Jeep and shattered to pieces along the concrete. She damn near pissed herself.
Just ahead of Stan, Josh hid behind a tree with Ian under his arm. Symbols and gestures flew between them once they located each other. The wordless conversation looked like a panicked exchange between pitcher and catcher on an infield.
The outfield was a different story. Garden-variety supers came in from all directions. Every flavor of gruesome imaginable gravitated toward the guys. The undead stumbled across the lawn by the dozens and effectively blocked the path back to the Jeep.
They were pinned down. Stormy slid back from the window to open the door. Pinging sounds multiplied as she dropped to her knees outside. She darted behind the vehicle to look for the half of the guard she freed earlier. Bullets whirred past her. Scared shitless, but undeterred, she raced the bullets to the busted guard shack.
Farther back in the garage, she found the guard’s torso under a piece of clapboard paneling, but not his gun. On the way back to the vehicle, she stopped to overturn pieces of the guard shack and underneath one she found his lower half. Stormy undid the snaps, tugged, and pulled his bloody belt up around her arm. Hunched over, she ripped the Glock from the belt and barreled into the gunfire.
Back in the driver’s seat, she reversed the Jeep until it was off the stop sign. Then she popped the shifter into drive and floored it in Stan’s direction. It knocked the air out of her when the rear end raked over the massive curb, but once over, her vehicle seemed to agree with the manicured grass. However, mowing over the supers in her path felt like repeatedly getting hit by a brand new punching bag.
She shot randomly to pull the gunfire toward her. An explosion went off to her left. A rain of chemically
The button clicked. Josh started to open the front passenger door.
“The back! Get in the back!” Stan tried to catch the door handle with his foot and pull it shut. Josh left the front passenger door cracked. A moment later, the back door opened and his round face appeared right behind the front seat.
“Thought I was going to steal this,” Josh said. “Maybe I’m just borrowing it.”
“Where’s Ian?” Stormy asked.
“I’m gonna go back for him. He’s hurt. Over there.” Josh looked where he pointed.
“Where’s your car?” Stan asked.
“In the junk yard. Car accident. Escape by foot was a bad idea.”
“Escape by car hasn’t been a marvelous plan either,” Stormy said.
“This is your boyfriend?” Josh asked.
“No, and you don’t want to run into him either,” Stan said.
“Oh, okay. Whatever.” Josh slammed the door and ducked next to the vehicle. “Going to get Ian. I’ll be right back. Don’t fucking leave me.”
Minutes passed and the Jeep was being shot to pieces. Stormy feared they would have to make a run for it. After tending to her wound with one of Matt’s old tees, she pressed down on the accelerator with her hand and gloried in the sound of the engine revving. The Jeep was still down for this mission. Stan’s fingers danced along the seat cushion. She could tell he wanted to get going, with or without Ian and Josh.
She pulled herself off the floorboard. “I’m going to help.”
Stan pushed her back down. “No, you’re not.”
Her eyes flared. She reached up again. Stan returned a similarly threatening glance.
“Fine. I’ll go,” he said.
He snaked his body across the Jeep and kicked the door open. A barrage of bullets responded. “I’m gonna give them a minute,” he said.
A fair sixty-three seconds passed. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be shot to shit, Stan slammed the door behind him and crouched beside the vehicle. As soon as he was outside, Stormy got back in the driver’s seat and scanned the window. Stan huddled behind an AC system. The bullets came in harder on that side of the vehicle now. A side mirror flew off the Jeep and shattered to pieces along the concrete. She damn near pissed herself.
Just ahead of Stan, Josh hid behind a tree with Ian under his arm. Symbols and gestures flew between them once they located each other. The wordless conversation looked like a panicked exchange between pitcher and catcher on an infield.
The outfield was a different story. Garden-variety supers came in from all directions. Every flavor of gruesome imaginable gravitated toward the guys. The undead stumbled across the lawn by the dozens and effectively blocked the path back to the Jeep.
They were pinned down. Stormy slid back from the window to open the door. Pinging sounds multiplied as she dropped to her knees outside. She darted behind the vehicle to look for the half of the guard she freed earlier. Bullets whirred past her. Scared shitless, but undeterred, she raced the bullets to the busted guard shack.
Farther back in the garage, she found the guard’s torso under a piece of clapboard paneling, but not his gun. On the way back to the vehicle, she stopped to overturn pieces of the guard shack and underneath one she found his lower half. Stormy undid the snaps, tugged, and pulled his bloody belt up around her arm. Hunched over, she ripped the Glock from the belt and barreled into the gunfire.
Back in the driver’s seat, she reversed the Jeep until it was off the stop sign. Then she popped the shifter into drive and floored it in Stan’s direction. It knocked the air out of her when the rear end raked over the massive curb, but once over, her vehicle seemed to agree with the manicured grass. However, mowing over the supers in her path felt like repeatedly getting hit by a brand new punching bag.
She shot randomly to pull the gunfire toward her. An explosion went off to her left. A rain of chemically
Similar Books
