the door and tossing her bag in.
“Where’s the manual crank for the door?” I asked through the cabin to Earl, who was grabbing the keys from the center console.
“Right side, top of the ladder,” he said looking up through the windshield to a mechanical box at the top of a ladder attached to the cinder block wall. “You have to pop out the crank and pull up the gate manually, but there was a jam the other night that kept it from going up all the way. Mechanic said he’d get to it but…” He shrugged. “I don’t know if he did or not.”
Great. Well, time to act like a hero. That’s what I do, right?
Well, usually, I wasn’t on the verge of wetting myself. But other than that, sure.
“I’ll take the crank, you guys load in. If I get it open wide enough, I’ll jump on the top of the truck and we leave, pronto. If I don’t - ”
“You’ll get it-just make sure you don’t miss the truck on your way down.” Kate said sarcastically. She looked at me gratefully, but with a twinge of something else in her eyes. She took my gear from me and ushered Fred into the truck as the engine started, turning over with a satisfying roar.
Yeah, I’ll try not to do that. Smart-ass shrink, I thought, grabbing the bottom rung and hoisting myself up. As I climbed, I vaguely wondered what she really thought about me. She was pretty hot. Probably has all sorts of theories about me, though. ‘Schizophrenic glory hounding egomaniac’ came to my mind. And I was being nice to myself.
From behind us, the sound of a heavy weight against the door and the crashing of bodies slamming into a heavy door. Earl revved the engine as Kate rolled up her window.
I climbed quickly, reaching the top as the store entrance door opened, followed by a flood of creatures. The fat woman from last night must have fallen behind, as a young woman dressed as a fry cook had assumed the lead. Her empty glare fixed on me after scanning the room, her left arm looking as if it had been gnawed at by her companions and was of little value, her right arm raised to me in a gesture of greeting. Or a beckoning. A longing for me.
And not in the good way.
I shook my head, and focused on the crank. It came free of its housing easily enough, and I started to turn, going faster as it moved, my arm burning quickly from the strain. Light crept into the dock from below the metal door, and several creatures from the store tumbled clumsily into the recession housing the truck. More followed, electing simply to crash over the lip than to maneuver to the stairwell. Most got right up, shambling toward the cab. Others were buried beneath the press from behind. They poured into the dock, an endless procession of former humans.
Keep cranking, McKnight. No time to waste, here.
Unless you’re imagining this, you crazy bastard, said the sarcastic voice from the back of my skull. You could crawl back down the ladder and see if you wake up when your fry cook friend takes a chunk out of your thigh. If you don’t wake up, congratulations! You’re sane!
I cranked faster.
The one-armed fry cook had reached the bottom of the ladder, and the vibrations as she pawed against the metal rungs shook my feet and legs. The door moved quickly, past the hood, past the windshield, to the top of the truck.
And then jammed.
Shit.
There was enough space to get the truck out, but if I was riding coach on the top of the thing, I might be in for a tight squeeze. I bore down on the thin metal strip with all my weight. The handle moved grudgingly several more inches, and then stopped.
The creatures had reached the cab of the truck and were pounding against the doors and the windows. More streamed constantly from the store, falling into the pit like lemmings from a cliff, filling the dock with their moaning, tumbling forms-a comical sight at another place, in another time.
Giving the crank one more try, and hoping I had enough space, I leaped from the ladder through the ten feet of
“Where’s the manual crank for the door?” I asked through the cabin to Earl, who was grabbing the keys from the center console.
“Right side, top of the ladder,” he said looking up through the windshield to a mechanical box at the top of a ladder attached to the cinder block wall. “You have to pop out the crank and pull up the gate manually, but there was a jam the other night that kept it from going up all the way. Mechanic said he’d get to it but…” He shrugged. “I don’t know if he did or not.”
Great. Well, time to act like a hero. That’s what I do, right?
Well, usually, I wasn’t on the verge of wetting myself. But other than that, sure.
“I’ll take the crank, you guys load in. If I get it open wide enough, I’ll jump on the top of the truck and we leave, pronto. If I don’t - ”
“You’ll get it-just make sure you don’t miss the truck on your way down.” Kate said sarcastically. She looked at me gratefully, but with a twinge of something else in her eyes. She took my gear from me and ushered Fred into the truck as the engine started, turning over with a satisfying roar.
Yeah, I’ll try not to do that. Smart-ass shrink, I thought, grabbing the bottom rung and hoisting myself up. As I climbed, I vaguely wondered what she really thought about me. She was pretty hot. Probably has all sorts of theories about me, though. ‘Schizophrenic glory hounding egomaniac’ came to my mind. And I was being nice to myself.
From behind us, the sound of a heavy weight against the door and the crashing of bodies slamming into a heavy door. Earl revved the engine as Kate rolled up her window.
I climbed quickly, reaching the top as the store entrance door opened, followed by a flood of creatures. The fat woman from last night must have fallen behind, as a young woman dressed as a fry cook had assumed the lead. Her empty glare fixed on me after scanning the room, her left arm looking as if it had been gnawed at by her companions and was of little value, her right arm raised to me in a gesture of greeting. Or a beckoning. A longing for me.
And not in the good way.
I shook my head, and focused on the crank. It came free of its housing easily enough, and I started to turn, going faster as it moved, my arm burning quickly from the strain. Light crept into the dock from below the metal door, and several creatures from the store tumbled clumsily into the recession housing the truck. More followed, electing simply to crash over the lip than to maneuver to the stairwell. Most got right up, shambling toward the cab. Others were buried beneath the press from behind. They poured into the dock, an endless procession of former humans.
Keep cranking, McKnight. No time to waste, here.
Unless you’re imagining this, you crazy bastard, said the sarcastic voice from the back of my skull. You could crawl back down the ladder and see if you wake up when your fry cook friend takes a chunk out of your thigh. If you don’t wake up, congratulations! You’re sane!
I cranked faster.
The one-armed fry cook had reached the bottom of the ladder, and the vibrations as she pawed against the metal rungs shook my feet and legs. The door moved quickly, past the hood, past the windshield, to the top of the truck.
And then jammed.
Shit.
There was enough space to get the truck out, but if I was riding coach on the top of the thing, I might be in for a tight squeeze. I bore down on the thin metal strip with all my weight. The handle moved grudgingly several more inches, and then stopped.
The creatures had reached the cab of the truck and were pounding against the doors and the windows. More streamed constantly from the store, falling into the pit like lemmings from a cliff, filling the dock with their moaning, tumbling forms-a comical sight at another place, in another time.
Giving the crank one more try, and hoping I had enough space, I leaped from the ladder through the ten feet of
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