I edged closer to the garage door and inched onto my toes to peer out the high windows. Under the moonlight, I could see a single zed on the other side, but as it banged at the door, it drew the attention of others. I came back down on my heels, my breath coming in short pants. Soon, a second pair of fists joined the first at the door.
“Shit!” I whispered.
If I waited any longer, the noise could draw out every zed in the area. It probably wouldn’t take more than the weight of twenty or so to push in a garage door.
They had me exactly where they wanted me: in a gift box, ready to open.
I did a slow three-sixty, looking for anything to distract the zeds, trying to concentrate above the ruckus.
Then it hit me.
Get ’em where I want ’em.
I wanted them as far from the garage as possible.
I went back to the car, pulled out the bat and headed back into the house. I headed down the hallway and to the office near the front door. I took a swing and smashed the front windows. Home run.
I rushed back to the garage, looked out through the windows and found the thumping had stopped. I tossed the bat onto the front seat and grabbed the cord on the garage door.
One, two, three.
I yanked the cord, and the door opened with a clatter. I jumped into the car and slammed the door shut as I slid the key into the ignition. The car roared to life, and I had the tires squealing in reverse.
A zed slammed into the car before I was out of the garage. The car lurched over its body. More zeds shuffled from the darkness, filling the street with their relentless groans. As soon as I was on the street, I slammed on the brakes, shoved the car into drive, and rammed into zeds head-on.
The car snagged on bodies as I drove over them, and the right wheel ended up off the ground, leaving only the left front wheel with any traction, and it was burning rubber uselessly. I rocked the car between gears, using reverse and forward to try to nudge free like I was stuck in snow.
By now, the zeds that I’d drawn to the house had turned their attention to the car. The window behind me shattered. I pulled out my Beretta while keeping my foot on the gas. Zeds pushed against the car as they tried to get to me from all sides. The extra weight pushed the car forward, and the right tire caught traction. The car took off, pitching to a near stop when plowing through a wall of zeds trying to block me in.
Somehow, the car made it through and the strays slid off the hood. I took the first right, realizing too late that it was a cul-de-sac. “Fuck!” Spinning around, I got back on the main street.
When the number of zeds dissipated, I chanced a glance in the rearview mirror. One reached out to me under the moonlight. It looked young—too much like Jase—though months in the sun had baked its skin into a jaundiced husk.
I sped away. Since I was on the edge of town, it took only three turns, some lawn driving around a roadblock, and a couple curb-checks before Chow Town disappeared behind me.
I drove west until I came to a familiar stretch of road. The car made a clacking sound and the steering wheel shuddered if I went over twenty, not that I could drive any faster without headlights, which would give away my location. According to the car’s clock, it took me over an hour to make it to the gravel road the farm was on.
As I turned onto the gravel road, I slammed on the brakes. Taillights in the distance signaled a vehicle leaving the farm. After the taillights disappeared and no other lights appeared, I crept forward and parked the car by the garage of Jase’s old house, making sure it was hidden from the road. After a wistful glance at the beat-up sedan with an arm caught in the bumper, I stepped into the night.
I didn’t like the idea of walking at night, but I couldn’t risk driving into an ambush at the farm. The smell of smoke was strong in the air, and a bad feeling formed in my gut.