Dawn of the Dead (19 page)

Along the road, several zombies tried to stagger after the trucks, but they were left in the dust of the barreling vehicles. As the wind whipped by them, they wavered slightly but continued their sluggish, creeping pace.

The vehicles pulled into the long grade that loaded into the mall's parking lot. With a gigantic roar, they drove straight toward the building.

At one of the building entrances, a gathering of zombies was moving in and out of the main doors like robots. Some wandered nearby in the parking lot. The area seemed to be filling up as the morning progressed. Some of the creatures were attracted by the sounds of the engines, and they turned and faced the trucks.

As Peter pulled his vehicle in a wide arc, Roger drove his right up to the side of the building and roared toward the entrance doors. Then he skipped his right wheels up onto the curb, and with a great, scraping crunch, the big truck pulled directly abreast of the building, flush with the entrance. The tremendous truck crushed several of the helpless creatures and knocked them against the wall as if they were flies being squashed on a windshield.

The trailer of the truck had effectively blocked off the mall entrance. Several zombies trapped inside tried to push the glass door open. The doors moved slightly but did not allow any room for the creatures to escape.

The few creatures immediately around the truck began to clamor at its sides. Roger shut off the engine and grabbed his gun. Other zombies began clutching at the windows of the cab.

Roger watched their ghoulish faces flush against the cab windows. Their nails made screeching sounds on the glass as they tried to gain entrance. Some of them pushed their faces up against the windows, making them look even more fiendish.

Overhead, the chopper hovered like a bird in flight. With a rumble, Peter pulled up his big truck alongside so that his passenger door was directly abreast of the free door on Roger's cab.

Peter's truck also crushed one or two of the creatures, but there were still several in the immediate vicinity of the cabs. They made a slight thud as they hit the wheels.

As Roger opened his door and scrambled into the other truck, one of the zombies grabbed hold of his leg. Roger managed to kick the creature off just as the big truck pulled out and roared across the lot.

The helicopter flew straight up and directly over the roof of the big shopping center, where Fran had been watching the action. She had been fascinated and repulsed at the clockwork precision with which Roger and Peter worked. As she ran to the other side of the roof, the wind from the chopper whipped her hair.

The chopper turned and waited for the big truck to move up under it, then it escorted the trailer back to the warehouse down the road.

In the cab that Peter was driving, Roger was jumping up and down in the seat, whooping it up like a cowboy. They pulled alongside another of the parked trucks.

“Come on, come on,” Peter tried to calm him down. “Three more, baby.”

“Like a charm, huh?” Roger was yelling for joy. “Like a fucking charm!” He grabbed his knapsack and climbed into the new cab. Immediately, all frivolity was forgotten, and he went to work on jumping the engine cables of the second rig.

From the helicopter overhead, Steve spotted something moving around the warehouse. He jockeyed the chopper slightly for a better look and saw a small group of zombies wandering out of the big garage directly toward Roger's truck. It looked like a group of farmers. They were all wearing jeans and work boots. They also seemed to be moving more quickly than the lumbering ones in the parking lot.

In the meantime, Peter's truck pulled away from the cab Roger was in. The big vehicle rolled into the large paved area behind the warehouse, where Peter was able to turn it around easily.

Stephen swooped down with the copter, buzzing as close as he could to Roger's truck, trying desperately to signal the man.

But Roger was still immersed in his work on the cables. Every once in a while he would remember their success and whoop like a child. The zombie group drew closer. They had just about reached the cab. Steve swooped low again and buzzed once more. Roger still didn't notice.

Peter had now backed up into a position that enabled him to pull out. He looked up to see the helicopter heading straight for him.

Is this guy losing his marbles, Peter thought, but then he saw the big chopper buzz right over his cab and spin around, heading back for Roger.

It seemed to be some sort of signal. Peter looked toward the other truck. He was now able to see the lumbering creatures. Frantic, he tried to slam the truck into gear, but the complicated shift mechanism fought him.

One of the approaching zombies reached Roger's truck and slammed its hands against the driver's side window. The man was startled and tried to untangle himself from his cramped position under the big steering wheel. For a terrible moment he was stuck. Other creatures appeared at the passenger side of the cab, where the door was open. One of the zombies grabbed at Roger's leg. He kicked violently but couldn't seem to get a good position. He fell lower onto the floor of the cab, his body almost knotted among the controls and the shift sticks.

With a lurch, Peter's truck started to roll, accelerating slowly. From above, Steve tried to buzz the clutching ghouls, but they didn't even look up or flinch as the wind generated by the blades whipped through their hair and clothes violently. They were a frightening sight as they clawed and banged at Roger. The trooper's eyes were wide with fear and revulsion at being at the creatures' mercy. He kicked and twisted his body to push them away, but he was unable to deliver a solid blow from his pinned position. Blindly, he groped for his rifle on the seat of the truck. Inadvertently, his finger hit the trigger and a shell blasted through the chest of the lead creature. But the ghouls didn't react and kept clawing and grabbing as if nothing had happened.

Finally, Peter was able to get his truck in the proper gear, and it started to roll a little faster. Desperately, he headed for Roger's cab. In the chopper, Steve realized that he could be of no assistance and hovered closer to get a better look at the action. He could see that Roger now had a good grip on his gun but was unable to clear the weapon from around the gear sticks. To Steve's horror, he saw that the zombie who was now in the lead was actually scrambling into the cab with Roger, and was all but on top of the struggling trapped trooper.

Just as a second creature was about to claw his way in, Peter, now moving with a good amount of speed, swung his truck up and crushed it against the side of the cab. Blood splattered all over the truck and trickled to the ground.

Meanwhile, Roger was frantically trying to keep the first zombie's mouth away. Its gaping hole was filled with rotted and blackened teeth. The two bodies entwined in a wrestler's hold. Even though the zombie was the weaker of the two, Roger was hampered by the position he was in. He had to channel all his force in an upward direction, thus losing most of its effectiveness.

Peter, who had pulled his truck too far past Roger's, now slammed his rig into reverse and backed up. This time he managed to get his window in a direct line with the open door on Roger's cab. He raised his rifle and aimed, but he could not get a clear shot. The zombie had managed to pin Roger against the steering wheel and the blond trooper's head was directly in Peter's line of sight. The zombie's head was positioned behind Roger's.

“Get its head up . . . get its head up,” Peter shouted, trying to overcome the noise of the truck engine and the hovering helicopter.

Hearing the sound of a human voice, Roger realized that Peter was outside. He struggled with the creature, in the process dropping his rifle on the floor of the cab. It clanged against his tools. Finally, he managed to get a stranglehold on the creature's neck. He pushed up with all his might, but he couldn't budge the ghoul. The zombie's hands clutched at his face, its fingers pushing on Roger's eyes, and the pain was unbearable.

In a split second, Peter saw the opportunity to fire at the zombie while it held Roger at arm's length. The gun gave out a deafening roar. The zombie's head flew apart. Remnants of blood and brain tissue splattered the inside of the cab and the driver's window. The gummy stuff flew into Roger's face, blinding him momentarily. He wiped away the wet matter, cringing when he realized what it was. The zombie fell limp, its dead weight crushing Roger against the controls of the cab. Desperate, blood running all over him, Roger frantically tried to free himself. With a great heave of his body, he pushed the leaden creature out of the cab. His eyes stared in terror and revulsion. Instantly, he brought his sleeve up to wipe the stains from his face, feeling the bits of flesh and blood caked to his skin and even on his lips. His body shook and quivered in disgust.

A sudden crash brought Roger to his senses, and he spun around. One of the zombies had actually recalled the instinct to smash through the driver's side window with a tire chain. Roger was stunned for a minute that the creature could have managed such a feat. Still shaking, he dove to the floor for his weapon.

“Get down, stay down,” Peter called, trying to level off a shot. “I got it!” he screamed, but once again he was unable to get off a shot because Roger was in the way.

Roger, his adrenaline pumping overtime, sat up with his gun and leveled off at the creature himself. The shell crashed through the already shattered glass and squarely into the creature's head.

Roger's body shuddered as the bullet hit. “You bastards . . . you bastards . . .” he started mumbling incoherently, his voice quivering and a glazed look coming into his eyes.

Suddenly, he gave a war whoop and looked at Peter, semi-deliriously shouting, “We got 'em, buddy . . . we got 'em, didn't we?”

“Cool it, man,” Peter hissed at him over the noise of the big engine. “Get your head.”

Peter had seen this reaction many times during combat. A soldier would do something that he found utterly repugnant but necessary, and if he couldn't accept what he'd done, his mind just snapped. He had seen it happen in Nam and on the streets of Philly. And, sometimes, the experience was so totally devastating that the trooper or cop or soldier never recovered.

“We got this by the ass . . . got this by the ass!” Roger leaped around in the cab, his face a fiery red, sweat pouring down his neck and collecting in a pool by his collarbone. He dove down again, and started to work on jumping the truck.

“Hey, Rog,” Peter said more gently. “Get your head, man. Come on . . . we got a lot to do. Roger?”

There was a rustle of movement and then nothing from the floor of the cab. Peter looked about himself cautiously and then started to open his door and step out, when suddenly Roger popped up again. The engine of the truck roared and Roger just smiled calmly at Peter, sending a steady gaze across the space between the two cabs.

“Let's go, baby,” he said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Number two—”

“You all right?”

“Perfect, baby . . . perfect!” he said, gunning the engine happily and pulling the big vehicle out of the area. Peter followed, a look of confusion and concern on his face.

As the two semis rumbled out of the warehouse lot and started down the grade toward the road, the helicopter followed suit. Stephen had craned his neck to watch the action, and his eyes had been wide with fascination as he observed the struggle below. He believed that Roger and Peter had more guts than anyone he'd ever known. He didn't think he could have lasted one minute in that cab with those creatures without puking his brains out!

The trucks moved along at a fast pace. Suddenly, a few zombies loomed up before them as they ascended a grade. The creatures were walking slowly up the road. Roger's eyes widened with anger, and he steered his rig right for the creatures. The front of the cab smashed into two of them. One was crushed under the wheels, and the other flew back from the impact.

Fran, too, had been watching with horror, although from her vantage point she could barely make out a thing. She had wished those jerks had thought to rip off some binoculars, but that was too easy. She should have made them a shopping list. At least they would have accepted that as part of her function.

But now, anxiety was choking her. She could see the two trucks pull up over the rise. The helicopter buzzed along with them. Then the trucks roared around the entrance ramps into the parking lot, and again the chopper zoomed right over the roof.

Fran trotted across the roof to see the action in the lot.

The trucks rumbled toward the second set of entrance doors. Roger steered the huge trailer truck directly broadside with the doors. In the process, the vehicle knocked over several creatures and scraped against the building as the big trailer blocked off the entrance. This time there were more creatures still alive in the immediate area. They clutched at the cab and leaped at the doors.

Watching from above, Fran decided to take action. She seemed to become inspired from the real bravery that Roger and Peter had shown that morning. As the creatures converged on the truck, she aimed her rifle down at them. Before she fired, Peter's rig slid in very close to Roger's, the cabs abreast.

Peter's truck knocked over several of the clutching creatures. One of the zombies, which was caught directly under the front wheels, was still moving and clawing at the air. Several creatures jumped at the driver's side window of Peter's cab.

Roger grabbed his gun and moved to level his cab on Peter's side, but the rigs were too close and he couldn't open the door. Rolling down the window, he shouted, “The windows . . . open your windows . . . your window,” to Peter.

Peter noticed that the door wouldn't open, too, and he fumbled with the gear shift in order to pull away, but noticed Roger gesturing.

Then he dove across the cab and rolled down the passenger's side window. Roger leaned out of his open passenger window and tried to get his weapon into a firing position. One or two zombies squeezed through the narrow space between the trucks. They were just about to reach Roger when he managed to fire. His bullet killed the lead ghoul. Other zombies moved around the front of Roger's cab and they reached him in a moment.