A narrow cement staircase led to a locked door which ultimately led to the roof. Paul lined up his gun to remove the lock.
"Crazy one, what the hell are you doing?" Alex asked his friend in alarm.
"I'm opening the door,” Paul answered with a look to match Alex’s for the question asked.
"You're shooting at a metal lock attached to a metal door encased within a narrow landing surrounded by cement, but you don’t see anything wrong with what you’re doing?"
"Dude, I'm just trying to open the door, I've seen this done a hundred times.”
"Those were movies Paul, make-believe stuff.”
"Do you want me to get MJ?" Paul asked, a little hurt that his try was being rebuffed.
"First things first,” Alex said as he turned the lock.
"Wouldn’t have thought to do that,” Paul said as he stepped out into the muted sunshine. Black ominous clouds hung overhead and the stench of the dead wafted up from below. “Shaping up to be a wonderful day it is,” he joked in a fake Irish brogue.
"Damn,” Alex said, looking up at the sky while simultaneously holding his nose.
"Come on, let's see what we're dealing with,” Paul motioned as he stepped away from the doorway.
Alex placed a small piece of slate between the door and the jamb, just in case.
"Good call,” Paul said looking back at his friend.
Alex gave him a thumbs up with his free hand, not yet willing to take in any more breaths than he had to. They were still a good twenty yards from the edge when they began to see the outer fringes of the enemy below, with still more making their late entry into the fray. And yet they kept marching forward, like lemmings to the abyss.
"Wow,” Alex stated. “Zombies don’t really care so much about personal space, do they?"
Paul doubted that if it began to rain any of the water around the zombies would touch ground. Zombies were packed tighter than Legos snapped together. This brought ‘close' to a whole other level. “Do you think they might just crush themselves to death?” "That would be great, but it would be better to heed the advice of my Mee-Maw.”
"I'm waiting,” Paul said as Alex got lost looking at the wall of moving death below them.
"Oh she used to say, ‘If the shit hits the fan, unplug it before it gets all over the place.’” Paul thought about it for a moment. It had a ring of truth to it but he couldn’t see how it fit the present situation, “Any chance you could elaborate?"
"I never knew what it meant either; it's just something she used to say. How many you think there are?" Alex asked looking back down.
"Five, six hundred, probably be a thousand in another hour.”
"Escape?"
"Not by the truck that brought us here,” Paul pointed. It was nearly consumed by the sea of zombanity that surrounded it. “Let's go see what's going on at the back of the store.” "Who parked it that far away?" Alex asked a little miffed.
"MJ parked it, but I should have known better,” Paul said.
Alex shook his head. "No sense in slipping in spilled milk.”
"Another Mee-Mawism?" Paul asked.
"What's wrong with that one?"
"Nothing. Come on, let's see if there’s still a way to get out of here which doesn't involve sleeping on the roof.” "Yeah, especially since it looks like the heavens are going to open up.”
Shots rang out from the front of the store. Paul and Alex ran for the doorway and made a quick descent down the stairs. Had they waited a few moments more and gone to the far edge they would have noticed that it was still clear of zombies and they could have made a hasty retreat. That fact would radically change over the next few hours.
Joann was firing blindly into the stacked furniture, wood splintering as bullets crashed into table legs and hutch casings. Mrs. Deneaux sat idly by smoking another cigarette.
"What's going on?" Paul shouted as he ran up the aisle way.
Joann was firing blanks by the time he got up to her. He placed his hand on hers to remove the empty weapon.
"Joann?" Alex asked, catching up.
Her eyes were stretched wide in fear. “The… the furniture is moving,” she cried.
"Yes,” Mrs. Deneaux said between puffs. “So she thought it worthwhile to kill the divan.”
Paul and Alex both looked at Mrs. Deneaux harshly. She didn’t care. “I think she may have gravely wounded the lounger also ,” she went on with a dry coated rasp.
The movement was almost imperceptible; the strewn furniture pile vibrated slightly as if a semi passed close by. Paul's attention was drawn back to the front when a couch cushion landed at his feet.
"MJ, how much longer on your wonder machine?" Paul asked.
MJ hadn’t even looked up at the sound of the shots being fired less than fifty feet away.
"MJ!" Paul shouted.
"What! Can't you see I'm working!" he shouted back, still not looking up.
Paul walked over towards his work station. “Listen, I understand dedication, I really do. But we've got a situation here. How much longer do you think this is going to take?"
MJ finally looked up and noted the concern in Paul's features. MJ's face sagged as he spoke. “Possibly forever with what I have here. I fried some vital components that I don’t have replacements for. Is there a chance we could make another run out to Radio Shack?" he asked hopefully.
Paul shook his head, leaving no doubt in his answer.
"Alright, there's still an outside shot I can do it with what I've got, but it's not going to be as powerful.” "Fifteen foot gap between us and them?" Paul asked optimistically.
MJ shook his head.
"Ten maybe?" Paul asked, grasping at straws.
MJ's head hadn’t stopped moving from the previous question.
"Dude, how much then?" Paul asked in alarm.
"Three feet max,” MJ answered with a sickly smile.
Alex had come up and was listening to the whole exchange. “That's less than a few inches at most from an outstretched hand.” "Yup,” MJ said apologetically.
Paul's stomach got queasy. “And you're only talking three feet from the transmitter of that box, with all of us huddled around that thing, that three feet is gone.” "Hadn't even thought of that,” MJ said, removing his protective goggles.
"Well,” Alex said grasping on to another hope. “What if he finishes it, we move the furniture, and place it by the entrance so that the zombies will stop trying to get in?"
"I like the idea in theory. But first off he isn’t done, and if the furniture is moving I've got to believe that they have already broken through the doors. We could be speeding up our demise instead of holding it at bay.” "Paul, I do not want to get trapped on that roof,” Alex said. “Sure it's spring and all, but it's still cold at night and it looks like it's going to rain.” "And yet that is the choice before us.”
"That sounded very Mike-like,” Alex said with a sick grin of his own.
"Yeah I liked that, I've been working on it. Listen, while we've got time, let's see how much warm stuff we can get up on the roof and if they have any types of sales banners we can use as tarps to keep the rain off.” Joann was still watching the pile as if she expected an evil leprechaun to pop out at any second.
"How did Mike do this s tuff ?" Paul asked aloud. Alex looked at him questioningly. “You know, keep everyone in line. Get them to doing stuff as opposed to blanking out,” Paul said as he pointed to Joann.
"He's got crazy eyes,” Alex said jokingly, “He made us more afraid of him than the zombies.” "You might be right. Joann, come on, let's grab April and haul some stuff upstairs. Mrs. Deneaux, you alright watching the door by yourself?" Paul asked the old bat.
She waved him off with her cigarette laden hand. “And I'll be sure to put the lounger out of its misery,” she cackled.