“Oh, shit,” Justin moaned, as he moved to align himself with the ladder and begin down.
“Get your friends to help you!” I yelled up. He was finally doing what I wanted him to do, just not in the manner in which I wanted it done; isn’t that about typical for teenagers.
“Um too late for that Dad,” he added as his legs swung over the edge. “They just broke through the door.”
I didn’t need any more clarification than that. “Give me a second while I secure the ladder.”
Justin let go of the roof just as I was attempting to secure the ladder’s footholds. Somewhere in my semi-panicked mode I heard distant screams, and then it sounded like the world was blowing up. Justin fell and entirely missed the first two rungs. The ladder clanged and swayed violently as he caught himself on the third rung, his feet swinging wildly. He almost lost his tentative grip on the ladder when the Mossberg let go with a three-round burst, which was impressive considering it was a pump action shotgun. The closest zombie lay in a heap; what was left of him wouldn’t feed a runway model. His backup, however, had swelled to around twenty, the first group was about sixty yards away and the second group had just come around the corner. We were about to have one humdinger of a get together. Justin was halfway down the ladder when I swung my attention back to him. I looked past him to notice the fat kid with the Butterfinger gun peering cautiously over the edge. I wanted to get Justin down and just plain haul ass out of here. But I couldn’t do it.
“Wait till Justin gets off the ladder, then swing your legs down. We’ll hold it steady,” I yelled. Justin looked up to see who I was talking to.
“Tommy!” Justin yelled. “You can do it.”
“They’re up here Justin, they just killed Bill. I…I guess that means we won’t have to come in to work tomorrow,” Tommy said. His eyes had that hollowed out look I was growing to know so well.
Justin had finally hit terra firma.
“Justin, you’ve got thirty seconds to convince your fat friend to get his ass down here or we’re leaving,” I whispered harshly.
Tracy beeped the horn again.
I turned viciously. “Do you think that’s helping?” I barked. She wanted out and so did I, but I wasn’t leaving the big kid unless I had to, although I think we had passed that point a minute ago.
“Tommy!” Justin called. “Come on man, there’s no time to figure it out, they’re up there, let’s go.”
Bill’s distant screams finally subsided, and I don’t think it was because he got away. That steeled Tommy’s resolve. He began to swing his huge bulk over the edge, still gripping the pellet gun. Images of the little girl clutching her doll welled up inside me.
“Let go of the pellet gun, Tommy!” I snapped, more for me than him in all likelihood. “It isn’t going to do you any good down here and you’re going to need both hands to hold onto the ladder.”
I didn’t think anybody but the man of steel himself was going to be able to stop that bulk once it got in motion. The more I began to think it through the less I liked the idea. The odds were good that Justin and I were about to become human pancakes, sandwiched under the enormous bulk of Tommy. I was about to grab Justin and have him abandon his post, no sense in both of us dying in this vain attempt, when the ladder vibrated slightly. I looked up. Tommy had grabbed the first rung and was beginning his descent. ‘Holy Crap’ was all I could mutter. My amazement was short-lived however. The zombies that broke through the door on the roof were looking over the edge. I wanted to shout at them triumphantly that they had lost, ‘no more dinner for you, nyah nyah nyah,’ when the first of them simply walked off the roof, followed by a second and a third and then a half dozen. The snapping of multiple bones ricocheted off the Wal-Mart wall, sounding like small arms fire. It was deafening. It was sickening.
Tommy made it down the ladder and the three of us just stared at the horror that was unfolding in front of us. Most of the zombies had landed on legs that were now shattered beyond any use. Some had ended in a swan dive, never to rise again. The ones with the shattered legs and spinal columns started to pull themselves along with their arms or used their chins on the ground in a vain attempt to move. Whatever locomotion was available to them they used to try to get to us. It was like watching the ‘Terminator.’ Sadly, we were the Sarah Connors in this remake. Tracy’s horn blared again. Travis had finished reloading and was firing again. Our reverie broken, we ran for the car.
“Get in!” I yelled, as if anyone needed the instruction.
Tracy scooted over so I could drive. Tommy’s enormous bulk ended up on the hump seat in the back; he looked like a huge bowling bowl, and my boys unhappily looked like two bowling pins pushed up against the windows.
“Sorry,” Tommy said as he tried his best to reduce the crushing effect of his immensity.
We were staring down thirty or so advancing zombies and had fifteen or so mostly disabled zombies to our rear. Tommy extended his ring-ding glazed hand to me.
“I’m Tommy,” he said with a beaming smile, mostly white teeth except for the chocolate stuck up on his gum line.
I sent my hand back, this wasn’t the time but it was a conditioned response and besides I didn’t see any reason to dispense with civility. “I’m Dad…I mean Mr. Tal…oh forget it, you can just call me Mike,” I said.
“Mr. Tal, what’s that smell?” Tommy said as he still gripped my hand. I pulled back and grunted.
“Dad stepped in Henry crap!” Travis smiled.
“Great, just great,” I mumbled as I put the car in gear and gunned the engine.
I know Jeeps are tough, but how many bodies can I hit before I do irreparable damage? I’m sure the Chrysler Corporation never planned for this. I did my best to go around the edges of the oncoming horde, but with only twelve feet of width I only had so many options. Tracy ducked down under the dash as best she could. I could tell she was glaring at me in response to the damage I was about to inflict on her car. She’d have to wait, I could only deal with one deadly problem at a time.
Justin yelled, “Look out Dad, I think you’re going to hit them!”
I honestly wanted to stop the car and thank Captain Obvious. If he hadn’t forewarned me, I might just have gone and hit the zombies without ever realizing I was going to.
The impact was more jarring than I think any of us were prepared for. I didn’t know a human body would have that much effect on a two-ton SUV. I guess it was because it was deadweight, and yes, even in my head I got the rim shot sound effect. By the time I’d plowed through the fourth or fifth zombie it looked like we had gone through a car wash designed by Stephen King. Pieces of bone, flesh and congealed blood littered the hood and the windshield. At some point in this zombie smash up derby I had the wherewithal to turn on the windshield wipers and the washers. Even I was impressed with myself until Tracy let the wind out of my sails; I saw her hand pulling back into the relative safety under the dashboard.
I was feeling good that we would make it out of the parking lot, but I didn’t think Tracy’s car was going to make it much further than that. The radiator was shot, and steam was pouring out of the front of the car. I could hear the serpentine belt whining as it was being shredded against some foreign object. The car was bucking wildly like we were on an unbroken horse. It felt like either the engine or the transmission was about to drop onto the ground. In all likelihood it was going to be both. But even at the blistering fifteen mph that I was making I was still putting distance between ourselves and the pack that followed. The car made it halfway home before it just plain died.