“Come on, get in!” Megan demanded as Jeff swiveled again at hearing other fists slamming into the side door.
“How the hell are we supposed to get out of the garage?” Jeff asked as he looked from door to door, not sure which was going to break first.
“I’ll smash down the door!” Megan yelled out at him, exasperation filling her voice. Jeff shook his head. “You’ll do more damage to the van than the door. It’s not some cheap aluminum job; it’s reinforced wood.”
Grinding her teeth impatiently, Megan glared at Jeff. “You have a better idea?”
He ignored the sarcasm and looked at the side door again. He studied it for a moment, and Megan saw his face shift. He turned to her and smiled.
“Give me five minutes and then lift the door.”
Before she could protest, he moved over to the side door and unlocked it. Megan’s jaw dropped as she watched him.
“Is he insane?” George inquired, horror filling his voice.
She sighed. “George, that’s about the only thing I’m certain of anymore.”
After a few moments, the side door flew open and two rotters burst in, falling forward. Jeff was on them quickly, using the rifle butt to smash in the back of an old man’s head. His skin was a dusky gray, and the rifle shattered the back of his skull. He toppled over, the force of his landing driving his jaw up into his sinus cavity. All of his bodily fluids had dried up long ago, and there was no backsplash of blood or gristle as Jeff finished him off with a swift heel to the back of the head.
The other creature wrapped its hand around one of Jeff’s hiking boots. It was probably a woman, its long stringy hair still hanging in clumps from its skull. Leaves and dirt made it impossible to determine her true hair color, and weeks out in the elements had burnt most of the exposed skin to a leathery brown. He didn’t panic as she lifted her head and dragged herself toward his leg. He whipped around and slammed his other foot on top of her head, pushing it to the ground. He had not used tremendous force, fearing he would topple over with the effort. She continued to struggle, her hands trying to scratch and claw at him.
Jeff shrugged her grasping hand off of his shoe. He maintained his balance and shot a quick look over to the open door. Seeing no one else coming, he put his full weight down on the woman’s head. A snap echoed in the garage, and he stomped her again. Feeling no more movement underneath his foot, he stepped off the corpse and moved to the door. Peering out, Jeff turned and waved at Megan before moving outside and pulling the door shut behind him.
Megan glanced over at George and back at Jason. They looked as stunned as she felt at Jeff’s insane actions.
“I guess all we can do is wait to see if he can pull this one off,” she offered weakly. They sat and listened as the volume of the moans outside rose when Jeff let out a muffled war cry. Suddenly, the banging on the garage door lessened and they heard sounds of dragging footsteps moving away from it.
Megan listened to Jeff’s taunts that mingled with the moaning replies of the infected as he moved farther away. She turned to George.
“Okay. Well, the maniac has gotten them away from the door, I guess. I’m going to open it so we can get the hell out of here. George? Can you cover me?” She stared at the big man and saw the nervous look on his face, the rifle sat propped across his legs. Sweat was coming off of him in buckets and his already pale complexion was practically glowing in the semi-darkness of the van’s interior. He looked over at her, swallowed hard, and nodded. Jason looked more assured than George. For an instant, she was tempted to suggest that he take the rifle but dismissed the idea quickly.
Megan tried to focus on the garage’s interior. Lifting the heavy door would only take a second or two; then she would be back in the van and safe. It would be easy. She took a deep breath and made the sign of the cross as she pulled on the door handle and slid out of the van.
Moving backwards, she kept one eye on the side door and the two bodies on the floor. They exuded a foul stench that was potent in the enclosed space. George opened the sliding door on the van and pointed the barrel of the rifle toward the door through which Jeff had left. Megan turned to examine the garage door’s lock.
As she grasped the handle, there was a sound of wood shattering behind her and then a loud hissing noise. Megan jumped as a rifle blast echoed through the enclosed room. She turned to see four bodies spilling into the garage from the house. Cursing, she realized that they had forgotten all about the infected chasing Jeff across the interior of the home.
Megan fumbled for the revolver jammed in her waistband as George stepped out of the van and lined up another shot. She tugged at the gun as the second blast rang out. She was struggling with the.357’s hammer, which was snagged on her shirt.
Wrestling it free, she moved next to George. All four rotters were still closing in, and she aimed at the closest.
A puff of smoke came out of the barrel at the same time the bullet punched a hole in its chest. A spray of black mist came out its back and drenched the next stiff in line. Though stumbling slightly, it kept moving forward. Megan saw its mouth move, but the ringing in her ears blotted out its cries of rage.
George awkwardly rammed another cartridge in place on the bolt-action rifle and fired his third shot. Megan saw a puff of dust as the bullet went wild, striking drywall two feet from any of the targets.
“Get the bat!” she screamed, trying to steady her hand and take aim once again.
Her next shot passed through the upper cheek of her closest enemy, which was less than ten feet in front of her. It moved a half step forward, its head rocked backwards, and then it folded up like a lawn chair and landed on its back. The others were unfazed and continued coming. Megan took a breath and fired at the next, puckering its nasal cavity. A dangling piece of cartilage broke free from its nose as the body crumpled to the cement.
The last two were almost on top of her. Fighting rising panic and her shaking hands, she fired wide, blowing a hole in the third monster’s shoulder. Its arms were extended, reaching for her, and the fourth was beside it, ready to pull her down.
Megan could finally hear their excited moans as they got close. Eyes wide, she took aim as a clammy hand gripped her arm. She felt the dry, cold skin of the bony fingers wrapping tightly around her elbow, yanking the weapon off target.
Pulling the trigger, she felt a bolt of pain that was a combination of the recoil and the sensation of her arm being nearly yanked out of its socket. Suddenly, hands that had been reaching for Megan’s neck fell away and there was a white-hot burst of pain as she was knocked to the ground.
Tumbling sideways, she could feel the cold grip on her arm release as she was slammed to the garage floor. Doing her best to ignore the pain flaring through her shoulder, she rolled over and tried to raise the gun again.
As things came into focus, she saw George slamming the last of the infected up against the garage wall. Megan tried to take aim, but George was already charging at it like a lineman, a bellow of rage bursting free from his lips.
He connected, driving the monster into the drywall and creating a crater in it. George quickly backed up a few feet but continued bellowing taunts at the obscenity slumped before him.
Megan watched the madman encourage the rather rotund rotter to pull itself out of the new wall niche and stagger toward him. The first kick connected with its chest, driving it back into the hole. The second sent it to the ground, where George unleashed a flurry of blows to its head while it tried to grab at him. It obsessively scratched and pawed at the man looming above it until Megan heard a distinctive pop and saw its arms convulse and flop to the ground. George stomped on its head a few more times for good measure.