Coldbrook(131)

‘You won’t be in one of the trucks?’ Vic asked, because he could already see that whoever drove them from across the entrance would be in major trouble.

‘Can’t. Been stabbed.’

‘Stabbed?’

‘Long story. Vic . . .’

‘Yeah?’

‘Just . . .’ Everything unspoken between them for years remained unspoken, but its weight reached them both.

‘Jeez,’ Chaney said. ‘Be there soon, miss. Open the bar.’ He clapped Vic on the shoulder and turned to tell everyone what was happening.

‘Yeah,’ Vic said into the phone. ‘See you soon.’

Holly signed off.

He started driving again, slowly, heading for Coldbrook’s main gates as he had hundreds of times before. The closer he came, the more he saw of the desperate siege that the compound was under.

The two trucks were parked nose to tail across the gate. There was a man on each roof, shooting any zombie that managed to scramble up that high, and piled in front of the gates were a dozen bodies. He’d have to drive over them. More were sprawled around the perimeter fencing, and they formed a raised step from which others tried to launch themselves over the hedging. Most fell back with a bullet in the head. A few made it over to be shot inside the compound.

But how much ammunition could these bikers have been carrying?

‘Chaney!’ Vic shouted.

‘Here.’

‘I think once we’re through the gate I can swerve around, then back the bus against the duct housing. Rear emergency exit should be just the right height.’

‘Won’t that take too long?’

‘Few more seconds. Best bet.’

‘Sure.’ Chaney moved back down the bus. ‘Okay kids, and you guys, everyone to the back of the bus, hunker down, stay low. Anyone with ammunition left, watch those broken windows. Miss? The second we stop, you pull the emergency handle and pop open that back window. There’ll be someone there. You do as they say. Understand that, kiddies? Do as they say, and there’ll be candy and ice cream for tea.’

‘I don’t want candy,’ a kid said, ‘I want my mommy.’

‘Yeah, well. Me too,’ said Chaney.

Vic ran down four adults and two children, and then the trucks across the gate drove apart and the bus bounced over the piled corpses, landing heavily. Inside the compound, he turned sharply to the left, the bus shuddering, steering wheel vibrating, and felt the back end skid around on the grass. Yes! he thought, because that gave him the angle he needed.

Vic glanced across at the gate he’d just come through. The trucks crashed together again, crushing several zombies between them, but the attackers had swarmed. A dozen were inside and running for the bus, several falling as the men on the truck’s roofs opened fire, others reaching the vehicle as he slammed it in reverse and pulled the wheel hard to the right. Even with the hampered turning ability, he was lined up just right. He floored the gas pedal. Back past the guard building – windows smashed, door off its hinges – more gunfire erupted. An explosion. Someone screaming, and—

They don’t scream!

Vic glanced forward – and wished he hadn’t. One of the trucks’ gas tanks must have been punctured by a stray bullet, and now the spilled fuel had ignited and the truck was ablaze. A guy had dropped from the driver’s side and was running across the compound, his clothes and hair aflame, zombies grabbing for him as he ran, tripping him, falling on him and biting even as the flames flared in their hair and transferred to their own clothing.

Vic turned away just as the second truck caught fire.

Something was scraping across the ground beneath the bus. It thudded against the chassis. He slammed the brakes and stopped them just right, tail end facing the duct housing with a two-foot gap to open the rear emergency window. Perfect.

The banging continued.

‘That was some pretty f*cking shit-hot driving, Sandra Bullock,’ Chaney said. ‘Now let’s get that candy and ice cream.’ He waited until Vic was up and moving down the bus, bringing up the rear. His shotgun boomed again, and Vic’s ears rang.

‘How many cartridges do you have?’

‘At a guess, three more up the pipe.’

Vic pulled his M1911. He had no idea how many bullets remained, if any.

The rear emergency window fell away when it was opened, and the kids were helped over into the duct housing as quickly as possible. Huddled on the small platform inside, shaded from the sun, Vic could see Holly helping them.

Will the ladder inside hold us all? he thought. What if someone falls? What if one of those things gets in before—

Screams, shooting, and he saw a child snatched down from the back of the bus. The kids still inside the vehicle surged back, and one of the bikers – standing with one foot on the rear window frame, one propped against the duct housing building – fired down between his feet.

Kids were now screaming, crying, panicking, and Vic’s heart broke for every one of them. I hope he killed her before they bit her, he thought as he and Chaney exchanged a quick, loaded glance.

They didn’t have long. And there was nowhere else to go.

The second truck’s fuel tank went up and its door smashed through the front of the bus, scything into the upright supports ten feet from Chaney and Vic. Vic felt a wave of heat and saw people burning, smelled cooking flesh. His mouth watered involuntarily, then he retched.