“Keys must have been left in it,” Abi told John as they watched the ice cream truck lurch forward and perform a three-point-turn.
John and Abi kept alert, shooting one more zombie on their side of the gap and two more that were approaching from the other side. The apartment buildings looming behind the zombies filled them with dread.
Just how many undead are stuck inside those buildings?
The deep rumble of the ice cream truck grew as the vehicle approached.
“Steady now,” John instructed his companion. “Keep your head on a swivel. That noise is going to attract them.”
Surprisingly, only one more zombie appeared as Mike maneuvered the ice cream truck off the pavement and onto the hard-packed dirt. In life, the former middle-aged woman must have done everything in her power to hang onto her youth. Her face was unnaturally colourful, with blush and eyeliner and lipstick, and the silken nighty did little to hide the obvious boob job. She stumbled onto the pavement, her hands reaching out towards Abi and John. Her brightly coloured nails must have been three inches long. At the same time, the creature was also a picture of sadness. A wig hung half attached to her bald head.
Abi took a deep breath and pulled the trigger on the exhale, ending the creature. “Good shot.” John told her. He slung his M4 over his shoulder and started to guide in Mike and the truck.
“Get her right up to the wall. Then pull up to the gap,” John yelled at Mike, directing the truck with hand signals. It reminded Abi of the ground crew at an airport, directing planes.
The ice cream truck made contact with the wall and scraped it with an unholy noise. The sound of metal scraping along concrete made the hair on Abi’s neck stand. It seemed impossibly loud. Even louder than the SAW.
But the worst was yet to come. For as the vehicle inched into place, Abi raised her sight to the siding of the ice cream truck.
Her sharp intake of breath caught John’s attention. He looked at her with a concerned expression.
“I—I don’t like clowns.” Abi blurted out, never taking her eyes off the gaudy clown face that was painted larger than life on the side of the truck. It seemed to stare at her with hungry eyes, and she could see the glint of white teeth in what resembled more a leer than a smile.
She shuddered. “The dude probably had a terrible time selling ice cream with that monstrosity painted on his truck!” She frowned in disapproval, still unable to take her eyes off the clown. John chuckled to himself.
With a couple more short but loud jerks, the ice cream truck had adequately blocked the gap in the wall, with several feet to spare on either side. Mike popped open the small door on the very back of the vehicle and hopped out. He closed the door, before turning to his teammates with a triumphant grin.
“Taa-daah!” he exclaimed with a flourish, presenting the truck.
“Yeah, yeah. Well done.” John shook his head and grinned. He walked to the front of the truck, where it met the wall. The vehicle was pretty much flush with the barrier. He pulled the rifle from over his shoulder and lowered himself to the ground, much to Mike and Abi’s confusion.
“Going to shoot out the tires,” he said before taking his shots. In short order, the vehicle shuddered and lowered itself closer to the ground. Even a crawler would not make it through this obstacle.
John got back to his feet and walked over to Mike and Abi. They stood in silence for a long moment, admiring their work but also listening and watching for any more threats. When nothing stirred, they visibly started to relax.
“That was a job well done, team,” John said as he clapped first one then the other of his colleagues on the back. He was careful not to use his prosthetic.
“Thanks, John. Yeah. Good teamwork,” Mike added.
The adrenaline drained from Abi, and she suddenly started to feel a bit emotional about it all. She was no warrior, and her body was letting her know.
The trio walked back towards the Humvee. Abi was trying not to look at the carnage all around them and forced her mind to think of something else. “You sure got that truck going quickly!” she remarked, patting Mike on the back in appreciation.
“Yeah...” Mike replied noncommittally.
Abi frowned at the response. “Were the keys left in it?”
Mike shook his head. “If only!” He grinned as he walked.
“So... you hotwired it?” Abi suggested incredulously.
“Yep.”
“Whoa! Where’d you learn to hotwire a truck?” she asked, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.
Mike turned his head to look down at his young companion, never breaking stride. “Let’s just say that this isn’t the first ice cream truck I’ve ever hotwired.”.
Something in the way he said it and the expression on his face told Abi that this really wasn’t the first ice cream truck he’d hotwired.
TAMMY LOOKED OUT OVER the roof’s edge, trying to figure out the location of the shots she had just heard. It sounded like multiple weapons being discharged at the same time, and different than the heavier booming sound of a minute before. She was overwhelmed with the need to know what was going on. It wasn’t the first time that she regretted not volunteering to go along with the Humvee crews.
Of course, John would never have allowed it. And face it, you would have just gotten in the way. She frowned as she realized that she had just lost an argument with herself.
It didn’t curb her curiosity any. She strained her eyes. Looking for smoke. Or flashes of light.
Or anything!
Just more of that same, irregular, popping noise in the distance.
What the hell is going on over there? The question rang through her mind in the voice of Stanley Cummings, her first editor and role model. Inadvertently, her mind drifted back to earlier days.
Stanley was a curmudgeonly
