I pointed at the tower, where I could see the winching device that George had spotted. “Once the building’s down, I’ll climb on top the van, pull myself over the wall, and get to the tower. I’ll lower the ramp…” I met Clare’s skeptical gaze. “And then you can drive the van onto the ferry.”
She immediately shook her head. “No way, mister. We’ll just have to find another ramp.”
“Look, we don’t have time to argue,” I snapped, bolting from my seat and scooting around George. “Those zombies’ll swarm this place in less than three minutes, and there are no other roads outta here.” I lifted the sofa cushions. “It’s this or we swim for it, and I have no intention of abandoning the van.”
As George and Clare each protested the scheme, I geared up. Beneath the couch lay an assortment of weapons, including the AR-15 that a gun-range pal had modified for me. I figured the rifle, my pistol, and some ammo would be about all I could lug over the wall—particularly given how sore and exhausted I was.
“What are those?” Casey asked, pointing to a couple of pipe bombs I’d made a week earlier.
“Those are what’s gonna bring that building down.”
Frankly, until that moment, I wasn’t exactly sure how I’d pull off what I hoped to accomplish. I’d totally forgotten about the homemade pipe bombs, which turned out to be a boon. If I’d recalled having them back at the Walmart in Harahan, I might’ve used one to bring that inner door down, and I suspected the remaining one wouldn’t be sufficient to pull off my crazy-ass plan.
Clare stepped into the doorway, not far from the sofa. “Seriously, Joe, don’t do this. Let’s just jump for it. Zombies can’t swim, right?”
I clenched my jaw. “Well, I don’t know if I’d call it swimming, but I’ve seen them wade into a bayou. Can’t take the chance they’d follow us into the river.”
“But, Joe—”
“Got no choice, baby.” Then, I checked my ammo, slung the AR-15 over my shoulder, and wedged the two pipe bombs into the pockets of my jeans.
As I closed the compartment beneath the sofa, I heard Captain Sal’s voice on the radio.
“So, what’s going on? What’s taking y’all so long?”
Jess quickly explained the plan to him.
“That’s batshit-crazy,” he barked. “Just swim for it!”
“That’s what I said,” Clare grumbled.
Right. Cuz jumping into a big-ass river is perfectly sane.
I stepped around my teary-eyed wife and slipped through the driver’s-side door, but as I whirled around to slam it shut, Clare leaned over my seat, grabbed my collar, and pulled me toward her for a passionate kiss.
“Don’t you dare get yourself killed,” she told me, her eyes glistening but resolute. “I don’t think I could handle losing my mom and my husband in the same day.”
“Love you, babe.”
She smiled, the skin crinkling around her moistened eyes. “Love you, too. Till the wheels come off.”
“And long after that.” I gently extricated myself from her grip. “Just get this thing on the boat, and I’ll be right behind you.”
Then, I slammed the door closed, headed for the warehouse, and realized the zombie horde had multiplied… and gotten a helluva lot closer.
Oh, yeah, this is a great fucking plan.
Chapter
24
“Go on and get out of here. I’ve got these punk-ass bitch motherfuckers handled.” – Swink Sylvania, Stay Alive (2006)
Despite innumerable doubts about my latest harebrained scheme, I hastened into the warehouse and surveyed the undead horde headed my way. While I’d observed enough zombies over the past few days to know they could vary in strength, speed, and state of decomposition, some of the ones making a beeline for me seemed faster and more determined than I’d anticipated.
Perhaps extreme exhaustion had thrown off my perception, but whatever the case, if my calculations were accurate, the front-runners were less than two minutes from reaching me.
So, if I don’t make a move right this second, I’m royally fucked.
I scrutinized the inner front wall of the building, trying to guesstimate which support beams I’d need to blow up to bring the whole damn thing crashing down. Though far from a demolition expert, I assumed it wouldn’t take much oomph to do the job. Hell, if I’d had enough time, I probably could’ve pressed my shoulder against one of the corners and toppled the run-down warehouse on my own.
But time is one thing I don’t have.
I unzipped one of my jacket pockets and fumbled around for the lighter I often carried. As with many of my favorite things, Clare had given me the engraved Zippo for a special occasion. I found it amusing that, like the ornamental axe I’d used to brain the undead pirate in my courtyard, the lighter would prove to be necessary in a zombie apocalypse. Somehow, I doubted my wife had chosen such thoughtful gifts with the present maelstrom in mind, but perhaps I’d underestimated her.
After a few false starts—during which I frantically glanced at the approaching undead herd—I finally got the lighter going, ignited the first fuse, and slid the bomb between the facade and a support beam. Then, I darted to the other side of the oversized opening, lit and positioned the other bomb behind a second post, and retreated through the riverside doorway.
The fuses were short, but the bombs still hadn’t gone off by the time I reached the van. I couldn’t see the explosives from my vantage point, so I could only hope the slight breeze from the Mississippi River hadn’t extinguished the flames. If they’d gone out, I had no time to light them again. The horde was mere yards from the warehouse.
I hopped onto my back bumper, about to climb atop the van and pray the zombies wouldn’t rush the vehicle so hard and so fast that they pushed us all into the river. Just then, the first bomb exploded, bending the support beam and
