Clara was getting annoyed by the old man's antics. Hershock and fear were wearing off, replaced by anger at the old man. "Healready answered you, you old shit."
The old man was silent for a second, and then he brokeinto a yellow-toothed smile. "Old shit," he laughed. "I like that."He took one hand off the rifle and reached into the pocket of his yellowedt-shirt to snake out a soft pack of cigarettes, he flicked his wrist upward toexpose a cigarette, and used his lips to draw it out. He put the pack ofcigarettes back in his shirt pocket and pulled a lighter from the front pocketof his jeans. He lit the cigarette and left it hanging in his lips as he puthis hand back on the rifle.
"That your jalopy over there?"
Clara nodded her head.
"Well, why don't you young shits get your asses inthere and get the fuck out of here before more of those things get here."
They didn't know what to do at first, and then he laughedagain. "Go on, get," he yelled, that queer smile still plastered tohis face, smoke billowing up from the lit cigarette in his mouth. Clara and theothers turned to walk to the car. She waited with anticipation for the crack ofthe old man's rifle, but it never came. When she reached the beat-up brown car,she pulled the door open and slid in. The others piled in after her, and shewound up sitting between Joan and Mort. The old man stood at the end of thecul-de-sac, still smiling.
Clara looked over her shoulder, to see some of the deadstumbling into the streets. Where had they been? Had they been hiding? No, shedidn't think they were capable of that. Katie tried to start the car, but thecar wouldn't start.
"I fucking knew it," Katie said, "just likeone of those goddamned horror movies." She cranked the key again, butthere was nothing, not even the sick whine of the engine trying to turn over.They closed the car doors, though it was hot in the car. Clara jumped as thefirst of the dead banged on the trunk.
"What is that old bastard waiting for?" Lousaid.
"Maybe he's just crazy," Mort said.
"More like he wants to watch us get killed,"Katie said, trying the ignition for the fifth time. "It's no good; thisthing is fucking dead, just like us."
Clara turned and looked at the old man, swearing at himin her mind while racking her brain to try and figure out any way to get out ofthe situation. Black smoke billowed into the sky now, a dinner bell for thedead. How many of them were on their way right now to investigate the cause ofthe smoke? Where there was smoke there was fire... where there was fire, therewere humans... where there were humans, there was food. If the dead couldthink, that's exactly what she imagined was going through their brains.
The old man raised his rifle to his cheek, and then hefired a shot. Clara jumped in the car. Joan screamed.
"Is everyone ok?" Lou asked.
They were all fine. A half-beat later, one of the deadslid face-first down Clara's window, blood smearing across the glass from abullet hole in the creature's forehead.
"What the fuck is with that man?" Joan asked.
Behind the old man, Clara saw something, a hint ofmovement from the shrubs that ran along the side of the bloodstained house. Atfirst she mistook it for one of the dead, but then the shape appeared,coalescing into the black and white hide of a medium-sized dog. It lookedcurious, playful. But then another dog appeared next to it, and then another,larger, pitch-black. Its pointed teeth gleamed as it snarled at the old man.
The old man didn't notice them, and as Clara tried tosignal the old man, the pitch-black leader of the pack broke into a run, hisjaws clamping down on the forearm of the old man. The other dogs weren't farbehind, and the old man was on the ground, his body being shaken like a toy inthe maws of the dogs.
The car shook now with the pounding fists of the dead.Clara watched as the old man was torn apart. It was a sobering reminder thatthere were still things out there that were more dangerous than a handful ofthe dead. On the pecking order of the post-apocalyptic food chain, old man withrifle beat five people not paying attention, and pack of wild dogs beat old manwith rifle.
One of the dead pressed upon the glass window until itshattered. Rotting flesh split and shredded against the jagged edges of theglass, but that didn't stop the creature from reaching inside with cold handsto paw at her hair. She should just chop it all off she thought as she slappedthe hands away.
"It's time to go!" she yelled as another windowin the car broke.
"Let's make a break for that old man's house!"Lou yelled, as he too fought off the hands of the dead.
"Straight into that pack of Cujos? Why the hell not?It beats being eaten alive in a broken down car," Clara said.
Clara, without waiting for the others, pulled the doorhandle and pushed with all of her might. The dead man, toppled over staininghis already ruined Ed Hardy t-shirt. Clara slid out as quick as she could,high-stepping over the tangled limbs of the dead man on the ground. She turnedaround as Joan slid out after her. Then they sprinted across the cul-de-sac,leaving the dead behind them. The dogs, seeing a group of humans running atthem, sprinted off into the smoke-filled day, some with pieces of the old manstill in their mouths.
Clara dropped down to pick up the old man's rifle, and asshe did, she shrank back in horror as the old man, intestines spread out on theconcrete, sat up and waved his stump in her direction. His eyes, empty of allexpression told her everything that she needed to know.
She squatted
