With Andrew climbing at my back, I chanced a rearward look and took a hard swallow as I saw how deep, how completely the Freelander had embedded itself into the opening.
My regret retreated a little as I saw again the fire door wasn't visible from the front of the building, obscured by the tall wall of the main structure to all but the most inquisitive of inspections.
We crept in a line along the prefabricated brick wall, halting as we reached the corner. I turned once again, looked back and saw our entrance punctuated with the Freelander and swallowed a hard breath, knowing if we didn't survive this encounter it wouldn't be long before the others were done for.
Andrew urged me on, pushing at my back, nodding toward my pocket. He was right. I had the gun. I should go first. I was the only one who had a hope in hell of stopping whatever was trying to get into our safe place.
The gun felt heavy in my hand and I regretted not taking a few moments to familiarise myself with its workings. Yes, I'd seen so many in films. Watched those shit TV programmes Naomi thought were muddling my brain, but never had I held one in my hand. Never had my fingers searched in the near pitch black for a safety catch or a cocking slide.
I did what I'd seen so many times before and I slid the top of the gun back. As I did, something fell to my feet with a metallic click and I caught sight of the brass bullet glinting in the moonlight. The gun had been primed by its previous owner. It was already cocked, or whatever the phase was. I should have realised. I'd taken it from someone who'd died trying to defend themselves.
I couldn't see or feel a switch or a catch to the side, but to Andrew's onward urges I pushed the fallen bullet into my pocket and took my chances the gun was still ready to defend.
Peering around the first corner with the gun pointing to the ground, my first view was of my fast, white breath pluming into the air, announcing both our presence and my frantic state.
My second view was the wide-open space of half of the car park and the road entrance from where we'd arrived.
Forging on, I tried to forget there was only a short distance before I would round the corner and see the shutters. Only a short distance before I would see whatever was waiting for us to come, waiting for whatever welcome they would give.
I reached the corner sooner than I'd wanted. Andrew's urges had stopped and I turned to see both still there, their faces a mirror of my concern.
This was my last chance to turn back. This was my last chance to hand the gun over and run to the warm, safe place with the others. But I wasn't that man.
I'd come out for a reason. For many reasons. I'd come to find for certain I wasn't in a comic book, wasn't in a world of horror fiction. I’d come to prove Naomi right.
Oh, how for once I wanted her to be right. The next couple of steps would tell and I raised the gun as I took them slow, very slow, stepping so my feet would make no sound at all.
12
A sudden rasp of the shutters pulled my chest tight as I rounded the corner. The rattle felt so much louder from this vantage.
There stood a silhouette dressed in the bulk of a dark woollen coat, its head hidden and face wrapped with a scarf.
The figure leant into the metal as if listening with intent. I watched on with my breath unwilling to come.
Waiting for what, I wasn’t sure.
Moments later, the figure slumped to the floor and for the first time I could see a larger bundle of blankets at its feet.
My heart settled now I could see the figure who looked more like an unlucky vagrant who'd missed the evacuation, the superstore his normal night-time hangout. I surprised myself at a rising annoyance that Naomi had been right all along.
With my stance relaxing and the gun swinging down in my hand, I turned and a smile bloomed, the vent of tension spreading to my friends.
Andrew was the first to creep past my shoulder and Matt followed. As I turned back and together we stood in a line out in the open, taking a long look into the night.
Andrew coughed. I started in his direction, eyes wide, staring as he stifled the clouds of white air spluttering from his chest.
Spinning back, I saw the figure's head twitch, springing to his feet, jumping up with a vigour not matching his broken-down appearance.
Like the crazed individual I’d feared all along, the figure's arms were out and muffled calls howled from behind numerous scarfs.
My friends left my sight but I would not turn, would not take my attention from the monster racing towards me; the monster who didn't care for the gun pointed at its chest.
The distance swallowed up too soon. I wanted to see Andrew's reaction, wanted to know if I should blast away. Was I right to use lethal force to stop what was happening to Chloe from happening again?
But I couldn’t turn so I had to make the choice alone.
“Stop or I'll shoot,” were the words I shouted, despite knowing they’d be no use. To my surprise the figure’s speed slowed, its steps becoming shallow.
Emboldened by their reaction, I took a step forward, alarming myself as I did and setting a stance I didn't even know I'd taken notice of from the movies.
By now the figure had stopped and instead moved backwards, but soon fell over its own feet, stumbling, crashing to the ground
