Green Ice: A Deadly High (37 page)

Chapter Fifty-Five

“All right, let’s go,” Mancini rumbled. “Just keep your eyes peeled for any hostiles coming at us.”

Jorge nodded, glancing around nervously. It seemed the infected were crawling out from everywhere around them.

Mancini led the way through the dark alley, stepping forward cautiously. He knew they couldn’t afford to hang around too long or the pursuing contaminated would catch them up. The alley stank of rotten food and stale urine and Mancini guessed people used it as an extension of the trash filled waste ground behind them. He glanced back and saw Jorge was starting to lag behind.

“Hurry it up, Jorge,” he hissed.

Jorge grunted some inaudible protest but quickened his hobbling pace.

A stray cat leapt out of a trash can leaning against the wall to their right. Mancini and Jorge both stopped in their tracks, startled by the sudden movement and the noise of the trash can lid clanging to the ground.

“Holy shit,” Jorge hissed. “That scared the crap out of me.”

“Yeah, well, there are worse things than damn cats around this place,” Mancini muttered. “Come on, let’s get moving.
The sound of that trash can lid will have alerted all the crazy bastards in the vicinity to our whereabouts.” He glanced beyond Jorge’s shoulder, back to the alley entrance. No infected approached and he couldn’t see the waste ground from their position.

Mancini peered around the corner of the brick wall at the opposite end of the alleyway. He saw an empty street with the law agents vehicles still parked in the center of the road, around twenty yards to their left.
No agents patrolled the area and Mancini couldn’t see anybody inside the vehicles.

“We’ll take a look through those cars,” Mancini said. “You never know what we might find. Cop cars are a treasure trove of equipment and stuff.”

“All right but make it quick,” Jorge huffed. “I need to rest my ankle.”

Mancini cautiously padded into the gloomy street, keeping amongst the shadows of the surrounding buildings. Jorge plodded after him, grimacing at every painful step.

The law agent’s vehicles still had their headlamps on and the blue and red lights still whirred around on the top of the roofs. Mancini tried the driver’s door on the lead vehicle but found it was locked. He tried the second vehicle with a similar outcome. Not for the first time, Mancini regretted not rifling through the law agent’s pockets after he’d rendered him unconscious.

“All locked up, huh?” Jorge asked.

Mancini tucked his handgun back inside his waistband and tried to open the vehicle’s trunks but they were also locked.

“Just a thought.
I figured we could use some flashlights and night sticks if they had them inside the cars,” Mancini said.

A male voice called out from the side street where they had originally walked through. Mancini and Jorge swiveled around to face the source of the voice. They saw the body of the guy the law agents had gunned down, still lying on the blacktop. Two infected people crouched beside the corpse, feeding on the guy’s mutilated internal organs.
A tall, thin law agent, clad in black combat clothing and a flak jacket strapped around his torso, strolled briskly back towards the vehicles. He aimed his semi automatic rifle at the two infected people huddled next to the corpse and opened fire. Both infected jolted then slumped to the ground, eliminated with a single headshot each.

Jorge glanced nervously at Mancini
as the law agent strode towards them. “I didn’t know there was another one of them left standing,” he muttered.

“Stay cool,” Mancini whispered. “The guy is probably spooked.
My guess is he stayed with the vehicles when the rest of them chased after us.”

The law agent pointed his rifle at Jorge and Mancini and spoke directly to them in Spanish. He was young and lean but his eyes were wide and he looked anxious.

“He wants to know why we are roaming around the area after curfew hours,” Jorge translated.

Mancini felt slightly relieved. At least the guy either hadn’t recognized them or hadn’t seen them before.

“Just tell him we’re lost and trying to get out of the city,” Mancini said.

The law agent pointed his rifle barrel at Jorge’s make shift crutch and asked him a question
in a menacing tone. Jorge’s face dropped and he looked extremely worried.

“What is it? What did he say?” Mancini asked. His hand slowly moved around his back and gripped the butt of his Heckler and Koch.  

“He wants to know why my leg is bad. He thinks I’ve been bitten by the infected.”

Mancini knew the situation was heading to a bad place. He had to intervene.
The law agent took a couple of backward paces and leveled his rifle at Jorge’s chest. Reluctantly, Mancini whipped the Heckler and Koch from his waistband and around to his front. He instinctively aimed and fired one shot at the young law agent. The round ripped through the guy’s bicep and the force knocked him off his feet.

Jorge stumbled backwards against the side of the police vehicle. He was shocked and surprised by Mancini’s
accomplishments and the speed of his reactions. Mancini kept his firearm aimed at the felled law agent and moved at speed towards him. He picked up the rifle from the ground and slung it over his shoulder. The law agent groaned and writhed in pain on the blacktop, clamping a hand over his gunshot wound.

“Tell him I’m sorry I had to do that,” Mancini said. “But he was going to shoot us.”

Jorge composed himself and translated Mancini’s apology. The law agent spat some response that Mancini didn’t need translating. He knew it wasn’t any words of wisdom or an acceptance of his apology.

Wails and screeches of infected people from somewhere nearby reverberated around the street.

“They’re coming,” Jorge muttered. “We have to go.”

“Hang on a moment,” Mancini grunted. He crouched over the injured law agent and searched through his utility belt and his pockets. He took a flashlight, a can of pepper spray, a set of cuffs, some spare magazines for the semi automatic and a set of keys for one of the police vehicles.

“What are you going to do?” Jorge asked.

Mancini handed him the flashlight, stuffed the spare magazines, cuffs and pepper spray into the side pockets of his pants and marched towards the police car, holding the key fob. He depressed the button on the fob and the car at the rear clunked as the doors unlocked.

“We’re hitching a ride,” Mancini muttered. “Get inside.”

“What about him?” Jorge asked, nodding at the injured law agent. “Are we just going to leave him here for the crazy people to rip apart?”

Mancini thought for a moment. He didn’t really want to leave the guy at the mercy of the infected but knew they couldn’t risk taking him along.

“Get up,” Mancini growled, waving the barrel of his handgun up and down to indicate what he meant.

The law agent groaned and grimaced while he hauled himself to his feet. His hand still covered the gunshot wound and blood ran through his fingers and down the front of his shirt. Mancini kept his firearm trained on the law agent and ushered him towards the trunk of the police car. Mancini pressed another button on the key fob to open the trunk. He checked the interior and took out a pump action shotgun and some spare shells.

“Nice piece,” he muttered to himself, admiring the shotgun while checking it was loaded. He glanced at the law agent then nodded to the trunk interior. The law agent shook his head. “Okay, get in the trunk or stay here. It’s entirely up to you,” Mancini growled.

Snarling and growling noises coming from the side street, broke the silence.
Mancini and Jorge glanced down the side street and saw around a dozen infected people move at speed out from the shadows and head in their direction. They’d obviously heard the gunshot and were immediately attracted to the noise. Several infected also made their way back down the fire escape staircase at the side of the bar.  

“Shit, we need to go,” Jorge spluttered and hobbled towards the passenger side of the police car. He opened the door and swore and groaned in pain as he clambered inside.

“It’s make your mind up time,” Mancini said to the law agent.

The law agent turned his head and saw the rapidly approaching bunch of infected. He groaned and folded himself inside the trunk.

“Good choice,” Mancini said and closed the trunk lid. He hurried to the driver’s side door and jumped into the seat.

The infected gaggle ran through the side street, cutting the distance between them and the police cars. Mancini fired up the engine, selected
drive
and put his foot down hard on the gas pedal. The leading infected people leapt onto the exterior of the stationary police car and ran across the roof. Two contaminated men sprang from the top of the immobile police vehicle and jumped at the moving car Mancini drove. One of the infected landed on the roof of Mancini’s police vehicle and the other thumped onto the top of the trunk.

“Looks like we’ve picked up some unwanted passengers,” Mancini growled
, as they sped from the side street.

Jorge swiveled in his seat and glanced through the back window. He saw a snarling young guy crouching on the trunk and clawing the glass. Metallic thumps and bangs came from the roof and Jorge looked up through the sun visor and saw a tousled haired guy peering down at him.

“They’re all over the car,” Jorge whimpered.

“I know that,” Mancini muttered.
“Time for a bit of evasive driving.” He sharply twisted the steering wheel from left to right. The police car violently rocked from side to side and the infected guy crouched on the trunk lost his balance and clattered onto the roadway, rolling across the blacktop. The second infected man clung to the frame of the blue and red lights, maintaining his position on top of the car.

Mancini rounded a corner, the tires screeched as the vehicle fishtailed a
cross the roadway. The infected guy still clung on to the light’s structure on the roof. He clawed the sun visor with one hand while he clung to the metal light frame with the other.

“It’s still up there on the roof,” Jorge screeched.

Mancini sped up as he fought the slide and regained control of the police car. He hit the brakes hard and the vehicle screeched to a halt. The street outside the car seemed calm and quiet.

“Has he gone?” Mancini asked.

“I don’t know,” Jorge whispered. “I didn’t hear him roll off the car.”

Mancini revved the engine. “Let’s get going. We’ll try a right turn up ahead at the end of this road.” He pointed through the windshield.

The side window on the driver’s side imploded, showering Mancini and Jorge with small chips of glass. A pair of hands reached through the shattered window and grabbed Mancini’s left arm and shoulder. The upside down head of the infected guy lurched through the open window, with teeth clattering together, attempting to chomp at Mancini’s face.

“The guy is still up there on the roof,” Jorge wailed.

“No shit,” Mancini spluttered, trying to bat off the grasping hands clawing at his neck. His foot pressed harder down on the gas pedal and the police car shot forward. He tried to keep the steering wheel level with the road but it spun out of his grasp as the infected guy’s hands scrabbled around his upper body.

“Watch out!” Jorge shrieked, pointing ahead of the car.

Mancini completely lost control of the vehicle as they lurched right. The front tires bounced up the curb and the car accelerated across the sidewalk. The police car’s nose slammed into the glass frontage of a clothing store, totally obliterating the wide plate glass window. Mancini and Jorge rocked forward in their seats as the vehicle came to an abrupt halt, half enclosed inside the store window. The infected guy hurtled forward through the glass into the back of the store’s shop floor, as though he’d been propelled from a cannon.

“Ah,
saints save us,” Jorge croaked, rapidly crossing himself.

“You okay?” Mancini asked.

Jorge studied the top half of himself then looked to his front. The windshield was completely cracked into a mass of small chips but still in place in the frame.

“Uh, I think so.”

“Let’s get the hell out of this car before those goons catch us up,” Mancini said, opening his door.

Screeches and howls echoed through the street from behind them. The infected were on their way. Mancini reached inside the car and took out the shotgun
and the semi automatic rifle from the back foot well.

“Come on, Jorge, hurry it up,” Mancini hissed.

Jorge unstrapped his seat belt and went to open his door. Metal clunked against a solid structure and the door only opened a couple of inches.

“Something is blocking the door, Mancini,” Jorge whispered. “I can’t get out of this damn car.”