The Left Series (Book 4): Left In The Cold (41 page)

Puffing outwards, I dived through the opening, ensuring my legs were all the way through the gap.
My momentum again caused me to roll of the conveyer belt but I needed to get away from the opening as quick as possible in case any of the undead came through the hatch after me.

I ensured I landed squarely on my feet, keeping my legs apart
to provide a firm stance. Quickly glancing around, I tried to take in my surroundings as well as backing away from the square opening. I felt disorientated and I didn’t know where the hell Smith and the others were. I was in some sort of store room with stacks of huge cardboard boxes running the height of the ceiling and the length of the walls. The area was dimly lit by a couple of skylights showing a glimpse of pale gray sky.

Echoes of moans and snarls drifted through the hatch opening and I gripped the metal pipe in case any zombies poked their heads through. I swung around to check no undead were creeping up on me from behind.
The only items facing my rear were more cardboard boxes.

I followed the line of the conveyer belt and noticed it disappeared behind a huge stack of boxes but didn’t carry on the other side of the load. The next opening to another area had
to be behind the stack.

A groaning to my right caused me to snap my head around following the noise. Three male zombies, all dressed in the remains of
blood stained, dark blue coveralls lurched between the piles of boxes towards me. One of the zombies wore a welding mask, strangely cocked at an odd angle over his decaying face. Another ghoul was trying to clamber through the opening from the workshop. I had to keep moving before I was getting too slowed down and surrounded.

Luckily, a low standing pile of boxes acted as steps up to the conveyer belt. I hopped up on the box and shuffled myself onto the vinyl covered conveyer belt.
I quickly padded across the surface, careful to keep my balance. The differing weights of the backpack and the metal pipe skewed my equilibrium, so I had to counterbalance the load by leaning at an angle.

The zombies in the coveralls followed me to the conveyer belt and I sincerely hoped I wasn’t simply running into a dead end. The next opening loomed out of the shadow, cast by the stack of boxes and I headed straight for it. Luckily, no metal roller section stood between me and the next gap so my progress wouldn’t be hampered.

As I reached the opening, I realized the metal roller sections of the conveyer belt were positioned at the corners of the rooms, where the belt turned in direction. I crawled through the next gap into darkness and felt the belt sloped downward, obviously descending down another floor level. I must have been getting close to the ground floor by now and I wondered if Smith and the others had managed to find a way out of the building yet.

I
held the metal pipe across my chest as I slid down the conveyer belt feet first, feeling a rush of cold air as I descended into the darkness. I didn’t know what the hell I was going to be faced with in the new area as I hit the bottom of the slope.

I saw dull daylight from where I sat on the belt and took in my surroundings. I was at the final port of call for the conveyer belt. It led to
an area covered by a huge canopy roof and several immobile trucks sat in the distance, backed under the canopy. The vehicle’s back doors remained open and I saw they were all partially loaded with the cardboard boxes. I guessed the area was the loading bay where the manufactured products were dispatched. A pair of huge barred metal gates leading to the outside world, stood at the far end of the area beyond the noses of the trucks. At least I was back on the ground level but there was no sign of the others anywhere.

My eyes acclimatized to the gloomy light and I saw more stacks of boxes at the end of the conveyer belt, positioned ten feet from where I sat.

I hauled myself off the conveyer belt and dropped to the solid concrete ground. The cold wind blew right under the canopy and I shivered slightly despite the warm, foul weather clothing. I trod cautiously through the pathway between the stacks of boxes, listening out for any untoward sounds. I rounded the corner of the stacks and headed towards the trucks. Had Smith and the others found an alternative route out of the factory compound? Surely they’d realize I was no longer with them by now. I stood still and huffed, rubbing my sore shoulder and not knowing in which direction to go.

Venturing back inside the factory to look for the others was going to be risky and climbing back up the smooth conveyer belt slope was not going to be an easy task. I lit a
cigarette and trudged slowly towards the trucks, my feet crunched in the ice and hard snow as I moved beyond the overhanging canopy.

As I reached the corner of the truck bed, a huge figure emerged in front of me from the other side of the vehicle.
I recoiled back in shock, dropping my cigarette at the sight of the giant shape in front of me. The guy’s face was contorted in a snarl and he held a shovel, raised above his head, the dull sun glinted off the stainless steel blade at a sideways angle.

The scowl dropped from his face and he lowered the shovel when he recognized me.

“Where the hell have you been, Wilde?” Smith barked.

I breathed a sigh of relief and picked up my smoke. “I fell off the belt back in that workshop and spent the rest of the time looking for you guys. Where’s everybody else?”

“We’ve been sheltering in that truck, waiting for you,” Smith growled, pointing to one of the trucks in the center of the row. “Okay guys,” he called. “We’ve found the lost sheep.”

The one back door
, which was partially closed creaked open and I saw the others emerge from the gloomy interior. They hopped down onto the snowy ground beside me.

“Where do these gates lead to?” I asked, pointing ahead of the parked trucks.

“Looks like some other side street,” Cordoba said. “It seems to be deserted, if can figure out some way of getting through these damn gates.”

I looked at the center of the gates and saw another big chain, secured by a chunky padlock. The brick wall surrounding the loading bat perimeter was as tall as the others surrounding the factory, standing around twenty feet high.

“We’re stuck in here, unless we can find a way out through there,” Smith said, nodding at the gates.

“Can’t we just shoot the padlock off?” I asked.

Smith huffed in a laugh. “This ‘aint the movies, kid. A lock like that would take a few high velocity rounds to bust it open and the ricochet is likely to take your face off.”

“And I suppose these truck won’t start either,” I sighed. “That would be the simple solution, to just run right into the gates and knock them out of the ground with the front of one of the trucks.”

“Forget that idea, as well,” Smith snorted. “Those batteries would be deader than a zombie, given the length of time they’ve been sat out here in the cold.”

I studied the outer brick wall. There was no side gate for Jimmy to hop over either and the loading bay was enclosed by high brick walls on all sides. We were trapped in the compound with the hazardous course back through the factory the only possible escape route.

Chapter Sixty

“There has to be a way out through here,” I grunted, rattling the gates in frustration. Clumps of snow fell down on top of me and some of it went down the back of my neck. “Bastard!” I spat. I shook the loose snow off myself and racked my brains for an idea.

I grabbed the padlock, twisting it to face me and studied the keyhole.
“Surely, the keys to this damn thing must be kept someplace around here?” I sighed. “Maybe in an office close to here?”

“Take a look around you, kid,” Smith huffed. “There are no offices and no
dead bodies of any security guys who might be key holders.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do then, Smith, huh?” I snapped. “So far you’ve only come up with negatives about methods that won’t work. We need some way of breaking this chain or opening this padlock, understand?”

“Whoa, hold the rabid dog act, Wild Man,” Smith said, holding his palm up towards me. “I’m just stating facts here. Doesn’t mean to say I’m not trying to figure out a way through these gates but the only solution I can come to is going back through that damn factory.”

“What about the drivers?” I sighed, calming down slightly.

“What? There ‘aint no drivers around here, Wilde. There ‘aint even any remains of any drivers and there ‘aint even any zombie drivers. Now what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Keep your voices down, you two, will you?” Wingate hissed at us.

I flashed Smith a pissed off look. We were both frustrated and felt as though we were temporarily incarcerated. The outside world, with a zombie free escape route was a few inches away but we couldn’t find a way to reach the relative freedom beyond the gates.

“I was going to say – the drivers may have had keys to the gate lock on their ignition key rings with the trucks. They may have had to lock the place back up if they came back from a late delivery or something.” I shrugged defensively. “It’s only a suggestion.”

“All right,” Smith agreed, nodding. “Let’s take a look inside the cabs.”

We searched inside all four truck cabs but didn’t find any keys of any kind. No ignition keys were left inside the vehicles and certainly no padlock keys.

“Shit,” I spat, reaching for my pack of smokes. I offered Smith one and he lit us up.

“What are you guys doing smoking?” Wingate admonished. “You’re just recovering from a serious stab wound.” She pointed at me. “And you’re still on the mend from a dose of poisoning. Neither of you should be smoking.”

“Ah, give us a break,” Smith croaked.

“We’re wasting time here,” Cordoba intervened. “What are we going to do?”

I sighed and flicked the cigarette ash. I watched the red ember settle on the chunky metal chain and sizzle on the wet surface. An idea suddenly flashed through my mind.

“Would a welding torch cut through this chain?” I chirped.

“You mean an oxyacetylene torch? No problem,” Cordoba said. “Where the hell are we going to find one of those around here, Brett?”

“Can anybody here use one of those things?” I asked.

“Sure, if we have the right equipment,” Cordoba said, with a slightly puzzled expression on her face. “Please explain what the hell you’re talking about.”

“I saw a zombie back up on that packing level with a welders mask still on his face,” I said. “
Which would lead me to believe that he was in the middle of a welding job when he was bitten. That means that his gear must still be lying around someplace.”

Smith audibly groaned.

“What now?” I snapped.

“Did you actually
lay eyes on this welding equipment?”

“Well…no,” I admitted.

“That means that his gear could be anyplace in the factory. These zombies have probably been inside this factory since the whole thing started. That’s why they’re all locked inside the place. That particular zombie in the welding mask could have been stumbling around the interior for months now. He could have been welding on any of the floor levels and just wandered around until he found himself in the packing area. And another thing, genius, how are we going to get back up that slope and get back down with an oxyacetylene tank and all the gear that goes with it?”

“It’s the only way I can see us getting out of here, unless we go back through the factory and run around in the dark
, trying to find a way out,” Cordoba interrupted. “I’ll go back in there with you, Brett.”

“Hold on,” I said. “I’ve only seen a welding mask, as Smith rightly
said, I don’t know where the equipment is.” I’d suddenly been nominated to go back into the factory and didn’t much like the idea.

“Well, you could show me where the guy in the mask was,” Cordoba said. “We’ll have a quick look around for the gear and have to re-evaluate if we can’t find it.”

Smith sighed. “It’s okay. I’ll go back in there with Mr Big Ideas, here.” He nodded at me. “It would be better if you stayed out here with the others, Cordoba.”

“Are you saying I can’t handle it back in there, Smith?”

“No, I’m not saying that.” Smith held up his hands in a surrendering motion. “I’m just saying lifting that damn oxyacetylene tank onto the conveyer belt isn’t going to be easy and your man, here has a dicky shoulder, so he won’t be much use hauling the gear.”

“Just let them go,” Batfish sighed. “We’re wasting more time, the more we stand here bickering.”

Cordoba huffed disapprovingly. “All right but you better be quick. We don’t want to be moving through that factory at nightfall, if you can’t find the welding gear.”

Smith and I took off our backpacks and stored them in the back of the nearest truck. He handed his M-16 rifle to Wingate, checked his handgun and picked up the shovel.