Sanctuary Page 9

  Malcolm realized that Claudia held Alan’s machete in her other hand and she buried it in the injured freak’s head, bringing its wheezing to an end as it fell down dead. Malcolm looked back to where he’d last seen Alan tangling with the elderly freak but all that was left was the body. Alan was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where is he?” Malcolm gasped, still winded from his fall.

  The venomous look in Claudia’s eyes shocked Malcolm. “When they piled on you he bolted to the Suburban and drove out of here.”

  Malcolm was momentarily speechless at the cowardice. He’d trusted Alan to watch their backs--to watch his back--and when he needed him, he’d turned tail and ran.

  “That son of a fucking bitch!” he ground out, anger rising as the full extent of Alan’s betrayal hit him. He’d left all of them behind, no regard for what might happen to them. “When we get back to camp, I swear--”

  A whistle cut him off and he looked over to the source. Lorraine was still perched on top of the SUV but she was now facing the side street, rifle at her shoulder.

  He followed her eye line and his stomach bottomed out at the sight of a group of more than thirty freaks sprinting up the side street towards the dealership. They swept over the grassy embankment between the street and the lot, moving towards the laneway between the showroom and the vehicles.

  “Shit, we’ve got to move!”

  He looked at the truck where Claudia had been on guard but another group of freaks appeared on the highway, coming from the same direction as the ones they’d just taken down.

  Difference was these ones had no injuries or defects slowing them down and there were a hell of a lot more of them.

  With their numbers added to the other group, there had to be more than fifty of them now.

  “Over here!” Lorraine called out to them before slipping down into the cab of the SUV via the sunroof. She must have opened it when he told her to check that the SUV was working. Smart woman. He let the fleeting thought go, focused on getting over to the SUV before the two groups of freaks cut them off.

  “Come on,” he said, reaching out for Claudia but she danced out of his reach.

  “You go,” she said. “I have to get Quinton.”

  Before he could say anything, she was running away from him, grabbing the attention of the freaks that had come up from the side street. The ones from the highway were intent on the sound of the SUV’s engine, crossing the lot towards Lorraine and getting the attention of the freaks at the back of the side street group. In less than a minute Lorraine was going to be boxed in. There were too many of them for him to take on hand to hand and if he started shooting, it was only going to draw the rest of the freaks heading to the back of the lot.

  “Lorraine, get out of here! Go!” he cried out and her head popped up out of the sunroof.

  “No, I won’t leave you guys!” she called back.

  “Lorraine, go! They are going to surround you! I’m with Claudia!”

  He didn’t wait to see if she listened, turning towards the rear lot and eyeing the freaks that had come in from the side street. Some of them had turned their focus from Claudia to him when he had called out to Lorraine and they weaved through the cars towards him.

  He looked towards the back of the lot, trying to spot Claudia among the cars but all he could see were the freaks prowling up the centre lane that led to the service centre.

  God damn it they were everywhere!

  He sprinted across the centre lane and ducked behind a minivan, keeping himself low as he used the vehicles as cover, trying to put as much distance between him and the freaks. He hoped that out of sight was out of mind for them.

  He zigzagged between the cars, steadily moving towards the rear of the lot and keeping an eye out for Claudia. He paused to pop up to assess the situation and his pulse spiked when he saw the freaks had spread out. They were actually searching the lot for them...hunting them.

  He looked over at the gas tank and spotted the red jerry cans beside it but there was no sign of Quinton or Claudia. All the garage doors on the back of the service station were closed and three freaks stood at one of them, banging on the door. If he were a betting man, he’d put money on Quinton having holed up in there with Jackson. But did Claudia make it in there?

  He crouched back down and crept towards the service centre, hoping to get closer so he could see into the garage. He came up on the passenger side of a Tahoe, moving towards the rear and standing up to look through the back window. His heart jumped in his throat when another pair of eyes stared back at him through the glass.

  Claudia was crouched inside the backseat, a look of relief on her face when she waved at him to join her. He opened the back door and slid inside, careful to close the door as silently as possible, not wanting to attract any attention.

  “How did you know you could get in here?” he whispered to her.

  “This is one of the one’s that Alan set off,” she said. “Figured he’d have hit the locks along with the alarm.”

  He reached down to his pocket and was relieved to feel the FOB still there. “And I have the keys so we can get out of here.”

  “I’m not leaving my brother,” she said, determination flashing in her eyes.

  “I’m not expecting you to,” he replied. “I’m guessing he and Jackson are holed up in the service centre. Now we just have to figure out a way to get all of us out of here.”

  Subject File # 745

  Administrator: I heard that you and Quinton had a rough start when you met.

  Subject: Doc didn’t trust me and he could be a real dick ‘bout it.

  Administrator: You seem to get along fine now.

  Subject: Can’t say we’ll ever be best friends but we came to an understandin’ eventually.

  The service centre was turning out to be a bust. Jackson had been hoping to find more spare parts that they might need on the road. If one of the vehicles broke down, he’d rather have a replacement alternator or fan belt in hand than have to go find a vehicle to take it from. He’d gathered up what he could find, mostly batteries and bottles of oil, coolant and transmission fluid, as well as a bunch of jerry cans but he wished it was more.

  Which had been the same thing Quinton had said when he hauled the stuff out of the service centre and handed over the extra jerry cans to fill up. Jackson had ignored the man, grinding his teeth to stop from rising to the doctor’s bait.

  For a supposedly smart man, he didn’t seem to realize that he was playing with fire. He didn’t get that the only thing keeping Jackson from beating his ass were the promises he’d given Veronica and Malcolm. With each little jab the doctor made, it was getting harder and harder to keep his promise.

  So Jackson got his enjoyment where he could, like right now when Quinton managed to spill gas all over his pants when he pulled the nozzle out of the jerry can he had finished filling. Jackson stopped digging through one of the tool chests to watch Quinton try to clean up the mess.

  He hoped it ate through the fabric and the man ended up with drawers full of holes.

  A flash of movement in the corner of his eye had his attention turning to the doors that faced the side street. For a moment, all he saw was the empty street and part of the strip mall on the opposite side but then the freaks appeared, running past the doors towards the front of the dealership.

  “Shit!”

  He bolted to the back doors, ready to call out to Quinton to radio the others but the call died on his lips when the crack of a gunshot went off. Quinton dropped the pump hose and began to hustle to the front of the lot, rifle in hand.

  Two freaks rounded the far corner of the service centre, having come up from the street via the laneway between the service centre and the fence at the back lot. Quinton was oblivious to them coming at his back, his attention focused on the front of the lot.

  Jackson drew his own gun and aimed at the freak in the lead, plugging it in the back and sending it stumbling to the ground. He took aim at the second frea
k but his next shot flew over the freak’s shoulder.

  Not that he had to worry about Quinton. The first shot had been enough to alert Quinton to the danger behind him.

  “Get over here! They’re coming from the street!” Jackson yelled at him, holstering his gun and running to the open garage door.

  For once, Quinton actually listened to him, running back towards him just as more freaks appeared from around the corner. Jackson grabbed onto the chain that held the garage door open and unclipped it, the weight of the door straining his arms as he tightened the chain around his fist and began to slowly lower the door.

  Quinton was hauling ass for the door, arms and legs pumping as he angled himself away from the freaks coming towards him from the lane way. He ducked low to roll under the almost closed garage door and Jackson groaned in relief as he let go of the chain and the heavy door fell shut.

  The freaks slammed against the door, banging uselessly against the thick glass. Quinton laid on the concrete floor, breathing heavily, a combination of the physical exertion and the fear of being ambushed by the freaks. At least, that’s what had Jackson’s lungs working overtime so he assumed it was probably the same for the other guy.

  “Ya see the others?” he asked and Quinton shook his head but he was quick to grab the radio that was clipped to his belt.

  “Guys, what’s going on out there?”

  They waited for a response but nothing came.

  “We can get to the showroom through there,” Jackson said, pointing to the service centre’s waiting room. “Should be able to see what’s goin’ on out front.”

  Quinton followed him as he led the way through the waiting room and the Employees Only door to the showroom. The glass walls out front gave them a perfect view of what had been going on. Dozens of freaks were prowling outside of the showroom, a couple of them finding their way through the smashed doors at the entrance.

  “Lorraine, go! They are going to surround you! I’m with Claudia!”

  Malcolm’s voice carried to them from the lot and his sister’s name drew Quinton towards the glass wall.

  Jackson put a staying hand on his shoulder. Quinton turned around, Jackson assumed to tell him to piss off if the angry look in his eyes was anything to go by, but Jackson already had a finger to his lips. He pointed to the freaks that were cautiously coming through the front entrance.

  “My sister is--” Quinton hissed at him.

  “With Malcolm,” Jackson hissed back. “We can’t stay here, it’s a fishbowl.”

  As if they had heard him, a couple freaks pressed up against the front window, crying out when they spotted them. It drew the attention of the two already through the open entrance, whose gaze swept across the showroom and landed on them. As they scrambled over the broken glass and around the brand new luxury convertible in the showroom, Jackson was already heading back the way they had come.

  Quinton followed him back to the service centre and after closing the door Jackson jammed one of the chairs under the doorknob. It wouldn’t hold for long but at least it was something.

  They ran out to the service bay but came to a sliding stop. More than a dozen freaks were pressed against the garage doors on both sides of the bay, hands scrabbling against the glass and metal as they tried to get inside.

  “Shit!” Quinton cursed. “How the fuck did they surround us?”

  There was no way they could stay in here. The garage doors would likely hold but the waiting room one wouldn’t and he could already hear the freaks pounding against it. It would only be a matter of time before the other freaks out front made their way inside. They needed to get the hell out of here.

  Quinton prowled over to the garage doors facing the street, the freaks agitation and excitement increasing the closer he got.

  “We’ve got to get over to the strip mall across the street,” he said. “We can hole up there and figure out where the others are.”

  “Ain’t no guarantee we’d be able to get inside,” Jackson pointed out. “Could bust our way in but no guarantee we can keep the freaks out.”

  “Shit!”

  Quinton spun around, hands in his hair and kicked a stray can that flew across the floor and clanged against an aluminum ladder propped against the wall.

  Quinton let out a laugh and ran over to the ladder, yanking the top half down to fold it up. He lifted it over his head a couple of times, testing its weight.

  “We take the ladder and climb to the roof,” Quinton said, a smile spreading across his face. “We can get a look at what’s going on out there. Spot the others.”

  It was a solid plan in theory. The only problem was execution, namely the freaks that were at every exit in the service centre.

  “The shortest escape would be out that door,” Quinton continued, pointing to the customer entrance door that faced the side street.

  “‘Soon as we open it, the freaks’ll be on us.”

  They were banging against the garage doors right now but as soon as they moved to that narrow door, they’d be on it. There were too many for them to be able to kill them all before they got in. They needed a way to keep that door clear.

  “Got an idea. We open one of the big doors six inches or so, let ‘em get their arms in then we drop it. It’ll keep a bunch of ‘em pinned here while we haul ass out the door.”

  Quinton considered what he said, obviously searching for some way the plan could fail but this one Jackson didn’t take personally. If there was a fault in his plan, he’d rather have it pointed out before they found themselves screwed.

  “Seems good to me,” Quinton said, his face tense with grim determination. “Let’s do it.”

  They went to the garage door farthest from the side door, banging against it to get the freaks’ attention. Those at the other doors came over to join the rest until they were all clawing at the door, foaming and spitting to get at them.

  Quinton stayed at the door to entice the freaks while Jackson flipped the manual release switch. He yanked on the chain, grunting with the effort to get the large door to start moving on its rails. The first inch was always the hardest but soon he got it moving and with a steady hand over hand movement, he got the door off the ground.

  He looked over to see that it was working. Hands were emerging from the narrow space between the bottom of the door and the ground, pushing through until they were inside up to their shoulders. A few of them even tried to stick their heads under the door.

  Quinton paced along the length of the door, just out of their reach, hoping to entice the rest of the freaks to join their friends at the door.

  “Hold on,” Quinton called out to him. “Just a couple more.”

  Jackson didn’t say anything, all his focus on keeping the heavy door up. His muscles were starting to burn, protesting the burden he was putting on them but he couldn’t listen. He had to keep the door up. This would only work if they could get as many of them as possible under the door.

  “Okay now!” Quinton called and Jackson let it drop, the sound of crunching bones and screams of pain mingling as the door crashed down to pin the freaks.

  They didn’t hesitate, bolting for the side door, Jackson grabbing the ladder next to it, and they hit the pavement at a dead run.

  They crossed the street and ran up to the brick wall of the building. Jackson propped the ladder against it, pushing up the extension so the top rung was less than a foot below the roof edge. He scrambled up the ladder, the metal creaking under him and the ladder shuddered when he hauled himself off and onto the roof.

  Quinton was hot on his heels, the ladder giving a final creak when he came to stand beside him on the roof. They were both bent over, hands on their knees as they tried to catch their breath.

  As Jackson tried to tamp down on the adrenaline that was racing through his veins, he looked around at the roof. It was a flat expanse of tar paper that held a large A/C unit and a smaller ventilation system with a few vents and ducts popping up here and there.

  Quin
ton moved to the front of the building, looking out over the strip mall’s parking lot, the dealership and the highway. Jackson went back to the ladder, looking over at the service centre. The freaks were still pinned beneath the garage door but their howling had drawn more freaks from the front of the dealership.

  The newcomers stopped to study the pinned freaks for a moment before a member of the new group looked over to the strip mall. It seemed to zero in on the ladder and then looked up at the roof. Jackson had the startling sensation that the thing’s milky eyes were staring right into his own.

  It let out a howl and actually pointed towards the roof and the other freaks followed his direction, turning away from the garage and heading towards the mall.

  Jackson bent over the edge of the roof and hauled the ladder up. He had no idea if they could climb a ladder and he had no intention of finding out.

  The freaks approached the building, looking up at him, snarling at the sight of a meal just out of their reach. One of them made an attempt to use the bricks to try and climb but its fingers couldn’t find purchase on the facade and it slipped back to the ground.

  Safe from the freaks for now, Jackson headed over to join Quinton, who had wandered to the other end of the L-shaped building. This end of the building jutted out towards the road and gave them a clearer view of the dealership’s lot.

  “Looks like we’re safe up here,” Jackson said when he came up beside him. “Ya see the others?”

  “No, but what the hell are they doing?”

  Jackson followed Quinton’s gaze to two men standing in the middle of the intersection where the side street met the highway. The larger of the two had been middle aged, with shaggy salt and pepper hair that touched his broad shoulders. His partner was younger, a bushy black beard covering most of his face and a blue trucker cap on his head.

  For a minute their stillness had Jackson convinced that they were healthy people but the blood that stained their clothes told a different story. He’d bet his last bullet that if he was close enough, he’d see their milky eyes and foam coated lips.