The Passing At Highway 10, part 26.
BOOM…BOOM, the door thundered time and again. I only wished that it was thunder, although the rain still came down like a typhoon outside. The rattling of the door, the patter of the rain, and our heavy breathing were the only sounds in that kitchen. We were breathing like asthmatics, we were all so damn shattered. You know how it is in the movies, where the heroes are always calm and cool and kicking asses with expressionless faces? Yeah, it ain’t like that in real life. We sure didn’t look like Hollywood tough guys back there. That booming was working my brain into a frenzy, and I could feel its effects in the trembling of my hands. I’d been scared before, sure. Many times. But never like this. I guess it didn’t matter how many fuckers there were out there, as long as we could hold them off for as long as we could. It didn’t matter right now, the reasons, the meanings, the who’s, the why’s, or the what’s. All that mattered was making it until the morning. Shit, just making it through the next few hours. Fuck it, I thought…I’d rather be a sitting duck in here than somebody’s damn buffet out there. At least for a while…at least until we could figure this thing out. We need a plan. We need a plan, I kept telling myself.
My mind raced as the three of us reached the cabinet at the same time, a heavy beast of old steel, and pushed our weight against it. I hadn’t even bothered to ask the other guy what his name was; my brain wasn’t processing courtesies, but I noticed his hands kept slipping off of the steel like they were coated in butter. Sweaty palms. “Push”, I whispered into the darkness, and we heaved and shoved inch by inch, foot by foot, until it reached the door. We gave it one last grunt for good measure. Hell, if it took three of us to drive this thing fifteen feet, then it was gonna take an army of those bastards outside to knock it down. I’d wanted to breathe a long, deep sigh of relief, but all I could muster was a stuttered few breaths. We did it though. The front doors were chained, and the back door was blocked. We were officially sitting…or dead…ducks. We held onto our weapons and made our way back to the bar.
The Passing at Highway 10, part 25.
You couldn’t have cut the tension with a fucking chainsaw if you tried, it was so damned thick. My mouth was as dry as a pile of dead leaves, and yet my palms were as soggy as an old dish rag as we padded our way slowly and quietly to the back of the place. The thunder raged like a thousand explosions outside, and the whole thing reminded me of the Fourth of July. If only it were. Maybe all the thunder would mask our footsteps and chatter and movement from the things outside…or worse, maybe it would hide their movement from us. Those fuckers had to know we were in here. Or did they? How safe were we, locked away in here? Was it a sanctuary or a mouse trap? We shuffled our way through Sam’s tiny kitchen, a place where I’d dined on many a random night, and I could feel my feet slide a bit on the grease drenched floor. “Hey guys, grab something outta here”, Sam uttered quietly, and motioned to a counter full of old kitchen implements. Knives, spoons, big forks, and other assorted cutlery glinted slightly in the darkness of the kitchen, and I grabbed a steel tenderizer so massive that looked like it could have pounded a t-bone into a veal cutlet. It looked like Thor’s hammer. I smiled at the thought of that, the first quick smile I’d had since we left Harvey’s.
The thing just seemed huge, but shit, if all I was gonna have to work with was some damned kitchenware, then by God that’s the thing I’d want to use to smash a few skulls. It was more than enough. I watched the other guy grab a butcher knife, and Sam had been holding the same baseball bat that he’d had in his hands since we busted all frantic like into his bar. “Listen”, I whispered into the wet, drippy darkness, and all I could hear for a brief moment was the quickened breathing of my two companions. Then we heard it again, the only reason that we were back here in the first place. It hit the door like a mack truck, it seemed, a banging so loud that it split the quiet of the kitchen of the room in half, making our ears ring. Whatever it was, we were adamant that the fucker was NOT going to get inside. “Whatever it was”, I repeated in my head, as if I didn’t already know what God cursed horror was lurking beyond the door handle. “Whatever it was”…I wish to God that I didn’t know. BOOM, it went again, and all three of us froze. BOOM. “Sam, you got any chain? Rope?”, I blurted out as quietly as I could, and I could see, even in the dimness of the room, that Sam’s nerves were getting shaken loose with each slam of dead flesh on that damned door. Those fuckers knew we were in here, but how many were out there? We were fucking blind in this building. Sitting ducks. “SAM!”, I made a point to shake him hard, back into the sting of reality. “We gotta seal this fucking door, Sam, and right now”; my words slipped out in little silent slivers. “T-t-there’s a cabinet over there”, Sam managed to mutter, “T-the cabinet right there…you guys help me move it.” We all three rushed over to the corner where it was. A big assed old steel monstrosity…maybe it would do the trick…for a while. It was all happening in a blur, and I couldn’t tell the banging on the door from the booming thunder outside anymore.