Green Ice: A Deadly High (39 page)

“Stay down,” Mancini barked at Jorge and re-aimed the shotgun.

Jorge sunk lower, kneeling on the road with his head bent forward. Mancini raised the shotgun, pressing the butt firmly into his shoulder and fired. The blast hit the woman full in the face and the impact lifted her briefly off her feet, accompanied by a cluster spray of blood and brain. She landed with a soggy splat on the road, a few yards from where Jorge still crouched down.

Mancini glanced around the street, searching for any more would be predators. The huddle of infected still gnawed their victim in the doorway a few yards further down the road.

“Let’s get moving, Jorge,” Mancini insisted, whilst reloading the shotgun. “Those gunshots will have alerted every damn crazy bastard and cop to our location in this crappy city. The Thunderbird is right up ahead.” He pointed further up the street.

“You sure?”
Jorge asked, squinting into the night as he rose to his feet.

“I’m certain sure. Let’s see if we can catch up with Trey and Leticia. I just hope they made it back there okay, otherwise we’re in deep shit.”

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Jorge hobbled along the road, following Mancini as he cautiously padded towards the rear end of the stationary Thunderbird.
Mancini checked over the interior, covering the space with the shotgun. Nobody occupied the car and the trunk was still locked but there was no sign of Trey or Leticia.

Mancini reached into his pocket
, took out his cell phone and called Trey’s number. The ringtone rang onto voice mail and Mancini left a short message.

“Trey, we’re back at the T-Bird. Make it back here as quickly as possible as we need to get our asses out of this city in double quick time.” He snapped his phone shut and replaced it in his pocket.
“I hope he gets that damn message real soon,” he muttered.

Jorge slumped into the back seat and rested his injured ankle along the passenger seat headrest. “What are we going to do if Trey doesn’t return?” he sighed.

Mancini glanced up and down the street. He lit a cigarette and studied the car still blocking the Thunderbird’s exit route.

“We need to get this piece of shit out the way before we can go any further, with or without Trey,” he said.
The steering lock was engaged and the street lamp prevented them from pushing the Nissan any further forward. 

Mancini’s hot
-wiring skills were a little rusty but he thought he could try and refresh his memory by attempting to start the Nissan blocking their path. He opened the driver’s door and placed the shotgun and the semi automatic rifle across the passenger seat. The Nissan was an older model and fairly beaten up so Mancini doubted whether the car was fitted with any alarm systems or immobilizers, preventing the ignition from being hot-wired.

The plastic cover on the steering column came away easily enough and Mancini reached into his pocket for the flashlight he’d taken from the law agent. He turned it on and shone the light beam over the collection of different colored wires.
Leaning to the side of the steering column, Mancini ran his fingers through the wires and selected the bundle running to the battery, ignition and starter then pulled the bunch aside. He pulled out the red wires and bit off a strip of the plastic insulation coating at both ends, then twisted the wire together to join them in a knot.

Jorge coughed and Mancini
sat up and looked through the windshield to check the street was still clear of infected. Jorge leaned back in his seat with his head resting against the padding.

“Keep a good eye out for hostiles, Jorge,” Mancini said.

Jorge sat up slightly and turned to look at Mancini. “I’d feel better if I had a gun of some sort.”

“That ‘
aint happening,” Mancini muttered and turned his gaze back to the wires inside the steering column. He held the flashlight between his teeth and leaned over in his seat. 

Mancini hesitated. He was faced with the tricky part. He’d shock himself with an electrical blast from the battery if he didn’t connect the ignition and the starter wires in the correct order.
Deciding to try the brown wire first, he bit off an end of the plastic coating and wrapped the strands around the red battery cable. Mancini didn’t feel the effects of any electrical shocks and breathed a sigh of relief when the dash lights lit up along the control panel. The Nissan was now primed to start. Mancini gripped the yellow wire and flicked the protruding strand at the end against the connected battery wire. A few orange sparks brightly lit the interior of the car and the engine turned over.

Mancini sat up in the driver’s seat and pumped his foot on the gas pedal. The engine roared into life and he revved it a few times to keep it from stalling. The
steering lock freed up and he could drive up the sidewalk and loop the car around in an arc so it was clear of the road. Mancini thumped the transmission into drive and bumped the Nissan up the curb, driving in a rough, clockwise semi circle away from the road.

When he was done and satisfied the Thunderbird could fit through the narrow street, Mancini pulled the wires apart and the engine spluttered and died. He applied the park brake, scooped up the shotgun and the rifle and climbed out of the car.

Jorge nodded approvingly. “Well done, Mancini. If I ever want to steal a car, you’re the first guy I’ll come and see.”

Mancini slung the semi automatic over his shoulder, turned off the flashlight and replaced it in his pocket. “It wouldn’t have been that easy if it was a new car. They have all kinds of whistles and bells on them these days, to try and stop auto theft.”

Mancini felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, followed by the chime of his ringtone. He pulled out his cell and saw the caller was Trey.

“At last,” he muttered before answering the call.
“Yeah?”

“We’re in deep shit, man.” Trey’s voice was hushed but tense.
“I just got your message. The signal keeps coming and going so I’m going to have to be real quick here.”

“Where the hell are you?”
Mancini asked.

“We’re stuck inside some big warehouse type place
, not far from the T-Bird. We got right back there to the car and had to wait for, like an hour for you, man. I figured those cops got hold of you. Where the hell did you get to, man?”

“Ah, we had some logistical problems and had to take a bunch of detours. Listen, you need to get right back here pronto.”

“No can do, man,” Trey hissed. “Like I said, we’re pinned down in this damn warehouse. We were waiting for you by the car and got chased by a whole damn bunch of those crazy people. We got out their way but they tracked us down and we had to hide in here, man. They’re all outside, they’re all over the place. I can hear them from where we are.”

“Okay, where’s the warehouse? I’ll come on over there and take a look
-see if I can get you out.”

“Good luck with that,” Trey snorted. “You’ll need more than one gun against all these motherfuckers, man.”

“It just so happens that I’ve acquired some extra fire power,” Mancini said, stifling a grin.

“All right, if you look at the Thunderbird, we took off to the left side of the street, through that alley where those goons first appeared. Then we ran to our right and the warehouse is around thirty yards down the street.”

“I’ll call you when I get near, okay?”

“Go for it, man.”

Mancini cut the connection, memorizing the route. He thought for a moment and turned to Jorge.

“Sorry, Jorge but I’ve got to go and rescue Trey and I can’t have you tagging along with that crocked ankle. And I can’t let you borrow any of my guns so I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you here.”

Jorge looked shocked. “What? Leave me here, in the open?”

“Not exactly.”
Mancini pointed to the Nissan parked on the sidewalk. “I want you to get in the back of that car, lock all the doors and stay out of sight until we get back.”

“There’s blood all over the seats in there,” Jorge spluttered. “And what do I do if the crazy people see me. I’m dead meat, Mancini.”

Mancini shrugged. “No choice here, Jorge.”

Jorge muttered under his breath as he hauled himself out of the Thunderbird and hobbled towards the Nissan. He opened the back door and reluctantly crawled across the seat then lowered himself down so he lay across the foot wells, out of sight from the street.

“Don’t forget to lock the doors,” Mancini hissed.

Jorge muttered something and reappeared through the side window. He clunked the locks down on the doors and lay back down in the foot wells.

“It’s damn uncomfortable down here. Don’t be too long,” Jorge barked. His voice sounded muffled amongst the cushioning of the seats.

Mancini took a backward step off the curbside and looked through the Nissan windows. “That works. I can’t see you at all from here. Sit tight and keep quiet and I’ll be right back.” He ensured the shotgun, his Heckler and Koch handgun and the semi automatic rifle were fully loaded, turned and headed for the alleyway.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Mancini trotted through the dark alley, listening out for any sounds of the infected. He knew time was of the essence and had to hurry in his mission to help Trey
and Leticia escape. The cops and law agents would be swooping through the whole area and he figured the next stage in the quarantine operation would be to scour the cordoned zone from the air with helicopters. He didn’t know what resources the law agents had in the city but the situation was on the verge of escalating to a critical level. Once things elevated to that kind of stage, there was no telling what kind of federal force and extra muscle would show up.

The street beyond the alley was predictably deserted apart from a cat that scurried across the road. Mancini stayed in the shadows at the mouth of the alley, scanning the area for any signs of movement.
He trod slowly from his hiding place, gripping the stock of the shotgun with his senses on high alert. Keeping close to the store fronts, Mancini took a right turn and edged his way through the shadows.

Long wails and moans drifted through the night air and Mancini honed in on the sounds, wondering if they would lead
him to the warehouse. He glanced back the opposite way down the street to check he wasn’t being followed. The street was still clear of bodies but the screeching increased in volume the further Mancini moved further to his right.

A
shuffling sound in the nearest doorway caused Mancini to halt his progress. He stood stock still in the shadows, holding his breath and listening intently for any sounds of movement. Firing the shotgun was going to alert all kinds of unwanted attraction, so he’d have to eliminate the target as silently as possible, by means of stealth.

Mancini heard the shuffling sound again and silently turned the shotgun around in his hands
, so he gripped the barrel. He was going to use the butt of the weapon to club the hell out of whoever was hidden in the doorway recess. The scuffling noise sounded like the soles of feet sliding along the paved sidewalk slabs.

Mancini raised the shotgun butt above his head, standing with his feet apart ready to swing like a baseball player facing a pitcher.
He edged closer to the doorway recess, wielding the shotgun beside his left shoulder to attain a sweeping swing.

Exhaling a long breath through his nose, Mancini took a side step left then a stride forward so he was positioned within sight of the doorway recess, standing at a diagonal angle.
He gritted his teeth and readied himself to swing the shotgun as soon as the target became slightly visible in the gloom. The shuffling sound from the recess increased in volume and a hunched shape lurched forward from the shadows.

Mancini braced himself for the jarring impact of the aluminum shotgun butt smashing into bone as he tensed his biceps to swing the weapon. He heard a cough and mutterings in Spanish. The infected didn’t speak or cough as far as Mancini knew. He kept the shotgun in position but didn’t swing the butt at the figure’s head, deciding to get a better look at the target.

The moonlight illuminated a disheveled guy, with long unkempt hair and dressed in a stained white vest as he staggered out of the doorway. The guy muttered and took a swig from a glass bottle in his hand. Mancini caught the unmistakable stench of body odor and strong liquor as the guy shuffled by. He breathed out a relieved sigh and lowered the shotgun.

The drunken guy flashed Mancini a glance and
gurgled some kind of comment before he returned his attention to his bottle. He stepped unsteadily on the sidewalk and headed towards the screeching noises of the infected up ahead.