We had the two radios, the flashlight, my hockey stick, but no keys. No guns. It was not what I had hoped for, but it was what it was. We’d have to make the best of it. Staying inside the security office was the worst thing we could do. The mall was clearly not a safe haven. Running outside the emergency exits might not prove any better, or safer. And yet, that was our only choice. Making a run for it.

“We’re going to do this. As soon as you stop transmitting, we’re going to bolt for the exit and just keep running. Okay?”

She nodded, but never stopped talking into the microphone.

I gave her a three count. I knew she liked them, and then she stood. I stood, and pulled open the office door. I tried to be quiet about it. We didn’t seem to gain any attention. We rounded the office. The emergency exit was a mere twenty feet away. Just had to run past the restrooms.

I ran, hit the bar across the door and pushed it open. Lights flashed. Sirens blared, and above it all, I heard Allison scream.

Chapter Seventeen

I stood at the threshold. One foot out of the mall, one inside. The cool night air was a blast of refreshment after working up a sweat traipsing through the mall like S.W.A.T. and then being trapped inside the tiny security office for the last hour.

One of the things had come out of the bathroom. It had Allison by the arm. She struggled against its hold. Squirming, and wriggling her body trying to pull free.

This one was a mess. Over three hundred pounds, it appeared he must have turned while on the toilet. His khaki trousers were down around his ankles. Decaying white legs were mixed with hair, throbbing veins, and puss oozing from open wounds around his thighs. His Canary yellow dress shirt was buttoned as if a blind man had assisted. The mismatch of buttons to holes made the front tails lopsided around a pair of whitey-tighties that looked so tight they had to be cutting of blood supply to the creature’s brain -- if blood still flowed through its bulbous body.

“Allison!”

She stopped struggling. Must have realized what I was about to say. Before I could yell, she swung a backhand. The handle of the flashlight cracked square against the bridge of the zombie’s nose. Perhaps it was the pants tangled around its feet, but stumbling back a step, the fat monster lost his balance and went down, backward. Hard. Its head smashed into tile. Blood sprayed from underneath.

It hadn’t let go of Allison, pulling her down as well. She was able to wretch her harm free. Back on her feet, she delivered a kick into the fallen zombie’s exposed gut. Then another. And despite the other zombies now drawn to the excitement down the corridor, and our window for escape narrowing, she dropped to her knees by its head and beat its skull with the butt of her flashlight until blood coated the metal and it slipped from her hands. Crying, one forearm pressed to her face, Allison picked up her weapon and pushed off the ground to stand back up.

“Allison, we need to go.” I held out my hand.

She looked down at the man she’d killed. Only it wasn’t a man. Not at all.

“Allison,” I said.

Blood smeared tears stained her cheeks. She huffed, gaining control, and walked toward me. It was a big moment for her, a life altering one. The converging zombies were close, getting closer. “We need to . . . run. Now.”

She chanced a look back, saw what I saw, and snapped out of whatever mode she was stuck in. She ran. I pushed open the door, and we were outside in a heartbeat.

Headlights shined in our eyes. The sound of a motor running. We stopped as the door closed behind us. There was nothing to block it with. The zombies could exit the mall as easily as we did.

“Who’s in the truck?” I yelled. “We just want to get somewhere safe!”

No one answered.

Allison and I circled around the vehicle. She went toward the passenger side. I went around to the driver’s. No one was inside the pickup truck.

“Get in,” I said just as the emergency door opened and out came a flock of slow moving zombies. “Get in, Allison!”

“It’s locked,” she shouted, as I opened the driver-side door. I looked around for the button to unlock the doors, checking the inside panel. I couldn’t find any.

“Chase!”

I leaned across the seat, grabbed the handle and pushed open the passenger door. Allison scrambled in, slamming the door closed before any of the zombies reached her. “Too close,” she said.

I sat up, set my foot on the break, and shifted it into reverse.

“You should plow right into them,” Allison suggested.

Instead, I checked the mirror, looked behind me and backed up. There wasn’t time to run over zombies that weren’t able to harm us. This wasn’t a search and destroy mission. The goal was getting to my kids. Same as it has been all night.

I spun the wheel and floored it, heading toward the exit onto West Ridge Road; thankfully the parking lot was mostly empty. I only needed to swerve around a Prius and a Beamer. The rest of the road was clear.

The streetlights were on, flashing reds and yellows. Power issues, no doubt. There would be no one to fix them. They would stay that way until the city lost juice and Rochester was drowned in darkness. My guess, it wouldn’t be long. Not with no one manning the utility companies.

That thought forced me to realize the apocalypse in full. No electricity. Water and food supplies would be an issue. Maybe. There had been so few . . . survivors that Allison and I had encountered so far, that grocery stores would be ours for the taking. Possibly. Hopefully.

At the intersection, I made a right heading eastbound on West Ridge Road in the westbound lane where less disabled cars cluttered the street.

Still had to swerve back and forth, and onto the median at times, but for the most part, we were moving, and making good time. Finally.

At the flashing lights, I turned left onto Stone Road. I lived in the apartment complex on the right, but decided against stopping home. I didn’t want to waste any more time. Too much had already lapsed. I needed to get to my kids. Last time I’d checked my phone, there was nothing from my daughter. That made me more than apprehensive.

Allison silently looked at me as we flew past the complex. She must have known what I was thinking, too. As we came upon the Ridge Road Fire Department, two men ran into the middle of the street. Both waved an arm and a baseball bat in the air, as if they thought we were going to stop.

I dropped my foot on the accelerator.

“What are you doing?” Allison screamed.

“They have weapons!”

“We have weapons.”

They jumped to the left and the right out of the street as I blew past them.

“Chase, they’re human. They need help.”

I wanted to argue. Instead, I thought of the man in the mall parking lot. He died so we could raid the stores. Despite coming up empty handed for the most part, he’d been eaten for us. I remember how that made me feel.

My feet punched the brake. Tires squealed. Couldn’t see it in the darkness, but knew black rubber was laid down over the pavement. Could smell the burn.

I checked the rear-view mirror.

Both men ran at the security truck. I’d have left them had I assumed it was aggressive. The horde of fast zombies behind them, gaining on them, told me otherwise. I laid on the horn. The sound blared like a goose in heat.

They didn’t need the warning. They seemed to realize they were being pursued. They, together, reached the rear of the truck and jumped over the tailgate. I didn’t wait to make sure they were all set, before flooring it. More squealing. More rubber laid down. And we were out of there.

Allison looked over her shoulder, slid the small window between us open. “You all right?”

“Oh my, God, thank you. Thank you for stopping.”