Dead Frost - 02 (22 page)

'What the fu
―
'
Victor managed before a three-foot lurker dressed as a lion launched
itself towards him. The whole thing was so surreal that Victor
didn't fire straight away; he was too hypnotised by the strange sight
in front of him.

As the lion came
down, another joined it, this one painted silver and wearing tin-foil
as a hat. Black goo drooled down in strings from both of their lips
as they lunged forward, and now Victor finally managed to reach his
senses.

Just in time.

He pulled the
trigger and took the entire left side of the tin-man's face off. It
cartwheeled in the air, the power from the shot enough to take it a
few feet backwards.

The lion, though,
kept moving forward, growling, drooling, screaming.

Moon still couldn't
get his head around what was happening. What should have been an
easy hit had turned into his worst nightmare, and now he was faced
with an army of mini-lurkers dressed up in silly outfits. At the
front of the pack was a girl – or at least she had been when
sex had been determinate – dressed in a blue and white dress.
Her hair was pigtailed up in an innocent style, but as she shambled
towards him he knew that she was far from innocent.

He managed to fire
off two rounds, taking out two of the munchkins flanking the girl.
The third and fourth shots managed to hit the girl, splattering her
dress and knocking her back a few feet, but it wasn't enough and she
kept on coming.

Most of her right
cheek was exposed, and moon could see her teeth chattering away
through the flapping skin. He was about to fire what would have been
the final shot, the one that counted, when something latched onto his
ankle. The pain down there was immense, and he was momentarily too
scared to look. He shot and the lurker in the blue dress –
Dorothy? - didn't have time to react as her head exploded in a geyser
of blood and gore.

He kicked out with
his foot, the one that nor hurt like a sonofabitch, and connected
with something hard. Finally, he glanced down to find one of the
mini-lurkers crawling back for another bite. Leaving a trail of
straw as it army-crawled forward, Moon could see even through the
darkness that it was a scarecrow.

How very odd,
he thought, just before he brought his foot down on the back of its
skull. There was a meaty crunch as he made contact, and the creature
lay inert.

Moon could see bone
through the glistening hole in his leg, which made him want to
upchuck, if only there had been anything inside of him to bring up.

He glanced across
at Victor Lord, and knew that the Captain was in serious trouble.
There were six of them, the little bastards, crawling on top of him,
trying to get a decent purchase on any piece of flesh they could.
Victor was wriggling, trying to knock them off so that he could reach
the shotgun which had been taken away from him and lay useless on the
stage a foot away from his grasp. He screamed as a witch bit down on
his throat, and then he gurgled as she yanked away the flesh and
began to chew frantically. The others, who were all dressed as
winged monkeys for some reason, soon managed to find flesh, and they
began to devour Victor Lord alive.

Moon knew he had to
run, and dropped his injured foot to the stage. The searing pain was
enough to cause dancing white spots between his eyes and his eyelids.
There was no way he could run, not now, thanks to a fucking
scarecrow.

He turned and threw
himself off the stage, trying to keep a hold of his rifle. Landing
somewhere between row three and four – and knocking chairs
everywhere – he tried to clamber to his feet, but the
blood-coated floor was too slippery and he found himself face-down in
it, water-boarding himself.

He lifted his head
and saw, through the pain and sticky blood that coated his eyebrows,
a shadow at the back of the room.

Terry.

He lifted his hand,
urging the old man to come and help, but he didn't move.

'Help me you
fucking asshole!' Moon cried, trying to pull himself up using one of
the small, plastic chairs. It fell from underneath him, though,
sending him sprawling back to the ground.

The man at the back
of the room made the sign of the cross and raced for the door.

'You get back
here!' Moon screeched. 'Fucking get back here, or I'll
―
'

And then more pain.
He felt something land on his back, the weight forcing him into the
ground, pushing his head down into the puddle of blood. He managed
to roll over and found himself staring into the eyes of a wizard.

The wonderful
wizard of Oz...

The creature
snapped with savage teeth, tearing Moon's nose clean away from his
face with one solitary bite.

Moon screamed as
the flying monkeys went to work on the rest of him.

TWENTY-FIVE

Shane and Marla were
on their feet in less than a second. Terry screaming at the top of
his voice had woken them, and they stared towards him with pure
confusion and utter dread.

'What is it?' Shane
asked. He had the pistol in his hand and was aiming it towards the
door that Terry had just barged through.

'We need to get
moving,' Terry said. 'Lurkers, lots of fucking lurkers.'

Marla's concern was
palpable, and she was already hoisting up Shane's Bergen and shoving
it in his direction.

'Where?' Shane
said. He took a few furtive steps towards the door. 'And why did
you go out there? You could have gotten yourself killed.'

Terry wanted to
tell them how close they had all come to being killed, but it didn't
seem like the right time.

'Never mind that,'
Terry said. 'I found a school-bus, our ticket out of here. Let's
just hope it fucking goes.'

Shane was about to
continue with his reproach when the thought of moving on hit him like
a slab. 'Take us to it,' he said, shouldering his bag and ushering
Marla towards the door.

'Okay, but we need
to move fast,' Terry said, moving out to the corridor. 'Those little
bastards are quicker than you might think. Victor and Moon didn't
stand a fucking
―
'

'Wait,' Marla said,
both hands extended and trembling as if she was afflicted with
something particularly nasty. 'Victor was here? What the
―'

'We don't have
time,' Terry interrupted. 'I'll explain everything,' though he
doubted he would be able to give them every detail, 'once we put some
miles between us and this godforsaken playground.'

Shane nodded; he
had expected Victor to send someone out after them, but hadn't quite
anticipated the big man himself.

'The bus,' Shane
said, urging Terry forward. In his head, visions of his family swam
merrily around.

He was so close,
now.

Yet farther than
ever.

*

'What happened to
the shotgun?' Shane asked as they raced through the school towards a
bus that may – or may not – still function.

'They took it,'
Terry breathlessly replied. 'I didn't have time to go grab it, not
once those things started crawling out of the woodwork.'

They
entered a narrower hallway, which had been decorated with painted
letters of the alphabet and zoo
animals.
At the end of the passage, a door with frosted glass was all that
stood between them and the freezing-cold night. The snow was visible
through the door, and
the
alacrity with which it fell reminded Shane that even if they were to
make it onto the bus, it probably wouldn't start. They had no idea
how long it had been sitting for; a dormant engine in a snow-covered
steel shell.

Terry pulled the
door open and allowed Marla to pass him.

'That's never going
to work,' she said, crunching her way around the bus and surveying it
as if she were a first-time buyer on a used-car forecourt. The
yellow paint of the bus was only visible on sections of the
side-panels; the rest of it was blanketed with inch upon inch of
snow.

'We don't know
that,' Shane said. He dropped his Bergen next to the door and
located the handle. As he pulled it across, the door folded and
opened halfway. There was a pile of snow on the step, enough to keep
the door from opening fully. With his foot, Shane began to kick the
snow away.

'I
have a question,' Marla said, an undertone of pessimism already
tainting her words. 'Have either of you ever hotwired anything
before? I mean, I know you were both criminals, no offence, but if
neither of you can make
this
thing go then aren't we just wasting our time?'

Shane sighed.
'First of all,' he kicked the remainder of the snow away and pulled
the handle once again. The door opened fully, and he turned to
smile. 'No offence taken. Secondly,' he stepped up onto the bus and
pulled down the driver's side visor. A set of keys fell down, which
he caught one-handed. 'Bus-drivers aren't known for their
originality.'

Marla smiled and
climbed aboard. 'Fluke,' she said. 'You would've looked like a
complete moron if those hadn't been there.'

Shane stepped down
and grabbed the Bergen. Terry climbed the steps; Shane could tell by
the look on his face that something was wrong.

'Hey,' he said,
pulling Terry up. 'Are you okay?'

Terry sighed; a
plume of white fog danced in the air an inch in front of his face
before dissipating. 'I guess,' he said. 'I just wish things had
been different in there.'

It took Shane a few
seconds to realise that Terry was talking about Jared, and the loss
thereof.

'There was nothing
we could do for him,' Shane said, patting the side of Terry's arm.
'We just need to count our blessings that we made it out of there in
one piece.'

'Err, guys?' Marla
said. She was already seated and was rubbing her hands together and
blowing hot-air into them. 'I hate to be a pain, but is there any
chance we can try to get this fucking thing moving?'

Terry smiled. 'The
queen has spoken,' he said, brushing aside the morose memories of a
fallen friend. 'You never know,' he said. 'This thing might even
have heating.'

'We can only hope,'
Shane said.

With everybody on
board, he pulled the lever next to the steering-wheel and the door
mechanically shut. He grappled with the keys for awhile – his
frozen hands were doing everything apart from what he wanted them to
– before managing to get them into the ignition.

'Please,' he
whispered.

He
turned them slowly, and was pleasantly surprised to hear the engine
trying to turn over. Not quite
starting,
but almost. It whirred, looped a few times, and began to dip a
little, which was Shane's signal to turn the keys back and try again
in a second. It certainly wanted to go, so there was no point in
pushing it, not yet. Flooding the engine was something he didn't
care to think about.

'See,' Marla said,
rubbing her hands together so hard that if she was made of wood she
would have started a fire. 'Probably not even got fuel.'

Terry shushed her,
which she didn't appreciate at all. To Shane, he said, 'Try it
again, this time with the pedal.'

Shane turned the
key and pushed the accelerator down to the floor. Once again, the
engine fought for life. He pumped the pedal, hoping to give it just
enough to spark the beast into action. After a few seconds, he
turned the key back and relaxed in the seat.

Outside, the wind
howled and rocked the bus gently from side to side. Everything on
the inside, though, remained quiet.

Shane took a deep
breath and turned the key.

The engine turned
over as he pumped the pedal, and then there was an almighty roar as
the bus came to life.

'Oh
yeah!' Marla screeched from her seat. 'See, I
told
you she'd go.'

Shane fist-pumped
the air before turning his attention back to the control-panel.
'Where are the wipers for this thing?' He played with a few levers
and switches before he found the one he was searching for.