Boss woman, bearded man and wounded-arm all run past us and jump out the back windows. Like a second before the zombies arrive from the back too and start climbing in through the same windows, blocking them as escape routes for me and Levon.
And, if you remember, the front entrance is still packed with an increasing number of zombies oozing into the warehouse, mind you. So that's not a way out either.
Also, we're still tied up.
Wounded-leg's on the floor, screaming as the zombies grow near. "They left me! They left me!"
"Levon!" I say, getting up, hands still tied behind the chair. "Come on!"
The zombies limp closer. Levon gets up too.
I look around. "Up there," I say, looking up at a second-floor platform by the far wall. I drag myself towards it.
"Eve, wait!"
"What!?"
"We can't leave him." Levon says, turning back to Wounded-Leg Man.
Who's now No-Leg-Screaming-Like-Death-Man as the zombies close in around him and begin the process of murdering him with their teeth.
"OOOH GOD THIS HURTS SO FU –"
And he goes quiet.
I shrug. "Now, we can."
Clumsily, we walk towards the platform, our backs arched by the weight of the chair.
"There. The ladder."
Levon goes first. He stops. "How are we going to do this?"
I turn back to the ever-increasing amount of zombies in the warehouse, elbowing themselves trying to get to the man on the floor. They haven't noticed us, yet.
"Eve! How do we climb a ladder with our hands tied behind our backs?"
"Extremely carefully," I reply.
It hurts and it's slow, but we reach the top of platform. It's small and narrow, like the second floor of a barn. Looking around I spot a couple of large cube shapes -- boxes nested under a polyester boat cover. Hearing the grunts and snarls downstairs grow louder, I pull Levon and myself under the cover, crouching into darkness between the cardboard boxes.
"What's that?" Levon asks in a whisper. "Why are there so many of them?"
"Be quiet!"
I peek through the cover at the downstairs level. More and more zombies come in through the windows. The front entrance. Everywhere, like watching a reversed video of water being poured into a cup filled with holes.
Zombie fact number fourteen: I suck with analogies.
Levon's holding on to my arm so tight it might break. "What is going on, Eve?"
Herd... that's the term for it. Those assholes downstairs. Incredibly large packs of zombie roaming around like storms across the country.
I hear the noise of wood cracking, and Levon presses my arm tighter.
"Grrr," I whisper, telling him to be quiet.
Peeking through the cover again, I spot a rotten hand reaching out for the last steps of the ladder.
Levon lets out a high-pitched murmur. The zombie's up on his feet now, looking and sniffing around, and a second pair of hands appears on top of the latter. Soon enough, four fully-grown, gray skinned zombies are roaming around the 10 by 20 square feet second level of the warehouse, searching for the source of Levon's meat smell.
Downstairs, I can see the place is still packed enough for a stage dive. I drop the cover and recoil back into darkness.
"There's something here," one of the zombies whispers. "I can smell it."
They are getting closer. This is bad. Really bad.
How bad?
These are the things currently resting on the second floor of the warehouse:
An old rusty bike by the left corner.
Me and Levon under a boat cover between boxes.
They are going to find us. And I can't fight off a thousand zombies.
Across the polyester, the contours of the four figures darken the light from outside. The shadow of their hands reaching out for the cover starts growing and growing and grow --
"No food here," I say, pulling the coat over my head and then back down in a hush, hiding Levon. "I checked."
The zombies stop. "We smell meat."
"There's a Taco Bell nearby, maybe that's it." I get up, turning my back to them. "Hey, those asshole dudes that were here tied me up good. Could you guys give me a hand?"
They exchange looks. "You're not with any humans? Live ones?"
"I told you, no." I wiggle my tied hands. "Seriously, the knot. Please."
I feel the knot loosening. The chair falls to the floor, and my wrists thank God for the release. "Thanks. I could barely feel my hands."
"Who were those guys?" the zombie asks. His friends are still looking around, sniffing like dogs.
"Pirates. They got me on the road, a while back. Though they were going to do experiments on me."
"You know where the other ones went?"
"Saw them climbing out the window downstairs, but that's it."
The zombie nods. "All right, guys. Let's get out of here."
His friends turn his way. "You find anything alive, you'll let us know, all right?"
"Will do," I reply.
They form a line in front of the ladder. The first one turns around, puts his feet on the first step –
Under the boat cover, Levon coughs.
God damn it.
"What was that?"
"That was me," I say, as the zombies turn back. "Used to be a smoker, back in the day. Never really –"
Again, louder this time.
"There's someone here!"
"You hiding something from us, girl?"
"No, really. "
They step forward, closing in on me.
"Why were you hiding here?"
"Cause... you know... you're zombies," I reply, with a faint smile. "Zombies are spooky."
"The smell's coming from under that cover!" One of the other zombies grunt. Now two more have come up from the ladder, attracted by the commotion. "There's food here?"
"No food. There's no food here, guys!"
I look behind me. The cover is resting still, drawing the shapes of the boxes underneath it.
I feel six pairs of hands on me, and the zombies pull my body forward hard like they're trying to move an obese person from bed to bed. I tumble forward, leaving the way open for the cover. They close in on the cover.
"FOOD!" I yell, desperate. "HERE! FOUND IT!"
The zombies turn to look at me. I look back at them.
"Where?"
"I got nothing."
They turn back. The one ahead grabs the boat cover and, in a swift movement, pulls it away.
"All right, I can explain, he's just –"
I shut up. Nothing. Just boxes under the cover. Levon's gone.
"Told you, assholes," I say, letting out a big breath. Where the hell did he go?
The zombies grunt and penguin back down the ladder, one by one.
All right, tell me you've made it, Levon. Come on, tell me you weren't eaten by these assholes, please. If you were going to die anyway, at least I could have been the one to eat you. I'm starving.
I elbow my way through the herd like I'm in a nightclub, trying to get to the warehouse exit. Finally managing to pop out of the crowd into the sunset outside, I look around. Nothing. No Levon.
I go through a couple of lost zombies separated from the herd, making way to the side of the building. Most of the zombies – I notice, with relief – are still inside looking for meat.
"Levon!" I yell, spotting him just as I turn the corner to the side of the warehouse. "You're ok!"
He's sitting with his back against the wooden wall, looking up at the sun. I bounce my way to him.
"I jumped," he says, in a faint voice. Looking up, I notice the window two stores over his head.
"Yeah, you did, you animal nerd, you!" I say, momentarily forgetting he can't understand me.
"My leg hurts a bit, though."
"That was nothing," I say, grabbing him by the shoulders, ready to pull him up. "That lady barely had –"
Then I notice.
His leg. The jeans are a dark shade of red around the right thigh. I take a step forward, trying to get a better look against the sun.
The chair he was tied on to lies broken on the ground, pieces scattered all around him. A big, round metal bar – one of the legs – is stuck above the back of Levon's knee and sprouting out through the other side, like a kebab.
"It kinda hurts," he says, with effort. "I don't think I can walk."
I look from Levon's wound to the highway by our side -- the Porsche is still letting out smoke, turned sideways by the car pool lane.