life.
I happened to
glance at the ignition with the screwdriver hanging out of it while I had these
thoughts and my heart leapt in my chest. From the back of the ignition switch,
hanging below the dash and barely visible were several wires. These had to be
the wires that would start the truck. After all what was an ignition switch
other than a device that mechanically closed an electrical circuit so the
engine would start and run?
I grabbed the
tool kit off the floor where I had dropped it and dug through until I found a
small pair of wire cutters. Rachel picked up on my excitement and sat up
straight, adrenaline momentarily overcoming dehydration and muscle cramps. I
reached under the dash and carefully clipped all the wires, then stripped about
an inch of insulation off the cut end of each wire. Methodically I started
touching wires together; blue to white/blue, green to white/green, red to
white/red; the red to white/red finally lighting up the dash and the radio
started playing a country music CD. I had found the equivalent of the ‘key on’
position of the switch.
Rachel grabbed
my arm in excitement and a small cry escaped her lips. The two female Zombies
on the hood of the truck could tell something was happening and they became
agitated, bouncing up and down while snarling and slapping the windshield with
their hands.
I firmly twisted
the wires together and picked the blue and white/blue to try first for the
starter. I touched them together and nothing happened. I fumbled as I grasped
the green and white/green wires, caught my breath and touched them together.
There was a spark and I got a hell of a jolt of electricity that made me drop
the wires, but I was rewarded with a momentary whine from the truck’s starter.
To her credit,
Rachel kept her mouth shut. She could have easily been one of those people who
have to offer an opinion or suggestion or criticism about everything, and I was
mildly surprised that she remained silent. Obviously at some point in her life
she had learned the lesson of keeping your mouth shut if you didn’t have
something constructive to offer.
The women on the
hood became agitated and it spread like wild fire to the crowd of infected that
surrounded us. Dozens of pairs of fists started pounding on the glass and body
of the truck. I looked out the windows and noticed for the first time that the
crowd had grown sometime during the day to what I guessed was in excess of
150. Maybe all the noise the ones that originally cornered us made had
attracted others and others and so on.
The truck
lurched side to side and I looked to my right to see the entire passenger side
of the truck lined with large males. They were hitting and pushing on the
truck, and there was enough flesh there that if by accident or design their
efforts happened to coordinate they could flip the truck. With a burst of fear
I returned my attention to the wiring, trying not to let myself be distracted
by the increasing range of motion of the truck as the infected rocked it side
to side.
Firmly grasping
the starter wires I made sure I was only holding them on the plastic insulation
and firmly touched them together. The starter whined for a couple of seconds
then the big diesel engine in the truck rattled to life. The starter continued
to whine so I quickly separated the wires that powered it and it went quiet,
the diesel settling into a smooth but loud idle. I bent the wires away from each
other and sat against the back of the seat as one of the female infected on the
hood threw herself against the windshield with a screaming snarl. The blood
dripping from her nose made a smear on the windshield that reminded me of a
Rorschach ink blot test, but I didn’t have time to look at it and figure out
what I saw in the shape.
The horde of infected
around us went into a fever pitch of snarling and slamming into the truck, and
now both women on the hood were repeatedly slamming