Chapter 4

Belinda

When the group of strangers started examining the wreckage of the runaway Charger, Belinda Jacobs was busy with plans of her own. She didn’t know what exactly caused the sudden onset of chaos surrounding them, but knew for a fact that she needed to get out of town right away. She glanced in the back seat at the two bags that lay there, the suitcase filled with a haphazard assortment of clothing and belongings that were thrown together in a rush. Most importantly of all lay her backpack, right in the middle of the seat. She tilted the rear view mirror so she could see it clearly, not looking away with a hunger in her eyes like that of a junkie craving their next fix.

No, I don’t need that yet, she told herself. I am still in control. But she knew full well that her control was slipping.

Her survival instincts were in full gear. While she had no aversions to fighting, today was most definitely a time for flight. She knew this from the moment she decided to leave work early on the graveyard shift at Mercy Hospital so that she could grab her belongings at the Groves Hotel, and fly out of town as fast as her maroon Pontiac Parisienne could take her. But you can't fly very far when your wings are clipped, she thought to herself.

Her giant boat of a car wedged up between two other vehicles bumper to bumper as a result of the sudden stop when the station wagon and Hummer collided in the intersection ahead. All she needed was at least a few feet of space and she would be hauling tail out of there as quickly as possible. Yes, it would be fleeing the scene of the accident, but at this point she didn't care.

In the car in front of her, a young couple argued animatedly in the front seat. The man got out and left the driver side door open. Belinda didn't pay any attention to the content of the conversation, but could obviously tell that the woman wanted to leave, and was clearly scared. The man stood in the street waving his arms around as if to say ‘where are we going to go?’ Either he was being an asshole or melodramatic because, unlike Belinda, they didn't have any vehicles in front of them to block their path; the Charger had seen to that. Granted the road ahead was blocked by a van, a police cruiser, and a smoldering wreck of an Oldsmobile and the other police cruiser, but they were still only a three point turn away from going back up the road they came from.

Belinda glanced over at the group of people examining the Charger. They weren't going to be of much help, at least not in the short amount of time she had. She looked back at the couple in front of her and the man banging on the side of the car with his fists, yelling angrily, and telling the woman she needed to get out. She quickly shut the driver’s door and immediately locked it. In the back of Belinda’s mind, she thought smart move, that will keep you safe. This made another voice in the back of her mind pop up, the one that prompted her flight response to flee town. This is going to anger him, and make matters worse.

By locking the man out of the car, the woman succeeded in infuriating him even further. What started as anger and frustration instantly escalated into fury and rage. Belinda quickly weighed her options. She wouldn't get anywhere on foot, so she needed her car. The only way to do that would be to move one of the vehicles from in front of or behind her. The vehicle in front of her was obviously out. She looked back at the convertible behind her. The driver could no longer be seen, most likely in with the group of people inspecting the Charger. She recalled seeing him as he got out. Ned had been the name on his name tag. He looked like one of those arrogant types who loved to brag about his job, even though he was really nothing more than middle management with a handful of minimum wage employees under his thumb.

Belinda cautiously got out of her vehicle trying not to make any noise that would attract the attention of the furious man in front of her. His mission of yelling and screaming at his girlfriend kept him preoccupied, and Belinda wanted to make sure that it stayed that way. She got to the convertible, opened the door, and slipped inside without hesitation.

“Damn,” she muttered to herself. The keys weren't there. She looked over in the direction of the group and could see Ned standing on the opposite side of the Charger just as a strange woman leaped out of the bushes on top of him, beating him with a large piece of wood. Her eyes widened as she gasped.

Four things struck her at once: 1. Ned was doomed. 2. She wouldn't be able to get the keys now. 3. There wasn't going to be any assistance from those around the Charger in dealing with the crazed man in front of her car. 4. Most importantly of all, she needed to make a break for it immediately.

She got out of the convertible, quickly surveying the landscape making sure there were no other Crazies lurking nearby. The street was clear of all signs of life except the young man at the vehicle in front of her, who continued to fiercely pound on the side of the car. The woman inside screamed and cowered in fear towards the passenger side of the vehicle.

Belinda heard a commotion and looked towards the Charger to see a man being attacked by yet another of the Crazies as they clung to his back, clawing and biting him. She took a deep breath and tried to stay calm, frantically plotting a route of escape, but her brain was so frazzled that she couldn't come to a definite resolution.

Then the gunshot broke the silence of the street. Belinda turned to see the police officer give, yet another crazed person, a warning shot. At that moment she knew it was time to leave, even if she had to grab her things and run on foot.

She ran back to her vehicle, jumped inside, slammed the door shut, and started the engine. This immediately caught the attention of young man in front of her who stopped his assault on the vehicle with his terrified girlfriend inside. For a moment they stared each other down eye to eye. Belinda could tell already what would happen next, but a part of her still tried to compel him to ignore her presence by sheer force of will. While the staring match between the two seemed to last for several minutes, only a few microseconds passed by before the man made a running leap for her vehicle landing on the hood of the car.

Belinda put the car in reverse and gunned the engine. The young man thrashed and punched at the windshield of her car, obviously with no regard for his own safety. The tires squealed on the pavement under the strain of pushing the car behind her. The pungent odor of the smoking tires filled the car, even with all the windows closed, and made her eyes water. The engine roared with effort so loudly that it drowned out the screams of the crazed man assaulting the car. To her amazement, and relief, the car began to move ever so slowly. Inch by painstakingly slow inch. She continued to gun the engine, using her vehicle to push his convertible further and further back.

She only needed a few feet to get clearance so she could drive away, but another problem to deal with at the moment literally stared her right in the face. She continued to push Ned’s car back three feet, four feet, on up until she nearly a couple meters of space between her vehicle and the one in front of her.

The man on the hood of her car continued slamming into the windshield, trying to get to her. These Crazies may have been extremely dangerous, but they obviously weren't very bright. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the woman from the car take the opportunity to slip out the passenger’s side door. She took off running down the street without looking back. The girl's boyfriend, however, continued his intent on Belinda, and the windshield glass started to crack in several places.

When she felt like she had enough clearance, Belinda quickly buckled her seat belt, switched gears to drive, and pushed the gas pedal all the way to the floor again. The car lurched forward, pressing her against the seat. But that didn't last very long as she collided headlong into the car in front of her, coming to a sudden stop. For the third time in less than 10 minutes, the screeching thunder of metal on metal could be heard through the street. The man on the car went flying off the hood and landed somewhere on the car in front of her. She didn't really care where he ended up, just so long as his absence gave her the opportunity to escape.

To Belinda’s surprise and relief, the airbag didn't deploy. The last thing she needed was to be trapped in the vehicle at this point. Since it was a 1986 model car, she wondered briefly if it even had airbags. In her rear view mirror she could see two men and a woman carrying the man who had been attacked across the street back to the hotel. She started to panic, but reminded herself to stay calm until she had the opportunity. She put the car in reverse, but it wouldn't budge. The metal from the two vehicles lodged together, and weren't prying apart.

She revved the engine, and the tires screeched in protest on the pavement, more so than before because it simply didn't budge. The engine sputtered with a sickly clunking sound that she didn't like in the least. The old boat had served her well over the five years she owned it, and kept going well past its life expectancy, but this would have been the worst moment in the world for it to die out on her now. Without warning the car finally dislodged and went flying in reverse. She quickly slammed on the brakes jerking the wheel, putting the vehicle into a spin with a complete 180, narrowly missing a collision with the convertible.

Through the crackled haze of her windshield she could see the police officer and the man, who she swore was wearing a suit and dress shirt when she first saw him, in front of her running across the street with two Crazies in pursuit. She flipped the engine in gear, and shot forward like a squealing rocket. By the time she got to the fleeing duo, they already cleared the street and the Crazies were in the middle of the road. Belinda jerked the wheel all the way to the left, putting the car into a sideways slide slamming into the two Crazies with the passengers side of the car, sending him sprawling.

With her momentum still going, and her foot not daring to let off of the gas pedal, the car jumped the curb into the hotel parking lot flying past the pair running for their lives, until the vehicle came to a complete stop in the middle of the parking lot as the engine sputtered, clanked, and died completely. Belinda burst out cussing and yelling, slamming the steering wheel with her fist. She tried again and again to start the engine, but with no luck.

She lurched out of the vehicle, struggling to get her seat belt undone with only a second to assess the situation. The police officer with her companion neared the stalled vehicle in their flight towards the hotel. The two Crazies she hit with her car were already getting back on their feet to continue their pursuit. The young man she sent flying off the hood of her car also headed straight for them to join in the fray.

A thousand possibilities raced through her mind as she comprehended the situation, but she was in such a frantic state that she couldn't process any of them. For a moment she buckled, realizing that she wouldn't make it out of the city after all, at least not at this moment. She reached for the back seat of the vehicle to open it just as they passed by. He quickly grabbed hold of her trying to pull her along.

“Come on, we have to get inside,” he yelled to her.

“No,” she screamed back at him. “I have to get it.”

He looked behind and she followed his gaze to see the crazed young man only a few dozen meters away. The wild look in his eyes and blood stains all over the front of his clothes now matched the other two Crazies.

“No, No, No, No. This can’t be happening,” she panicked and tried to open the door again. James grabbed her by the arm and pulled her from the car.

“Come on,” he yelled. “This nut job is going to kill you if you don’t.” He started pulling her towards the direction of the hotel. She started to come along at first, but slipped from his grasp and lunged towards the back seat of the car.

“I have to get my bag,” she called out.

“There’s no time,” he yelled back and grabbed her arm again, more forcefully this time dragging her with all haste towards the hotel's front entrance. She tried slipping away from him again, but he wasn’t about to let her go. Officer Jamison held back, realizing the situation, and fired multiple shots at the closest Crazy. A couple of the bullets hit and made him lose his balance. He stumbled onto the concrete of the parking lot, bloodying himself up more, but continued to get back up as if nothing happened other than tripping over his own feet.

“You don’t understand,” Belinda screamed in desperation, struggling against the man “I need that bag!”

But she too realized the situation, and that nothing more could be done at the moment. She gave up struggling, no matter how difficult it was to do, and they retreated towards the entrance of the hotel. They slipped inside while the prisoner in handcuffs shut the doors firmly in place behind them.

The sanctuary of the hotel lobby doors were shut just in time as the two crazed maniacs began pounding recklessly on the doors, promptly followed by the third. The trio joined the prisoner as they frantically held the door shut from the onslaught outside. All four of them held on to the door handles with all her might.

Officer Jamison took one hand off the handle to reach for her pistol to shoot them, when the man she arrived with grabbed hold of her hand to stop her.

“Don’t do that,” he commanded.

“Why the hell not?” The prisoner interceded in a faint Texan accent that reminded Belinda of an old cowboy movie.

“Either this is thick Plexiglas and that bullet will ricochet off, likely injuring one of us, or it’s regular glass that will shatter as soon as you shoot through it. Right now it's the only thing between us and them, and we don't know how many more of them are out there.”

“If you shoot them and kill them, we can barricade the inner doors,” the prisoner argued.

“I’ve shot at them plenty already and it hasn’t worked so far,” officer Jamison chimed in. “Besides,” she popped out the clip and checked it before sliding it back in, “I only have one bullet left.”

A collective moan of despair echoed among the group, although it went unnoticed between the frenzied screams of the Crazies outside and the crying and terrified screams of those in the lobby.

“Got any bright ideas on what to do now then, slick?” The prisoner called out as they clung to the handles for dear life against the monstrosities outside.

The tormented souls continued their onslaught of the hotel's front doors, terrifying all those inside. With each pound on the glass, feral scream, and rattling of the doors, the women, children, and even the men, screamed in terror. Those inside who weren't holding back the doors cowered in the lobby fixated on the doors, unable to move, too terrified to run for cover or help.

The Crazies outside continued their assault on the doors, banging on the glass as hard as they could, or grabbing onto the handle trying to pull it open. The four people holding the door took all of their combined efforts to hold back the one or two of them on the outside that tugged in response. The Crazy banging on the glass left blood stained smears with each blow. Belinda didn't knew for certain if the markings were from injuries caused to himself by banging so hard on the plexi-glass, injuries caused by Belinda’s car, or the blood of someone else they recently attacked. Either prospect was equally frightening.

If they didn't find a way to secure the doors, there would be nothing to stop the Crazies from getting in and mauling them all. Even if officer Jamison could use her remaining bullet to take one of them out, which seemed unlikely considering how many times she shot at them already to no avail, that still left two more to fight off.

Then an even more grim thought struck Belinda that made her almost lose all hope. Even if they did manage to lock the doors, the Crazies outside weren't about to give up until they broke through.

In short; they were doomed.