Once the garage doors were shut, Wade finally let himself take a deep breath.
The garage was dim now, lit mostly by a few dusty fluorescent lights overhead and the soft amber glow of the sun set sneaking through the two small windows set near the roofline.
Wade squinted through the dust and fading light. A tow truck was parked against the far wall. It was a medium duty flatbed with a faded company logo on the doors. Heavy frame. Wide tires. Steel bumper. The truck had plenty of clearance to deal with small curbs or possibly shoulder through small wrecks or blockades, if needed.
He crossed the garage to the truck and tried the driver’s side door. Open.
He checked the ignition for keys. Nothing.
Nothing under the sun visor either. Damn.
He checked the rest of the cab and didn’t find anything of interest.
Wade looked around the garage as he closed the truck’s door. The tow truck would be perfect if he could get it started. He walked into the office and began looking around for the keys. He saw a pegboard labeled with the word KEYS, but only the customer vehicles’ keys were hanging there. He checked the desk drawers and still couldn’t find the keys.
Cursing silently, he went into the lobby and looked at the vending machines.
One was filled with snacks and the other was filled with water, sports drinks and soda. He subconsciously reached into his pockets, fishing for loose change. No coins. No bills. Just his keys.
Just then, a thought occurred to him.
Wade jogged back out into the garage and looked at the first infected mechanic he had just put down. His coveralls had the tire shop logo on the front and the name Manuel was stitched on the left breast.
Wade reached down to check the man’s pockets.
Bingo! He pulled the tow truck keys out with a grin. A small circular keychain identified the keys with the word TOW.
“Thanks, Manuel.” Wade said quietly.
He walked around to the front of the truck, opened the door and inserted the key.
“Here goes nothing.” Wade muttered under his breath.
The truck turned over without hesitation. Wade glanced at the fuel gauge and saw it was almost full. He sighed with relief and quickly shut it off. That would be for tomorrow.
Driving in the dark through a city that was already collapsing would be suicide, even in a tow truck. He was tired, sore and daylight was almost gone. The smart play was to hole up here for the night. He could push toward the cabin at first light.
Wade’s stomach grumbled. He picked up a tire iron and went back into the small lobby to look at the vending machines again.
“Sorry.” He muttered quietly to the owner of the machine.
He hit the middle of the glass in the front of the vending machine with the tire iron, spiderwebbing the glass outward from center. The second hit shattered the safety glass, collapsing it inward with a crunch. The sound wasn’t too loud and Wade was certain it was contained within the tire shop walls.
He reached into the machine and started loading food onto a nearby folding chair. He grabbed a handful of crackers and granola bars and set them aside.
Then he turned his attention to the drinks vending machine.
This one took more work. The front panel dented before it broke. He hit it again and again before the plastic front cracked open. He reached into the broken panel and grabbed a water bottle and a sports drink.
The machine refrigeration was still working so he left the rest of the drinks inside the case to remain cold.
The office had a small bathroom tucked away in the back. Wade flipped the light switch and blinked when he saw his reflection in the spotted mirror.
He looked older than he had this morning. His face was gaunt and his eyes looked tired. Dark smears of dirt and grime streaked across his cheek and his beard stubble was prominent.
He looked down at his clothing and saw several blood smears across his chest and sleeve. Black grease stained the other sleeve of his flannel.
Wade stripped off his flannel and checked the skin beneath. No bite.
The skin was red and inflamed but not broken. He let the sense of relief wash over him before he reached down and grabbed the bar of soap.
He turned the water on and let it run hot before soaping his hands, arms and face. He wanted to make sure no infected tissue clung to him, even microscopically. He used paper towels from the dispenser to dry his skin.
He located a bristle brush in the garage and went to work scrubbing the grime off his boots.
Next, he field stripped the Glock and cleaned the mechanisms the best he could with water and paper towels.
When he met his eyes in the mirror again, he looked better. He looked calmer and clean. But he was tired and his lower back ached. His body had been through a lot. He fished two ibuprofen out of his go bag and washed them down with a few gulps of cold water. He braced himself on the bathroom sink and kept his head down for a moment.
The bathroom was quiet. Eerily quiet compared to the chaos beyond the shop’s walls.
His thoughts drifted to Chelsey. To their last text exchange. To her friends and their plans to meet at the cabin. Wade whispered a prayer that they made it to the cabin and hoped he would make it there himself. He hoped he would be able to protect them from the madness outside.
Then his thoughts drifted to the woman outside. The way she looked at him as she bled out. He wished he could have done more.
He shuddered and shook his head, still not able to understand what was happening.
He met his eyes in the mirror again and focused.
His mission was clear.
“Get to the cabin.” He said quietly. “That’s the mission.”
He returned to the office and moved several folding chairs just inside the front door and wedged one underneath the handle. They wouldn’t stop much, but that was not the goal. If anything came through the door, these chairs would make noise and buy him some time to move and react.
His stomach grumbled as he grabbed the food he had set aside and made himself a position behind the counter, out of view from the windows. From here, he could see the lobby and the door leading into the bays. With the lights off, he would be virtually invisible from the street.
He ate slowly. Deliberately. Crackers and granola bars before drinking the sports drink to replace what he’d sweated out.
Darkness settled outside.
The building across the street was an appliance warehouse with large picture windows that were broken in several places. The spiderwebbed glass reflected a thousand orange glows from fires somewhere beyond the tire shop’s masonry walls.
Wade spread an old service blanket on the floor behind the counter and used his go bag as a pillow. He set the pistol and tow truck keys on the ground next to him with his flashlight.
Every now and then Wade heard a distant siren, a vehicle drive past, or a shout or scream, but most of the evening was relatively quiet.
His eyes were heavy as he thought about his route tomorrow. At first light, he would take the truck and push for the foothills.
For the first time since the world had broken, Wade slept.