The monster outside was really going crazy now, but the transparent divider seemed to be holding up, so Sean wiped his mouth on his sleeve and threw the former guard an obscene gesture. He found what he was searching for in a desk drawer, and convincing himself that he was prepared for anything, he shone the beam into the darkened area. The trashcan was immediately revisited.
The grotesque scene was never fully illuminated, but Sean made sure that whoever it was would not be coming after him too. Remembering the metal box on the wall, he inspected it closer and was overjoyed to find, not weapons, but keys. And not just any keys, but keys to security vehicles that were probably parked not far away. He pocketed several sets, swept the room with the flashlight, and swore when no exit presented itself to him.
He tossed his head back in despair and sighed at the ceiling. The acoustic-paneled ceiling. Sean lost no time placing a chair on one of the desks and climbing up through a removed panel. The steel girders didn't leave him much room to maneuver, but he was sure he could squeeze through into the next-door office and possibly find another exit, or at least slip past the slow moving guard.
If it was possible, it was even hotter in confined space and perspiration poured freely into his eyes. Perhaps it was his obscured vision or the queasiness in his empty stomach, but whatever the reason, Sean made a bad step and lost his balance, tumbling through the thin ceiling tiles and into the next room. Fortunately, the eight foot free fall was stopped short by a solid oak conference table, but now his shoulder felt out of place, and he was covered in dust and insulation.
He rolled off the table and could see through the doorway that the decaying watchman had been alerted to his movement and was now pounding on the windows in front of this office. So much for that exit. Hopefully there was a back door to this one.
The front room had a couch and some chairs with a coffee table, complete with magazines. A counter displaying brochures and a plaque that read "Information" filled one corner, and another door faced opposite. He moved to it and tried not to look at the man shadowing him from outside. This passage was locked, but Sean retrieved the keys from his pockets and tried a few until one fit and turned the knob to reveal a broom closet. The boy was dismayed momentarily, and then he noticed a ladder at the back of the cubicle that lead up to a hatch in the roof. He shoved aside some buckets and cleaning products so he could reach the rungs. Suddenly he heard a bell jingle. The front door was opening.
Sean did not even glance back. He scaled the ladder like a squirrel and grasped the latch on the hatch, swinging it upward and back. Sunlight almost blinded him as he scrambled onto the roof, and the clumsy beast below released a tortured wail. For good measure, he slammed the trapdoor shut and kicked the latch until it was bent.
From the flat roof, he could see a large portion of the park and the parking lot. Scotty and the janitor were no where to be seen, but he did spot a security vehicle below. All he had to do was climb down the service ladder and make it about thirty yards. No problem.
That is, it would have been no problem if it weren't for the zombie hoard emerging down the exit ramp from the freeway. Sean flattened his body against the steaming tar and gravel covered surface and inched his way over to the ladder. He didn't think any of them had spotted him yet, but it seemed even the slightest noise or movement would alert them to his presence. "What I wouldn't give for a helicopter rescue right about now," he grumbled to himself.
That is, it would have been no problem if it weren't for the zombie hoard emerging down the exit ramp from the freeway. Sean flattened his body against the steaming tar and gravel covered surface and inched his way over to the ladder. He didn't think any of them had spotted him yet, but it seemed even the slightest noise or movement would alert them to his presence. "What I wouldn't give for a helicopter rescue right about now," he grumbled to himself.
By the time he reached the ladder, the grunts and hisses of the approaching undead mass were clearly audible. They were mostly aimed at the front gates of the park, but he couldn't understand what was drawing them there. Then he heard the cries of the night watchman, combined with the yelps of Scotty and the janitor. They were giving him away.
He gripped the rails of the iron scaffolding and half slid, half sprinted down as far as the rungs would allow. They stopped abruptly eleven feet from the ground, but Sean probably jumped the last twelve. He crumpled in a heap at the bottom, a twisted ankle adding to his list of injuries. Pulling out every key he had in his possession, he held them outstretched with shaking fingers, aiming them at the awaiting pickup truck.
A waifish ghoul on the outer rim of the mob apparently noticed him and gave a blood-curdling scream, but Sean didn't care. He hobbled with every ounce of energy he had left until he careened into the side of the truck. The first key he tried slid into the lock and he broke into a hysterical laughter as he collapsed in the cab and started the ignition.
He locked the doors just as the first zombie smacked into the windshield. His laughter continued. He reached down to shift into gear, and he laughed even harder. It was a standard transmission. He didn't know how to drive stick.
Another member of the hoard slammed into the door, and another, and another. They surrounded him and began to rock the little vehicle back and forth. Sean half-heartedly tried shifting and punching the clutch, but it stalled again and again. He revved the engine and honked the horn. He turned on the wipers, smearing goo and grime all over the cracking glass. He searched under the seats and in the glove compartment, finding only some flares and a pack of cigarettes. He didn't smoke, but he figured this was as good a time as any to start, so he stuck one in the corner of his mouth.
He popped one of the flares and it issued forth a bright red flame and plenty of smoke, filling the cab. Sean used it to light the cigarette then decided to open the back window to let some of the smoke out. When he did, he noticed four large gas cans sitting in the bed of the truck. He stretched out his arm to loosen the cap from one of the containers. Zombies clawed and clutched at his skin. With his other hand he passed the glowing flare through the window and deftly inserted it into the open vessel.
A military helicopter sighted the flash and the black cloud that followed from over a mile away.