Chapter 27: Finding the Parts
Hanks and Glenn moved in a low crouch through the empty streets, stopping and starting as they advanced.
Crack.
A faint but distinct snap came from beneath an overturned sedan at the intersection ahead. Hanks's right fist shot up instantly as he dropped into a squat, melting into the shadow of an abandoned postal van. His instincts whispered a warning.
Glenn followed close behind, holding his breath almost simultaneously, body pressed tight against the wall.
Hanks's sharp gaze swept toward the source of the sound.
A walker with its lower half pinned under the car clawed uselessly at the pavement, trying to drag itself free. The sound had been one of its rotted fingers snapping off. It was already down to breaking the second one.
Fate. Cover. False alarm.
Hanks scanned their surroundings, confirming no additional threats were approaching. Only then did he move forward in a half-crouch, driving his cross-head screwdriver directly into the walker's skull, ending its miserable existence.
Sometimes being dead beats being alive.
A dignified death with a proper grave counted as premium treatment in the apocalypse.
Hanks signaled the all-clear.
The two moved again, skillfully using every abandoned vehicle and broken doorway as cover. Hanks's stealth skill proved invaluable. His footsteps were cat-quiet, always anticipating the best places to step, avoiding broken glass and aluminum cans on the ground.
Glenn tried to imitate him but looked clumsy in comparison. Fortunately, with Hanks leading the way, he only needed to follow closely and stay quiet.
They encountered three more scattered walkers along the route.
One had its back to them, busy gnawing on a relatively fresh pet dog carcass.
Hanks approached silently from behind, tightening his grip on the screwdriver. The cross-head tip drove precisely through the foramen magnum at the base of the skull, instantly destroying the central nervous system. The walker collapsed without a sound.
Clang. Another walker suddenly lurched out from the broken window of a barbershop.
Hanks reacted like lightning. Before it could even howl, his right hand twisted and thrust backhand into its brain. Foul blood oozed from the wound.
The entire clearing process was clean and efficient, making no sound that could attract danger from farther away.
Glenn followed behind, heart pounding with equal parts terror and admiration. If he wasn't so worried about T-Dog, nothing could make him leave the safety of staying with this cop.
Hanks followed the principle that slow is smooth, and smooth is fast. Before long they reached the back alley where the parts store was located.
The area was littered with discarded tires and cardboard boxes. The smell was worse here. The back door was shut tight.
"This the place?" Hanks asked in a low voice, body angled toward the door, gaze alert as he scanned both ends of the alley.
"Yeah, this is it." Glenn nodded, gripping his baseball bat with both hands.
Hanks pushed the back door open gently. A wave of rubber and motor oil smell hit them. This looked like the auto parts store's warehouse.
Only a few threads of light penetrated the warehouse depths, struggling through cracks in the ventilation fan high above, outlining the silhouettes of boxes stacked to the ceiling and wooden shelving racks.
Hanks immediately gestured for silence. Glenn tensed instantly.
Hiss... wheeze... A faint dragging, scraping sound came from behind a row of tall shelves.
Hanks made a staying motion to Glenn, indicating he should remain in place, then crept forward along the shelving, silent as a ghost.
His perception heightened to its limit, catching every subtle disturbance in the air.
Rounding the end of the shelf, the scene came into view.
A walker.
It wore oil-stained blue coveralls. Must have been a clerk or mechanic here.
Right now it was bashing its rotted forehead against a metal toolbox over and over, making dull thudding sounds. Its movements were extremely sluggish, as if something had it half-caught.
Hanks's gaze dropped and he saw its left foot was tightly tangled in a fallen bundle of thick wire. The sharp wire had even embedded into the rotted flesh, preventing it from leaving this area.
Seeming to catch the scent of living prey, the walker stopped bashing. Its cloudy eyeballs swiveled toward Hanks's direction.
A more urgent wheezing emerged from its decayed throat as it began struggling to extend its claws.
Hanks didn't hesitate. He surged forward in one explosive step, body weight dropping low, the cross-head screwdriver in his right hand striking like a viper.
It drove with pinpoint accuracy through the walker's eye socket, straight into the brain.
Splurch.
A muffled wet sound.
The walker's movements froze instantly, then it slumped down, suspended by the wire, motionless.
His actions throughout were fast, precise, ruthless, without a single wasted motion. He didn't even bump the nearby shelves to make noise.
Glenn carefully poked his head around, saw the downed walker, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Got it?" he whispered.
"Yeah." Hanks pulled out the screwdriver, wiping the blood on the walker's clothes. "Find what we need. Motor oil, filters, spark plugs. Priorities."
The two immediately began searching through the warehouse.
Hanks used his mechanics knowledge to quickly identify the labels and part numbers on the shelves.
"Over here!" Glenn called in a hushed voice, pointing at a shelf. "Motor oil! This grade works for most gasoline engines."
Hanks walked over and picked up a four-liter bottle of synthetic oil, checking the label.
"That's it. Grab two more." For a long journey, backup oil was important.
He quickly found the filter section himself, selecting the matching new parts precisely. He took two of each.
"Spark plugs..." Hanks's gaze swept across row after row of small boxes. "Glenn, help check the model numbers. Should be... KR8 series or something similar."
Glenn squinted in the dim light to read carefully. "This way! Officer, a four-pack box."
"Good." Hanks took the box and stuffed it in his backpack. His pack was rapidly getting heavy.
"Tools..." Hanks looked toward a corner of the warehouse where several larger toolboxes sat.
He opened one. Inside was a more professional socket wrench set and pry bars. "We need these."
Though the RV had a basic toolbox, this set was more complete. "Glenn, load some in your pack too. Distribute the weight."
Glenn hurried over.
He stuffed some relatively lighter but bulky parts into his own backpack—backup wipers, a fuse box, several rolls of electrical tape.
"And this!" Hanks discovered a half-new 12V portable air compressor on a shelf, complete with cigarette lighter power cable and inflator nozzle.
He shoved the compressor into Glenn's pack too. "That should do it."
Hanks cradled a brand-new battery in his arms, testing the weight of his backpack.
Still within his tolerance. "Let's haul this back to the motel first. While it's still light, we'll make another run."
Glenn nodded. He made another circuit of the warehouse, grabbing some smaller components.