However, other store owners had no interest in leaving their staked territory. Any thieves entering these stores with stealing on their minds found proprietors hidden inside armed and waiting for whatever threat might come bursting through their doors. Crazed human or crazier mutie, they didn’t care. Try to infringe on what was theirs, and a person would be cut down in a hail of blasterfire.
At the multiplex, Doc, J.B. and Mildred had learned of the crisis when the movie had been stopped in midreel. Mildred hadn’t minded the interruption in the least. The humor of Dawn of the Dead was being totally lost on her, as well as on Doc, although J.B. seemed to be greatly enjoying himself.
The angry audience had taken offense and was ready to lynch the projectionist until Boston from the box office came out with news of what was happening outside.
Now the three friends were struggling to make their way through the teeming, panicked masses. The looting of the many mall business establishments had already begun, an unstoppable wave of shrieking lust for food, clothing and, best of all, material possessions.
“By the Three Kennedys!” Doc bellowed, raising his voice to be heard over of the cacophony of the mob. “These ignorant fools are raiding their own henhouses! Can they not see they are assisting in the destruction of their own sanctuary?”
“They don’t give a damn, Doc,” Mildred replied sadly. “They just don’t care. I haven’t seen the likes of this since the 1992 L.A. riots. Tomorrow there might be some remorse mixed in with twinges of guilt, but tonight is wilding time. The time of the unleashed collective id.”
“Don’t quote Freud to me, Doctor. Sometimes a cigar is a cigar, and sometimes a pack of wolves is a pack of wolves,” Doc retorted, using his sheathed swordstick to beat and jab a clear path through the milling mass of people.
“Watch it,” one unruly mass of muscle and leather spun and bellowed at Doc. “Poke me again, and I’ll jam that toothpick up your skinny ass.”
“Better men than you have tried, sir,” Doc bellowed back.
J.B raised his M-4000 scattergun. “Keep moving, friend, or I’ll clear a path the old-fashioned way,” the Armorer intoned. “Right though your gut.”
The talking mass of muscle looked at the twin barrels, snorted and continued on, allowing the trio to pass unmolested down the annex area to the entrance of the satellite mall-sec headquarters. As official members of the sec team, each knew the entry code. Doc took the honors, beeping in the series of numbers to command the door to unlock.
No sliding pneumatic doorways here. After the door popped open and swung inward on the hinges, it remained that way until pulled tightly closed and left sealed for the next visitor who needed access to the sec area.
What the friends found inside were two faces belonging to their fellow sec men, two men armed with M-16 autoblasters leveled right at them as they entered.
“Come on in,” Ike said, a turbanlike white bandage wound around his head.
“Always good to see friends,” Mike echoed.
“REPORT, AND KEEP IT short,” Rollins hissed into the hand comm unit. Around him his remaining backup man and Ryan and the others cast nervous eyes into the darkness around the roof of Freedom Mall.
“The roofs on fire over here. Going up fast,” the frightened voice replied through the unit. “And we’re pinned down by high-powered blasterfire. Can’t get through the access hatch. Where’d they get the blasters, sir?”
“Where doesn’t matter. Dealing with it is. Regroup your party. You’ll have to move over and above to get to where we are. We’ve secured this end. In fact we’ll try and meet you halfway if possible. Rollins out.” The big man terminated the communication and returned the radio to his belt.
“They need backup,” Ryan said.
“I know.”
“Is it possible to go from one end to the other by roof?” Krysty asked.
Rollins leaned down to tighten a lace on his combat boots. “That’s the idea. We’ll use the stickie fires to guide us.”
Ryan took off at a measured sprint, Jak and Krysty both at his heels.