A Plague Upon Your Family

I swear I did not write this review myself but I definitely approve of the message!!!

Zombie Fallout 2 "A Plague Upon Your Family" not only picks up where the first book left off, it pretty much picks up the whole zombie fiction genre then drops it on its collective ass. I don't know which has more twists, the storyline or Mike Talbot's psyche. I read this book in one day, not because I had nothing better to do, but because once I started reading it, I felt like I was betraying every character in the book if I didn't stick it out with them for the duration. Mark Tufo's raw and real writing style makes you feel less like a reader of a story and more a participant who is being brought up to speed as to what they missed while out looking for Pop Tarts. The strangest things creep into your mind during stressful times and Mark's exploration of these seemingly absurd things make me chuckle with "OK, maybe I'm not the only guy that thinks about sex, sex, food, sex and sex" running through my frontal lobe. A damn good story from the most natural storyteller I have ever read.

Rich Baker – Zombie Fan Extraordinaire

Zombie Fallout 2 A Plague Upon Your Family

Mark Tufo

Electronic Edition

Copyright 2010 Mark Tufo

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Cover Art by Sylwia Serwinska (she rocks!)

DEDICATION(S)

First off I would like to dedicate this book to my wife and not merely because that seems the most prudent thing to do. She has spent countless hours listening to me ramble on about this story line or that character and how maybe I should have this happen instead of that. Her constant belief that I would stay sane long enough to pen this novel was of great inspiration for me. Thank you, my love.

Secondly, my brother Ron who, devoted an endless amount of time reading and re-reading this book in an attempt to make it as sound as possible, both story wise and grammatically. THANK YOU! He has also told me numerous times of how proud of me he is, and coming from a big brother that means a lot.

Thirdly is the Tufo clan, for truly, how far can an errant nut fall from the tree. If not for their constant influence I might have actually written a love story.

Fourthly (but by no means lastly) are you my fans. I still cannot for the life of me get over the fact that I have fans. I so want to individually name each and every one of you but I am so fearful that I will leave someone out. But you know who you are, we have had dialog, we are friends on Facebook you have been so kind as to share your thoughts and opinions and countless ways in which I could improve this second book. THANK YOU, you are the driving force that keeps me typing. Henry’s tail wags in your general direction!

STOP!

This is Michael Talbot’s second journal. If you have not already read his first journal

Zombie Fallout

you may be able to pick it up at amazon.com!

It started with a flu shot, there is no end in sight. At least not one that ends well.

Eliza’s Origin – Prologue One

The earth was dank, dark, deep and sweet. Its embrace was as comforting as a small child’s blanket. Eliza was hungry, so, so hungry. But something was not quite right. She had fed, deeply, less than 24 hours ago. She should be sated for at least another 3 days. The need within her grew by the moment. The huntress arose out of her earthen bed.

Eliza grew up in a time when being a child was not a protected status. Children were more of a disposable asset to be used and abused as their masters saw fit. As a child of a dirt farmer she was the lowest of the low in early 1550’s Germany. As the winds of war tore across the ravaged countryside she was swept along like so much chaff. She was no more than a slave to one master after another. It was in this harsh reality that her steel temperament was honed. On her 19^th birthday she was finally able to remove the shackles that had her bound for the better part of 10 years. It was a dark stranger that had approached her and offered her the opportunity of freedom. She had not blanched in the least as he had laid out what the future would hold for her. Her black mind was completely clouded with the thoughts of reeking revenge on all of those that had wronged her. The list was long and she knew exactly where she was going to start.

The pain was sharp as the stranger dragged his teeth across her dirty neck. She could not help but smell the scent of the man as he bit deeply into her carotid artery. The odor was all too familiar. Death clung to him, like a newborn to its mother, waiting for his next offerings. The man was a harvester of misery and despair. What he saw in Eliza, she wasn’t sure. Maybe he realized that death to her would be a release, a freedom from the horrors of a war torn world. He didn’t want to do her any favors. He wanted to drag her along into this new and unchartered realm of purgatory. She had survived the worst of what the world could offer. To turn her was to unleash a new hell upon the land.

For forty years she had suffered under the severe tutelage of her new master. His cruelty, degenerative behavior and propensity for violence had far surpassed even the worst of her previous masters. So when she had finally severed his corrupted skull from his depraved body it was more of a new beginning than an end. She was truly FREE. She was powerful and she was pissed off. Although most of those who had wronged her were dead and buried, no one was safe. She slid along the countryside, always in the shadows, always in the peripheral. Death didn’t just cling to her. It hung around expectantly. Why go out and reap the dying when it had a diligent purveyor that handed it out indiscriminately. Tremors of fear washed across those she passed by. Feelings of dread were quickly replaced by euphoria when a potential victim felt the talons of a gruesome demise pass on to another.

For close to five hundred years she had gone on like this, occasionally turning a companion to share in her vengeance. But she remembered all too well the elation when she had liberated herself and would never let any of her fledgling offspring live more than a decade or two. The frozen etch of betrayal on their faces as she killed them never ceased to amaze or humor her.

Eliza, like many great predators, is nomadic. She moves to where the prey is. As whispers of demons and monsters passed throughout the villages and towns she preyed upon, food became scarce. Townsfolk were less and less likely to go out into the hidden evils of the night. She did not fear retribution. She feared the gnawing hunger that tore at her soul. The hunger to rip, rend, to destroy and to tear asunder all that the world had taken from her. So when she finally made it to the ‘New World’ in the early 18^th century, Eliza knew that she had found home. The wide open sparsely populated country helped foster her legend. The Native Americans mistakenly labeled her as the Wendigo, mountain men and some of the smaller towns were quick to dismiss the Indians accounts of a dark stranger that bled the soul dry. As more of their own began to disappear, it seemed more than just chance happenstance. Her legend grew, and to Eliza’s surprise so did her ego. Before that, she couldn’t even begin to remember the last time that she had anything akin to a human emotion.

Love was not an emotion she had ever harbored, even as a child. Love was extravagant, a waste of time. Survival, now there was something you could hang on to. Eliza, did not feel pity, or remorse, she did not possess the capacity for mercy. She had needs. She had hunger. Everything she did in her life was to try and sate those two insatiable attributes.

When she awoke that cold early day in December she had no reason to believe that this day would not be like the myriad of others she had endured over the millennia of her existence. She was hungry. It was feeding time. Time to thin the human herd. Eliza stayed away from the old. Their blood had become insipid. It had turned to an inedible watery stew of prescription drugs and cheap TV dinners. Healthy adults were a satisfactory meal, but unless she planned on draining them dry she shied away for reason of not wanting to leave any witnesses. She also didn’t like teens, as more time than not, their blood would be proliferated with drugs and alcohol. No, Eliza’s meal of choice, were infants, the new rich scent of them stirred something deep within her instinctually. Was it the lost legacy of motherhood that stimulated her senses or was it the closeness to creation that the baby’s blood brought to her? These were questions she asked herself on occasion, but dwelling was not one of Eliza’s personality behaviors. Action best fit her persona.

All legends tend to have a kernel of truth to them no matter how much Hollywood tries to distort them. As for the tale that a vampire cannot come into your house until it is invited, this has very strong ties to reality. It’s just that this is only half the story. Vampires can go into anyone’s home unless they are expressly forbidden to do so. In this day and age when magic is more of the playing card variety, what is the incentive to bless one’s abode against vampires (and witches by the way). It is an ancient custom that the druids knew how to perform and passed down to countless European cultures. Unfortunately though this knowledge never crossed the ocean. Once a vampire entrance ritual was performed, the vanquished vampire could then only enter when invited to do so. Why at that point would you invite the vampire inside is open to debate. Vampires do have the ability for mind control, but it is generally within a limited distance and eye contact must be maintained. As for vampires being invisible in mirrors, this also is a half-truth. While it is true they cannot be seen in a mirror it is not due to their soullessness. It has to do with their innate ability to bend light. This is not something they do consciously but it can be controlled. It is their predatory version of camouflage, like the lion’s color to match the savannah grass or the tiger’s stripes which break up its profile in the jungles of India. This refraction makes it very difficult for humans to ‘see’ a vampire, usually a vampire is only seen in the peripheral, as a black shadow passing by. If a vampire was spotted, it was because they wanted to be, quite probably to instill fear in their victims. It is said that the adrenaline that pours through a human during times of fear is like ambrosia that makes the blood all that much sweeter.

There were times when Eliza thrilled in the hunt. The taste of the max-stressed blood. The scent of terror as it trailed behind her intended victim. The panic, the horror, she craved these feelings from her stock. Those emotions out of her chattel proved her superiority, her place of dominion in this world of man. The derisiveness of the word ‘man’ was used as both the hatred for mankind as a whole and especially for the lesser of the two sexes. She would feed on whatever was available if need be, but she took a cruel sort of satisfaction in feeding a little deeper in the arteries of a man. Possibly tearing the walls of the blood vessel more savagely than necessary. Of another important note, vampires do not leave puncture wounds (unless they want to). Unless a vampire is trying to make a point (usually ‘Don’t fuck with me!’), they will scarcely leave a mark. Most times a vampire bite will be attributed to bug bites, these also have the added benefits of healing fast and diminishing to a red spot no bigger than the tip of a pencil eraser. This aids in the hunters ability to stay hidden, to make her prey less wary. An unsuspecting victim is an easy fruit to pick.

Eliza Present Day– Prologue Two

It was 6:30 in the morning when Eric Hoto traveled down the length of his extensive driveway, wrapped only in an ill-fitting jacket, to grab the morning paper.

“How many times have I told that kid to bring the paper up to the house?” Mr. Hoto said aloud. Mainly to keep his teeth from chattering together in the frigid arctic blasted air. As he stood, a sense of immense apprehension tugged at his essence, the paper and the paperboy nearly forgotten, he redoubled his efforts to close the jacket against the preternaturally chilly air that surrounded him. The sense of something dancing in and out of his vision made him nearly run. Vertigo threatened to drop him where he stood. As suddenly as it started, it stopped. The air around him warmed considerably, even though it was only ten degrees out. His thrashing heart beat a little easier against his near battered rib cage. His breath came a little more evenly. His shaking legs almost once again stilled.

“I feel like a rabbit looking down the snout of a fox.” Eric could not even fathom how absolutely close to reality those feelings were. But like most humans he was quick to pass on his baser instincts and use higher reasoning to completely gloss over the unthinkable. “I think I need a vacation, if I wasn’t 34 I would think that I had just suffered a stroke. That’s it! That boy either brings the paper up to the door or I’m switching to USAToday.”

Eric’s steps faltered once again half way up the steep grade to his front door. His storm door opened without the benefit of any apparent human locomotion. That unpleasant sensation of being stalked greasily crept across his scalp and was whipped away with a stiff breeze. He was left feeling oddly unclean, unhealthy.

“Wind must be stronger than I thought.” Eric said. Now not so willing to get out of the elements and into the ‘safety’ of his home. His eyebrows drew closer as he questioned his new unwillingness to enter the ‘lion’s den’. “Now why did I think that? And why do I keep talking to my damn self.” As if in answer.

“Because it’s what you do when you’re mad…or scared.”

“Something’s in your house!”

“You’re an engineer, Eric. Think rationally. The wind opened that door. That’s all.”

“Then why aren’t you hurrying up to get out of this cold weather?”

“I’m going.”

“What about your wife and baby?”

“It’s too late.” He moaned.

The sound of heartless laughter would be the last thing Eric heard. It would be two more days before his frozen body was found, but by then there were much bigger happenings going on.

Eliza’s Transformation – Prologue Three

Eliza hadn’t intended on killing the mother and her child, but the impudent animal had somehow sensed the invasion and gone to do what any good mother would, protect her offspring. Eliza was reveling in the freshness, the newness of the baby’s blood, its closeness to the source of life, when the woman had come in. Eliza stood there in all her startling cruelty, surprised when the woman instead of cowering and shrieking and running away stood her ground. Not only stood her ground, but against all of her instincts advanced on the predator. This was the same as the gazelle turning to the lion and charging. The lion might be momentarily stunned, more from the shock of something so unusual happening than of any perceived threat. But still the indignant bitch, who did she think she was? With one lightning fast movement, Eliza wrapped her ungodly strong hand around the slender woman’s throat. Instead of immediately crushing the worthless life out of her, Eliza held her at bay as she drank the baby’s essence into the netherworlds. The mother watched wide-eyed with dismay as her child was taken from her. By the time Eliza was finished with the baby, crushing the wind out of the mother was almost unnecessary. All signs of life had been extinguished with her baby. Eliza laughed as her fingers punched through the soft skin surrounding the woman’s throat. Unlike the previous encounter, there was no more fight in this creature. Blood shot out at all angles as if happy to be free of its veiny trappings. Giant swaths of the nectar bathed across Eliza’s face, she greedily licked up the offerings even as she watched the light of life dim and then fade away.

Unbeknownst to Eliza she may have actually done the Hoto family a favor, although none of the Hoto’s were around to appreciate that fact. Mrs. Eileen Hoto RN, had secretly stolen three of the very difficult to find H1N1 vaccinations. As a caregiver she would be given preferential treatment as would her baby, but her husband who constantly got sick due to the stresses he placed on himself would most likely never be in a position to get the sought after shot. So in her head, she was only stealing one shot and she rationalized it by telling herself that her husband, a well respected engineer and an involved member of the community, was more deserving than some crack baby down at the clinic where she worked. An hour before her husband had made his death march to get the newspaper, she had administered the shot to all three of them. Doing it early in the morning, in the hopes that their baby might not even realize what was happening. True to her cherub nature, Gilly Hoto never protested once as her mother gave her the vaccination.

The tainted inoculation had already begun to overcome what little resistance the beleaguered white blood cells could muster when Eliza had drunk her fill.

Prologue Four – Mike’s Journal

Hello my name is Michael Talbot and this is my journal. If you have found this then most likely I am dead. I swore that after I left my first journal behind at my homestead in Little Turtle I would not let the same fate befall this one. I have no way of knowing what the world has turned out like. While I was alive we were at war, a war where 85% of the combatants didn’t know that fact. They simply felt a need to eat and we simply felt a need not to be eaten. The story of myself, my family and my friends are in these pages. It is as true an account of what happened to the Talbots as can be written from one that has lived through it. Is some of it biased? Probably. Is some of it subjective? Definitely. In a perfect world I’m hoping that I left this book behind in some haste to evacuate an area. But more than likely I have fallen. I have been so tired, now I finally can rest.

CHAPTER 1

Zombie bodies exploded under the crushing weight of the tractor trailer. Splintered bones rained down all around us. The occasional eyeball struck the side of the trailer with a hollow thudding. The noise was sickening from atop. I could only imagine what it sounded like inside. Noxious gases issued forth from burst beings, some unlucky few that got stuck in the plow works were slowly eroded away like the world’s largest eraser on the biggest mistake in mankind, which actually wasn’t so far from the truth. The truck was an island that floated along a sea of death and decay. I had never felt more afraid for my family since this whole thing started. The constant jostling as we hit and subsequently ran over zombies made holding on for dear life, take on a whole new meaning. For some friggen reason I had not had the foresight to rope my English Bulldog Henry to the truck. I now had one arm wrapped around Henry like he was an expensive Saks Fifth Avenue package and I was in Central Park at night. My other hand was gripped onto a handle secured to the top of the truck with two entirely way too small screws. Again if you read my first journal you’ll know I would no sooner let go of Henry than I would one of my natural born. For those of you that say he’s only a dog you must be cat lovers and just don’t know any better. I won’t hold it against you. Luckily Henry wasn’t squirming or this would be a short novella punctuated by my untimely demise. The screws were puckering up the top of the truck. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that they were going to give under the strain I was placing on them. My last few moments on earth were going to be the loud audible pop as the screws tore loose and then my ungraceful swan dive off the top of this trailer and into the waiting arms of an endearing crowd of brain and flesh eaters. Thankfully Alex was a much better craftsman than I gave him credit for, because I’m still writing. Alex is a man that I’ve only known a few weeks but I consider him a true friend. Especially since he saved my family’s collective ass today, Christmas day. Alex was one of the newest residents of Little Turtle after the deaders came, he set up or engineered most of the defenses we used in our now shattered community. If not for his stalwarts I would have never made it out of my cell and to my house in time. With that thought I had a pang of remorse as I remembered Jed. At one time we had been bitter enemies in a much simpler world. When what time you put your trash out actually carried meaning. I hadn’t seen Jed since the day the walls came down, literally. He had let me out of my cell, as I was awaiting my trial for murder. Sure I had killed a piece of shit and the world was a better place for it but it was still murder. Why I had killed him is not something I am going to revisit, especially on this the most sacred of days, if you really want to know you’re going to have to go back to Little Turtle on the Denver/Aurora line in Colorado, I left my journal in my old office before we had made our narrow escape to the attic. I’m sure the zombies will be gone in a few days, there’ll be nothing left there to eat.

The jostling of the truck slowly decreased as we moved further and further away from the kill zone. I could almost hear the collective sighs of relief but more likely it was the great intake of air as everyone felt it was finally safe to breathe deeply, not from fear but from smell. The dead have not a clue about personal hygiene. That and the fact that comparatively, lepers had a mild case of acne. Exactly one point one miles from my previous home the truck pulled to a halt, I let go of Henry with my left arm. I was going to need that hand to pry my fingers from the handle. It seems I had frozen it in place. Again I didn’t think to grab cold weather gear as zombies were pouring in to my bedroom. Yeah you sit there in your bomb shelter and judge me all you want for not being properly prepared but I’ve got a leg up on 80% of the rest of the world. I’m still alive or at least not one of the living dead.

There were no zombies in sight, but that could change at any moment as I helped my wife, Tracy, down from the top, she seemed a little perturbed that I had got Henry safely to turf before her. You know how it is, man’s best friend and all, that and I think he had to take a piss, and I’d known him long enough to know he’d go anywhere and on anyone once the need was there. Brendon, my daughter’s fiancée helped his fiancée down. They were still in that new love phase when chivalry ruled. That would die as soon as he ripped his first big fart in front of her, but for now it was all still tea and roses. My best friend Paul had alit from the far side of the truck, I could hear his wife Erin as she was trying to rub the circulation back into her arms. My son Travis had scrambled off the truck and was patrolling our perimeter, bless his heart. My other son, Justin who was still suffering after effects from his zombie scratch was helped down from Tommy into Paul’s waiting arms. Justin was both relieved and embarrassed, relieved that he had made it off the truck in one piece and embarrassed that he needed the help in the first place.

The biggest enigma, both literally and figuratively, Tommy, was the last person off the roof. I think I had saved the kids ass back at Wal-Mart so many days ago, but the more I think about it I think he was meant to save us. In his previous life he had been a Wal-Mart greeter, all stickers and smiles. What his so called ‘normal mind’ lacked was more than made up for in the infectious grin and overwhelming heart that the kid possessed. But that was not everything about Tommy, not by a long shot. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the kid for those reasons, but there was something way above my pay grade going on with this kid. For starters he has a spirit guide that by all accounts sounds and looks like Ryan Seacrest. There’s that and then there’s things he knows that he just can’t know about and then there’s this fucken truck. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled Alex showed up when he did, but it wasn’t by coincidence. Alex’ wife Marta is related to Tommy on his mother’s side, somehow he was able to hone in on that connection and summon them for help. I almost always had to shake my head at the dichotomy that was Tommy. I laughed as I saw the savior of the human race jump down from the small ladder. He looked at me smiling with a huge glob of peanut butter on the tip of his nose. This did not go unnoticed by Travis as he rounded the corner of the truck on his circuitous patrol route.

Travis stopped his motion, now staring straight at the offending heap of gooey goodness on Tommy’s nose.

“What?” Tommy asked wondering why he was now the center of Travis’ attention. Travis kept staring, finally Tommy’s eyes tracked down to the tip of his nose. All he could do was sheepishly smile and shrug his shoulders.

“What was it?” Travis asked, a small measure of wonderment and envy in his tone.

Tommy looked like he was having an inner debate with himself, whether to come clean or just deny the whole thing, of course good won out. “Snickers.” He said hesitantly.

“We have peanut butter Snicker’s? They don’t even make those anymore!” Travis said pleadingly, looking to me.

I just shrugged my shoulders in reply to Travis’ imploring look. At this point I wouldn’t doubt that Tommy went to an alternate universe where they still make peanut butter Snickers and just snagged himself a few. Ok well actually I don’t believe that, because he would have paid for them.

“Weef did.” Tommy said as he wiped the peanut butter off his nose and popped the near dime-sized morsel lovingly into his mouth.

Any doubt to the authenticity of Tommy’s food choice was immediately set asunder as I pulled a slightly worse for the wear peanut butter Snicker’s wrapper out of Henry’s mouth. I was heavily tempted to see where that candy bar had been made but if I turned the wrapper over and it said something to the effect of proudly produced in the United States of Columbia I would be wasting more precious minutes than I had trying to puzzle this piece out. The world had gone to hell and there was no hand basket, but I still couldn’t find it in myself to litter. I put the Henry slime covered wrapper in my pocket, the germ-a-phobe in me shuddered as I pulled my goo covered hand out of my jeans pocket.

“Fucken gross.” I said to no one in particular. My diatribe was cut short as I looked over lovingly at my Jeep. A week or so previously Brendon and I had stowed our cars. His was a huge Ford explorer and mine was a Jeep Wrangler, they were loaded with camping gear, ammo, food and water, so much so that fitting us all in, was going to look more like a Ringling Brothers event.

Alex was waiting until both SUVs’ started before he was going to place the big rig in gear. Some of the passengers in the back of the truck were loudly protesting that they had stopped so close to the now defunct Little Turtle housing community. I wouldn’t begrudge them that. I was still amazed that they had let the truck turn around at all.

Tommy disengaged himself from his aunt’s arms. “Are you sure Tommy?”

I hadn’t heard the entire conversation but I got the general gist. Marta wanted her nephew to go in the truck with them. Marta had finally pulled herself out of the shell-shocked near catatonic state the zombies had placed her in. She did not want to jeopardize the progress she had clawed for and losing any more family would be unacceptable. I completely understood her distress, when Tommy answered her.

“No auntie, I can’t.” Tommy said sadly.

“But why Tommy, you’re all that’s left of my family.” She pleaded.

I knew this struck a truly tender cord with the kid and I was more than half tempted to tell her to leave him alone, when I realized how in the wrong I would be. They were family after all. I was the outsider in all this. Hell I’d only known the kid for three weeks or so.

CHAPTER 2

I would later ask Alex how he hadn’t recognized Tommy on his work crew and he answered me “Never met him, Mike.” It seemed that he was going to be content with that answer. As God is my witness, I wanted to pry so badly but discretion got the better of me, I was going to leave it at that.

Alex it seems had delayed his answer for fear of how I might react.

“I did some time when I was 18.” Alex said with his face pointed down, embarrassment strangled his words. My mouth may have dropped a little but he couldn’t see it from his vantage point. “Marta’s family hated me and disowned her because she married a convict.” He looked up at me a nervous smile played across his lips. He continued. “Her parents are or were.” he corrected himself, “Strict Catholics, which actually makes no sense, because of all religions don’t they preach forgiveness?” He looked like he was getting ready to blow a gasket. This was apparently a sore spot for him.

“Uh, Alex.” I said as I put my hand on his shoulder. I wanted to tell him we had bigger fish to fry at this point but he quickly realized that small little tidbit of a fact.

“I know Mike, I know. Her parents and the majority of her family are probably gone but they caused my Marta so much pain. Her parents never EVER came to see our kids. For Christ sakes Mike 12 years ago I did time for boosting some cars.”

Whew, I was so happy he didn’t say rape or child molestation or something heinous like that, because no matter how much I liked him now I would never be able to look at him the same way. There are some transgressions in life you just don’t get over and those were a few of them.

“It didn’t matter to them that while I was in jail I got my degree and then when I got out I got my masters, none of that mattered to them. I was always going to be that convict that corrupted their daughter. Hell I hadn’t even met her when I got in trouble, to hear them talk you would have thought I had her out there watching for cops while I was popping ignitions. I had just started at an engineering firm after getting my degree. She was the HR Generalist. We dated we fell in love, at my first dinner meeting her folks I told them about my past just to make sure everything was out in the open, that there would be no surprises down the road. Her father flipped out. He kicked me out of the house and forbade his daughter to ever see me again. So the first thing we did was elope, at that point her parents disowned her. She was upset but she didn’t truly think it would be a lifelong ban. Surely after our baby was born they would come around. The staunchy bastards never even called, a little piece of my Marta died the day she realized her parents were fully done with her. After Vera, our second, was born she slipped even deeper into her, self imposed, despot of despair. When the zombies came clawing at our house she went over the edge. I at first thought she had become one of them.” I shuddered. “She was slowly pulling herself back out of her depression but when Tommy did whatever he did, sending a signal, lighting a beacon? Whatever, that was the first time in the 7 years I’ve known her that she has been completely free and clear of the shackles that her parents put on her.”

“Yeah, I know, Tommy can have that affect on people.” I said without really thinking.

Alex just looked at me like I was loco. I didn’t clarify my outward thought, thus leaving him thoroughly confused.

“So when she told me to turn the truck around I didn’t hesitate. I would have driven to hell on two flats to see that spark of life back in her eyes.”

“Shit, Alex you kind of did.” I said, he nodded in agreement.

“I mean so back to your original question she had told me all about her family, her sisters and brothers and nieces and nephews but she didn’t have any pictures of them. The day we eloped, her parents threw everything in her room out. She was forbidden from going and getting any of her belongings and her siblings were told if they so much as mentioned her name the same fate would befall them. So for all intents and purposes she was an orphan. You know now that I think about it, I caught Tommy looking at me a lot while we were working, do you think he knew who I was? Maybe he had a picture or something.”

“Oh I’m sure he knew who you were, and no, nothing quite as mundane as a picture.” I answered. Again Alex looked at me hoping that I would elaborate. “Ever been on Idol?” I asked casually.

“Mike what did I tell you about drinking tequila.”

“Can’t stand the stuff, wish I had some. Good night Alex.”

“One more thing Mike?” Alex asked, I turned to face him. “How did he (meaning Tommy) tell Marta? I mean to come back.”

“Aw shit Alex, you might as well ask me how the universe was created, or which came first the chicken or the egg, or even better what is a woman thinking at any given moment. Those I could give you some sort of informed bullshit answer. I don’t have a foggy clue in Hades what is going on with Tommy. All I know is that whatever it is, it’s powerful and it has a purpose, beyond that…” I shrugged my shoulders.

CHAPTER 3

Tommy’s next words jolted me to a stop as effective as a two-inch thick chain around my neck. “I have to stay with Mr. T, Auntie, he’s going to need me to save him. Eliza wants him dead and I have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

I had an inkling who Eliza might be. I hoped I was wrong. The mere vocalization of her name sent worms of fear crawling across my spine, which is not a sensation I would begrudge on anyone. I know it is naïve of me but I was having faith that by leaving Little Turtle behind we were leaving the worst of this new world behind too, apparently that wasn’t to be the case. Sweat had broken out across my brow and I wasn’t attempting anything more difficult than standing erect. A cold breeze turned the moisture on my forehead into tiny daggers that laced across my head like an angry bee’s nest to a honey bear’s sensitive nose.

Marta tsk-tsked Tommy. I knew better. “Tommy how could you possibly know who needs help? And who’s Eliza? Tommy, I’m your aunt, I used to change your diapers. Your mom would want me to watch out for you.”

That was kind of funny her saying that, there’s this little waif of a woman saying she’s going to look out for this 250 pound hulking bear of a kid. But Tommy brought that out in you. It was almost instinctual that you wanted to go out of your way to make sure he was happy and safe. Was it because he was so called ‘slow’? I doubt it. The kid definitely had some vulnerability but on the flip side of that…his powers might be limitless.

Tommy blushed as his aunt spoke about his diapers almost as if he remembered the occasion. “That was a long time ago Auntie. And I would have changed them myself if I could have reached.”

I snorted a laugh, I did my best to stifle it. Marta glared over at me. Damn it, like I needed another woman mad at me. I quickly replaced my mirth with a fortress of solitude face. What is that exactly? Tough to say. Kind of stoic, definitely not a shit-eating grin type of thing. It doesn’t work often but it’s better than my normal cheesy smile that tends to get me in trouble.

“It’s alright Auntie, we’ll be in the Jeep right behind you.” Tommy continued.

I hadn’t really thought about it, but I guess, yeah we would be, there was no need or sense to split up, at least not yet. I had grand illusions of making it back east at some point to try and ascertain the status of my family and as long as Alex was headed in that general direction than I was all for safety in numbers.

This seemed to placate Marta somewhat, her glare beamed back over in my general direction, as if this was all my fault, I did what any hapless man would do under the circumstances, I shrugged my shoulders and walked away. Marta may have continued her relentless diatribe on Tommy but just at that opportune moment, her baby squealed in consternation. Tommy looked relieved and pleased with himself. I think he gave baby Vera a psychic tickle, the better to help him out of his predicament. Marta said the standard “Fine” and stomped away. Well stomping may be a little over the top, more like padded away heavily. Tommy caught me looking at him and quickly let the look of satisfaction run away from his features.

“Your secrets safe with me kid, come on.” I told him as he caught up I put my arm around his shoulder.

After a brief conversation with Paul, we (and by ‘we’ I mean ‘he’) determined it would be best if he and his wife rode in the truck for a while. Yeah, big sacrifice. Heated trailer loaded with sleeping bags and plenty of leg room. I was a little pissed to say the least, maybe more envious too. I wanted to stretch out and get some sleep. After the frigid conditions of the past few nights it was going to take a lot of warmth and rest to take out the chill that had settled deep in my bones. Little did I know at the time that the chill I felt had less to do with the weather and more to do with my condition. Well time, as they say, is the great narrator, all things are laid out before her whether you want them to be or not.

CHAPTER 4

With no general plan in my mind except to put as much distance between us and our previous home we headed North on Interstate 25 and then East on Interstate 70. We’d be relatively safe for a while, east of Denver would bring us into the plains of Colorado and then into Kansas, during the heyday of humanity this was not a densely populated area so the corollary (see I did learn something in the 6^th grade that I could use later in life) was that the likelihood of coming across a great brood of zombies would be slight. That was the thought anyway. Getting out of Denver proper was a nightmare. It looked like any natural (or unnatural) disaster movie you’ve ever seen in your life. Cars and trucks, motorcycles and scooters, hell I’d seen a rickshaw a few miles back, were everywhere. It looked more like the world’s largest used car lot than a highway of any sort, that is of course if you took away the bullet casings that littered the ground like so many metallic insects or the blood splattered remains of the zombies that were merely trying to garner a meal or even the thousands of humans that had become, for lack of a better word, Spam, (do you get the reference? Meat in a can?). I know its gross, but that was the only way I could think of it (of them) without blowing chunks. It looked like an all you can eat buffet had opened up right next to a fat camp with a damaged fence. The battle had been savage and quick, with non-infected people clearly on the losing side. This I garnered by the sheer number of cars stuck on the roadway, if people had won they would not have hung around.

At some points I would drive ahead of the truck, scouting out potential routes, other times Alex would need to lead just to push some slag out of the way. For eight excruciating hours we navigated through the worst rush hour traffic known to man, by the time we reached a small town called Bennett, about 30 miles east of Denver I was wiped. Tracy had volunteered on more than one occasion that she would take over driving but I couldn’t get over the sneaking suspicion that she had an ulterior motive. I could see her sideswiping a sign just for a small measure of payback for what I had done to her car. Most likely it was my deep-seated paranoia rearing its ugly head, but then again maybe not. I was paranoid, how the hell would I know. Not once on our 8 hour trek did we spot a living person. Zombies though, that was a different story. There weren’t many of them that we saw, but each and every one turned and walked towards us drawn like a fine metal filament to a powerful magnet.

We stopped at Bennett to stretch our legs, top off our tanks and possibly try to choke down a power bar or two. My brain was completely against the idea of eating anything after witnessing the destruction a few miles back but my stomach wasn’t listening. Travis, Tommy and Henry for that matter had been sleeping for most of the morning. Of that small favor I was thankful. Although what I was shielding them from I don’t know. They had already seen everything we had passed in spades and then some. Bennett looked surprisingly untouched, as if the tidal wave of shit that had hit the rest of the state had completely missed this small oasis. At least that was how it looked. How it felt was a completely different story.

Alex hopped off the big rig, rubbing his arms for warmth, but more likely to ward off the evil that emanated from every corner of this burg. “This place doesn’t feel right Mike.”

I wanted to agree with him and tell him this felt like we had just stepped into the door of the biggest surprise party ever given and we were still waiting for the shout of ‘SURPRISE’ to come. An expectation hung in the air, it was palpable, it was overbearing, it was just plain creepy. But even after all those emotions were churning in my head there was only one thing I wanted to know. “When the hell did you learn how to drive that truck?”

Alex stared long and hard at me, like I’d lost my marbles and now he was wondering why he had decided to hitch his cart to mine.

“Listen I know this place feels like a tomb Alex, my nerves are taut and I can feel my spinal fluid quivering. I want to get some gas and get the hell out of here. I was just curious.”

“You’re nuts Mike, I’ll give you that. I feel like I can barely breathe because of the weight of this place and you want to talk banalities.”

“Hey I take offense to that, at least, I didn’t bring up the weather.”

“You would have given enough time.”

“Yeah you’re probably right.” I sighed. “That still doesn’t change the fact that when I met you, you didn’t know how to drive the damn thing.”

“Fine, you crazy gringo, I’ll stand in this damn ghost town just a little longer so that I can explain to you that I had Carl give me a few lessons while I was securing the plow. I had him do that because I was afraid the wall was going to give exactly like it happened, all of a sudden and without warning, and I was afraid that Carl would be nowhere in sight and we would be stuck on this giant paperweight with nobody to drive it.”

“Now was that so hard?” I asked as I ripped the wrapper off of a granola bar. “Alex.” I started and from my tone he knew I was going in a serious direction. “Where are you planning on going?” Alex wasn’t dumb. He caught my meaning of using ‘you’ and not ‘we’. He looked deep in thought, there was a conflict roiling within him. Sure we were fast friends, but Alex had stronger bonds elsewhere, as did I.

“I’m thinking Florida.” He answered almost apologetically, as if I held any sway over his decision-making. “I might still have family there. Any chance you’d be going that way?”

I shook my head slowly. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t go. Florida, the sunburn state.”

He smiled at my crappy joke. I loved him even more. “I have to go home (meaning the Northeast), if..” I swallowed hard, “ If my family is still alive, I want to be with them.”

Alex nodded solemnly. “I agree.” He said softly.

“And on top of that Tracy wants to go and get her mom.”

“Her mom? Where is she at?”

“Yeah her 79 year old, widowed mother that lives on an old farm by herself in North Dakota.”

“Mike, come on man, why are you going to go on a fool’s errand. We both know what you’re likely to find.”

“You tell her that Alex and I’ll give you fifty bucks and a case of beef jerky.”

“Write to me and let me know how the weather is.” Alex said as he walked away to see if he could find a switch to power on the pumps, or a hose of some sort to get gas out of the ground tanks.

“Yeah real nice.” I shouted to him. I was halfway through my power bar when the back of the tractor-trailer hatch opened. I almost choked on the piece in my mouth when I saw who was getting out of the back.

“How long are we staying in this little shithole?” The voice bellowed, from the second largest man I had ever seen in my life, next to that crazy bastard Durgan, who was now so much Zombie Chow. SOMETHING O’Henry, aka Big Tiny, aka BT. He was looking right at me while he asked the question. “You gonna answer or what?” We had picked up the guy while we were making a food run to the local Safeway store. He’d been trying to get into a pissing contest with me ever since. I did the only prudent thing I could think of, I turned and walked away.

“I’m talking to you Talbot!” He yelled.

“Yeah I figured as much.” I said over my shoulder. “I just don’t feel like listening.” I’m not thinking that was the right answer, I heard or more like felt the ground shake as he hopped off the back of the trailer. The train was coming I had about ten seconds until contact. Luckily I was saved, sort of.

“Dad!” Travis yelled, and this wasn’t a warning about BT coming up behind me. Travis was on my right side behind the gas pumps, from his vantage point he couldn’t see the little melodrama that was playing out. I turned to go and see what was putting that distress into my son’s voice. BT sheared off too. Whether to intercept my current course or to sate his own curiosity I wasn’t sure. I trotted up to Trav’s side a couple of seconds before BT. The big man gave me the once over before following Travis’ pointing finger. About two hundred yards away was a man and he was coming at full sprint.

“You think it’s a survivor?” BT asked. I could tell there was a little more than a tremor of fear in his voice. Well it was good to know the guy was afraid of something. A hundred and fifty yards and his pace hadn’t slowed down, what was more worrisome was that he didn’t wave or try to gain our attention in any sort of fashion. The skeevies I was feeling were felt by all of us, something wasn’t quite right but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Man his clothes look like shit.” BT said in hushed tones. I nodded in agreement. But that wasn’t enough to convince me something was amiss. Washing clothes was on the low end of the survival spectrum. “That ain’t no zombie, is it Talbot? It’s running way too fast.”

A hundred yards away and it was clearly fixated on us, still no friendly wave, no gesture of peace, nothing but determination were etched in his/its ashen features. My mind was made up. “BT tell everyone to get back to the truck and ready to leave.” He didn’t move. I stomped on his foot, I thought he was going to punch me on the top of the head. “BT!” I yelled “Get everyone back in the truck.” He was still debating about the punch. “NOW FUCKER!” He jumped. I was most likely going to pay for this later but it still felt like the right thing to do. BT kept looking over his shoulder as he ran back towards the tractor-trailer. Most of the survivors were outside the truck lounging, smoking cigarettes, getting some fresh air, eating, and even some of the baser necessities, pissing and crapping. But when a giant black man is screaming at the top of his lungs in a post apocalyptic world, that you need to get your skinny asses back on the truck to save yourselves, you tend to listen.

Twenty-five feet away, I waited until I was one hundred percent sure and still I wasn’t. It didn’t seem like a zombie, but if he was human once, he no longer suffered from that affliction, not anymore.

“Now Dad?” Travis asked with a note of trepidation in his voice.

“Aw shit!” I just wasn’t convinced. I couldn’t even begin to wrap my mind around this new development. The guy was within spitting distance, sure Olympic class spitting distance, but you get the point, when clearly Travis had made up his mind. The Mossberg bellowed a triumphant roar. The 12 gauge slug caught the man square in the chest. The effect was devastating. I watched in fascinated slow motion as his chest cavity became fully exposed and blood rained rampant as his full speed sprint was halted in mid stride. The 1500 feet per second slug struck with enough force to blow the man back four feet. I hoped for both mine and Travis’ sanity that when we checked the body that there would be some tell tale sign of a humanity lost. The smoke from the shotgun barrel had barely begun to dissipate when we obtained our definitive answer. Mr. Speedy Sneakers (the name seemed appropriate at the time) started to arise without so much as a grunt or a groan or ‘Dude why the hell did you shoot me?’ At this point you really didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that the rules to our deadly game had just been altered drastically, and we hadn’t received the revisions. Travis looked over at me, apprehension contorted his features. I understood his fear, this guy just looked too normal, sure his clothes looked like shit, but we don’t go shooting people because they have crappy clothes. If that was the case, we would have eradicated bums and high fashion models years ago. His countenance was pale but more in a sickly way than a deathly one. Hell, Justin, still suffering the effects of his zombie scratch, had worse color than this guy. Still lost in fluctuation, my enigma had completely sat up. Ignoring the silver dollar sized blast in his chest, he was trying in vain to get his feet up under him. The brain is a powerful tool but apparently it has its limitations, this poor bastard’s spinal column was shattered into at least a half dozen pieces, no amount of function rerouting was going to get him back up. Travis and I watched in horror as our mystery guest rolled himself over and began to military crawl his way over towards us. A few more seconds of our indecision and Speedy Sneakers was going to make it to his final destination, our flesh.

Travis flinched as I put my hand out to his shoulder. “Go back to the Jeep.” I said to him. He didn’t need any persuading. Travis had no sooner turned the corner than I put a well-aimed shot through Speedy’s forehead. He slumped over to the left in an assemblage of monster parts that uncannily resembled a human. I walked slowly back to the big rig doing my best to reincorporate the bile that was threatening to make its grand exit. I fully expected to see nobody, by that I meant nobody outside the truck. Alex was by the back door of the truck looking around.

“What are you doing man?” I asked, maybe with a little more harshness than I meant but I hadn’t fully recovered from my zombie human hybrid encounter yet.

“We’re light four.” He answered gruffly, he hadn’t even witnessed the event and he was in more of a mood to leave than I was. I looked longingly over towards the Jeep and the Explorer, Travis was getting a much needed hug from his mother, Paul and Brendon were securing some stuff on top of the Ford, and Erin was getting some water for Justin who was shakily smoking a cigarette. Tommy was not visible, at least not at first and then I saw him in the back seat of the Jeep and even from this distance I could tell he was in a rush to get going. He didn’t say anything. Words would have been superfluous.

“Shit.” I answered as I turned back towards Alex. “Who’s missing?”

CHAPTER 5

As April and Cash walked into the abandoned house, the smell of dust and Old Spice filled the air. The only sound to break the silence was the squeaking of the not so oiled hinges and the hitched breathing of Cash. Cash was asthmatic and high stress environments like the one he found himself in now tended to exacerbate the problem.

“Come on April we should get back to the truck.” Cash semi-begged, trying his best not to sound desperate.

“What’s your rush Cash, can’t wait to huddle up with BT?” She retorted.

Cash’s cheeks burned from the jibe. He couldn’t understand why he had left the relative safety of the truck. It was when he looked back towards the curvaceous brunette two years his senior that he divined the answer. “Traitorous penis.” He muttered.

“What did you say?” April asked as she entered the defunct kitchen. At twenty-one April knew enough to know that she had an affect on men and could generally get what she wanted just by batting an eyebrow or using her patented pouty lips. Normally she went for guys that could help her actualize her higher standard of living. Cash however, was dirt poor, acne riddled and wheezed entirely too much, in short he was someone she wouldn’t date if he was the last man on earth. But since that was rapidly becoming the case she thought she might have to rethink her strategy, she had needs too.

When the door had finally rolled up on that stuffy trailer, she had made up some lame excuse to go and stretch her legs. With two words ‘Come on’ she had got Cash to follow her. She loved the power her fleeting looks granted her. Loud crashes emanated from the kitchen as April ransacked the place looking for something good to eat. Cabinets clattered, bottles smashed, each loud jolt made Cash’s heart skip a beat.

“May...Maybe you shouldn’t be so loud April.” Cash said cautiously. Whether from fear of being heard by zombies or pissing April off, he wasn’t sure.

“God! All these people have is Cheerios and popcorn!” April shouted. “You should find me something I CAN eat!”

Cash looked longingly back at the front door before he turned and went into the kitchen. In a week, a family of rabid raccoons couldn’t have done the damage April had accomplished in five minutes. Cash numbly stared at the destruction of the small kitchen, April catching his gaping stare commented.

“What? It’s not like the people that used to live here are going to give a shit.” She laughed, as she smashed a pickle jar against the far side wall. The sour smell of vinegar permeated everything. April’s laugh became a little shriller. Cash was petrified. Cash was mesmerized.

April focused her eyes on Cash. “Do me!” She said hungrily. Cash’s jaw dropped, April laughed at his reaction. “What are you a virgin or something?” Cash’s face reddened. “Oh my God?! You are.” She laughed again. Cash’s face burned from the chafing she was giving him, he turned dejectedly back towards the front door. “Well let’s take care of that lover.” She continued greedily.

Cash was not a Mensa member, but you didn’t need a high IQ to figure this puzzle out. Cash fumbled with belt, his fingers suddenly losing all dexterity. Just as got the clasp undone, he heard the shotgun roar in the distance. “We...we...we should go.” He said hastily.

“Oui, oui, oui, what are you French now?” Her eyes never left his.

“But the gun.”

“Probably just target practice.” She answered.

Cash knew better, target practice meant using something that was in diminishing supply, while also alerting anything nearby to your presence. He strained his ears to listen for any signs of trouble.

“I’m getting bored.” April said as she sat on the table.

As the blood rushed out of Cash’s brain so did his higher reasoning. He unzipped his pants and in one deft movement pushed his pants and underwear down. It was at this point that he realized his mistake, at 10 feet away from his conquest, he would have to duck walk over to her, obviously not the sexiest move ever. As he began his penguin pace, a lone shot from the AR-15 rang out. It was too late. Cash’s lower brain was committed and its quarry was within striking distance. Cash shuffled over to the table, and like a heat seeking missile to a raging volcano he struck home.

“Oh my God!!!” April screamed. Cash was inwardly pleased with himself that he was eliciting this reaction from such a beautiful woman. “Get off me!” She screamed as she pounded on his chest. Cash was dejected, confused and hurt. “Get the fuck off me!” As she placed her foot on his chest and pushed him back. Cash fell into something or more correctly someone. He turned simultaneously trying to say his apologies while pulling up his pants.

“Sir I’m so so sorry.” He stammered. “We...We thought this place was abandoned, we didn’t mean any harm we were just looking for some food. Although even a blind man would have known that wasn’t the case. “We’ll clean up the place…right April?” Cash looked back towards April. She had got off the table and was slowly working her way towards the back door. “April...wait.” But April was having none of it. Her countenance was clearly on this new man’s face and she was terror stricken. Cash had finally gotten his pants up into a serviceable fashion when he was able to look up at the homeowner’s face. The stench was hideous, even the intense smell of the vinegar could not hide it. It wasn’t quite the unmistakable stench of death but it was damn close and making a case of its own for top dog. The face of the ruddy farmer, for the most part looked hale, there was a slight pallor but nothing a day or two in the sun wouldn’t cure. The sun however would not be able to fix those two flat black orbs, a shark showed more humanity in its eyes. April reached behind her feeling for the door handle, all the while never taking her eyes off the man.

Everything else happened in an instance, cold air blew in from the back door, April lunged out, almost at a full tilt by the time she got down the three back stairs. Her screaming seemed to enrage the occupant of the house. The man reached for and grabbed a hold of Cash’s jacket. Cash didn’t think twice as he shucked his coat off and headed for the same egress April had left a moment before. Cash was down the stairs and barely away from the house, when the first asthmatic asphyxiation struck. ‘Calm down, Cash’ He thought to himself. ‘Just breathe, you got away, he can’t catch you. Breathe.’ Cash was halfway through his calming technique when the zombie appeared at the top of the small porch. ‘Okay that was a little fast.’ Cash thought, but I’ve been here for a few seconds trying to catch my breath. The zombie jumped down the three stairs and stopped, looking intently at Cash, he was now no more than 25 feet away.

“Oh no!” Cash wheezed.

CHAPTER 6

It was impossible to not hear the girl’s screams. Her shrieks pierced the air like a cord of harpies’. “I take it she’s one of the missing people?” I asked Alex.

He nodded, stress imprinted on his face. “Yeah April was with that pimply kid, what the hell was his name? Moola? Dinero? Cash? Yeah that’s it.”

“Not sure that matters right now buddy.” I said as I was peering through my sights looking for something causing that much distress in the girl. April was no more than 25 yards away and still I saw no sign of trouble, was it just some contrived drama for our viewing pleasure? Possible, but I hadn’t seen acting that good since my daughter was caught sneaking out of the house and she tried to blame it on sleep walking. If I hadn’t been watching her the whole time and caught pieces of her conversation over her cell phone I almost would have given her the benefit of the doubt. Well…not really, I might be a guy but I’m not that stupid. Anyway, suffice to say, it was an Oscar worthy performance none-the-less. The girl never stopped shrieking as she hurdled up into the back of the truck.

“One down, three to go, Alex.” I said. “I guess I’m going to have to go see what’s going on.”

“Why?” He asked. “You have your family to look out for Mike.”

“I know.” I said earnestly. “It just seems like the right thing to do.”

By now a small crowd was at the back of the truck looking expectantly in the direction from where April had come screaming.

“I’ll go with you, Talbot.” BT said. His deep bass voice startled me out of my thoughts. Any animosity between us seemed to have been swept completely away with that small gesture. Well I guess it wasn’t that small a gesture, he was putting his life on the line. “I appreciate that BT, I really do, but I think our second wayward chick-a-dee is returning to the roost…look.” I said pointing.

Cash swung the corner of a row of houses at full speed, even from this distance I could tell his pants were doing there damnedest to fall. Cash was struggling with one hand to hold his pants up and with the other he was doing a motion that only someone with experience might be able to pick up on. He was taking mighty puffs from an inhaler. I turned to Alex and BT. “I think this is more a case of a date going bad.” I breathed a sigh of relief, don’t get me wrong, I understand the severity of the potential crime and Cash would be dealt with accordingly but it still beat the hell out of the alternative.

“I don’t think so Mike.” BT said as he pointed with his finger. I for the life of me did not want to follow the direction that offending digit indicated. Into the cold gates of hell it led. Like Icarus to the sun I went. Not ten feet away from Cash was one of the new breed, fast and hungry. The kid was easily a couple of hundred feet away and he was directly in my line of sight to the zombie. Between holding his pants and the inhaler he was losing more ground than the French in WWII. The outcome was a foregone conclusion and still I ran towards him, motioning him to drop down so I could take a shot. By the time the kid’s pants fell and brought him down in a gangly mash of elbows and knees, the zombie had pounced on him. It was all over except for the screaming, as the zombie took its first rending bite of meat, what was once that young man’s pride and joy, hung in bloody shreds from the mouth of the zombie. The high-pitched keening that issued from Cash was heart tearing. Every guy that witnessed the event had sub-consciously placed their hands over their own privates just to make sure their own house was in order. The first bullet should have been for Cash, just to put him out of his misery. Five shots later, my trembling hands were able to put a kill shot into the zombie’s head. I started to run over to the kid, what I was going to be able to do for him was beyond me. His all out wails had become more of a struggling wheeze. Blood vacated his body in gushes. I got down on my haunches by the kid’s head. I couldn’t look at the damage done, the chord it struck was entirely too fundamental to my existence. Cash’s hand grabbed mine, his fevered, pain addled eyes looked in to mine.

“Don’t let me die.” He begged. I wanted to answer him and tell him everything was going to be ok, but I wasn’t the actor my daughter was, my voice would betray me, my posture would belie me, my cadence would divulge the truth. I barely registered the fact of the staccato burst of firearms but the angry hiss of displaced air as bullets passed dangerously close to my head got my attention. I looked to BT who was firing what looked like a bazooka when it was aimed at me. I guess our earlier spat wasn’t completed yet, but this seemed a little extreme. Alex was gesticulating crazily. Everyone else seemed to be yelling incoherent strings of words, but every once in a while I picked up the word “Run!” I looked behind me, before my heart began to start the trip hammer routine, I thought for one short millisecond my heart might just stop from the exertion. Twenty maybe thirty zombies were running full bore towards me. I was seconds away from sharing the same fate as Cash, hopefully not in the same manner though. I grabbed the kid’s shoulder meaning to put him in a fireman’s carry, the cataract glaze of his eyes let me know the futility of the maneuver.

“Run you stupid shit!” I heard BT yell over the roar of his rifle. A zombie dropped no more than 10 feet from me. More rifles took up the covering of my hasty retreat. Within three strides I was at full speed and still some of the zombies kept pace.

I made it back to the firing line without any undue incidents. The tattered remnants of what were still pursuing me were quickly dispatched.

“That’s not cool!” I said as I stood up and surveyed the scene laid out before us. “Thanks BT I owe you one.”

“What is going on Talbot?” BT asked he looked more shaken than I did and I was the one that had been chased.

“No time BT!” I pointed. A larger contingent of speeders were heading our way. I already had enough excitement for the day. “Let’s go!”

“Mike, we can take them.” Brendan said. “There’s still two more of our own out there, we have to go get them.”

I understood the hero mentality, I truly did. But they were a lost cause, if they weren’t already dead they soon would be. “To what end Brendan? We risk ourselves, our loved ones and we waste bullets. There is no honor in casually throwing away one’s life in a hollow attempt at bravery. They’re gone.” I was all for the eradication of this plague, but this was akin to trying to put out a seven-alarm blaze with a super soaker.

“Mike what if it was one of your kids?” Brendon asked brazenly.

“Don’t you fucken dare Brendon!” I screamed. He backed up. He was bigger than me but I was definitely crazier, and in case you didn’t know, crazy out trumps size. “I have done everything I possibly can to keep everyone around me safe! If you’re so fucking ready to die go find them. I’ll wait, but only for as long as I can still make a safe retreat!” Brendan’s shoulders sagged as he looked back at Nicole who was witnessing the entire event. There was a look of unbridled shock on her face. I watched as the inner demons in Brendan wrestled for control, on one side was the overwhelming need to protect Nicole and on the other was the need to help someone in need. “Not so easy now, huh?” I taunted.

“Fuck you, Mike.” He answered dejectedly.

I swung the Jeep past Alex’s big rig. Brendan was following closely. I was watching in my rearview mirror as some of the faster zombies, they looked mostly like high school kids, smashed headlong into the truck. I had no desire to see how many hits my Jeep could take. I flooded the engine with high-octane gas and I was rewarded with the desired result. I was putting this particular circle of hell behind us. Alex was finally getting the tractor-trailer up to a speed where even the track team couldn’t keep up. I had to look over my shoulder to get the full brunt of what my rear view mirror was trying to convey. I should have left it alone. Half the population of what had once been Bennett, Colorado was in one form or another in pursuit of our small caravan. Speeders bowled over their slower cousins, the deaders. So it looked like manners hadn’t made the cross over into death.

“I don’t think we should go back there, Mr. T.” Tommy said. “Is Cash going to be alright?”

I couldn’t fathom how to even begin to answer that question, because first off he was dead. He had bled out after having his crotch savagely ripped from his body. Was he going to turn into a zombie? Odds were against it, I had seen a small dog pile of the living dead making short work of his remains. Would he get to pass through St. Peter’s gate? If I was so inclined to believe in this path, I’d probably say yes, but then what God would allow this situation to be unfolding on its present course. Oh yeah, God can’t have direct involvement, how heretic of me. Wouldn’t want some omnipotent being that basically can control ALL of creation to lend out a helping hand. God helps those who help themselves, you know. Okay enough deity bashing, I was under the false impression that once we got out of Denver we would have put the worst of it behind us, silly me, the fun was just beginning.

CHAPTER 7

Justin slept on, in the back seat of Brendan’s truck, barely acknowledging the quick jerky maneuvering as Brendan evaded first one and then another speeder that had sped out from a gas station at the outskirts of town. His dark dreams were bothered only by the incessant buzzing that pervaded every aspect of the tortured vista his fevered mind had drummed up. A brigade of zombies had stormed mankind’s last holdout, as they overwhelmed the humans piss poor defenses the zombies had planted a flag that consisted of an unnaturally large femur for a pole and a flag when unfurled, looked entirely too much like a weathered flap of human skin. Justin smiled in his sleep, the final victory of zombie kind resonated strongly in the deep recesses of his mind.

‘Justin’ – Justin jolted awake at the sound of his name being spoken out loud.

“What?” Justin answered groggily.

Nicole looked back, her features looking paler than should be right, even in the dead of winter.

“Huh?” She answered back.

“What do you want?” Justin said annoyed. “I was sleeping.”

“Nobody said anything.” Brendan chimed in, before his fiancé and his friend got into it. He’d known them long enough to realize it didn’t take much more than a cross eyed look to get them at each other’s throat and right now he just couldn’t take it. This new development of fast zombies was fucking with his head and there was no room, at least not right now, for any more bullshit.

Tommy stared through the back window of the speeding Jeep and directly into the windshield of Brendan’s trailing Ford. “Oh no.” He muttered solemnly. He turned back around, his hands visibly twitching. The tic went completely unnoticed from the rest of the occupants in the car. The horror of Bennett was still fresh and everybody was doing their best to assimilate the new information in the best manner available to them.

“Fine.” Justin said as he laid his head back down.

“Justin.” Again with his name being called out. Even though the voice was loud this time somehow Justin knew enough not to wake up. A warm breeze flitted through Justin’s hair, the sun as large as a ripe cantaloupe blazed high overhead. Justin spun in a slow circle, chest high golden wheat swayed all around in a gentle current. Curiously the growth flowed in a different direction from the prevailing breeze, even Justin’s shadow stretched in the same direction as the wheat though the sun was at high noon. Something inside him knew enough that to stay here was dangerous but leaving might be worse. In the hazy mist of distance Justin saw something coming. It shimmered in the sun much like a mirage. Even as he watched it, no her, come closer, the wind at his back picked up in a vain attempt to try to slow her progress. The wheat arched further back in a futile attempt to get away, if the stalks could have miraculously grown legs it would have been the biggest crop exodus since the great dust bowl of the 20’s. Justin had legs and his shadow was showing him the way he should be going, his higher psyche just couldn’t get the transmission in gear, for all the revving the engine was doing.

Justin looked down at his feet wondering why they were betraying him so. When he looked up, death was inches from his face. That feeling was quickly replaced by euphoric feelings of love and devotion. The girl, no the woman, that stood before him was the epitome of beauty, grace, black bottomless cruelty, and awe. ‘Wait, go back one.’ Justin thought. But as soon as the doubt crept into his mind it was washed away in the glory that was Eliza. ‘Eliza! Eliza!’ His mind screamed in triumphant joy.

“Where are you going my love?” Eliza said without moving her mouth. Her soft angelic hand caressed his cheek.

“How are you talking in my head?” Justin answered.

The sound of the loud crack was quickly followed by the sensation of pain in his cheek. She had moved so fast he hadn’t even seen her hand strike. Justin’s heart seized for the briefest of seconds as Eliza let her true visage show. Soft smooth skin faded into sallow pale cheeks, her sky blue eyes transformed into twin black pools of death and destruction. Her soft hand that a moment before had stroked his cheek was now a gnarled, calcified hideous claw of bone. In an instant she once again became the object of a cold ethereal beauty. Justin couldn’t hope to keep up with the transformations. His mind could not make sense of the events as they unfolded before him.

“I asked you a question Justin.” Eliza smiled. Justin could tell it was not a gesture that came easily or willingly. A cobra would have had an easier time pulling that off.

Justin was scared and with good reason. “I don’t know.” He stammered.

The smile never left her as she struck again. The blow burned on the side of his face. “I think you’re lying to me Justin. But we’ll talk more.” Justin shivered. Eliza looked over her right shoulder and then was gone.

“Justin! Justin! Wake up.” Tommy shook his friend a little harder than he meant to. Justin’s head bounced off of the car window.

“What the fu…? Oh hey Tommy. What’s going on? Did we stop?”

“What happened to your face Justin?” Tommy asked.

Justin sat up and looked at his right cheek in the rear view mirror. Angry red welts the size and shape of a slender woman’s fingers, were clearly outlined. “Shit, hell if I know.” Justin said as he gingerly pressed along the edges of the contusion. Justin had never been so scared about a nightmare in his life.

“I think you’re lying to me Justin.” Tommy said with a sad disappointment in his eyes. Tommy had stepped out of the car and headed back to the Jeep.

“I’ve heard that before.” Justin said as he wrapped the blanket tighter around himself.

CHAPTER 8

We had traveled fifty miles east of Bennett. I thought my bladder was going to burst. I was looking for any excuse to pull over and relieve myself. So when Tommy said he needed to talk to Justin I was all for it. I flashed my high beams until Alex acknowledged me with a quick toot of his horn. The big rig stopped in the middle of the road. There really was no reason to pull over into the shoulder. The beauty of being this far east of Denver is that the landscape is much like Kansas, flat and unremarkable. We’d be able to see zombies for miles, unless of course they were hiding in snowdrifts or scrub brush. ‘Great’ I thought to myself. ‘I’m not even going to be able to enjoy this piss, I’ll be so busy looking for the damn things I’ll probably end up pissing on myself.’ That was number 33 on my list of hang-ups, but who’s counting. Obviously I am, I answered.

Alex looked around nervously as he stepped down off the truck. “What’s up Mike?”

“Dude I just need to take a quick leak.” (And rip some major ass, I didn’t tell him that part) I yelled back. After the events of the last few weeks I did not want to stray too far from the relative safety of the cars but I was still holding on to the vestiges of decency. That and I wanted everyone to be far enough away from my back blast. Twenty something years of married life and I had never (willingly) ripped a fart in front of Tracy. Sure I’ve let go of my share in my sleep. I’ve even woken myself up with a few that were so air splittingly loud. Whether or not I woke Tracy too I don’t know she never let on. I found the best middle ground available. I walked over to a small cattle fence, ten feet from the edge of the road. I could tell by the way the gas was heating the rear of my pants this one was going to be a stinker. I just hoped it wouldn’t leave a vapor trail in the frigid air. I was thankful to all the gods that still walked across the land that this wasn’t a call to nature that involved the other end. There wasn’t so much as a stop sign to hide that action. At least I could use my body to shield the majority of this basic action.

“Wonderful.” I heard from the back of the truck as the door rolled up. “I’m stuck in that truck for God knows how long and that’s what I have to witness when I finally get out.”

“Oh no.” My head exploded. Civilization, and possibly humanity itself is hanging on by a thread and that’s what survives? Mrs. Deneaux was gently lowered from the rear of the truck by BT and her nephew, Thad (the manager from Safeway). I almost lost grip of my manhood as it tried in vain to pull up into my body. The better to protect itself from the soul-sucking bitch that was walking on the snow swept roadway. I finished, yanking my zipper up. I nearly severed what my priest had circumcised 44 years ago. ‘Alright enough with the surprises.’ I walked back towards the rear of the truck to see who would be popping out of the back like a rabbit from a magician’s hat. Mostly to gauge our strength but partly to see what other malcontents might make themselves known. I looked into the murky interior, hoping that Jed had somehow managed to get aboard. Unless he was cowering behind the near catatonic April, this wasn’t going to be the case. In this new reality I would more likely expect to see Fritzy (the zombie rapist I killed in the cat suit) than my unexpected ally Jed. Close to April, pushed against the back of the truck was Little Turtle’s guest greeter, Joann, and she was clutching on to a small group of children, three I thought but I wasn’t completely sure. I wasn’t even sure if they were hers, not that it mattered though, it seemed like a pretty symbiotic relationship. They clutched each other so tightly, I thought it might take acetone to release them. Bad analogy I know, I was going with the whole super glue thing. Anyway, no immediate help from that small scrum. Next was Igor, the Russian gate guard, he was sleeping comfortably against the left side of the truck with what appeared to be a bottle of vodka held firmly in his left hand. That was a welcome surprise, he was a little older and a little overweight, but I thought I’d be able to trust him in a fight. Provided, of course, that he stayed awake. And then my eyes widened.

“Hi, neighbor happy to see me?” Jen asked.

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Besides Alex and his recovering wife, we had five small kids, a waifish woman that was holding on to two of the kids not in Joann's clutches, one uber-bitch, two women Joann and April, that had checked out and most likely needed an intravenous dose of xanax, uber-bitch’s nephew that looked like he would be more comfortable counting zombies than killing them, a giant black man that I was more than convinced wanted to break me in half, a drunk Russian and then the kicker my lesbian neighbor Jen. Don’t get me wrong it’s not that I don’t like lesbians, hell I want to be one. It’s just that Jen had pretty much told me that she no longer had the will to live and to top it off she proved she was useless in a fight, having cowered in the truck on the day we had made a stop at the local National Guard armory.

Paul pressed on my shoulder as he jumped from the back. “Thanks man.” He said.

“Yeah any time I can be of help.” I answered never taking my eyes of Jen.

“Well are you going to help a lady down, or are you just going to keep staring at me?” Jen asked as she held her hand out to me.

“Why are you in the truck?” I asked. It came out before I could stop it. It sure as hell wasn’t the politically correct thing to say but, man, I really wanted to know.

She pulled her hand back as if it had been stung. “Listen Mike, I know how you feel about me.” She started.

‘Jen if you had any idea of how I felt about you, you’d be over there huddling with the others.’ I wanted to say it, my inner demons screamed to say it, my immature side cried to say it, my socially conscious, higher civility reasoning, stupid jerk other side had a different thought on the matter.

She continued. “I want revenge Mike.”

“Jen we’ve had this conversation before.” Her eyes teared up a bit, friggen women they always know which damn buttons of mine to push. Maybe I should stop wearing mine on my sleeve. If I put them under my jacket they’d be a little tougher to get to. I pursed my lips, and shook my head.

She seemed to take that as an acknowledgement that it was okay to continue, uninterrupted. “When we got back that day, I sat in my and Jo’s bedroom. Most of the time it was with a .32 caliber pushed to my temple.” I involuntarily blew out air. “I just wanted it to be over, the pain, the hopelessness, everything. I mean what was the point right?” I found myself nodding with her. “I awoke the next morning with the gun still pressed against my head.”

“Holy crap, you were a muscle spasm away from, well you know.” I said in disbelief.

She smiled wanly. “I dreamt about Jo that night.” Her eyes got that far away look. “I dreamt about her love of life. No matter how shitty things got for her, she appreciated and looked forward to the small things in life, a cup of hot cocoa, a trip to IKEA, a new bottle of patchouli, a game of softball. Oh God I miss her.” She sobbed. I looked away for a few seconds letting her collect herself. She seemed to be indebted from the gesture. "Whew, sorry, I had to get that out. Jo would have wanted to me to live, to love, to embrace everything. Not wallow in despair. If she knew that I had wanted to kill myself she would have kicked my ass."

By the way, I would have paid to see that. Sorry just a side note.

“When I finally realized why my skull ached that morning, I pulled the gun away from my head and tossed it across the room. When it knocked over the hat I had put over the picture of me and her on our union day I knew then and there that Jo was still with me and I wouldn’t let her, or for that matter you, down again.”

‘That remained to be seen.’ I didn’t say it. I’m an immature dick, not a monster. I helped Jen down and handed her a power bar. I turned as I heard Brendan’s truck door open. Justin stepped out into the severely lit day. Embracing his blanket like only Linus could.

“God he looks so pale.” Jen said. “Almost like he’s…sorry.” She looked over to me. We were both thinking it though. Justin’s head swiveled to the left and then up and over to his right and down again, almost like he was watching a monster serve that became an ace in a tennis match. “What’s he doing?” Jen asked.

I watched as a fly circled around and around Justin’s head. Terror mounted. Well my Marine Corps buddies were going to love this, big bad ass, afraid of a fly. What was going to be next? Was I going to be scared of the French? I watched as the fly did two more circuitous routes around his head and then landed on the very tip of his nose. Justin only stared down at it, never once unwrapping his hands from under the blanket to brush the thing away. My skin crawled with unseen, many legged bugs of varying size and color. “Okay everyone, I think it’s about time to go.” I shouted, never taking my eyes off the offending fly.

“Oh don’t be a bother Talbot we just stopped.” Mrs. Deneaux said as she puffed on a cigarette. “These idiots,” She said as she swept her hand to encompass pretty much everyone. “Won’t let me smoke in the back of the truck, something or other about second hand smoke.”

“Fuck, stay, I don’t give a shit! Finish your cigarette. Finish a carton. Hell, go pull some grass, dry it out and smoke it. I’m leaving.” I answered in a yell. Mrs. Deneaux looked like she wanted to add fuel to the fire, but this wasn’t a scene at Wal-Mart where she could bitch someone out and basically get whatever her cold shriveled little heart wanted. Something in the look of my eyes must have told her that I truly would leave her there without a second thought. She ground the remainder of her smoke under her shoe.

BT came up to the rear of the truck. “Who made you boss?” His voice boomed.

“You know what BT?” I said as I tried to make myself as tall and intimidating as possible. Not an easy trick to pull off when I was pretty much looking him in the sternum.

“No, what?” He asked.

“Rhetorical BT, rhetorical. Nobody made me boss. In fact I don’t want to be boss at all. That would actually make this entire fuck fest a lot easier if I didn’t have to worry about any of my decisions getting people killed. I would like nothing more than to lie in the back of that truck and help Igor polish off whatever liquor he has stowed away. So my giant friend, feel free to take the reins of this carnival ride and do with it what you may. I’m just too tired to deal with it.”

“Aw I’m just busting your balls, Talbot.” He said as he basically just stepped up into the back of the truck. “You’re just crazy enough to get us out of this.” And then he laughed. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or petrified.

Alex had just finished up with his wife Marta, changing the baby’s diaper. “Hey Mike, what’s up? Not to be a pain in the ass, but driving this truck is a bitch. I wouldn’t mind taking a few minutes for the blood in my kidneys to start circulating again.”

I didn’t even need to turn around when I pointed behind me. Alex’s face fell. “What is it Alex?” I asked.

He tore his gaze from over my left shoulder and back to me. “What do you mean Mike? You just pointed it out to me.”

“Is it bad?”

“Are you messing with me Mike?” I shook my head in the negative. “It’s a speeder.”

“How far away?” I asked although I could almost approximate its distance as the minute tickle in my brain began to expand.

Alex looked back over my shoulder. “Maybe a quarter of a mile. What’s going on cuate? How could that thing possibly know that we’re here, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“I’m not sure Alex, but look at Justin.”

Alex slowly pivoted his head, reluctant to look, the day was almost already a total disaster and it wasn’t half completed. “He’s just standing there. he looks pale but no worse than he was earlier.”

“Look closer Alex.”

“What’s he looking at? Is that a fly on his nose? So?”

“What’s a fly doing out here Alex? In the dead of winter.”

“It could have been in the truck, Mike.” He said, but the words didn’t even ring true in his own head. Alex made the sign of the Holy Trinity on his chest. “Marta finish up, we’re leaving.”

The zombie crossing the snow-covered field wasn’t going to get to us any time soon, but it was disconcerting to be the prey as a predator closed in. I’m sure there isn’t a gazelle in the world that feels comfortable with a lion in the general vicinity. The fly finally alit from Justin’s face as he turned to look at our approaching company. Color rose in his cheeks, but because he was scared or enraptured was difficult to say. Tracy helped Justin back in to Brendan’s car and then looked over to me. She was worried, as was I, but for differing reasons. She was concerned with his physical well-being. I was more concerned with what was going on inside his head. I was beginning to wonder if Justin was a zombie GPS. Our own portable ‘Harmin’ or better yet how about a Zom-Zom. Wonderful, death all around and I’m making plays on product names. By the time we pulled away I was able to make out facial features on our would-be assailant. He looked none too pleased we were making a hasty retreat. In the distance I could see more of his kind begin the fruitless journey across the frozen tundra, in search of a meal. For one minute second I thought if Justin were to stay here would they stop pursuing? I said, I thought about it, this isn’t the bible I can’t get in trouble for contemplating. Eventually we were going to have to stop and fight but the middle of a highway didn’t seem like the wisest place to make our last stand.

CHAPTER 9

The next two hours of driving did little to abate my feelings of dread in fact it did more to intensify it. I was trying to go over the events of the day to find some sort of alternate explanation for what was going on. First off, sprinting zombies were not on my agenda. Our survivability odds had just been greatly reduced. Any mode of transportation that didn’t include wheels was tantamount to suicide. These new zombies could run full tilt probably forever. In my hey day I could sprint for a max of maybe a quarter mile, now, hell maybe 100 yards before some significant body part failed. I shivered thinking back to our escape from Wal-Mart, if we had encountered speeders then…well I guess it would be over and I could stop fixating on the damn issue at hand. The main problem right now was the sun, well the sun and its gradual decline. We were going to have to stop, sooner rather than later, and with our own shining lighthouse transmitting our whereabouts I couldn’t fathom where we would find sanctuary. I’m not above sleeping in a car but with three other people it was not going to be a comfortable affair. We could all sleep in the truck bed but if something happened we would have to abandon the Jeep and the Explorer, which was not an option. We could find a defensible house, but images of the old Dawn of the Dead movie flickered through my brain plate. Hands coming through windows and all that stuff. Come to think of it that didn’t turn out to be such a good idea either.

This was not looking good for the home team. Let’s see, we were outnumbered probably thousands to one, they don’t need sleep and they have just harnessed a second gear. Yep, not good at all. I was thinking about the myriad ways of our demise when I nearly finished the job myself. Alex had been slowing down for near on a half mile trying to gain my attention to pull along side. My thoughts were elsewhere when I almost slammed into his tailgate. His brake lights as large as saucers in my field of vision.

“Two other cars on the road and you almost crash with one of them.” My wife stated. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you drive my Jeep.”

I was pissed and had to bite back a sardonic reply, mostly because she was right. Not about smashing up her Jeep but the part about almost making us road kill. I had read once in one of those bathroom readers’, ok don’t go getting all high brow on me, one of my past life’s small pleasures was to sit on the throne and while passing time (and other things) was to gain some useless knowledge. And one of those little nuggets (get the pun?) was the fact that back in 1899 Oklahoma, there were two cars in the whole state and they had an accident with each other. They say history repeats itself, well there’s proof positive, almost.

“Talbot!” My wife said with some force. “Alex wants something.”

I pulled my hand across my face hoping to pull off the growing fog in my head. It didn’t work. I got up alongside the semi, a low throbbing apprehension coursing through my body.

“What’s up Alex?” I yelled over the sound of our engines.

“I’m getting tired Mike.” Alex yelled back. Although the words were superfluous, he looked exhausted and he had two small kids up in the cab with him. Young children could make you tired if you were already lying in bed and this was far from that peaceful scenario.

“Getting?” I asked sarcastically.

Something got lost in translation or he was just too tired to grab onto the barb. He just shrugged.

“Any ideas?” He asked.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing Alex.” Alex had been expecting me to elaborate with my plan. Unfortunately I didn’t have one. When I didn’t answer right away Alex took that as a cue.

“There’s a small town up ahead called Vona.” He finished.

Now it was my turn to shrug, "So what.” Vona, Detroit, fucken Paris, where could we go without a flesh eater joining us for company.

“They have a sheriff’s office.” He concluded.

Light and hope began to not so much blaze but at least glimmer. A sheriff’s office should have holding cells and a bit more fortification than the average house. “Lead on, Tonto!” I yelled.

“Who the hell is Tonto?” He retorted.

“Never mind, how much further?”

“Ten minutes at the most.”

“Alright we’ll scout ahead.” I accelerated past him. It would be safer to have my Jeep go in first. It was much more maneuverable and would be easier to vacate a hostile area if the need arose. Five minutes later I was taking the off ramp down into Vona. Alex stayed at the top of the ramp with the engine idling. If I wasn’t back in twenty minutes the plan was for him to leave. I knew he wouldn’t, but that was the plan.

My guts felt like I had swallowed a salamander. As calm and collected as I could, which wasn’t working by the way, I turned to see if I could garner any information from my early warning detection system, Tommy. I was neither alarmed nor relieved.

“Hey buddy, got any feelings?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible.

“I got a bunch Mr. T.” He said with a small smile on his face.

I waited for a second, hoping for some sort of revelation. Then it dawned on me that Tommy’s ‘feelings’ probably had more to do with how much he liked Pop-Tarts than with the outcome of our lives as we entered into Vona.

“Hey Mr. T.”

“Yeah Tommy.” I answered as I slowed the Jeep down to around 15 mph, slow enough to look for trouble and quick enough to get away from it.

“What’s it mean when you put your hand over your mouth?” He asked.

I was about to answer that it generally means to be quiet, but the universal sign for that usually only entails using your pointer finger. “I’m not sure Tommy, why?”

“Well Ryan has one hand over his mouth and the other hand is pointing to his throat and he’s shaking his head, side to side.”

My foot involuntarily slipped off the gas and onto the brake, I stalled the car.

“What’s the matter, Mike?” Tracy asked. “The last time you stalled your car we had almost hit a moose four wheeling.”

“This is worse. Something or someone is blocking Tommy’s abilities.”

As if on command we all stared out the windows convinced that whatever was causing this was within range. But Vona in death was a lot like Vona in life, dead. Why they had a sheriff’s office was beyond me, maybe if they had a rash of cow tipping they could lock the hooligans up. Or maybe if things got real bad and mailboxes started to get smashed they would have somewhere to put the bad guys. Hell we were three quarters through the town and I hadn’t seen a bar or a liquor store, so no real need to even lock up the town drunk. Ah wasteful government spending at its best.

“Tommy can Ryan write?” I asked hoping beyond hope. It seemed like a far-fetched idea, but I was open to suggestions. “Maybe a small note to kind of let us know what’s going on?”

“Oh God!” Tommy moaned.

I ground the starter a little bit in response to his alarm, looking around wildly for what had caused the distress in his voice. I was still on edge but when nothing visible showed itself I relaxed a bit. Just a bit, this was still Tommy we were talking about.

“What’s the matter Tommy?” Travis asked. Even Henry could feel the change in atmospheric pressure in the car as we waited for Tommy to elaborate.

“All of Ryan’s fingers are all crunched up and broken looking.” Tommy said almost silently, a small sob escaped him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” I said nervously.

“What’s that mean Mike?” Tracy asked me, panic beginning to well in her chest to match mine and Tommy’s. Only Travis seemed the least affected, but I noticed his knuckles turning a brighter shade of white as they gripped his shotgun.

“We’re being hunted, I think.” I answered.

Tracy’s tension eased a bit. “Well duh. Zombies have been after us for three weeks now, what’s so new about that?”

“No this is different. This isn’t just about some zombies stumbling across us and trying to eat us. We’re being singled out, purposefully tracked.”

“How? That’s not even possible.” She yelled back, more in defense of her sanity than in any answer to transgression on my part.

“Possible? You’re pulling the possible card out?” I asked.

“Ok sorry. But how?” She said subdued. “And I guess, why? And who?”

“Maybe we taste better.” I said. Tracy glared at me. “Sorry.” I held my hands up to ward off any attempted blows. “Poor choice of words.”

“You think?”

I was scared shitless but I was trying my best to put on a brave face for Travis, Tommy and Tracy and well if I’m being honest, even myself. “I’m pretty sure about the ‘Who’, somewhat sure about the ‘Why’ and not a fucking clue as to ‘How’.” I laid out my concerns about Justin and how he could potentially be guiding every nearby zombie to our location. Tracy wasn’t buying it. I’m sure the majority of her reasoning had to do with plausible deniability, what mother ever wants to think her child could bring harm unto others. Tracy looked over at me, like I had just spit into her Cheerios. “It’s a theory I didn’t say it was fact.”

“Come up with something else college boy.” She said as she crossed her arms over her chest and turned to stare out of the windshield.

Lesson learned. Fact number one – never throw one of your children under the bus in front of your wife. We were almost out of the center of town when we came upon the non-descript sheriff’s office. I passed by slowly looking for any sign of problems. I was really getting sick of the calm before the storm crap. It was quiet, eerily so. The place wasn’t much bigger than your average Laundromat and about as appealing, but it would fit all of us easily enough. The two windows in the front were thankfully barred and the door looked heavily fortified enough. Why I kept remembering the motto for the roach motel, I don’t know. Humans go in but they don’t come out.

“Man, I just don’t like the looks of this.” I said out loud to no one in particular.

Tracy mirrored my unease. “Then let’s just go.”

“Yeah but I like the idea of sleeping in the Jeep, on the road even less. So it’s really the lesser of two crappy situations that I’m contemplating. Vona it is then.”

“You sure?” My wife asked looking around the cabin of the Jeep like all of a sudden it went from matchbox size to palaciousness.

As if in answer I yawned. My non-response was the worst decision I had made thus far. I was prepared to head out when my wife stopped me.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Cooking an omelet.” I shot back, one of these days my brain to mouth filter will work but for now I’ll have to just go back to what I do best, back-peddle. “Aw hell, I’m sorry Tracy, I’m just beat.” Did that get me off the hook? I looked over cautiously, when confronted with a wild animal (in this case a female human) it is best to avoid direct eye contact and make no fast furtive movements. I could tell by the way her hands were folded in her lap that I was in little danger of being struck but as I slowly raised my gaze, the look of fire in her eyes confirmed my suspicions, I was still in the doghouse.

“Talbot, are you going to check to see if the door is open?”

The question was reasonable. My reaction was not. All of a sudden the thought of vacating the relative safety of our rolling arsenal seemed like the worst idea ever presented. Damn her logic! I was going to suggest that I’d pull up to the front door and she could give it a quick yank, but we all know how well that would have gone over. I even began to form the arguments in my head like ‘I’ll stay behind the wheel and you can hop in so we can get away fast.’ Or ‘Have you ever seen how bad you drive a stick?’ or even better ‘You’re smaller so they won’t want to eat you as bad.’ Dammit “Sounds great, can’t wait,” I forced through a Cheshire cat smile. I pulled onto the gravel parking lot. The crunch of small stones under my tires set a flock of ravens into flight. ‘Oh pissa. That doesn’t seem too ominous.’ I thought sarcastically.

“Trav can you hand me the .357?” I asked.

He checked to make sure the cylinder was loaded. “You want me to come with you dad?”

The answer was obviously yes, but I had already had this battle once with Tracy and she was not about to go 0-2. “No.” I gulped out. I could feel some of the tension in Tracy drain out. “Grab the AR and cover my retreat if needed.” I didn’t want him using the shotgun, the last thing I wanted to do was pull buckshot out of my ass. I looked over to Tommy again, hoping for some divine intervention, nothing, no last minute stay of execution from the governor. He shrugged in response. I took a deep breath as I stepped out of the Jeep, the cold wind whipped across my face. I sucked in a shock of super frigid breath, my exhalation leaving a long plume. It was five purposeful strides to the front door of the sheriff’s office. I did it in 15 small cautious ones. ‘Be locked, be locked, be locked!’ The handle turned quietly, the door silently slid open. The pea soup murkiness inside the jail was broken only by ribbons of light that streamed in through the dusty windows. Dust lazily swirled about in those rays of sun. The smell was intense. I staggered back. Tracy had got into the driver’s seat and Travis stepped out to get a clearer shot.

I jumped when she yelled. “What is it?”

Well if they didn’t know we were here, they do now. I did not turn my head away from the door to respond. “It smells like Henry after a bean burrito.” It was kind of funny I think, Tracy actually turned green with the olfactory thought of that. We had only been removed from the stench for less than a day and this was not something you quickly forgot. “Death.”

“Get in, let’s go.” She said nervously.

I loved the suggestion, but when I wasn’t immediately attacked I let curiosity get the better of me. Plus being the gun nut that I am, I figured we could get all sorts of new armaments from here. “Hey pull up here and turn the lights on.”

“Are you serious? I think we should just go.” She replied.

“You’re probably right, but come over here anyway.” Travis walked alongside the Jeep constantly scanning for problems. Tommy nervously stared through the window, but not the front. He was looking back the way we had come. Whether he sensed something coming or wished we were heading back, he never said. Tracy pulled up closer, the headlights perfectly straddling the sides of the office door, lighting up the outside wall perfectly, and the inside, well not so much. “Um, could you maybe back up and get one of the headlights to shine into the door way?” I asked as nicely as possible.

“You didn’t say that’s what you wanted.” She shot back.

If I ever wanted to have relations with my wife again it was abundantly clear to me that I was going to have to not say what had bubbled to the top of my brain plate. “Yep you’re right.” I struggled to get out in a civil tone. When did ‘common sense’ not become a common virtue? I hope to God she never reads these journals.

She backed up with a jerk, the Jeep stalling. Ok this is about the time in any classic horror movie where the monster makes itself known. I jumped a measure or two when she turned the ignition over, the reverberation of the catching engine off the wall drowned out all other sound. This should be it. I tensed. A hand, a mouth, a bite, something should be happening soon.

“Oops.” Tracy said out the window.

That was pretty much the sentiment I had when I thought I had messed my underwear. Again these aren’t proud moments. I’m not some action movie star with stand-in stunt doubles, or a character on an Xbox360. I don’t get multiple retakes or extra lives. This life is a one shot deal, something goes wrong and I can’t hit ‘reset’.

Tracy repositioned the Jeep, the one headlight cutting through the dark. The small office was mostly lit up but I still imagined the worst lurking in the musty corners. To the right was a desk with a small wilted plant on top. Most likely the chair once seated a cheery older heavy-set woman. The receptionist would have known everyone and their mother in this one car town. Beyond her desk was the door to the town sheriff’s office, how did I know this? Well the door said ‘Sheriff’ making that thought fairly self-explanatory. For the life of me, I could not get the image of ‘Andy’ from Mayberry out of my head. As long as Barney Fife didn’t show up everything should be fine. A half empty gun rack stood against the left side, it looked like the sheriff hadn’t been caught completely off guard. I imagined him dying in the line of duty to protect those he served. I didn’t know him and never would but he was a hero as far as I was concerned. My attention was brought back to the rear of the office. Back there were the holding cells. I could see the heavyset metal bars but nothing more, the light from the Jeep penetrated only that far, as if what lay beyond had decided it did not yet want to yield its secret. Whatever the secret was it was definitely the source of the stink. What kind of survivalist was I? I didn’t even have a flashlight with me. Shouldn’t be too big of a problem though, I walked over to where the gun case was and grabbed one of the two remaining utility belts. The heavy weight of the club like flashlight felt comforting in my hand, I hoped that the 4 D cell batteries that powered the potential bludgeon still held juice. Like any smart person in my predicament, I made sure the light was pointing right in my eyes when I turned it on. Nothing like a case of temporary blindness to get your adrenaline running, I immediately pulled the light away and swung it from side to side praying that I was in time to stop whatever was hurtling my way. The smash as glass struck floor brought Travis running through the door. The loss of light as he stepped in front of the headlight pitched the room back into darkness. Unless our would-be assailant was a desk lamp or hiding on the ceiling (where the flashlight was pointed) we were going to make it through the next couple of minutes. I wonder if John Wayne ever had these moments.

“You alright dad? What’s going on?” Travis asked as he stepped completely into the room as he realized that he was blocking the light source.

I was alright, that much was true, but how to answer the second part, that was a little trickier. Did I lie and tell him that I was fending off legions of the living dead? I still carried some semblance of pride in me. I would lose any salvageability of that woeful human trait if I told him that I had inadvertently blinded myself and then damn near shit myself as I knocked over a lamp in my haste to thwart an as yet unseen enemy. Nope lying seemed the best course of action. Pride would stay intact. Integrity would have to take one for the team. “Saw a bat.”

Travis looked up completely unconvinced he looked back over at me.

Damn he must have got that scrutinous eye from his mother. I pointed the flashlight towards the holding cells, mostly to take the attention off of me. The sight was disturbing to say the least but not as bad as it could have been. Locked in the cell furthest from us was a man, he looked on the younger side. The blue tinge of death by frostbite, however, made age recognition a complicated task. He was curled up on the small cot in a fetal position, most likely trying in vain to preserve his body heat with the small airline style blanket.

“Poor bastard probably got locked up the day this whole thing went down.”

“Are we going to be able to get him out of there?” Travis asked.

“What’s taking so long?” Tracy yelled from the Jeep.

“Just doing some housekeeping.” I went back to where I had got the flashlight and grabbed the oversize key ring. I really thought they only used those in movies. I hesitated for a moment as I placed the key into the lock, what if it was a zombie playing possum.

“Dad?” Travis asked, the implied question went unasked. I had done my job well. My paranoia had been genetically passed on.

Dammit I wasn’t going to go in there and be in the middle of moving him when the damn thing decided to sit up and gnaw on my femur. “Go tell mom, to be ready. God forgive me for what I am about to do.” The Catholic in me would have a very difficult time of letting go of the guilt I was about to heap on myself but the survivalist part of me would get over it. Frozen brain matter sprayed against the far wall as I carefully placed a well-aimed shot through the man’s head. A soft crackling noise replaced the roar of the weapon in the confined space. It was long moments before I realized it was frozen blood dropping to the floor. Add that onto my list of growing nightmare fodder. I dragged the body across the floor of the office, thankful that frozen congealed blood didn’t leave a tell tale sign of my sin. I unceremoniously dumped the nearly decapitated body on the far side of the building. Little did I realize then my mistake, but I might as well have been chumming for sharks. I had just opened up the number one food group for our enemy.

I left the front door open in the expectation that the majority of stink would be gone by the time we got back. We headed back up the off ramp, which I have to admit made me somewhat nervous. For so long the laws of the road had been ingrained in me that to just drive as I pleased hadn’t quite settled with me yet. Alex was anxiously standing by the truck when we pulled up.

“How’s it looking Mike?”

I wanted to pull out the standard answer of ‘dead’. But the joke was getting tired. “Well crap Alex, my gut doesn’t like it. We didn’t ‘see’ anything, no people, no deaders and no speeders. The jail only has one way in. On a good note the windows are barred and the door looks pretty sturdy. I say we go in and park the semi pretty much right up against the front door, that way if some friends come calling for dinner we can get into the cab.”

“What good is that going to do Mike? We can’t all fit in the cab.” Alex said exasperatedly.

“You must be tired my friend I said as I clapped him on the shoulder.” He didn’t appreciate the gesture. “Fine” I said taking my hand off of him.

“Sorry Mike, I’m wiped.”

‘Yeah! Well fucking me too!’ Whoa that was an overreaction. I yelled so loud in my head I figured he had to have picked it up. “No sweat, you just need to get in the cab and then back the truck up to the doors.”

He nodded in understanding. God, he was a good friend, I hoped I didn’t screw it up. My tendency towards hotheadedness had lost me more than one potential ally in this world and right now I could ill afford that.

“What about your cars?”

“It’ll suck to lose them, but it’d be even worse to die.” I said it so casually Alex actually snorted a small laugh. “Okay the office is almost all the way through town on the right hand side, I’ll lead.” Alex climbed up into his truck without another word.

In just the ten minutes it took to get Alex and come back, the sunlight had faded to a mere shadow of itself. The door still stood ajar, it waited expectantly for our return, like a hungry grizzly for a salmon. Imagination while in survival mode is a curse. Events were already unfolding in a fantastical manner and to make them even more so, really seemed like over-kill. Yet my mind trudged on. I was wholly convinced that No-Head Fred had self-resurrected himself and was now waiting patiently for us inside. Maybe I should send Deneaux in first. That seemed the wisest thing, kind of like an offering, the whole sacrificial thing and all. Nobody was going to miss her.

CHAPTER 10

Within twenty minutes we had all entered into the office. A couple of large flashlights set up like candles illuminated most of the office except for the farthest cell, where of course my gaze kept wandering to. Jen managed to find some fuel for a small pot belly stove in the far corner. I had missed that on my first foray but I wasn’t going to hold that against myself. The stink of death had mostly been replaced by the smell of the living. We can rival our stiffer relatives. I had on more than one occasion received a dirty look from a fellow survivor as Henry let some ass gas out. Another ten minutes later, we had done what humans always tend to do. We had marked out our territory. The Talbots were taking up residency in the first cell furthest away from ‘Fred’s’ previous abode. We were on the complete opposite side of the stove, but because of that we were also furthest away from the door and the windows. I just couldn’t shake the feeling of something wicked this way comes, even with the bars and the storm shutters closed, the windows were still the most vulnerable part of this building. It would take a while for the heat of the stove to travel this far if at all, but with all the bodies stuffed in this small office that shouldn’t present a problem.

As the heat in the building increased, conversation conversely decreased. Exhausted refugees began to drift off to hopefully better places, even though it would be tough to come up with a nightmare worse than the one we were already living.

“Merry Christmas.” I said to everyone. I got a few mumbled Merry Christmases in return but for the most part the sentiment went largely unnoticed.

I was asleep in minutes, even with the hushed conversations, coughing, and the flashlights burning bright. This was a feat for me. I used to be kind of a prima donna when it came to sleeping. I needed a white noise sound machine playing ‘Summer Crickets’ before I could even begin to think of sleeping, and even then, if a mouse farted too loudly I would wake up.

“Talbot!”

I sat straight up. “What?” I asked…no one. It was impossible to tell how long I had been asleep, but it was still nighttime. Everyone was asleep except for one guard placed at the windows (Igor) and he wasn’t even looking at me. ‘Who the hell said my name?’ I was more than half convinced that someone had said it in their sleep, probably shouting my name while they were ringing my neck for some past transgression. I was on a lot of people’s shit list, hell it could have been Tracy. ‘No that didn’t feel right the tone of the disembodied voice felt male. Screw it BT can yell at me tomorrow.’ I scooted back down onto my chair cushion/pillow

“TALBOT!” It came more forcefully. I sat bolt upright, still the guard didn’t turn my way. There was no way he hadn’t heard that, come to think of it, that shout should have awoken half of the people here. ‘WTF’. I actually thought the letters WTF instead of What The F…well you get the picture, damn text age. Great I was hearing voices in my head and it wasn’t Tommy. I looked over to the big kid, he had a worried expression on his face, but he was most assuredly asleep.

“TALBOT!” It screamed.

I jumped up. “Dammit, what?!” Now Igor turned, luckily I wasn’t loud enough to wake anyone. “Nothing…nothing.” I said to Igor. Apparently I seemed convincing enough or he just didn’t care, he said something in Russian and turned back to the window. I said “What?” again but at barely an audible range, but that was probably louder than it had to be, the voice was in my head. That CAT scan seemed like a better idea with every waking moment.

“I’m coming!” The voice said again, and like a television set being turned off, the signal was gone. Cold dread swept over me, I had recognized the voice. Could it be possible? How? My first instinct was to go over to the windows and see if anything was going on.

I was almost out the cell door when Henry looked up at me with imploring eyes. I knew that look. He had to go. “Come on boy.” His small tail wagged in enthusiasm. It was no easy journey getting across the room navigating through the strewn bodies, especially with Henry in tow.

“Vere you going?” Igor asked as I approached the door.

“The dog’s got to go.”

“I vealize that, I have been smelling him all night.”

“Sorry.” I said bowing my head, exposing someone unwillingly to Henry’s toxic fumes will not generally win you any friends. I began to turn the handle.

“I vouldn’t do that.” His tone was casual. His stance was not. I was completely convinced that he would use that gun he was holding if I turned the knob any further. “This is not Vendy’s we are not Open Late.” He was so amused with himself he couldn’t help but flash his gap toothed smile.

I had no clue what he was talking about. I figured he must still be taking pulls off his stock of booze. “Igor, if you think Henry’s farts can peel paint wait until he drops a steaming hot mess for you. When everyone wakes up because of the stench I’ll tell them it’s because you wouldn’t let him out.” The idle threat did little to yield his previous stance. Then the lights in the dimmed Talbot belfry began to illuminate. I understood the Wendy’s reference now.‘Oh shit.’

“How many?” I asked “And when?”

“Da, so now you know.” He smiled again. Although WTF was so funny I don’t know. (This time I actually thought the words out.) "Only a couple and it looks like the sheriff and his deputy have come back to vork. Been here vor about 15 minutes.”

“You haven’t told anybody?” I asked incredulously.

“Vy, vhat good would it do? They are out there we are in here.”

I wanted to yell at him but he was right, we were human and we needed rest. But this place could easily become a lobster trap. Options became extremely limited when you only had one way of egress.

“Ve can take care of them in the morning ven everyone is awake.”

Again with the sound logic, when did he become Socrates? “Has either one of them said anything?” I asked. Igor looked at me like I had found and drank his private stash. “I’ll take that as a no?” Henry whined.

“You had better take him into the bathroom.”

I began to walk Henry over to the facilities. “Igor you’ll let me know if more of them come.”

“Da, da.” He said absently as he waved his hand at me dismissedly and turned back towards the window.

When I got back from taking care of Henry’s needs, I noticed that Justin was awake.

“You should get some sleep bud. Tomorrow’s going to be another long day” I said. I meant it in terms of driving but my thoughts kept drifting back to our guests outside. I don’t think any of us were quite ready for another battle for survival.

“I slept all day. I’ll go to sleep if I need to.” Justin answered on the snappish side.

Normally this kind of insolence especially from my kids would send me through the roof. But he looked like crap and I felt like crap, so we basically cancelled each other out.

“We should kill him. He’s always telling us what to do.”

“He is, isn’t he? I could teach him a thing or two!”

“That’s it, one quick shot to the heart and all your troubles would be over.”

“Wait wouldn’t it be all of OUR troubles?”

“Kill him.”

“Who are you? I can’t kill him he’s my father.” Justin shivered involuntarily

Henry fell back asleep in seconds flat, not so tough when you have as much practice as he does. I unfortunately wasn’t so lucky. I was having a difficult time getting any sort of comfortable when I rolled over for the third effen time I saw Justin looking at me. The gaze was not a comforting one. I got the distinct impression he wanted to do me bodily harm, when he realized I was looking at him the hostility fell off his features. For a second he looked confused and then he rolled over as if he was embarrassed because he got caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

The next morning couldn’t come quick enough. This night would have a hard time getting any stranger. With the sunlight came the thumping, my dream of hooking up with Wonder Woman was getting frustrating. Every time we moved, the headboard slammed up against the wall, the noise was so loud it eventually woke me up. Not only did I realize I wasn’t banging Wonder Woman I also had the uncomfortable task of readjusting my manhood, so to speak. Then to top off this glorious day, the banging wasn’t so much due to some heavy amorous lovemaking, but rather some unwanted breakfast guests.

I sat up quickly. Igor was still at his post but he was fast asleep. A couple of other folks started to stir but nobody yet realized the danger we were in. I got up quickly, not thrilled with the fact that my still erect penis, scraping against my zipper, was causing a most unpleasant sensation. I bent over at the waist to give more room for adjustment and to attempt to minimize the imminent immense pain that was coming. Fuck the zombies. This was going to take priority. After several deep breaths and a conscious effort not to puke I realized the worst of my endeavor had passed. If this was the worst that the day had to offer it might not be so bad. (Later edit…yeah that wasn’t the case, the day started off bad and got progressively worse.) I began my unfolding at the waist when I was so rudely interrupted by another thump at the door. Shards of brilliant sunlight shot in as the door rattled on its frame but it didn’t seem like it was going to give anytime soon.

I crossed over to the windows, receiving loud protests as I pulled back the storm shutters. Sunlight flooded into all the dark crevices within our makeshift motel room. The remonstrations were nothing compared with the shattering of glass as a hand shot through the barred glass and sought purchase on my t-shirt. I jumped back with an agility I hadn’t attained since my high school football days. I felt a fingernail pull against my skin I only hoped it wasn’t deep enough to mar the flesh. The scar I could live with, the effects of the infection were quite another. Igor awoke in a flash. The air-rending explosion of his rifle had everyone on their feet. The zombie that had made its presence known howled in frustration as I danced out of its grasp. The rifle shot to its shoulder seemed to do little to distract it from its primary target. I watched as fresh blood poured from its wound, I wasn’t sure what had me more intrigued, the fact that the blood wasn’t some congealed blood red, bacon fat, looking substance or the constant mewling of the zombie as it keened in disappointment. Without meaning to, I found myself continually backing away as the zombie tried its best to fit itself through the six-inch space between the bars to get at me. Igor was saying something loudly in Russian, from his tone and volume I assumed it was swearing (but who can tell, a love song spoken in Russian sounds like taunts at a bar fight) as he tried to unpry a jammed bullet in his HK-47. (Russian piece of shit weapon. No, I’m not kidding that went through my head as I kept backing up, while looking at the zombie and also checking my stomach for any tell tale signs of red welpish weeping wounds.)

The zombie was shoulder deep through the bars and trying in vain to fit its oversize melon through, when Jen came up and finished off what Igor had started.

“Thank you.” I stammered out, as I did a silent prayer to the patron saint of Intact Flesh. I pulled my shirt up thankful to realize that whatever saint I had prayed to had come through.

Jen looked shaken a bit, but pardon the pun, not stirred. She had a determination to her now, something she had not possessed at the armory. She wasn’t there yet but she was looking more and more like someone I would want on my team should the need arise.

“What was it doing?” She asked, a worried look across her face. I couldn’t blame her, killing a speeder seemed more like taking down one of our own. “Was I imagining it or was that thing showing anger.”

“Anger, frustration, hunger? Hell I don’t know, welcome to Zombies version 2.0, the new and improved model.” I answered sarcastically.

“The better to kill YOU.” Justin said as he came up to witness the butchery.

I couldn’t help but focus on the word ‘You’ and how Justin made sure he was making eye contact with me when he said it. My concentration was broken however as the sheriff and his deputy finally made their way over to the window. The slower older zombie version 1.0’s were savagely cut down as Igor finally righted his rifle and made short work of them. I guess we were actually the rude guests, after all this was their place of work. We came in uninvited, locked them out and then killed them when they tried to gain entry. Oh well, manners were low on my list of priorities.

“Igor, do you see any more of them?” I asked tentatively. I wanted out. The more I looked at this situation the stronger I felt the urge to leave. The constricted confines of the jail, pressed in from all sides. I fucking swooned as I felt my equilibrium spin on its axis. And as suddenly as the static in my mind attacked, it abated, the room returned to its original dimensions. It had happened so suddenly no one even noticed my distress, except for one. Justin was looking directly at me, a small sneer spread across his thin lips. ‘Fuck what is going on!’

I never took my eyes off him as Igor answered. “Da, five or six, maybe more can’t see past the truck and the windows are only in the front.”

I understood the implied meaning, and obviously my over active, scary movie fed imagination, pictured a thousand or more zombies to the rear of the building just waiting patiently for the front door to open so that they could make a human meat and cheese mcmuffin for breakfast. That actually sounded good, my stomach grumbled, mind you not the human meat part, the mcmuffin part. Remember where I said the zombie HADN’T broken skin when he scratched me?

April ran into the center of the room her finger wildly gesturing back to where she had come from. Her fragmented thoughts trying desperately for cohesion as her mouth soundlessly opened and closed.

“Spit it out.” Mrs. Deneaux said. “You look like a fish out of water with your mouth opening and closing like that. It’s not an attractive appearance on you.”

Well it was good to see that Mrs. Deneaux hadn’t placed that thought filter on her mouth yet. I didn’t like Deneaux but I was in agreement with her on this one.

“A noise…a noise.” April stated, and then as her brain caught up she elaborated. “I heard some scraping on the wall by where I was sleeping.”

“It was probably just a mouse Mrs. Deneaux, said caustically.

I was tempted to agree with her again. In fact I wanted to, as opposed to accepting the alternative. The noise that we were now all hearing was suspiciously close to where I had deposited our dead jail bird. ‘Stupid’ I whispered as I inwardly slapped my hand up against my forehead. ‘Might as well have hung up a Denny’s sign. Come get your country folk buffet.’ I was frozen in indecision, damned if you do damned if you don’t. We couldn’t stay here that much was certain, but going outside meant uncertainty. BT came to my rescue, not purposefully but still I’ll take it.

“Talbot.” His voice boomed in the restricted room. “Let’s get our gear and get the hell out of here.”

My engine was racing, finally with the nudge from BT my transmission kicked into gear. Indecision was now in my rear view mirror and fading fast.

“Alright, Alex, you get ready. I’m going to get a five man fire team ready, we’re going to blow a hole into any opposition and then you go right up into the cab. Don’t go until I tell you though. If something happens to you, I’ll have to drive that effen truck and we all know how well that will go over.”

“Yeah I have a weak stomach.” BT said smiling.

“BT I can’t imagine anything weak on you.” I said looking up at the big man.

“Why tempt fate Talbot?” He said as he clapped my shoulder, I nearly fell over from the force. I don’t know if he does it purposefully or he just doesn’t know his own strength. Ok I’m not that naïve. He’s definitely doing it on purpose. Fine as long as he was tentatively on my side then I could deal with it.

Igor and I stood shoulder to shoulder by the doorway, BT and Brendan stood immediately behind us and Travis took up the rear, with the shotgun. It would have been wisest to put the scattergun up front but I’d be damned if I was going to go into battle BEHIND one of my own. Jen was at the door ready to pull it open at my command, at which point Igor and I would go out with guns blazing ala Paul Newman and Robert Redford in the movie Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. As we became able to fan out, BT and Brendan would join in the fray, by that time, my hope was that the battle would be over and Travis and Alex could saunter out.

Jen nodded once to me. “You ready?” She asked.

‘No’ I took a deep breath and nodded my head in return. The door flew open and she jumped back. Immediately I realized my mistake, I had fucked up. The morning sun blazed into my eyes, I couldn’t see shit! I was more likely to shoot Igor than a zombie. Igor’s rifle fired in rapid succession. I couldn’t tell if he was suffering the same affliction as me and was being proactive by sending a hail of bullets down range or we were truly under attack. Something batted my rifle. I involuntarily pulled the trigger. The sound of shattering bone cracked over the din. I pressed outward. My only hope at this point was help from the rear. Whatever or whoever had been in front of me was now a few ounces heavier with lead poisoning. To my right Igor’s gun had silenced as I sensed him go down. ‘Oh this isn’t good!’ A rifle shot above my ear told me that BT had joined the skirmish.

“Can you see anything BT?” I screamed over the blasts.

“I can see enough!” He yelled. “Get your white ass back into the jail.” He didn’t wait for a response as he literally lifted me up by my collar. My feet weren’t even touching the ground as he pulled me back in. Jen and Brendan slammed the door back into place, Travis placing the cross bar into place as the door was assaulted from the outside. I heard kids screaming, and some sobbing, but could still see nothing. I was snow blind.

“Fuck man! Fuck!” BT shouted. “There were dozens of them. As soon as the door opened they came. They were waiting Talbot! Waiting! Fuck!”

“What about Igor?” I asked. The silence in the room answered volumes. The short intense battle had cost us dearly, and with nothing gained the loss was felt throughout the room. April openly wept, the kids mostly hid under blankets, but these monsters were real, blankets weren’t going to save them. My sight was coming back, but I didn’t like what I was seeing. The zombies knew we had only one way out and had laid in wait. It was a textbook ambush. If they had waited a few seconds more until we were all outside they could have completely taken us. As my sight finally adjusted to the abysmal interior they settled on Justin. He seemed the most nonplussed of us all.

“What do you know?!” I screamed at him. Tracy ran up to shield Justin from me.

“What are you doing Mike?” She yelled back.

“He knows something!” I shouted “And I want to know what it is.” The rest of the occupants looked at me like I had finally lost my marbles. I attempted to push past Tracy to get to Justin. BT was having none of it.

“Have you lost your damn mind?” BT asked as he grabbed my arm. I would have shrugged him off but I would have had an easier time taking a tire lug nut off with my fingers. You get the point, right?

“Fuck!” I shouted as I turned away. BT let go as he realized that my offensive had petered out.

“You done lost your mind Talbot. The fight’s outside.” BT reiterated. As if in response to BT’s words, the zombies were realizing their opportunity at an ambush had come to an end. They were now launching an all out offensive on the small sheriff’s office. Shards of glass splashed inside as cut and bleeding arms shot through attempting to ensnare anything that might venture close enough to them. No matter how close or far we were to the windows we all backed up a step. It was clear the zombies couldn’t get in. It was also clear we couldn’t get out. But just because they couldn’t get in, didn’t mean we could stay. We had left the majority of our supplies, including food, in the trucks and they were outside. The thought being that if we had to evacuate in a hurry we wouldn’t be hampered with the added weight. Add in the fact that we now had central air conditioning installed via the broken windows, we had a multitude of ways in which we could face our demise, none of them seemed that appealing. Let’s see, we could start with starvation, but that could take up to 10 days. There was always exposure, that would be quicker. Probably take in the neighborhood of three days. Or the least savory of the trio, death by consumption, and not the kind that killed good Ol’ Doc Holliday.

I went back to my cell, calling it that seemed more apt at the moment. Paul came over to see how I was doing.

“You alright bud. You seemed to have flipped there for a minute.” He said.

If I had installed laser beams in my eyes he would have been severed in two. The damn zombies had upgraded, why couldn’t I?

“You know we’re screwed right?” I asked him. He nodded in ascension.

“Mike I never thought it would end like this.” Paul said solemnly.

I let my sarcastic side out. “Like what Paul? In a jail cell, in a fly speck of a town surrounded by zombies?” His head bowed even lower. Now I felt like a shit. “I’m sorry man, it just came out.”

He looked up at me. “Dude, no you’re right. Even with all that’s been going on I still haven’t completely wrapped my head around the idea that what is happening is ‘real’. Do you know what I mean?”

I nodded because I did know what he meant. In horror book after horror book they talk about how it just seemed like a nightmare and eventually you will wake up and that werewolf chewing your leg off isn’t real. The boogeyman that comes out of your closet in the middle of the night to steal your soul is merely fiction. We’re just innately not built with the capacity to wrap our heads around things with this much magnitude. We push it aside or underneath or we choose to completely ignore rather than accept what is directly in our face.

I knew this guy in high school, Jeff, he was a senior when I was a junior he was going out with this girl, Hillary, who was arguably the hottest chick in the school. But that’s neither here nor there. They were the epitome of the traditional high school sweethearts. They had known each other in grade school and as they matured, their relationship developed. They dated the entire four years of their high school experience. Upon graduating they went off to the same college so they could stay together and during their sophomore year at college they decided to tie the knot. They wanted it to be a large elaborate traditional wedding. They came back home during the Thanksgiving break to tell everyone of their momentous decision, although it would have been to no one’s amazement. But this isn’t Oz, some douche bag decided to wash his car during a cold spell in the Northeast, the runoff from his car rinsing, froze out in the street that night. Jeff lost control of his car and hit a UPS truck head on. When they finally extracted his 302 hp engine from Hillary’s lap, her inner light had long expired. For the two weeks Jeff spent in the hospital he had to be constantly sedated because he would wander from room to room looking for her. I even heard that years later he would periodically call Hillary’s parents and ask if she was home. How would any of us react to that set of circumstances?

The zombies were like that for us. It was a difficult concept to accept as reality. I even found myself sometimes thinking when I could go home and play with the Wii again, or mow the lawn or just sit and watch a baseball game. But that was all over, whether I wanted to believe it or not. Our new reality involved monsters of mythical proportion. Every day was to be a struggle to survive. That was truth. Living was now a burden to be hefted onto one’s shoulders until the accumulated weight of despair broke our backs.

Paul leaned in for a man hug, as I did my best to console him, my gaze was driven skyward because of his head.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed as I nearly kneed Paul in the nose as I jumped up. I ran up to the cell bars trying my best to suppress my enthusiasm until I could make sure that the idea forming in my head could hold any water whatsoever.

“What is it Mike?” Paul asked, doing his best to wipe away the tears that had built up under his eyes before I could notice. MAN CODE Alert. Dudes don’t cry in front of other dudes. They just merely ‘Sit on their keys’ bringing a tear to one’s eye.

Alex and BT had come over to watch and to see why I was so interested in the bars.

“What’s up Talbot? You already going stir crazy?” BT asked. He laughed as he said it probably thinking it was exactly what was happening.

Alex however was taking more notice of what I was doing. “Hex heads Mike?”

I nodded. “All the way around Alex.” I answered enthusiastically.

“Who’s a hex head?” BT said angrily, thinking that he might be the butt of a joke he didn’t understand. Personally, that was like poking a bear with a beehive. Why would you even want to go there?

“No BT.” Alex said diffusing BT. “The bars are mounted into the ceiling and walls with hex head screws.”

“Who gives a shit?” BT asked “Hex heads, screws, nails, magnets, fucking bubble gum, what’s the difference?”

“This means we can take them down.” I answered with excitement in my voice, more people were taking notice, but I think only to witness the completion of my mental breakdown. “We’re going to need tools Alex.”

“I’ll look Mike, but I’m still not sure what taking those down is going to accomplish.” Alex said.

“Alex how far away do you think the cab to the truck is?”

“Maybe five, six feet, seven at the most. Why?”

“How long across do you think these bars are?” I asked him.

“Eight…oh I see where you’re going.” Alex answered happiness and hope spreading across his face.

“What?” BT asked. “I don’t get it.”

“Don’t worry big man. You’re going to play an integral part in all this, that is, if we can find some tools.” I told him.

BT didn’t ask any more questions, but he did have a concerned look.

Alex came back a few minutes later. “Man, all I could find was a pair of channel locks under the sink.”

“Shit, not exactly what I was looking for, but it’ll have to do. You sure there wasn’t a ratchet set there too.” I asked, only half kidding.

“Yeah, Mike I’m holding out on you.”

“See, you’ll get this sarcasm thing down eventually.”

“Let’s hope.”

That dampened the mood a bit, but it didn’t extinguish the flame completely. It was slow, finger cramping work, but an hour and a half later we had removed two cell bar assemblies. Of course it was the very last screw that threatened to sideline the whole plan, repeated attempts at trying to remove the stubborn nut had turned the hex head into a near cylindrical fastener, only BT’s unbelievably strong vise-like grip was able to find purchase on the head, he didn’t actually unscrew the nut, he had sheered it off. Didn’t matter to me how it came off as long as it did.

CHAPTER 11

“Alright I’m going to need some help standing these things up.” I told everybody. BT grabbed one set by himself. Travis Brendan and Alex grabbed the other. “BT you want some help with that one? I need it over here, I want to lean the two sections together so they form an ‘A’.”

BT strained, the cords in his neck stuck out like thick ropes as he manhandled the five hundred pound bars into place. “Holy shit, BT what do you bench? Chevies?” The floor shook as he dropped the bars into place. I grabbed two sets of handcuffs and pulled a desk over to the bars so that I could reach the top, I fastened the bars together with the cuffs about a foot in on each side. On the bottom of the bars I had attached the two utility belts, so that the bottom didn’t flare out like a cheerleader doing the splits. It was Alex that came up with the idea to duct tape the police batons to the bottom. In theory this would keep the assembly from collapsing under the impending assault.

“What are you planning on doing with this thing Talbot?” BT asked, he knew the answer I just think he wanted it spoken out loud.

“Have you ever been to the aquarium?” I asked him.

“Do I look like I’ve been to the aquarium?”

I didn’t know how to answer the question, I wasn’t sure what the right answer was and I had seen his kung-fu grip in action and didn’t want any of it near my neck. I did what any good self-preservationist would do…I ignored it. “Okay at some of the bigger aquariums they have underwater walkways so that people can sort of view the fish and sharks in their own habitat. So basically we’re making a zombie walkway.”

“Is there a gift shop?” Brendon asked. After a few seconds of some good humored laughter I resumed.

“That was a good one, Brendon.” I said wiping a tear away from my eye. MAN CODE note, it is acceptable to shed a tear in front of others if it is due to excessive laughter or one’s sporting team wins a major event, i.e. the Red Sox in the 2004 World Series.

“Dad.” Travis said pointing to the windows. “Do you think they know what’s going on?” The zombies were not completely standing idle, their arms still futily waved about trying to grasp anything that might be foolish enough to wander close, and there was still that soft high pitched mewling that would probably make me insane long before I ever froze to death. But the arms weren’t waving around quite as frantically and the mewling had softened noticeably. And the look in some of their eyes was almost questioning, like they were trying to puzzle out this new factor.

“Let’s thin this herd a little bit, give them something else to think about.” I answered. If this failed there was no contingency plan.

“We don’t have a shit load of ammo in here Mike.” Brendon said. Needlessly I might add. I had struggled with this decision last night with how much ammo to bring in, and I had come up wanting.

“I don’t want a sustained fire fight. I just want them to remember that we’re still in charge. And watch out for the bars, I don’t want any ricochets.” I furthered. Travis, BT and Brendon lined up for the firing squad. Everyone else had pretty much gone as far back to the rear as was physically possible. “Hey Trav, you should probably get back there too, that buck shot will bounce right off the bars.” That in part was why I wanted him off the line, the other more significant issue was he looked entirely too eager to be a part of the killing. I was afraid for him. The look of bloodlust can overwhelm even the strongest of men and my son had just barely joined the rank of manhood. I had seen it enough in Iraq, once the sickness got in you it was damn near impossible to eradicate it. Squads would go into remote villages in the mountains and just slaughter everything, men, women, children, goats, it made no difference, if it spilled blood and could die it was fair game. The higher echelons almost always covered these transgressions, usually with a rocket attack to wipe out any evidence.

“No sweat Dad, I switched over to slugs.” Travis answered with a smile.

“Fuck.” I muttered. What good was surviving if we had to drag our souls through the mud? I might not be a holy man, but I was still afraid of what God would think when I showed up at the pearly gates dragging the dilapidated leftovers of my shredded soul.

“So Michael Talbot, what have you done in your life that warrants your entrance into this the most Holy of Sanctuaries?” God, Saint Peter or Buddha, might ask.

“I survived.” Would be my meek reply. Might as well have said. “Blue! No, No, Yellow!!” Right before I was launched into the abyss. (You would have to be a fan of Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail to catch the reference. If you have by some chance gone this far in your life and have not witnessed one of the greatest comedies created then odds are you’re not going to find a DVD player that works now, sorry.)

My meager portion of breakfast was not sitting well and I did not want to sour it any further. I went back to the cell where Nicole and Tracy were sitting. Justin was facing away from the windows, presumably sleeping but I don’t know how with all the noise we had been making. Tommy was sitting in the corner, holding an unopened bag of pop-tarts. That more than the expression of woe on his face told me that he was extremely upset. I was about to ask him what was the matter when the first volley of shots exploded within. I covered my ears, as did most everyone else. Within a minute the shooting had stopped. It would be another fifteen before the choking smoke cleared.

I walked over to Tommy and put my hand on his shoulder. “You all right Tommy?”

Tommy looked up. “He’s close Mr. T.” He stammered out.

“Is Ryan back?” I asked. That would be the best thing I had heard today.

“No it’s someone else.” He answered somberly.

My ass clamped tight. I don’t know why, it was an involuntary reaction to Tommy’s words. Apparently my body thought it was the right thing to do, who’s to say. I turned back to face the windows and it was a sight to behold, not a zombie in view. With renewed hope and an unclenching sphincter I asked. “Did you get them all?”

“Naw Mike they left.” Brendon answered.

“Son of a bitch, that’s something new. They usually hang around for their punishment.” We had all witnessed hundreds of zombies walking into sheets of lead without so much as a pause as their comrades in mouths fell. That these zombies were smart enough to realize the pointlessness of staying at the windows was foreboding.

“We killed a good ten or fifteen of them Dad.” Travis said beaming.

BT cautiously walked up to the window to better survey the damage done and to try and assess our odds of success.

“What’s going on BT? Can you see anything?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, damnedest thing. They pulled back about hundred feet or so, and they are just sitting there looking at me.”

“How many?” I asked. ‘Please say, two maybe three PLEASE!’

“Two maybe three…hundred.”

‘Well that’s what you get for wishing, how many times my mother told me to be more specific when I asked for something.’

“They’re just kind of standing out there in a loose semi-circle. Guys I wouldn’t want to bet my life on it but they look like they’re waiting for something.”

“Or somebody.” I finished.

“Mike what if the zombies at the window were just a distraction?” Alex asked me. A new thought furrowing his brow.

It took me a quick second to get over the initial shock of how many zombies we were actually contending with. “How so Alex?”

“I mean we knew they couldn’t get to us and I think they knew they couldn’t get to us, but they sure did keep us away from the windows.” Alex stated. “That sure would keep us in the dark to how many of them were out there.”

“Or they were just stalling us.” I said. These new developments were coming faster than I could recognize them.

“What’s going on Mike? You seem to know more than you’re letting on to.” Alex asked.

“Not really Alex, it’s just a feeling I’m getting. I don’t have any ‘knowledge’ but all the same I think the quicker we get out of here the better off we’re going to be.”

Alex kept looking at my face hard, trying to glean some inkling to what I was feeling. There was nothing there to give him.

“Brendon can you hit the zombies from here?”

“Shit yeah Mike, its a hundred feet. I used to shoot gophers at a hundred yards back in Missouri.”

“Take a shot every few seconds, so that they don’t get any crazy ideas about coming back. Apparently the thought of dying again doesn’t sit well with them. Jen you ready for round two with the door?”

She stomped out her cigarette and nodded grimly.

“BT how much help will you need pushing our causeway through the door?” I asked.

“Seriously Talbot?” BT answered looking at me like I had asked him if he could cut up his steak by himself.

“Fine BT, but we’re not going to have a lot of time for you to build up a head of steam and get that thing going. The fucker’s got to way half a ton.”

“You worry about protecting my ass. I’ll get this to the truck.”

“Alex I want you to put on as many clothes as you can and still be able to move, including gloves.”

“Why don’t I just make a run for it, they’re a hundred feet away I only have to go six, I’m not Speedy Gonzalez but shit a tortoise would like those odds.”

“I’ve got a feeling Alex that as soon as we open that door that they’ve got a surprise for us.”

“Yeah this plan just gets better and better.” Alex answered as he grabbed a pair of sweat pants that he had been using as a pillow.

“See, hang around with me for a few more weeks and you’ll be able to pass as a New Englander, no problem.”

Alex grumbled something in Spanish, it had to be swear words and a colorful variety too because his wife was trying to shield her kids ears.

Alex looked like a sumo by the time he was finished, I thought it might be better to roll him to his destination. The killjoy didn’t see the humor in my revelation and he let me know in no uncertain terms. We positioned the bars by the door. BT rolled his neck in a large circle in preparation. Jen had her hand on the handle. Alex was dripping sweat as he waited tensely for the shortest sprint in human history. Brendon kept the zombie crowd at bay. Travis and I positioned ourselves on either side of the door to lay covering fire when and if needed. The plan was ready and it looked pretty damn good on paper, if I do say so myself. Too bad the paper wasn’t of the toilet variety, because the plan went to shit in a hurry.

“Ready?” Jen asked everyone.

‘No.’ I nodded.

The door swung open and hell came through. (Actually all hell broke loose, but poetically the last sentence sounds way better. I might be fighting for my life but it doesn’t mean I can’t go for the dramatic overtones.) My hunch proved to be true, much to my chagrin. Why do my hunches always involve the negative? Couldn’t I have ever had a hunch about the winning lottery numbers? I could have been waiting out the apocalypse in my gun turreted castle somewhere in the mountains of Vail. As soon as Jen stepped clear of the door, the first of the zombies tried to gain entry. I can only figure that they were hiding against the exterior wall just in the event that we would open the door. There could be no other explanation. Travis’ shotgun roared I immediately found myself covered in a visceral mixture of bone and brain. The salty, metal taste of blood drained down my throat. I would have puked if I had had enough time to really comprehend what was happening. The zombies Brendon was ‘holding’ at bay broke for the opening in our defenses as soon as the first of their brethren hit the ground.

The bars started their slow arduous journey forward. A couple of things stuck out immediately. The first was the disgusting taste of raw innards as they made their way down my gullet. The second was that the bars weren’t moving nearly fast enough to beat our adoring fans to the truck. The third and possibly the most important was the quarter inch high threshold that was about to become a major roadblock. BT had managed to get the bars to within a foot of the doors and he was gaining momentum. Through it all Travis’ gun roared as he kept our attackers at bay. As soon as BT hit that threshold those bars would stop and then we’d be sunk, the door to the building wouldn’t be able to close and we would have actually built an awning for our guests to arrive in before they dined. We were all about ambiance at Club Chez, home of the delectable jellied brain.

“PULL IT BACK!” I screamed.

“I can do it Talbot.” BT grunted.

“Dad I’m out!” Travis yelled. “Look out!” I had turned to yell at BT when I looked over to Travis, the terror in his eyes, told me all that I needed to know. My time on earth was measured in seconds. Jen’s pistol destroyed what little hearing remained in my right ear. If she had fired her shot any closer she could have made a lead earring for me. The world around me was reduced to the bitter smell of smoke and the incessant ringing in my ears. Travis seemed to be yelling something. I couldn’t hear it. BT had completely ignored my plea. Jen, I think, was still shooting her pistol but by now all I could hear was a distant crack, like maybe somebody was slapping a baby’s ass two rooms away. I had a second or two to decide what to do, although there was no real choice, so it was basically like when my wife would ask me to do something. She would ASK because it was the civilized thing to do, but I didn’t really have the choice of NOT doing it.

Before BT completely sealed off the door, I stepped outside and through the outer edge of our make shift ‘A’ frame. BT looked at me like I had gone insane but give credit to him he didn’t stop pushing. The leading edge was, at the most, three inches from the threshold by the time I got a good hand hold on the bars. It was at this point I was probably the most thankful that I suffered from the affliction known as ‘survivalism’ because I was almost completely sure that the world was going to end badly, one way or the other. I had stayed in relatively decent shape over the years. I had done miles and miles of cardio and tons and tons of weight lifting (obviously I’m talking cumulatively). I wouldn’t be able to beat BT in an arm wrestling competition even if I used both arms and a leg, but there was an underlying strength there that might not be obvious on first notice. I bent slightly at the knees and thrust up like I was Superman trying to leap a tall building. The resulting effect wasn’t nearly as cool as seeing the man of steel jump. Something felt like it splintered in my back. Red pain flared out, wrapping around the base of my skull. The pain was all consuming. All my other senses were lost. The world turned scarlet as I fought against the laws of gravity. My heart pumped in overdrive. Adrenaline flooded every fiber of my being. The curtain of ruby parted slightly as I strained upward. The bars moved a fraction of an inch or my ankles collapsed, either way something was giving.

The bars had cleared the threshold!! I might never walk erect again, perpetually going through life dragging my knuckles like our predecessors (if you believe in that kind of thing) seemed a small price to pay. My celebration was short lived though, BT had the bars moving at a good clip but he was still a good two feet away from the truck when the first of our party crashers made their presence known. Through all the gun smoke I could tell that BT wasn’t alone in his efforts to move the behemoth, but it wasn’t going to be enough. The zombies were going to come through the opening and the first thing they were going to encounter was me. Well, no one said you had to stand up straight to fire a gun. There was a moment’s hesitation from the lead zombies as they banged up against the bars in frustration, but these weren’t your daddy’s zombies. These had the ability to learn and adapt. Through the opening they flooded. I was alone and trapped in a tunnel with the enemy. My AR was firing almost on its own. Zombies fell. Bone was devastated, blood spilled, innards became disemboweled. Sure my sight was still recovering from the blistering pain. My hearing was nearly non-existent but SMELL, lovely SMELL was 100% intact. What a cruel, cruel world we lived in now. The smell more than anything nearly sapped my will to live. I dropped to one knee as the olfactory invasion hit me with its full force. Intestines slithered toward me with a mind of their own, as the red ribbons spilled forth their contents. I retched. The sight of a small child’s fingers, one still wearing what looked like a Barbie ring came to a rest mere inches from where my face would drop when I passed out.

I felt the low thrum of vibration as the bars completed their journey, smacking into the side of the truck. Before I had the opportunity to fall forward, someone grabbed me from behind and dragged me back through into the office. The smell of shit that was probably forever burned into my nose decreased but conversely whatever had popped in my back and ankle renewed their fervor of agony. Scarlet once again threatened to overwhelm my senses and all I could think about was that I now had an excuse to not going dancing when my wife asked me to. Go back to the part about ASKING. I was dragged unceremoniously a few feet further into the office. It was no big deal. The pain at this point couldn’t get any worse. It was many long minutes that I took to recover from the worst of it. It receded slowly, like high tide. It kept coming in to shore but each progressive wave just a wee bit shorter than the previous. Five, six days max I might feel decent again.

“Mike! Mike!” Someone said urgently as they shook my shoulder. High tide surged in with the force of a full moon.

“Fuck, stop.” I said weakly, holding up my hand.

“Sorry Mike.” Alex said.