A Plague Upon Your Family

I wanted to say it was nothing, but the energy exerted to tell the lie didn’t seem worth the effort.

“Mike what do we do once I get to the truck and pull away?”

I wanted to tell him to go to a pharmacy first and get me some Percocet. Then find a little Asian masseuse (I wouldn’t even care if she was cute or not) to do some deep tissue massage on every part of my aching body. But again that would call for a lot of effort on my flagging reserves and with no real promise of a pay out on my requests. What was the point.

“Mike?!” He nearly shook me again, but I think the look of wretchedness in my eyes kept him at bay. “As soon as I pull away, you’ll have an opening back into the office.”

“The best laid plans.” I said. I had never thought that far. I figured that once we had access to the truck everything else would fall into place. Yeah, not so much. Once the truck was gone, we would effectively open up our restaurant for business. Brainer King’s, McFleshald’s, take your pick. The devil is in the details.

“A few might follow the truck, but once the rest see that hole, they’ll come flooding in here.” Alex reiterated.

BT thumped down next to me, even in my distress I could tell he was exhausted, sweat droplets the size of nickels dotted his forehead. His shirt was soaked. He hung his head down, taking deep breaths. “You did all right, Talbot.” He said with his chin touching his chest.

“You too BT.” I said between clenched teeth.

“You look like you broke your nuts.”

“I might have BT,” came my glum reply. “But I’m married so I don’t really need them."

Even in his wiped out state I still was able to receive a healthy laugh from him.

“Mike.” Alex beseeched.

“Right, I almost forgot.” Well maybe not so much not remembering as it was wishful deniability.

“What’s up?” BT asked as he raised his head off his chest.

“Once the truck leaves, we’ll have an open door policy.”

BT looked at me for a second, digesting the new information.

“I guess you didn’t think this out too well?” BT stated flatly. And then he did something completely unexpected. He busted out laughing. It was infectious. In between moans I was laughing too, tears streaming out of my eyes. I won’t lie, some were from the pain but most were from the sheer mad hatter laugh.

“What the fuck Mike?” Alex said so seriously. I burst out with a whole new round of gut splitting (bad example in light of recent events) laughter.

“Sorry, sorry.” I said grabbing on to my stomach to ease the spasming muscles. “Okay, I’m fine sorry.” Alex’ look of consternation set me off again. BT was literally prostrate on the floor slapping his hand down on the ground because he was laughing so hard. “Okay I’m better now.” I said through a huge grin that threatened to split my face in two, though some might consider that an improvement.

BT sat back up, wiping his broad forehead with his hand. “Whew. I think I’m done.” He looked over to me, I’m pretty sure the pathetic look on my face is what set him off again.” Riotous laughter exploded from BT, even the zombies stopped for a second.

After several long moments BT was able to finally string a question together. “Did you swallow some?” BT asked.

“Swallow what?” I asked innocently as the bile in my stomach churned.

“Talbot you have a piece of what looks like a liver on your chin.”

I absently wiped the incriminating evidence away, while also shuddering in revulsion.

“What happens if he eats a zombie, does he become one?” Eddy asked. One of the here to fore silent children.

Ah, precocious kids, don’t you just want to throw them up against a wall and see if they stick?

BT looked at me like I had the answer to Eddy’s query.

“How the fuck would I know.” I answered his unasked question.

“You’d probably have to have an ulcer or something so that the infection could get into your blood stream.” Joann stepped up and gave her educated guess.

“Well what of it, Talbot, you got any ulcers?” BT asked, with not a hint of his earlier merriment.

“Shit BT even if I did, do you think now would be the time for me to disclose that.”

BT didn’t know whether to shoot me or laugh his ass off again.

Tracy saved the day. “BT, he doesn’t give a shit enough about anything besides himself to develop an ulcer.”

That was all it took, BT’s threatening stance instantly turned back to laughter. I hoped Tracy and Joann were right and Eddy could go fuck himself. My stomach lurched under the strain of digesting the zombie’s unmentionables.

I was SO ready to let go again and join BT, although this trip down the rabbit hole might lead me to a rubber room. But let’s reason this out, if you are out-of-your mind insane in a sane world, then it is like algebra, you have a negative times a positive, so that makes it a negative. So far so good. Now if you are an off your rocker lunatic in a demented, deranged world, than you have a negative times a negative, which is a positive. I think I was on to something. It was like the old adage, if you can’t beat them, become as crazy as a fucking loon and enjoy the ride, or something along those lines.

BT had finished up his latest laugh-spell and was looking over to me while I was pondering the benefits of psychosis. “So what’s the plan Talbot?”

“Huh? Oh, what the hell makes you think I’ve got a plan?”

“I’ve known you for three weeks, Talbot. I haven’t seen you yet not have a plan, whether they are good or not, doesn’t matter you still always have one.”

“Fine but you’re not going to like it.”

“Does it involve me getting eaten by those ugly freaks?” He asked motioning with his head over to the door.

I spent the next minute laying out what I wanted to get done (it wasn’t much of a plan, so it didn’t require much narration).

“Yeah you’re right, I don’t like it.” BT moaned. He stood up preparing his body for the task at hand.

I looked up with an imploring expression.

“Really?” BT asked. I just kept staring. “Fine.”

BT got behind me and put his forearms under my armpits, he hefted me up no harder than if I was a ten pound bag of dog shit (which I felt like). My knees cracked like rifle shots as they flexed open. I took three or four shaky steps before my lower back finally decided to disengage its fusion from my ass.

“You’re a sight Mike.” Alex said.

“That’s what my wife says.” I answered as I placed my fist into my lower back hoping in vain to unloosen the sailor knot that most likely was going to be a perpetual fixture in my ever widening list of painful areas.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Tracy threw in for good measure. She rubbed the sore spot as best she could, but this was going to take a team of Sven’s (Swedish masseuses) working around the clock a couple of years to fix.

“Dad, you alright?” Nicole asked coming up to my side and hugging me. Although I think she was more coming up to make sure I didn’t fall over. To confirm my suspicion, she whispered into my ear. “You can lean on me.”

“It’s tolerable.” I lied. She knew. Funny how parents want to protect their kids even when the truth is right there in front of God and everyone.

“Talbot, come on man. I want to get this over with.” BT begrudged from across the room. Alex nodded in agreement.

“Dad?” Coley asked. The concern was etched deeply in her small features.

“I’m fine.” I answered, doing the best I could to make my shuffling walk look like a cockneyed strut. And trying to make my scowl of ache, look like the traditional happy go lucky smile I generally walked around with. If the entire world’s a stage, and we are merely players, I would never earn an Emmy for my performance that day.

“Alex you ready?” A superfluous question, but one that needed asking anyway. The poor guy was sweating profusely from the mountain of clothing that he was wearing. Well that and the fact that he was about to make a dash through a throng of hungry meat-eaters. He looked at me like I was fucking nuts. ‘Ah so my plan was working already. Lithium here I come!’

“In or out?” BT asked.

Sarcasm is going to get me killed sooner rather than later. “What’s that your sex ed book?”

BT wasn’t nearly as close to his slap happy mood as he had been a few minutes previous.

“The bars Talbot, what do you want me to do with them?”

“In.” I said solemnly.

“I knew it, two feet to get it out the door, six feet to get it back in.”

“I’m just trying to ascertain that you are truly involved with the synergy of this colossal undertaking. It’s going to be a team effort, something in which we are all going to have to pull together and think outside of….”

“Fucken stop, Talbot.” BT pleaded. “I was a Project Manager before I decided to de-stress my life. Zombies I can handle. Corporate speak bullshit, well that’s a different matter. I swore that if I ever had to listen to one more suit and tie or dog and pony conference call I was going to go postal.”

“Did you know that’s a misnomer, for the amount of the workforce, the percentage of violence in the post office is actually below that of the national average for workplace violence.”

“What’s the percentage in sheriff offices?”

I got the point.

I stood at the door, plumes of human exhaust issued forth from my mouth, I watched as zombies pressed into our make shift walkway from both sides. Their arms nearly met in the middle, it was not going to be a fun walk for Alex. I shivered at the thought of all those germ infested hands reaching out and touching someone, hopefully not me.

“We’re going to have to push the bars outside BT.” I told him.

“I wish you’d make up your mind.” He grumbled.

“We’ll never be able to pull it in with all those zombies pressing in on it.”

Alex was standing next to me looking like a bowling ball with a sweater on. More sweat popped on his brow as he looked down the expanse of the gate, all that could be seen was a sea of arms and fingernails. As if on cue we turned to look at the huddled form of Justin in the far corner. One didn’t have to be bitten to suffer some affects from the zombies.

“Mike I’m losing my taste for this quest.” Alex said.

“If you stay low Alex, there is a clear pathway.” I said it but I didn’t believe it. It was clear now but as soon as the zombies saw him they would adjust to get closer.

Brendon had been behind us the whole time, just waiting for some sort of instructions or plan. “This sucks.” He said more to himself. The sentiment was appreciated by us all.

“I hear that freezing to death isn’t so bad.” I said resignedly.

BT looked pissed. He frustratedly shot a few rounds into the growing mass of zombies. As one zombie fell two moved in to take its place. We’d never be able to fire enough rounds to clear a wide enough hole for Alex, first off would be the fear of hitting him inadvertently the other was that we just didn’t have enough rounds to have a continuous barrage of bullets. The roach motel moniker looked like it was going to stick.

“FUCK!” I shouted. A baby let loose a long throated wail as if in response. “Sorry.” I muttered earnestly.

The office had become as quiet as a church. “Mommy I found some sleds.” One of the little kids said eagerly.

“Hush now Eddy.” His mother answered him.

I turned to look, if only to be distracted from what lay outside. I walked over to little Eddy, who looked suspiciously like a little old man. His mother pulled Eddy close to herself and shied away from my advancing form.

“He didn’t mean anything Mr. Talbot he was just exploring…you… you know like little kids do.” She said nervously. “I…I promise he’ll be good, and quiet.”

“It’s fine Miss?”

“Jodi, Jodi Ybarra.”

“Jodi, everything’s fine. Do you mind if I talk to Eddy?”

“Sure…sure.” She said nervously. This lady looked like a cat that had her tail stepped on. She was ready to jump at the smallest infraction.

I sat down on my haunches, instantly regretting my decision to get down to Eddy’s level. My knees felt like they were going to shoot straight out of my jeans, like Roman candles on the Fourth of July. Well I was here now might as well get down to business.

“What you got there Eddy?” I asked with my nicest voice, but that was in direct contradiction to the distorted sneer I wore on my face from the blistering pain that was emanating from my knees and back.

Eddy looked at me nervously, trying to ascertain my true intent. But like any six year old, exuberance won out. “I found a sled!”

“Do you mind if I take a look at it?”

Eddy eyed my suspiciously like I was going to take his prized possession. I felt for him I truly did, he had already lost almost everything he had owned. But the riot shield he was holding might be the solution to all our problems.

“Sure mister, there was a whole closet of them.”

“Awesome, do you think you could help me back up?”

Eddy looked at me like I was crazy. “Adults are funny.” He answered.

I have to admit the little bugger was a lot stronger than he looked, he didn’t buckle once as I placed almost all my weight on his shoulder in a concerted effort to arise like Lazarus. Lazarus was more successful.

“Can you show me where the ‘sleds’ are Eddy?” He stepped back as my right knee popped like a firecracker.

“Wow that was cool, can you do it again?”

“I’d rather bite the head off a bat.”

I could tell Eddy was wondering if I was serious or not, and also when I might get around to doing just that, because that would also be awesome.

A minute later, myself, Brendon, Travis, Alex, and BT were standing behind a beaming Eddy, who seemed so pleased that he was the one that found something that we were all so excited to see.

I pulled out a large dusty box from the back of the sheriff’s coat closet. The box had suspiciously been ripped open from the bottom. Eddy flushed as the damaged box came into full view.

I tousled his hair. “You did good kid.” He stood up straighter, pride swelling his small chest.

BT finished what Eddy had started. Three more ‘sleds’ spilled on to the floor along with at least 10 gun shaped tasers, boxes of shotgun bean bag rounds and canisters of tear gas along with 5 gas masks.

“Why in the hell does a sheriff’s office in the friggen middle of nowhere have all this gear?” Brendon asked.

I shook my head.

BT spoke up. “Back after 9/11, when the feds thought that a terrorist plot was being hatched everywhere, they sent these riot control packages to just about every police force in the country.”

“Ah, our federal tax dollars at work.” Alex said sarcastically.

“Yeah this shit just might save our lives though.” I answered. Alex nodded in agreement.

Travis was busy grabbing the bean bag rounds, they might not be fatal but up close they could still do some real damage.

CHAPTER 12

“Ready?”

“Why do you keep asking me that, Mike?” Alex fumed. His body heat causing a sauna in his makeshift armor. “I just want to get this over with so I can get out of all these clothes.”

“Brendon you all set?” I asked. His stance said he was all set, but his eyes belied him.

BT must have picked up on Brendon’s hesitancy because for the fourth time he offered to do what Brendon was about to.

I looked at BT with my best expression of exasperation. “BT we’ve been through this.”

“But he’s just a kid, Talbot.”

“Dad?” Nicole asked, her eyes expressing volumes. Her unspoken words of why was I putting her fiancée in danger.

I had fully intended on playing the role Brendon was about to embark on but my ankles, knees, and back made a stand-in necessary.

“Who else Nicole?” I begged for her forgiveness.

The hurt of being let down shone through clearly in her eyes. The pain of my injuries paled in comparison.

“Talbot there has got to be a better way.” Tracy chimed in.

“Et tu Brutus?” I said in desperation.

“Mike let’s do this.” Brendon said saving me from the accusations, as he hefted up two riot shields. Covering most of his front and all of his sides he looked like the world’s largest beetle. I prayed that it would be enough.

“Just hit the hole hard and always keep your legs moving.” Travis the football player threw in for good measure.

“Alex you stay close in behind him. But if he gets stuck you have to come back.” I said, the implied meaning was obvious to everyone. If Brendon couldn’t break a hole through the zombies he would be at their mercy, and that was not an attribute they possessed.

“Mike for God’s sake, I can’t leave him behind!” Alex beseeched.

“There is no God.” I said flatly.

Marta hastily did the sign of the trinity on her chest in preparation to ward off the almighty’s smiting of my heresy.

“Alex the train is leaving, you coming?” Brendon asked. He turned to give my weeping daughter a long soulful kiss.

I turned away embarrassed and yes I have to admit a little pissed. She would always be my little girl, if only in my memories, but that illusion was threatened every time I had to witness these intrusions into my fantasy world. It was much easier in my own world not having to think of my little princess doing adult things….much, much easier.

Nicole’s gaze of disappointment in me slid across my face, before she turned to go further back into the jailhouse, hesitant to witness firsthand the events that were about to shake out. No matter how this turned out Nicole and I had just come to a turning point in our relationship. No longer would she look to me as the man that could solve all of her problems, another tiny death suffered. Each one amounted to a paper cut on my soul, as they stood singly not enough to kill me but accumulatively would fray the vestiges of my humanity.

“Stay low.” I offered.

Brendon snorted twice, he was psyching himself up. The zombies pressed in on the bars their arms swinging wildly back and forth like speed metal concert-goers on crack. Brendon backed up ten feet to get as much speed going as was possible. Alex had a tough time keeping up encumbered in his extra clothing. The plan almost came to a screeching devastating halt as Brendon failed to heed my last words to him. The top right edge of his shield clipped the bars as he entered into the opening. His forward momentum spun him to the right. He had nearly toppled over and into the arms of the zombies. God, divine intervention, sheer blind luck, who fucken knows but something kept him from going over. Alex had just reached the opening as Brendon’s shield made first contact.

Ulnas, radii and humorous bones, first bent unnaturally, twisted perversely and then snapped normally. Brendon’s propulsion, even with the stumbling, easily took him halfway to his destination. I tried my best to equate the snapping of bones to that of wood being chopped. It didn’t work so well, more than one person in our group was sick from the explosion of noise. The forest of arms persisted though and I could see that Brendon’s initial inertia was slowing. The danger was that once the injured zombies retreated and their healthier brethren filled in the void any and all chance of escape would be cut off. We didn’t have the ammo or safe enough shooting angles to extract them. He would literally be four feet away but it might as well be four thousand. Alex sensing that they weren’t moving forward fast enough, plowed into Brendon’s back willing him forward through sheer sense of desperation and instinct. Miraculously or not some of the last zombies on the line pulled their arms out, most likely to try and prevent any unnecessary injuries. What would a good zombie doctor charge for a house call out in the country? A chicken brain at the least? A cow brain max.

Brendon stepped onto the truck’s running board placing his shield between the truck and the cage. It was a tight fit but Alex was able to get between Brendon and the bars to heft himself into the cab. Brendon quickly followed, dropping the shields down into the prying arms of the resurging enemy.

“Hope he’s got the keys.” BT said as he stepped up alongside me.

“Not fucking funny BT. Not fucking funny at all.” I knew it was a joke but the relief that flooded through me when I heard the truck engine turnover was palpable, if only to myself.

Brendon gave me the thumbs up sign. Now I knew it was our turn. Once that truck pulled away we would have seconds to clear the cage from the door, and judging by the added weight of all the zombies that were still tangled up in it this was not going to be easy. But is anything in life worthwhile ever easy, as my dad would say. I guess life is worthwhile, ergo it made sense that we should try as hard as we could to make this happen.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier if they tied the gate to the truck and just pulled it away?” Joann asked having come up to get a closer look.

Without turning to face her I answered. “Easier if it worked, disastrous if it didn’t.” I didn’t wait for her to ask the inevitable ‘How so?’ I kept rambling on. “If the gate doesn’t come straight out, there’s a good chance he’d rip the door frame right out of this building. No sense in having a door if we don’t have anything to close it on. Secondly the gate could get hung up under the truck and if that truck gets stopped…”

“I get the picture.” Joann answered. I could feel her shudder, the tiny fluctuations of displaced air rippled up my arms. I had sympathy shudders with her, that or someone had walked over my grave, which I hoped wasn’t in the nearby vicinity. Somewhere in Quebec would be cool. Hell Switzerland would be even better. I figured my odds of actually getting across seas were slim so if my grave was there…you see where I’m going with this right? Yeah me neither.

Brendon was still holding his thumb up waiting for my reply. I was not in such a rush to mess with the status quo. This status quo had us alive and who knows what was in store once we switched over.

“BT, Trav, and anyone else that thinks they can get a hand in here, let’s go.” I said as I placed my hands onto the gate. BT and Travis were immediately to my left and right sides. There were no other takers.

I nodded once to Brendon and turned to BT. “You remember we’re pushing right?”

He grimaced in response. I wasn’t happy. I’m into clear and concise not vague and gray like. The truck pulled away and for a fleeting moment I thought that was the end of us. The weight of the zombies pushing on the bars made it nearly impossible to move. I was resigned to becoming zombie chow, maybe if I was lucky some zombie chef would make a nice pate’ out of my liver. My knee literally screamed in protest. NO I mean I really heard it. Sure it was in my head but it was saying ‘DUDE WHAT ARE YOU DOING! THIS REALLY, REALLY HURTSSSSSSS!’, or something to that effect. Whatever ligaments were still precariously attached to my patella did everything in their power to stay attached and give me some forward thrust. But if not for the super human strength of BT we would have been sunk. Hell I probably could have been pulling against the bars and he still would have forced them through the doors.

The truck was no more than twenty feet away from the gate when some of the zombies that had graduated from Brain Rending And Intestine Nibbling (B.R.A.I.N.) University discovered there was a way in. The bars were moving but by fractions of inches (or millimeters for you more European thinking folks) point was that time was not on our side. I couldn’t decide if I should abandon my post and go on the defensive or keep pushing. BT was unaware of how close we were to our demise. His eyes were closed with the intense effort he was expending to move the behemoth gate. Zombies were in the gate and the lead one was eyeing me like I was the last McRib sandwich for the season. Eight feet equated to about a second and a half of sweet sweet life remaining.

Explosions ripped from below my waist, for one horrifying moment I really thought that the stress I was putting on my body had made me cut a hellacious fart. ‘Just fucking great, my last moments on Earth were going to be punctuated with a great gas blast. And then again maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.’ Another Monty Python reference. Me being the French and the Zombies being King Arthur. “I fart in your general direction!” (You should really try and find a backup generator so you can watch this movie in whatever shelter you have deemed safe enough to wait out Armageddon. But can you really wait out Armageddon? I mean just by its implied meaning, it’s the end of the world.) YES, in the millisecond it took for the explosion to register in my ears and then for me to realize that it was not the largest release of natural gas through my ass, all of the above went through my head. Curse or blessing, or a more strange mixture of both my mind is always approaching the speed of light. I’ll let you know when I can find the on/off switch. Another explosion shattered my thoughts or more likely coalesced the more important ones. I hastened a quick look down below me and saw something that was INFINITELY more scary than anything that was coming at me. A gun toting, man-hating lesbian carrying a huge pistol was situated in the one-kneed position between my spread legs firing off high caliber, high speed, genital-crushing rounds. I willed the bars forward. I wanted out of this predicament as fast as was humanly possible.

“MOVE!” Joann shouted from off to our right. I for one did not need to be told even once. I pulled Travis out of the way of the crashing door. The office shook as the door slammed home. My knees were shaking, mostly from the pain, but some, some of it was from Jen’s shooting.

“Looks like Mike just put a cork on a wine bottle.” Mrs. Deneaux said from off to the side of the room.

“Excuse me?” My wife asked her, in as nice a tone as she could contrive. But seething beneath the surface was a fury looking for a place to be unleashed. I didn’t say a word, lest that luminous ire shined my way.

Mrs. Deneaux took many moments to answer Tracy. She took two full inhales from her cigarette and answered on her second exhale, the smoke somehow punctuating her words. “I said, it looks like Mike just put a cork on a wine bottle.”

“I know what you said you old bat!” Tracy burned. (I was doing an imaginary fist bump with her, ‘You go girl!’) Mrs. Deneaux was made of stauncher stuff than I had given her credit for though. No one in their right mind would ever call Tracy anything but a petite woman, but with anger issuing forth from every pore in her body she looked like she could pull the sagging gray green skin right off of Mrs. Deneaux’s old bones. But yet the ‘old bat’ as Tracy so eloquently put it, didn’t bat an eyelash at Tracy’s harsh words.

“Oh honey.” Mrs. Deneaux rasped through her smoke tortured throat. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“The FUCK you didn’t!” Tracy screamed, her finger stopping just short of puncturing Deneaux’s larynx. This time Deneaux did step back. “All the good people that died, and you survived! That above every other fucked up thing that has happened proves to me there is no GOD!”

The entire room held its collective breath, even the babies. How the hell they knew what was going on, I don’t know. I went over to Tracy and grabbed her by the waist pulling her close to me, she sobbed softly on my shoulder.

“Really, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Mrs. Deneaux said to a room full of deaf ears.

The truck came back a few minutes later but it felt like hours. Time stretched worse than in a twilight zone episode. Mrs. Deneaux finally shuffled off to be with her nephew. Even he seemed reluctant to acknowlege her. Family duty though bound him to the task. He shrugged his shoulders at me. Whether to let me know ‘What can you do she’s an old cantankerous bitch?’ or ‘Don’t lump me in with this old cantankerous bitch?’ I wasn’t sure. We all turned as the familiar tell tale sign of a truck backing up impeded our individual conversations.

“What’s he doing?” I said more to say than gain a response.

“Backing up I would imagine.” Joann said seriously. She seemed to be holding onto this small piece of hope with both hands.

“We can’t go through the gate Talbot.” BT said matter of factly.

“Why?” Joann said, it was hard to watch the hope sail out of her like a popped balloon.

“Umm well let’s see...” I started.

Thankfully (because I didn’t have to do it) or not (because he was a prick about it) Justin had the ill-temper to quash out whatever remnants of promise Joann hung on as he answered in my stead. “Because the inside of the gate is full of dead zombies and the outside is full of live ones.” He laughed, dark circles under his eyes lent menace to words.

“That’s all I meant.” Mrs. Deneaux said. Her nephew did his best to quiet her.

But yet the back-up beeping persisted. “Come on.” I said desperately. “Alex has to be thinking the same thing we are.

“Brendon!” My daughter screamed, not from terror but from concern. “What are you doing?” Almost like a well-trained platoon, all of the occupants of the room took up strategic placement with Nicole by the windows. Brendon was on the top of the truck with a rope and some sort of makeshift grappling hook. It looked like a crow bar, but it was tough to tell from all the rope that was tied around it.

I saw immediately what Alex and Brendon had planned. “That’s not going to work.” I said to myself.

“What’s not going to work?” BT asked.

“Watch.” I answered. BT didn’t seem all too pleased with my response. I don’t think he was big on surprises either. Really I hoped that what they had planned would work but physics wasn’t on their side.

Brendon lowered the ‘grappling hook’ down to the cage assembly. After a couple of tries and some errant zombies getting in the way, Brendon was able to snag the cage. “Alright got it Alex, go slow!” He shouted over his shoulder. As Alex placed the truck in gear there was one long second where we all held our breaths as Brendon nearly took a header. Nicole nearly fainted. Brendon quickly righted himself and gave us all a weak smile to let us know he was okay. Alex pulled ahead slowly as Brendon let slack out of the rope. Finally the truck had gone far enough that the true test of this experiment would come to its unfulfilling conclusion. The end of the rope was tied off to the truck’s rear bumper, I didn’t gauge that as being the problem area that or the rope itself looked heavy enough to leash a T-Rex. No the problem lied in the grappling hook assembly, without a hole to thread the rope through, no knot was going to be able to stand up to the forces applied to it.

The loud ‘twang’ was immediately followed by a string of curses as Brendon nearly sacrificed his ear to a valiant but doomed attempt to free us. The rope had snapped back dangerously close to Brendon’s head as it slipped freely from the pry bar. The cage had rocked slightly and had tried in vain to prove me wrong.

“Plan B, Alex!” Brendon yelled.

We had no idea what plan B was, but they were usually a last ditch effort and they were never thought out well. Ever heard of a plan C? No you haven’t because nobody ever survives plan B.

“You guys are going to want to get away from the door!” Brendon yelled to us.

Nearly everyone looked at him like a deer in headlights, some backed up. I could only muster an “Oh fuck,” as Tracy dragged me away from the window.

Alex ground the truck into reverse, when he hit the cage at 5 miles per hour it sounded like Thor had taken his hammer to a mountaintop. Wood splintered and shattered as the bars were forced back through the office. Babies wailed, women cried. I might have pissed myself. I wasn’t stopping to check. The truck came to a sudden stop as the rear end ran into the stout walls of the sheriff’s office. The bars traveled mercifully another two feet before they came crashing into a desk, stopping all momentum. Dust and debris were settling all around us when a small round of cheers erupted and abruptly stopped with Brendon’s shouts of warning.

“Get the fuck in the truck. They’re going underneath!”

Who ‘they’ were, was implicitly known. Why they were going under the truck also didn’t need any further explanation. Marta and her two kids along with Jodi and Eddy plus Joann and the three kids she was taking care of were thrust to the forefront. I had watched Titanic. It’s always women and children first but Thad apparently hadn’t learned the chivalry lesson. He cut off the women and the children and headed for the rear of the tractor trailer where the open doors led into a black hole of relative safety. Thad had one foot on the bumper and one on the ground. I wanted to run up and grab the prick and beat some gallantry into him, when somebody (thing) beat me to it. Thad’s eyes grew wide in horror as a hand shot out from under the truck grabbing his ankle. I watched in (satisfactory) horror as he was pulled over. His head violently slammed into the ground as he lost balance. Could we have helped him? Maybe, but his selfish act actually turned into our salvation. Thad’s body became a wedge between us and them. We could hear his muffled screams. Thankfully it wasn’t too loud. I was certain that one of the third or fourth bites had ripped out his Adam’s apple. Marta and Joann stood transfixed, now was not the time for delay.

I ran ahead and made sure to get both feet on the rear bumper. “Come on!” I shouted. You don’t survive this long in a zombie apocalypse without having some quick-witted decision-making. For their part I was proud of Marta and Joann. Even as the strum of sinew snapped and bone was chewed, they moved forward thrusting their children up into my waiting arms. Within a minute almost all of the refugees were on aboard, save one, Mrs. Deneaux.

“Mrs. Deneaux, we’re leaving.” I said as I extended my hand out to her. She looked for a moment where her nephew had disappeared and where now heads and extended hands of zombies began to appear. “Now or never.”

She stepped on one of the zombie’s hands as she took my proffered hand. “Twit.” She said. Whether to me or to her newly dearly departed nephew I wasn’t sure.

I watched in dismay as the town of Vona and my beloved Jeep faded into the distance. Alex waited until we had outpaced even the most determined zombies before he pulled over. The relief in his face as he hugged his wife and kids was immeasurable. No matter how hard I tried though I couldn’t shake the feelings of foreboding. We had escaped this last disaster but at a significant loss of lives and materials and both were in very short supply.

CHAPTER 13

‘My Jeep.’ I mumbled as I hung my head low.

Joann came up to put an arm around me. “Thad sacrificed himself for us.” She said not realizing the true reasons for my demeanor.

I looked up, my eyes red rimmed. I swear I almost said, ‘Huh?’. She took my silence as agreement to her sentiment. Fuck him. He got what he deserved. If she needed to assimilate what she saw in a different light to suit her needs what right did I have to rain on her parade.

“Hey Mr. T, Ryan’s back.” Tommy said delightedly as he licked blueberry off his lips.

I almost didn’t hear him through my thoughts. I was actually in mourning for my Jeep, replaying some of the highlights I had shared with her. There were the hundreds of off-road excursions some nearly ending in both of our demises. There were the Saturday road trips with the top off and the time I had got caught in a torrential downpour. It was miserable back then but still it yielded me a bittersweet smile now.

“Mike, it’s only a car.” Tracy said placing her hand on my cheek, ever so slightly placing pressure on it to turn my gaze away from the direction we had left behind. She knew, she knew me probably too well.

“Is this how you felt, when I…I ruined your car?” I asked hopefully. Looking for an ally in my misery.

“Uh, no Mike, it was a car, not a kid. Get a grip.” She answered.

Ah my Tracy, she knew how to knock some much needed sense into me. I’ll miss that car till they lay me down to rest but at least I now know enough not to show it. “Wait. What?” I said turning towards Tommy.

“I said.” Tommy answered looking slightly exasperated, but which I knew was all show.

Was that strawberry jam on his chin?

“Ryan’s back.” He finished gleefully. I thought he was going to break out into a happy dance. His influence was contagious. Thoughts of my Jeep plunged to the rear of my desolation.

“What’s he saying, Tommy?” I asked guardedly. Ryan was a valuable asset to our existence but the majority of his ‘messages’ were of the dire warning type. Not usually something you liked to listen to on an empty stomach. Speaking of which, I was starving, I couldn’t even remember the last time I had eaten something that did not come out of a stupid foil pack. I momentarily shifted my gaze to the long gone boxes of MRE’s stored in the back of my Jeep. ‘Oh my poor Jeep.’ I shook my head, I wasn’t going down that road again, not just yet. It was exceedingly difficult to not think of food as Tommy’s cinnamon and syrup laced breath washed over my olfactory receptors.

“Wait…did you just have some French toast?” I asked in disbelief. He looked like he was going to give me an answer I would have a difficult time swallowing. “Never mind.” I said holding up my hand. “I don’t want to know.”

“He says we should get far away from Vona.”

More than some part of that message seemed to becoming directly from the messenger and not the spirit guide but I was going to let it slide, if only this one time.

Tommy’s visage changed considerably as he passed on the next bit of Ryan’s message. “He also says that what we gain next is going to be greatly overshadowed by what we lose.”

“Any chance he could be a little more cryptic?” I said sardonically.

Tommy just tilted his head at me. I was pondering those ominous words as I watched my bully, Henry, go from person to person to receive a much needed scratch behind the ears or belly rub. My little socialite seemed to be spreading as much love as he received. People that I hadn’t seen smile in days were openly grinning as they petted and praised the brown butt wiggling butterball. Henry made sure that everyone got a chance to sample his wares, with the very noticeable exception of two. The first was Mrs. Deneaux, that wasn’t so much a surprise as she just exuded bitchiness. The second however rocked me to my core. Henry wanted nothing to do with Justin. The dog made a wide skirt around him, I watched as Justin casually dismissed the slight. But Justin’s look was pure murderous intent as the dog walked on by. He slowly let his countenance fade as he realized I was looking at him. I shivered. He smiled coldly.

Riding in the rear of the tractor-trailer was not all it was cracked up to be. I couldn’t believe that I had actually bitched when Paul had decided to ride in the truck instead of in the Jeep. That had been more of a self-imposed punishment for him than anything else. What little we had for padding did nothing to prevent teeth rattling contact with the floor and walls whenever the truck hit anything larger than a penny or deeper than a dinner plate on the roadway. After three weeks (ok melodramatic, it was actually only 8 hours), of kidney crushing, liver lacerating, pancreas punching, heart hammering, esophagus eschewing (should I keep going on?) brain busting, ass aching, riding, Alex brought the truck to a much needed stop.

Tracy openly laughed at me as I grabbed onto the small railing halfway up the trailer walls. My slow ascent was punctuated by the pops and protestations of my aching body.

Tommy sheepishly grinned. “Want some help old man?” He said and then as he watched my astonished expression, he threw Tracy under the bus. “Mrs. T told me to say that.” He fairly wailed. Even Travis had to smile as he placed a shoulder under my arm to help me up. All of this was pretty funny and I was happy for the relief if only in brevity but the hampering of my destroyed knee had brought the odds of my family’s survivability down a few notches. I did not want to have to survive being dependent on others to get me through this plight. My eyes slid across the back of Mrs. Deneaux as she was helped off the back of the truck. That bitch was going to be the one that danced across my grave. I could almost feel it in my bones.

Alex came around the rear of the truck to see how his ‘charges’ were doing. He smiled as he watched me finally gain my full longitudinal ability. “Blow me.” I told him as I hobbled towards the exit.

“What?” He asked. “I didn’t say anything.” I braced myself on his shoulder as I gingerly stepped down off the truck. Alex thankfully waited until the pain that clouded my higher reasoning ability tailed off before he began to speak. “Mike we’re about an hour or so out of Kansas City Missouri.” I looked at him questioningly. “That’s where I’m going to start my southerly route.” My face must have visibly fell because he hastened on. “You should be able to get some transportation in the city and then you can catch route 29 all the way into Fargo.”

My heart suddenly felt heavy, this parting was going to have all the finality of death. We would go on and give each other addresses where the other was going to be, just in case we were in the neighborhood but even in the old realm of machinations this was an empty promise. One made only as a courtesy.

There could be no secrets across a group this small, mainly because everyone had learned to not be more than a few feet away from everybody else. So when BT came storming up it wasn’t a surprise. “Whaddaya mean we’re splitting up?” He demanded.

Alex took the reins. “Mike has family he wants to try and find as do I.”

“Whoa, listen both of you. We all have family that we’d love to know what happened to them. But now we are all family.” He punctuated by thumping his chest and spreading his arms among us. “This isn’t about individual quests, this is about mutual survival. We are ALL we have left.” His voice thundered. His words hit hard. I hoped he was wrong.

“BT this is something I have to do.” I said gravely.

“Talbot how far you going to make it on that knee?” He shouted, my hair blew back from the force of it.

“BT.” Alex said, stepping between the angry giant and myself placing his hand on BT’s chest. BT swatted it away.

“You just going to let him go Alex?” BT seemed to deflate a little within his own skin. “Look at him Alex, if his hand wasn’t on your shoulder he’d fall over from the pain. He’s nearly cripple.”

The words stung, but I’d be damned if I’d take my hand from Alex and prove him right.

“What do you want me to do BT? He’s a grown man he can make his own decisions.”

“Yeah but his decisions affect us all, now.” BT said, degrees of volume lower than when he had started. The wind truly did seem to be out of his sails now. But I was leery. Gusts and gales could pop up unexpectedly.

“Still here.” I said.

“Besides, how’s he getting to where he’s going, his Jeep is gone.” BT continued.

“We’re going to get him a new car in Kansas City.”

“Guys, what is this, the ghost of Christmas past? I’m still here.” I said.

“Oh just perfect shouldn’t be any zombies in a major city. We can just stop off at the local Chevy dealer and go pick up a Geo or something.”

“I was really hoping for a GMC or something along those lines.” I intoned. I hadn’t been this ignored since Tracy thought I was cheating on her. All those declarations had fallen to the ground like leaves on a crisp fall day. “It would be great if it had an extended cab too. Maybe a roof rack, oh shit and a gun rack. It would be great if it also had different climate controls. That way when Tracy is cold and she wants to turn the heat on to the setting ‘melt’, I won’t need to take my clothes off.”

Alex turned around. “Mike, what the fuck are you talking about?”

BT was looking at me too like I had lost my fucken mind. BT’s next words threw me for a loop. “I’m going with you Mike.”

Alex turned back around. “BT, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Now it was my and Alex’ turn to look at BT like he had lost his damn mind.

Paul decided that it was in this maelstrom that he should throw his penny and a half in. “Mike I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

And then it dawned on me, Paul and Erin’s families were both in North Carolina, right along the path Alex would need to take to get to Florida. I don’t know why I was having such a difficult time digesting this information, was I such a selfish person that I felt that everybody should be wrapped up in the same things I was? Shit I hadn’t spent more than two seconds thinking about what anybody else would want to do. I just ass-umed my mission was theirs.

“I’m going with Mike!” Jen thrust forward, like we were back in gym class and she didn’t want to wait to get picked and possibly placed on a team she didn’t like.

“Wait this isn’t about choosing sides.” I started.

“I’m going with Alex.” April whispered. “I don’t want to be near him anymore,” as she pointed towards Justin, “He gives me the creeps.”

“Stop.” I said without much force. “This isn’t about choosing sides. We’re all individuals, just because we’ve been thrust into this nightmare together doesn’t mean we have to stay that way.”

“Ever seen Friday the 13^th?” Tommy asked enigmatically.

Nobody paid much heed to his words except for me. The meaning was exceptionally strong. It was always the individuals that went off alone to check the circuit breakers in the basements that quickly found themselves suspended above the floor pierced in some ungodly matter in a particularly vulnerable area.

I would not let BT, Paul, Alex or even Ryan deter me from my desired goal. Tracy silently prayed that I would not stray from the predetermined course. Sure she could make my life an even more special living hell if I were to not attempt to rescue her mom, but in the end she would have to go as I did. I don’t know who was kidding whom though. She had had my balls wrapped up in wax paper since the day we got married. On occasion she would bring them out and let me stare longingly at them but as for who wore the pants in the family? Let’s just say, I was President Bush to her Dick Cheney.

The ride into Kansas City was a somber one. It seemed that everyone was lost in their own thoughts of these new developments. Even the outgoing Tommy was silent, his Aunt Marta had made it clear in no uncertain terms that he was going with her. There was no doubt after that conversation who had emerged the victor. Tommy sat up in the cab with Alex and myself to avoid the brow beating being administered by the defeated, so much for losing graciously. But let’s be fair this wasn’t about an MLB game, even if it might be the Red Sox against the Yankees. The stakes were as high as they could get, life or death. Some might argue that there were higher stakes, possibly your eternal soul if you were so inclined, but really? I had a sneaky suspicion we had already failed God’s ultimate test and were already experiencing his wrath.

Tommy hadn’t eaten a pop-tart in nearly an hour. I knew he was upset. I was about to start a conversation with him when he beat me to the punch.

“Hey Mr. T, I don’t think going to get Mrs. T’s mom is such a good idea.”

It felt like ice cubes were being dragged down my spine. Alex looked over to gauge my response, a small surge of hope flared in his eyes.

“Mike just come with us, you know the odds of one old woman surviving.”

The remnants of the chill still dripped down my back. I struck back with a punch I knew would close the door on this conversation. “What if it was Marta asking you to get her mother?” Yeah I knew it was a low blow but if he harangued me for much longer I would have caved. Tommy’s one-liners were more than enough ammunition to realize the folly of what I was attempting.

“Not cool Mike.” Alex finished.

I nodded in ascension. “Sorry.”

“I understand.”

“Hey Uncle Alex do you want to get off at the next exit?” Tommy asked.

The phrase was asked as a question but the intent was not. Alex got off at the next exit. Within a half mile of our exit, my horror mounted to near epic proportions. Tommy was smiling ear to ear as Alex pulled into a used mini-van car lot.

“No!” I cried. “There has got to be something else.”

Alex was nearly full on laughing. “Oh bandero, you have a growing family now, you’re going to need something big enough to accommodate them all.”

“Oh this sucks!” I yelled. My worst nightmare in life was coming to fruition. “You did this shit on purpose.” I said pointing to Tommy. He paid me little heed as he unwrapped a smores pop-tart.

Tracy was first out of the truck at the sounds of my dismay. Her concern quickly melted away to merriment as she looked around at her surroundings. “Ah so the beast has finally been tamed.”

I would have dropped to my knees and cried to the heavens if I thought I could get back up. Within 20 minutes we had two mini-vans loaded with our meager supplies and passengers. Mine was a brilliant teal color with faux wood paneling, the mere sight of which brought the scant contents of my stomach churning. Brendon didn’t seem nearly as distressed as he got behind the wheel of his gray-greenish piece of…minivan. Is there anything more emasculating than driving a mini-van? Maybe riding bitch on a Harley while your wife drives, but that’s really about it. I had thought that BT would have wanted to drive one of the vans, but he mumbled something about having lost his license. I really couldn’t see him being all that concerned about getting a ticket for that infraction, no I got the distinct impression from the way he reacted when I asked him if he wanted to drive, that he didn’t know how to. I could potentially see why, probably wasn’t a car made that would accommodate his frame between the seat and the steering wheel.

Saying our goodbyes had me rethinking my strategy all over again.

“Goodbye Alex.” I said, holding onto a stiff upper lip.

Alex had no such compunction as he openly wept and moved in for a giant hug. This is fully appropriate behavior according to the man-code. I looked it up. “Good luck Mike.” He said as he sniffed his nose, wiped his eyes and quickly climbed up into the cab of the truck.

It was all I could do to get out. “You too.” Before he shut the door.

Erin was next, she was crying more than Alex, but she wasn’t under the constraints of the man-code. “Mike, thank you for everything. Without you and your family we would have never made it.” I wanted to answer with ‘It was nothing.’ But my boys had risked everything to save them and I was unsure still if Justin was coming back. She openly wept as Paul came up to me.

He gave me the ‘secret’ handshake we had developed long ago in our days at college, the classic handshake followed by the forearm grasp and then the finger curl clasp immediately culminating in a hug. “It was a great ride Mike.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. “The best Paul.” And that was it, I never found out what happened to any of them as I watched them depart. I will always hold fast in my heart that they safely made it to their respective destinations and lived out the rest of their days in as much happiness as could be afforded them. Tommy cried as the big rig pulled away. His look was one of regret. I couldn’t tell if it was because he was staying with me or because of what would befall the departing group. I would never ask for an answer. I didn’t want to know, any answer he gave me would be nothing I wanted to hear. We all stayed an extra minute longer, way past when the last remnants of the truck vanished over a small rise. Maybe we expected they would have a change of heart and come with us. It didn’t happen.

CHAPTER 14

“Alright.” I said looking at a little map I had got off the salesman’s desk. “I do not want to go into the city itself, but according to the yellow pages there’s a sporting goods store a few miles up the road. I want to try and bolster up our arsenal, get some rounds and hopefully some dehydrated food stores or whatever we can muster.”

Brendon was getting antsy. Being around this many buildings with so many hiding spots had us all a little on edge. Without the comfort of the rolling tank, that unease was even more magnified. “Do you think they’re going to have anything left? I mean everyone must have had the same idea.”

“How much of a chance did we have to get to the store?” I asked.

“I see your point.”

The plague had hit so hard and so fast, most were caught ill-prepared to deal with it. Only the truly paranoid had received even the slightest chance of survival. I laughed a little internally, even if we as a species somehow eked out a niche of survival we would be hard pressed to flourish, so mistrustful would be the survivors we would never go out and seek others. In the end we would all still die, suspicious and alone.

Myself, Tracy, Tommy, Henry, Travis and Jen, climbed into my Terrible Teal machine. Brendon, Nicole, Justin, and BT hopped into the second.

It was approaching dusk as we rolled up into the sporting goods store parking lot. No one had left a light on for us. The black was as pitch as it could get. As human beings we are inherently built to fear the dark. That is why our ancestors harnessed the use of fire to chase away ‘the demons’. The night was scary enough when we just ‘thought’ that there were monsters roaming around. Now that the abnormal was the normal, well you can imagine that our imaginations were in overdrive. But really how vivid did ones visualization need to be, every magnificent horror was now a reality. There was nothing left to the imagination. All of this ran through my mind as I tried in utter vain to peer into the near inky obsidian that was the interior of the store.

“I’m going to get out and see if I can scope out the inside of the store.” I said, hoping that someone would say we should wait until the morning. Nobody fucking did. Fuckers. I opened the door to the minivan, still pissed that this was my new ride. I would have slammed the door closed in frustration but I didn’t want to give anything nearby an excuse to come investigate. Well mostly that, but partly I thought the piece of shit door might fall off too. I’d be damned if I drove around in a zombie infested world without a door. That would be like peeling back the lid on a can of spam in Hawaii. Except for the silent purring engines on two minivans (sarcasm – it sounded more like some cats and a large bag of batteries had been placed in a dryer) the night was still. Deathly still. (Well you knew that was coming). I got as far away from the vans as I felt was prudently wise, straining my ears to hear any errant sound. But that really is a misnomer though, how the hell does one ‘strain’ their ears? It’s not like you can flex them, you can’t ‘listen’ any harder. I guess what I was doing was concentrating harder on listening. My wife would have been so proud.

Nothing, I heard nothing. Yet I wasn’t relieved. The quiet was somehow more disturbing. With sound, there would be something to focus on. Without the benefit of a séance I was wildly free to speculate on any number of things. I placed my face up against the cool plate glass window, cupping my hands on the side of my eyes and straining my best to see something. See previous section on ‘straining’, I had about the same results. Nothing. So this is where in a low budget movie something slams into the glass on the other side, startling the shit out of the hero/heroine and the audience. Don’t be fooled, being there in real life, I FULLY expected that to be the case. I was pleasantly surprised to not have to suffer that little truism.

BT and Travis had both exited the minivan. I jumped a little when they opened their doors. I hoped that it wasn’t too obvious that I might have released my bladder at that moment. I tried to hang on to my dignity.

“Anything?” BT shouted.

His booming voice reverberated off the glass. “Well there wasn’t but there might be now.” I answered.

“What!” He yelled back.

“Grab the tire iron!” I yelled back.

Travis was coming towards me as BT was rummaging in the back of the van looking for the tire iron.

“Got it!” BT yelled back triumphantly.

“Dude stop yelling!” I screeched. ‘Lead by example, breathe’.

“Oh right!” He yelled as he came towards me. The giant man silhouetted in the headlights, approaching me with a pistol in one hand and a tire iron in the other was the stuff of most horror novels. I lamented, that this most pedestrian theme was NOT the cause of all our desolation.

“What are you planning on doing with this?” BT asked as he handed me the tool.

I tapped the glass, in response.

“Oh.” BT said as he backed away a pace or two.

I was lining up my shot, doing my best to shield my eyes from flying glass, and my ears from the fulminating noise. But again you can’t really do much there. God didn’t deign that we should have ear lids, although how cool would that be. However, the boon might also be a curse. Can you imagine that as guys we could ACTUALLY turn off our significant others diatribes? The problem though, would be not only would they suspect that we weren’t listening, but with our ear flaps closed, they would also have visual proof. Okay not one of my better ideas.

“Dad.” Travis said matter of factly. I stopped in mid-swing. Although if this was baseball, my check swing would have been called a strike as my forward momentum brought the tire iron to a gentle tapping on the window. “Door’s open.”

“Yup, I knew that.” I said handing the tire iron back to BT. “Tracy.” I yelled over my shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” She said as she slid out of her bucket seat and into mine. After a few seconds of adjusting the seat and the steering wheel to her liking she gave me the universal sign for a-ok, two thumbs up.

“Aren’t you going to adjust the mirrors?” I asked her. She gave me another universal sign, this one not quite so pleasant.

I took a deep breath. I was pulling on all of my reserves of intestinal fortitude to go through that door. BT was behind me and Travis was bringing up the rear. I took one more long pull of the piercing air. Tommy brushed past me and in.

“Where the hell did he come from?” BT asked incredulously.

“I guess it’s safe.” I said as I followed him into the black midst.

I stopped less than two steps in from the doorway, not for fear or some innate prescience. I just couldn’t see a damn thing. I had no desire to be skewered by a ski pole, or walk nuts first into a dumbbell display. I could hear Tommy walking around like he had a floor plan. I was tempted to follow in his assured sounding footfalls.

BT nearly sent me sprawling as he walked into my back. “Sorry my man. Where’s the kid?”

“Shit BT, I’d be lucky if I could tell where my hand is.” Both, BT and myself turned to look at the same instance. Whether we thought the same thing, I’m not sure but BT’s expression of awe left little to doubt. Tommy was lit up like the Arch Angel Michael come to seek vengeance on a wicked world. As our eyes adjusted to the radiance it became clear that Tommy was merely holding a battery powered Coleman lantern. I shook my head in consternation, I will swear to my dying days that for the briefest of seconds there was more to it than that. I wanted to ask BT but I think he’d deny it, hell I’m not even sure what I saw and I was there.

“Found some coconut roasted marshmallows!” Tommy said as he stuffed another handful into his mouth.

“Did you hear him open a bag?” BT asked.

“I’m really trying to stop wondering what the kid does BT, it gives me a headache.”

“Yeah I hear that.”

Within twenty minutes, everyone was in the store in the far left corner. We had a bunch of lanterns lit. We even had a couple of tents pitched. Tommy thought that was the coolest thing since the marshmallows. We propped (well BT did) a half-ton of weights by the front door so it couldn’t open. But the Vona sheriff’s office was still fresh in everyone’s mind. I parked one van by the front door and the second by the emergency exit in the rear. Worst case scenario we would have to cram into one van for a while. If there was a just God in the universe we would get to leave the Terrible Teal machine behind.

Thankfully we were in Missouri and not some neo-fascist state like New York. We had more guns and ammo to choose from than we would ever be able to carry. If not for the huge plate glass windows in front I would have put my two cents in on why we should hunker down here until the spring.

Food, while not of the high cuisine type, was plentiful. There was an unbelievable assortment of dried meats, including ostrich. Which as funny as it sounds did not taste like chicken, it was frikken horrible. There were dried food packets of every conceivable concoction including Thanksgiving Dinner readily available. We busted a bunch of those open and had a small feast so to speak. It wasn’t quite the Indians and the Pilgrims but we were thankful to be alive and with each other. Unfortunately there were no dried beer packets or an NFL game on to accompany our meal. The boys grabbed some bows and arrows and some of the clothing dummies and had a blast shooting at something that didn’t necessarily want to eat you. Even Justin perked up more than I had seen out of him in a few days. It was a welcome respite.

It was getting late and we were all tired. Tracy watched with curiosity as I prepared another tent a few yards away from the rest. I then made an exaggerated stretch and let everyone know I was heading off to bed. I had other things on my mind but it didn’t stop me from almost immediately falling asleep. Colors flooded my senses, I felt like I was in Candy Land, I’m not making this stuff up, there was a river of chocolate lazily flowing through a rolling landscape of what looked like whipped cream. There were cliché candy cane trees, and what appeared to be giant broccoli sprouts which seemed wholly out of place, but stranger still were the variety of pop-tart fruit, still in their leafy foil packets that hung bountifully down from their boughs. Tommy was paddling from the distant shore towards me on the world’s largest Snicker’s bar which he would occasionally pause from his paddling duties and take a generous bite from.

“Hey Mr.T!” Tommy shouted. Smatterings of chocolate nearly covered him from head to toe.

Henry came bounding up, a huge white chocolate bone in his mouth. “You know that chocolate’s not really good for dogs Tommy.”

“It’s not real chocolate!” He yelled in his best stage whisper. “It’s cacao, dogs can eat that!” Tommy had stepped off his makeshift boat and approached me, all smiles and happiness. “Didn’t think I could do it Mr. T, but I did.” He said proudly.

“Do what Tommy?” I asked, I figured he was referring to getting his chocolate bar across the river. “And what’s with the broccoli?”

“Get you here.” He answered. “And mom always said I should eat more greens.”

“Get me here? This is a dream Tommy. What’s going on?”

“Just testing a little, you’d better go, Mrs. T is coming.”

“Wait what?”

I snapped awake as Tracy came through the front flap of the tent.