'Til Death Do Us Part

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The Start of the End - Maine

It was twilight and Travis was walking on the raised deck for his shift of guard duty. Nobody had seen much more than a wayward raccoon in days. His eyes were scanning the horizon but not focusing on anything other than how the early evening air had a bite to it. He felt it long before he saw it; the pressure treated boards under his feet were vibrating, at first so subtly he thought he might be having a muscle spasm. That changed when he watched the small deck table start to move from the thrum. The movement was quickly transferred into the house.

Ron ran up to the railing. “I guess it’s time,” he said, heading in as quickly as he had come out.

Travis was still trying to process the information when the majority of the Talbot compound residents came outside.

“Ron, we can’t…the entire system isn’t ready,” Mad Jack was pleading.

“No real choice,” Ron said.

“What is it?” Perla asked, her eyes wide.

“Has anyone seen Erin?” Tracy asked. “I checked the entire house and the garden, she wouldn’t have left the grounds would she?”

Tony was coming from the rear of the house. He looked up at everyone on the deck. “Back gate was open.”

The words were foreboding to Tracy. She had known how distraught Erin had been over Paul’s passing but she didn’t think she would do anything quite that foolish as to leave the security of the compound.

“We have to go look for her,” she begged. No one heard her with a half a dozen conversations going on. “Ron,” she grabbed his forearm, “I think Erin has left, we need to find her.”

“She’s as thick as her husband. Not to fret it’s Darwinism at work,” Deneaux said.

“Ron, I’ve got to find her,” Tracy said with alarm.

“Absolutely not. We have no idea what’s coming, but it’s not good. Erin put herself at risk I will not put others out there also. Besides once we arm our defenses getting back will be near impossible.”

Tracy ran over the deck to the backyard to see if Erin was still in shouting distance.

“Grab the ammo,” Tony said to Travis. “Station it every ten feet along the deck.”

“Ammo is a last resort, dad,” Ron stressed.

“Hurry up then,” Tony told Travis with a smile. The defenses they had built looked formidable, but every fortress was pregnable.

Travis turned and headed back in. He noticed Justin in the shadows of the darkened living room. His lips were moving but no words were emanating forth. “Justin?” Travis asked nervously.

“She’s fucking back, brother.” Justin shivered. Travis walked over cautiously to his brother. “Relax, I can see the concern on your face. I haven’t gone to the dark side yet.”

“No?” Travis asked. “How long have you known they were coming?” he asked before going to fulfill his grandfather’s orders.

Justin was caught off guard. Long enough, he thought.

Tracy was frantically calling out Erin’s name. The only thing answering back was the chirp of crickets that were beginning to still with the approach of multiple diesel engines.

***

Erin heard the ragged screams calling her name, but the peace the woods offered her pulled too deeply. That and the half bottle of valiums she had taken were all she wanted in life as she laid her head back down on the exposed tree root. Her breaths were shallow and her thoughts fogged over. “Paul?” she mumbled in question. “I’ve missed you so much.” She sobbed with relief.

Not this way, Erin, her husband said with a sad smile. It was too late; Erin’s heart slowed further and then stopped. Her eyes shot open, frozen in surprise at her final resting spot.

***

“How much time do we have?” Gary asked, looking out the small road that led to the house.

“Well, they’re on the access road for sure,” Ron replied.

“So within three miles,” Gary said aloud.

“Too close, brother. I know what you’re thinking.”

Gary was done thinking; he was heading for the front gate. Ron had dug out a pit in the middle of the access road; it was seven feet deep, twelve feet across, and the width of the road across about ten feet. They had built a makeshift bridge over the gap so that they could get in and out when needed. The aluminum structure was held in place with heavy metal rods which, if removed, would cause the bridge to collapse once anything of substantial weight bore down on it. The idea being that the defenses around the house were stout but would have great difficulty holding up to a tank or in this case tractor trailers ramming at full steam.

“Dad!” Ron said louder than he needed to.

“I’m covering…nothing yet,” he said, looking through his scope.

Travis was back with his second ammo run. He had just stood up and was turning to run back in. “Zombies!” he yelled, pointing into the woods about forty yards away. They had been heading towards the house, but changed direction when they spotted movement; Gary.

“There’s dozens of them,” Lyndsey said.

“Sis, get the kids down into the fallout shelter,” Ron said, not taking his eyes off Gary. There were dozens in sight, but more kept coming. “Gary, it isn’t worth it!” Ron shouted wrapping his hands around his mouth to project his voice. But that was a lie, it was worth it. One truck could smash through just about everything they had accomplished.

Gary was humming as he was running, then he started to sing softly, “Risin’ up, back on the street. Did my time, took my chances. Went the distance, now I’m back on my feet. Just a man and his will to survive…” Gary reached the bridge just as he completed the first stanza. He saw the zombies but still figured he had enough time to pull the pin. His shoulders, arms, neck, and legs, strained as he pulled on the two foot around pin. Inch by blessed inch it scraped free.

“Gary, get out of there,” Ron shouted.

Tony started shooting. Gary could hear zombies thudding to the ground.

“Still time,” he said as the bodies hitting the ground still sounded far enough away.

Added to Tony’s precision shots was Travis’ cover fire. “Uncle Gary, you should really get your ass moving!” Travis shouted.

“No swearing,” Tracy admonished him.

“This is as good a time as any,” he answered his mother in between blasts.

She was too lost in twisting worry to give Travis any flack over his response as she watched zombies streaming through the woods like ghostly bearers of death.

Gary had both legs dug into the ground and was pulling with all his might, the pin yielding but on its own schedule, not caring in the least that Gary’s timetable was running late. The majority of it was out, but now the bullets were of close enough proximity that he could hear them whining by like relentless deer flies. He pushed up and down until the heavy ‘pin’ dropped to the ground. He lifted it over his head and again broke out into song. “It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight…” Gary tossed it to the side and started running.

“Let’s go, Rocky, get your ass back here!” Ron was motioning for him. “If he starts shadow boxing while he’s running, I’m going to kill him.”

BT was beside Travis, they were keeping the zombies to Gary’s left from approaching any closer, but it was Tony’s sniper rifle shooting that was keeping the ones that had gotten up behind him from being able to drag him down.

Cindy held the gate open for him as he ran through. She quickly closed it and latched it, heading back up to the deck as the first of the zombies crashed into it. Gary gave the zombies the finger, sang one more stanza and headed upstairs. “Risin’ up to the challenge of our rival, and the last known survivor…”

“Are you nuts?” Ron yelled at his younger brother. “You did good.” He gave Gary a hug. “Don’t do it again.”

Gary saw a trail of dead zombies where he had been. “Yeah, that’s probably safe to say.”

“It doesn’t sound like they’re coming any closer,” Tracy said.

“Looks like they’re just dropping their payload,” Ron said, looking as zombies were coming by the score.

Nicole came up to Ron’s side. “MJ wants to know if he should throw the switch.”

“Now would be as good a time as any.” Ron was still trying to bring his beating heart down to a manageable rate and not having much success.

The six-foot high chain link fence was swaying as more zombies walked into the impediment, the extra braces on the poles and the chain link section themselves would not be yielding anytime soon.

Perimeter lights flooded on just as the zombies touching the gate and fence stood bolt upright, a decent current running through their frames, enough to kill a man or at the very least incapacitate him. The zombies’ muscles were locked in place, and still more came pressing up against their stock still brethren only to join them in their rigidity.

“Is it killing them?” Tracy asked, hoping that was the case.

Ron grabbed his binoculars. “I can’t tell for sure. Travis, can you go down and tell MJ to turn the fence off for a minute, then back on? Thanks,” he added as Travis went by.

The first few zombies that had been the unfortunate first test zombies fell to the ground as the current let their muscles loose. More moved in to take their spot, but there were not yet enough that they blocked out the zombies on the ground as they stood and fought for access to the fence.

“Well that answers that question,” Ron said more to himself. He walked inside and yelled down the stairs. “Turn the fence back on.” Travis was already on his way back up and heading for the outside deck.

“Time to make them pay for their trespassing,” Tony said as he sent a bullet through the forehead of the nearest zombie. A plume shot out the back of its skull. Travis, Gary, and BT joined in the shooting.

“Take your time,” Tony told them. “One shot, at least one kill with them packing this closely. Bullets are going to get precious by the time this is all over.”

The first quandary surfaced about twenty minutes into the firefight. The dead zombies up against the fence hadn’t seen fit to fall away so that it would be easier targeting in on those behind.

Mad Jack had just come up from the basement to see how his handiwork was holding up.

“Going to need you to go back downstairs and turn it off,” Ron told him.

Mad Jack’s face fell. His face, which had a moment before been beaming, was now dejected.

“It works fine, MJ,” Ron said, picking up on the man’s feelings. “Probably too well. We can’t get the extra dead ones off the fence. Listen, shut it off for about a solid minute, keep it on for ten and just keep repeating the cycle while the zombies change out.”

Mad Jack had an extra swagger in his step as he headed back down.

Mrs. Deneaux was sitting on a lounger looking up at the sky as she enjoyed one of her cigarettes.

“You getting in on this?” Ron asked, preparing his rifle.

“When it counts I suppose I will,” she said after exhaling.

Zombies still flowed. The fence which encased the entire grounds was now at least ten deep at the minimum; the only thing keeping them from going deeper where the trees. The accumulated weight—no matter how strong the supports—was beginning to fold the structure in on itself. They had to keep revolving weapons out as they got too hot to shoot without damaging the barrels and still it would not be enough.

“Truck coming!” Gary shouted over the blasts.

“Want me to take out the driver?” Travis asked. “I’ve got a clear shot.”

“Let him come,” Tony said. “He’ll fill in the hole nicely.” And then I’ll kill him when he tries to run, Tony thought, trying to protect his grandson from the distaste of killing a man that would linger with him through his entire life like a rotten piece of food that would come back up for a second taste from time to time.

The truck started slowly down the dense, tree-lined path, then began to pick up speed. Tony thought that someone had surely drawn the short end of the stick as they barreled towards the fence line and ultimately the house. The trailer had been removed, giving the truck the ability to be more maneuverable and move faster. Tony could not see the driver as he sighted in. The straw had been short, but not short enough that they didn’t try to protect that driver. He was hidden behind what looked like a piece of steel.

“Might as well have some fun,” Tony said aloud as he pulled the trigger on his favorite weapon: a Remington 30-30, bolt-action hunting rifle with a Leupold 8-times scope. The bullet smashed easily through the safety glass of the windshield and hit the steel. The resulting gong could be heard over the roar of the engine. The truck swerved momentarily, nearly clipping a tree as the driver placed his hands over his ears. The steel was still vibrating when the front end of the truck began to dip down. The unsupported ‘bridge’ dropped out from under the truck, the front end smashing into the far side of the earthen embankment. The metal screeched as it took on its new form. Plastic and glass smashed, and once the truck engine seized, they could hear the driver moaning.

“Al, you alright?” someone yelled out from around a small curve in the road safely tucked away from any defender shots.

“My head, Kong, I’m bleeding…smashed myself on the plating. Get me out of here, man!” Al yelled frantically. He didn’t want to tell Kong that he had also broken his vial; the man would probably leave him where he was.

“Go hook up some tow cables to the back end of the truck,” Kong told the nearest driver. He though his name might be Scribner or Scrivener, he didn’t really care.

“Why me, man?” the guy asked.

“Because I said. Get someone to cover your ass if you need to,” Kong said

“Let’s just leave the damn truck there. It ain’t bothering anyone,” Scribner replied.

“It’s bothering me and fucking bad!” Kong yelled. “I want the damn thing removed so we can throw something over that hole and drive in if we want to. Plus, I sort of owe Al one. And if you don’t, I’ll kill you…enough reason?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Scribner walked back up the road to the staging area, which was basically just a road with trucks parked up and down the length of it. He got a tow line from his rig and grabbed two men sitting on their fender. They were the only ones with rifles on and if he was going to get cover, he at least wanted men that were armed.

“What’s going on?” the taller of the two asked. His name was Burkes, he had a moustache that made him look somewhat like a cowboy and he may have been able to pull it off, but instead of cowboy hat, he insisted on a golf visor, and instead of the signature leather boots, he wore Keds.

“The truck they sent in to bust down the fence got stuck and...” For a moment he thought about lying and telling the man that Kong had told him to get a man to hook it up, but Kong was still standing at the curve and would never let him get away with it. “...I have to hook this up to the rear end of it so we can pull it out.” He held the hook up.

“I’m not going near that house,” the shorter man replied. His name was Dobbs; he looked like a cross between an accountant and a construction worker. Small spectacles did little to re-shape his square head and jaw. Powerful arms were sheathed in a button-up shirt. Add to that the fact that he was wearing khakis and Hush Puppies, it seemed he was having great difficulty defining his cliché. “You hear all those shots? Sounds like a war up there.”

“It is a war, dip wad,” Scribner said. “And do you know what happens to soldiers that disobey orders?”

Dobbs’ eyes widened. He hadn’t really thought of it that way until just now. He checked his weapon.

“Three men heading towards the back of the truck, Pops,” Travis told his grandfather. The three men approaching the truck were bent over so far, they looked like the trio were all vying for the part of Quasimodo in The Bells of Notre Dame at the local dinner theater.

“Do they think nobody can see them?” Mrs. Deneaux asked, finally getting up from her chair.

“Looks like they’re going to try and pull the truck out,” Ron said, clenching something tightly in his left hand.

“Did the hook one of them is carrying give it away?” Deneaux asked.

“Ron?” Tony asked his oldest son.

Ron knew what he had to do, but theory was always easier than practice.

“Ron, once he lays that hook on, they’re gone,” Tony stated looking through his scope.

Ron was a devout anarchist…that was why his next words seemed to take on more meaning. “God forgive me,” he said as he pressed down on the detonator. For the briefest of moments nothing happened, and Ron was relieved. Then the earth exploded, or at least that was what it looked like as two strategically placed Claymore mines went off—one on each side of the disabled truck. Ball bearings shredded the three men like a fork pulled along a slow roasted pork loin. Meat, bones, and blood…lots and lots of blood coated the trees on either side of the roadway.

The man still in the truck opened his door and fell to the ground, the sound and possibly some shrapnel injuring him further. He began to crawl back towards the truckers’ encampment. Tony severed his spine, killing him instantly.

“It’s good to see at least one Talbot not all wrapped up in morality,” Mrs. Deneaux said as she turned to get back on her chair.

Tony let his head drop a bit, he had not wanted to kill the man, he had to.

“Well, they’ll think twice before they come that route,” Mrs. Deneaux said smiling, lighting another cigarette.

“Wish we had more of those,” Ron said, putting the detonator down on a small table, absently wiping his hand on his shirt as if he could wipe off the death his thumb had just delivered.

“It’s alright, son,” Tony said. “Mrs. Deneaux is right. No one is going to come up that way.”

***

Eliza’s head whipped around as the explosion tore through her men. “Kong,” she said to the truck driver’s leader.

“I’ll find out,” he told her.

“Seems the rest of the Talbot clan has just as many surprises as Michael,” Tomas said smiling.

“Do not start!” she said, pointing her finger at her brother.

Kong came back a moment later. “We have a truck stuck in the only approach a vehicle can make. They had it booby-trapped so when three of my men went up to hook up a tow cable it went off. They were killed instantly…plus the original driver.”

“Have my zombies made progress?” Eliza asked.

“Their fence is holding so far. Doesn’t make much sense, it’s only a chain link fence and it has extra supports, but still with as much push as the zombies should be giving it. It should have buckled by now. And what makes it weirder is the zombies up towards the front are not really doing anything, they just kind of stand there,” Kong finished.

Tomas had an idea of what might be going on. His sister looked completely befuddled and he decided to not tell her.

“We can make it more difficult on these people,” Kong stated.

“I’m listening,” Eliza told him.

“We can station men in the woods and shoot back. Maybe we kill some of them…at the very least we can keep them off that wraparound deck. We have more options if they’re not cutting down your zombies at the rate they are now. And a few of the driver’s are prior military, we could probably assemble some sort of strike team when they’re all huddled inside.”

“I would like at least some of them taken alive,” Eliza intoned.

“Of course,” Kong said, leaving to get some planning done.