Tattered Remnants

by Mark Tufo

  I stretched and let the sun touch as much of me as I could allow. If I were alone, I would have peeled off all of my drenched clothes and let them dry. The squishy wet feeling of stuck on clothing was not one I relished. I figured the kids were already traumatized enough without me walking around nude. Oh, to be Trip for just an hour; he wouldn’t care. Travis was up next. He stood and yawned then did what I didn’t have the foresight to think of. He looked down the side of the building. I hoped that the rain had somehow dissuaded the zombies from pursuing us. From the look of resignation on my son’s face, it was easy enough to say it had not.

  He peeled off his shirt and laid it on the wall. I followed suit.

  He shielded his eyes. “Shit. Dad, you should warn someone before you try to blind them.”

  “Hilarious. I haven’t had much time to get a tan.”

  He sat back down, undid his shoes, and took his pants off. “That’s much better,” he said as he laid down against the roof. His boxers would dry soon enough. Jesse and Meredith were awake and noticed our various states of undress. Meredith was down to her bra and panties in under half a minute. I had previously figured her to be the most shy of the bunch. If anything, she cared the least. Jesse seemed slightly uncomfortable in his tighty-whities, but I also noticed he was in no rush to get his wet clothes back on.

  “Uncle, there’s no need to be bashful.” Meredith was poking fun at me for still having my pants on.

  “I don’t think bashful is my problem,” I told her.

  “Geez, Dad. Your legs can’t be any whiter than your chest.” Travis was lying down, but still had it in him to give me a hard time.

  “I’m fine,” I told them.

  “I bet his underwear is dirty,” Meredith said to Jesse and Travis who both laughed.

  “My underwear is not dirty!” I protested a little too loudly.

  “Holes?” Meredith prodded. “Didn’t your mom ever tell you to put clean underwear on in case you’re ever in an accident?”

  “She did, and I never understood why. If I was in a bad enough accident, I would need to go to the hospital, I would be covered in blood, and they would just cut the damn things off and start working on me without a care for the state of my undergarments. I was always of the belief that it was best that medical professionals be able to skip that particular step.”

  Meredith’s eyebrows furrowed then spread as she smiled.

  “What’s he talking about?” Jesse asked.

  “Our uncle, in addition to being a Marine, is also a commando,” she said.

  “A commando?” he asked.

  “You know.” She pointed down below.

  “Oh, commando!” Jesse laughed.

  Travis sat up. “Oh gross, Dad.”

  I shrugged. “It’s always been more comfortable, I mean right up until this point, anyway.”

  “You can strip if you want to.” Meredith giggled.

  “Umm, no. Some of us are a little more modest.”

  “You do know things shrink if they stay wet too long, right?” Now she was outright laughing.

  “I am not having this conversation with my niece!” I walked away. Okay, so maybe sloshed away is a better word. I ended up taking my boots and socks off and rolling my jeans up as best I could. When I was certain they were all lying down with their eyes closed, I went to the far side of the roof and just gave a quick once over to make sure there was no truth to what she’d said. I mean, I know on a fundamental level she was just screwing with me, but any men reading this know that you just don’t take any chances when it comes to your junk. I’m happy to report everything seemed intact, even if there was some water-induced shriveling. Actually, more than likely, you couldn’t give a shit, but I was happy, and this is my journal, so the entry stays.

  It was about noon when my pants had really begun to dry off. It was at about this time when, ironically, I discovered I was pretty thirsty. We’d almost drowned in fresh water last night, and now, I felt like I was walking in the Sahara. Life is a funny fucking thing, and then you die. The kids were in various states of putting their clothes back on. The day wasn’t overly warm, but the sun was out in full force, and we were on a black tar roof. It was plenty warm enough up there. For the first time in a very long time, I was completely at a loss as to what to do. I could tell they were starting to feel the beginning effects of exposure. They were much more lethargic than they had a right to be. I made sure everyone drank some water and ate a little. As I chewed, I looked at the hole to the floor, wondering if we could possibly fight our way out, when I looked up to see Travis grabbing at the electrical cable coming into the building. The parent in me nearly seized up as I saw him doing something so foolhardy, then it dawned on me that it wasn’t live, hadn’t been for months.

  “Dad,” he called, but I was already on my way.

  “What do you think?” I asked him. The wire didn’t look like it could hold a stuffed teddy bear much less a full-grown man.

  He leaned over and started yanking on it. I couldn’t help it; I grabbed his pant waist.

  “I’m not going to fall, Dad,” he admonished me.

  “Not with me holding you, you’re not.” I didn’t let go, even though he clearly wanted me to. Hell, I was still holding on when he stood back up and had two feet firmly planted on the roof next to mine.

  “You mind?” he asked. That’s when I got the hint.

  The cable stretched from the post office about fifty feet to a small series of shops—a mini strip mall, basically. It housed a furniture rental store, and once upon a time an awesome Chinese food restaurant, which I would just about give one prune-like right nut for some of right now. I think the other store was like a ninety-eight cent store. Apparently, this is where people went when they were priced out of the dollar store. I once passed this store, and they had a sign on the window advertising ninety-eight cent steak. I had to see it with my own two eyes. At a time when stew meat is $4.99 a pound, what the hell can ninety-eight cents buy you? I was picking up an order my brother had made for us and some other guests that were visiting, and I was starving. But come on, how many times are you going to come across something like this?

  There was a huge freezer right by the doors stuffed with packages of this magic meat as if in preparation of hordes of shoppers coming in just for this special. I guess it worked because there I was. I picked one up. My first thought was it was pretty heavy. I was expecting something as thin as a slice of baloney. I was sort of right. The front of the package was a solid white. When I turned it over to peer at the contents, I thought I was looking at one of those old-time oddity displays they used to have for the traveling shows. Some thing hung in a suspension of frozen liquid; looked like the aborted fetus of a pigeon. It should have had little hands pressed up against the package in a nightmare inducing “let me out” pose. It was a shriveled up gray wad of a meat-like thing in about a pound of dirty water. I, for the life of me, could not imagine in what scenario this sounded like a decent item to buy. I think I would have picked up the cherry Pop-Tart knock offs, the savory sounding Fruity Squares, before I would have ever touched this experiment gone awry. Funny thing, though, three days later, and the day before I was heading back to Colorado, I went into the store. The fridge was no longer there. I figured the USDA or Inspector General or maybe the CIA, realizing that someone was trying to poison the populace, had removed the offending display.

  “Excuse me,” I asked the cashier, who seemed to be in the middle of a good-sized meth tweak.

  “Yeah.” She turned, her mouth flapping as she wildly chewed a giant wad of gum. Her right hand moved extremely fast as it continuously swatted away an imaginary bug by the side of her head. With her left, she was peeling off a series of scabs on her neck. I was transfixed, or horrified, while she pulled nickel-sized hunks of dried blood clots from her body. Yellow pus slowly oozed from the open sores.

  I swallowed hard, doing my best to not keep staring at her. “The steaks, are there any more left?”


  She snorted. No, I mean she literally snorted, not once and then caught herself like most people do, but rather four or five times, to the point where snot started coming out of her right nostril.

  “This was so not worth it.” I said, heading for the door, trying to figure out a way to open it without using any part of my body. A store that charged ninety-eight cents for everything certainly couldn’t afford automatic doors.

  “Mister, them there steaks were gone that very same day. Iffen you want the good deals, you gotta get up early like them birds that like them worms.”

  And there it was. That was what that steak looked like: fucking worms. I wouldn’t doubt if it was indeed parasites found in the cows and the butcher had found a loophole and was able to sell it as beef because the thing fed off beef or something. Then she completely threw me for a loop when she told me that it was the Chinese food restaurant “that had done bought them all.” I maybe would have flipped her off if I wasn’t in such a rush to go buy an industrial sized bottle of Tums, Kaopectate, and ipecac.

  I came back from my culinary nightmare. By now, we’d aroused the curiosity of the rest of the group. Like we were synchronizing our movements. We looked to the wire to where it connected to both buildings and then down to the horde below, who had as of yet not looked up. I put one leg over the wall and grabbed the line again, expecting some inordinate amount of electricity to stop my heart and burn my hair.

  “Wait, Uncle. What are you doing?” Meredith asked.

  “Going for help.”

  “You’re double my weight.”

  “Probably.”

  “You think that thing is going to hold?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  “Don’t you think it would be better if someone lighter tried?”

  I looked to my small group, one of which I was clearly in charge of protecting. “No.”

  “Dad, I could go,” Travis said.

  “You could, but I’m the only one doing it.”

  “What if the wire breaks?” Jesse asked.

  “Are you taking over Justin’s role of Captain Obvious?” I asked. “Listen, if anyone is going to take the plunge. Shit, wrong word. If anyone is going to walk this high wire, it’s going to be me. I’m not going to stand here and put one of you guys in danger. I should be fine. That wire probably weighs over a hundred pounds, and the fasteners should be rated to hold at least double that.”

  “We’ve all lost weight, Uncle, but I still don’t think you weigh a hundred pounds.”

  “Don’t go using math on me, Meredith. This isn’t up for debate. I’m the king right now, and I’m giving the orders.”

  Yup, I was scared, petrified, in fact; heights and I weren’t on speaking terms. We had more like an ass-clenching agreement. I sat on the edge of the wall, my legs dangling over, thinking about how best to grab the wire without jumping on to it and adding too much undue stress.

  “You taking your rifle?” Travis asked.

  “Hmm, one rifle, three full magazines, that’s got to be an extra fifteen pounds.” Meredith said.

  “Thanks for the update. I’ll be sure to tell your dad how helpful you were,” I told Meredith as I placed the rifle across my back and tightened the buckle that was resting uncomfortably on my sternum. “This sucks.” My hands were shaking. No matter how I tried to concentrate on stopping them, they wouldn’t.

  “Are you sure about this?” Meredith, ever the constant kidder, was actually serious.

  “I wish I talked out loud less,” I told her.

  “There could be another way,” she finished, but I was already on the move. With my right hand, I grabbed the wire right where it went into the building. I put the majority of my weight on the line and scooted my ass off the wall. My legs swung out, and I simultaneously grabbed with my left hand and pulled my body up to wrap my legs around the line. My head was at an uncomfortable angle, being too close to the post office. I was sort of screwed, a surge of panic sent a cascade of needles throughout my body. I was in no position to climb back up, and I was too petrified to move.

  “This is fucking great.” I moved just enough that my head was free of the building. I turned to the side, noting how far up I was and what waited below in the event I slipped or the bracket gave.

  “You should move,” Jesse prodded.

  “Me and you are going to talk when I get back,” I told him. It was what I needed, though. With my hands behind and over my head, I began to push off on the wire, forcing myself forward. At first, it wasn’t horrible. Sort of reminded me of my long-ago Marine Corps days. Then, as I got further away from the building, the line began to sag something fierce. The good thing was that if I fell, the odds I’d survive were greatly improved—I mean at least until the zombies started tearing in to me, but at least the meat wouldn’t be all bruised up for them. I felt like I was on a damn bungee cord the way the thing just kept dipping down. The zombies still weren’t looking up, but we were within feet of each other. If I so desired to hang by my legs, I’m pretty sure I could have dragged my fingertips across the NBA wannabes’ heads. Just so we’re clear, I didn’t want to. I’m just saying I could have.

  I was at this lowest point when I felt a heavy vibration on the cord. I bent my head back as far as I could so I could see back the way I’d come. The kids weren’t looking at me but rather the building coupling. They were pointing animatedly and reaching for it. That didn’t bode well. They could have yelled something to me, but what was the point? There wasn’t much I could do. So far, I’d had a little bit of Irish luck going for me as the zombies had still not noticed my high-wire act. That’s the problem with having English origins though, us and the Irish don’t see eye to eye very often and they were only going to yield me so much good measure. I did the only thing afforded to me, and no, it wasn’t vomit. I started moving faster. It got significantly harder now, though, as I was forcing my way up against gravity and at a fairly steep angle.

  “When are you ever going to start thinking things through?” I berated myself. I was splashing zombies in fat drops of sweat. All I can figure is that they thought it was raining again. My hands were beginning to cramp up, and the muscles in my arms were beginning to thrum with exertion and the constant push of adrenaline.

  “Hurry!” Meredith shouted out. I didn’t bother to waste any time looking back, really no sense. I mean, if I were in the middle of a roadway and a truck was barreling down on me, then perhaps it would be a good idea to look back and figure out which way to dive. But really, all I needed to know was that the bracket was failing, and once that did—well, I’d be swinging through the air. I got further than I thought I would when I heard the loud twang. Sounded a lot like a light saber cutting through the air. Most of you should get that reference; if not, maybe think of the largest known humming bird whizzing by your ear at near-record speed. I swung for not more than ten feet or so. My knuckles took the brunt of the assault as they slammed into the cinder block wall. The trailing edge of the wire as it whipped down onto the zombies was enough to get their attention. I was now hanging completely upside down a la Spider-Man and the zombies were staring back.

  “You should climb up!” Jesse shouted.

  “I’m going to kill him,” I muttered. Unlike Spider-Man, I could not reel myself in. I had to do a relatively ninja-like move, and I was so not feeling it at this very moment. I twisted my torso and unlatched my crossed legs. In conjunction with that, I also released my death grip. My hands slid from the sweat as I repositioned them and once again clamped down. I again twisted my legs around the line, clamping a piece between the bottom of my right heel and the top of my left foot. It afforded my arms a small respite. I was by no means out of the woods. My bleeding knuckles were doing what they do best: bleed. The blood was bringing zombies in my direction. I had another eight or so feet to climb, which wasn’t bad, but now there was only one cable bracket left, and it was holding me and the weight of the dangling cable. My life clock was rapidly dra
ining down to zero. The way I saw it was I had two options: Climb down quickly and deal with the zombies down below or go up and get on the roof to reweigh my situation.

  For right or wrong, I chose up. I was happy to see that the bracket on this side was still holding perfectly. Figured this one was made in the good old US and the other in China; biases die hard. The relief that spread over me as I placed my arm on the roof was palpable. I just wished there was a handhold, something I could pull myself up with. I had to keep using my legs, feeding more cable through and then pushing up. Eventually, I had my chest on the roof and was able to get into a push up-type position and pull the rest of me over. Once I was certain I was completely on, I rolled over.

  “You all right?” Travis asked.

  I had enough energy to give a thumbs up, and that was about it. I caught my breath and stocked back up on my psyche reserves before I once again stood. On the far side of the little mall was a cluster of trees, close enough to the edge of the building that I should be able to reach over and grab a decent enough branch to aid in my descent. I really wanted to take a moment to figure out what I was going to do when I got there, though. Of course, I was on the move almost immediately. Crossing over to the area devoid of enemies.

  “You’re about as smart as a gravy boat, Mike,” I said while I grabbed a branch that had the decency to almost be resting on the roof. I thanked the oak profusely as I climbed out on the limb. “I do this a lot, don’t I?” I mean figuratively, although I guess literally now as well.