by Mark Tufo
the same effect.
“You feel that?” I asked, beginning to seriously creep myself out. Prickles of ice
climbed up my spine and to the base of my skull. It was a wholly unpleasant sensation.
“He’s here,” Dennis said.
“Who?” I asked, catching up to him.
“My brother Dan.”
Goosed flesh sprang up on my arms. “Dude, it doesn’t feel right in here.”
I expected something along the lines of ‘You pussy’ or ‘Are you chicken?’ The normal
guy bluster. Instead, he said, “You feel that too?”
The quarter moon was playing hide and seek amongst the clouds and I was thankful and
fearful every time it broke through. Thankful because I could see more of our immediate
surroundings, and for that same reason, fearful.
“I think we’re getting close,” Dennis said.
I personally didn’t think so, because the gate was further away. I wanted to grab
Dennis’ arm, certain my heart had gotten stuck for a handful of beats. A stiff wind
had pushed the latest cloud cover away quickly, and as the moon shone down, I saw
movement behind one of the grave markers. It was over to our left. It looked like
a child’s head had peeked around, and when it realized I had seen, it had pulled back
quickly. Morbid curiosity warred with self-preservation within me. The false feeling
of invincibility won out. I went over to where I had seen the figure.
Dennis came up beside me. “How did you know?”
It was then I looked down onto the gravestone itself and saw: Dan Waggoner, beloved
child.
Epilogue 1 – Deneaux - Pre-Zombie Apocalypse
“What do you mean the North American shots are being shipped? Who’s the idiot that
gave the order?” a visibly flustered Winston Deneaux yelled into the handset of his
phone. He dragged his hand across his face.
The Demesne Group would have him killed on principal for this failure if it were ever
discovered how close to catastrophe they were. His only job, up to this point, in
the destruction of the world’s population was to house the tainted flu shots until
he was given the order to release them. And now some wanna-be do-gooder maverick at
his largest warehouse had taken it upon himself to single-handedly save the United
States by releasing what he thought was forgotten about or misplaced vaccinations.
The Third World supply had gone out the previous week.
“Sir, I don’t know,” Captain Najarian said. He was at the warehouse looking at an
empty corner of the massive warehouse, talking on his cypher-encoded cell phone. “And
I didn’t say being shipped…they’re gone.”
“Get them back!” Deneaux screamed into the phone, spit flying from his mouth in anger.
“The authorization has to come from you. I tried right after I contacted Senator Wendelson.”
“The senator knows about this?” Deneaux asked nervously, licking his lips.
“He does now, sir. I had no choice.”
“So apparently any old dumbass can ship them, but I have to be the one that calls
them back? Shit.” Mr. Deneaux hung the phone up. He had picked it back up and was
about to make a call when his doorbell rang. “Betty, could you get that!” he yelled
to his full time maid. When she didn’t respond, he came out of his office on the second
ring.
“Vivian,” a clearly flustered Winston said as he answered his door. “What are you
doing here?”
“Winston, Winston, I thought you’d be thrilled to see your wife of thirty-something
wonderful years.” She placed her cool hand on his cheek and walked in.
“I’m in the middle of something, you should leave,” he told her.
“What’s her name?” Vivian asked as she strolled into the living room.
“I really don’t have time for this.” He followed.
“Oh, I think you’ll make time,” she said as she sat. “Sit.” She motioned with her
hand.
“Vivian—”
“I insist,” she said as she brandished a weapon.
“Get out of here!” he roared.
“Raising your voice to a lady? What would high-society think of that? Oh, I guess
they’d expect just about anything out of you at this point. Middle sixties and almost
your entire world revolves around that little worm between your legs. I thank God
every day that I wasn’t cursed with that appendage.”
“Get out,” Winston said forcibly, pointing towards the door.
“Sit down,” she answered in kind, pulling the hammer back on her revolver. “I’d listen
to me if I were you. This isn’t some thug nine millimeter, this is a .44 Magnum, and
if I remember my pop culture correctly, it will blow your damn head clean off. And
unlike Mr. Eastwood, I know exactly how many rounds are in it.”
Winston looked visibly shaken, even more so than before he’d answered the door.
“Betty’s here,” he said, licking his lips again.
“Oh no, the sweet thing is out doing a bunch of errands that I sent her on.”
“What do you want, Vivian, more money?”
“It’s ALL my money, husband, or did you forget that? I don’t know what you did in
that courtroom to get the judge to side with you. I still haven’t figured it out.
I know you have powerful friends, though, because I foolishly introduced you to them.
Maybe I should have a little cock sewn on, then I could join the boys club you’re
in.”
“Really, Vivian, where have you picked up this new vernacular?”
“You left me with so little, Winston, I’m nearly in the projects. Where do you think
I learned it?”
“So little? People work their whole lives and don’t accumulate half of what I gave
you.”
“Gave me?!” she shouted, standing up. “It was mine! All of it! You spineless little
bitch. Without me, you’d still be tossing some selectman’s salad.”
“That’s enough, you’ll leave here now and I won’t call the police,” Winston said,
nearly rising. He stopped when his ex-wife’s knuckle began to whiten as she applied
pressure to the trigger.
“I’ve always turned a blind eye when you went on your little dalliances. When you
screwed our first maid, I said nothing. When I caught you doing Senator Tillman’s
wife in our bed, I went back down to the party and played the perfect hostess. I never
cared who you stuck it in, because I didn’t want that helmeted little shriveled up
thing you called your manhood anywhere near me. Mr. Strongbone my ass, more like Miss
Wet Noodle.” She bent her pinkie finger. “I never said anything to you or to anyone
because you and I had an understanding. I would show you how to rise to power. You
had the penis and I had everything else. Then, in that pea-brained head of yours,
the legend you thought you were got bigger than who you really are. You started to
think you could do all of this without me. I guess it was that…and then you started
parading what’s-her-name around.”
“Lori.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Don’t interrupt me again. You start parading this girl that
can’t be a third of your age around, making me look like a fool in front of our circles! Do you really think she loves you? She’s a damn yoga instructor for chrissakes.
She’s used to being around hard bodies all day and then she has to look at your past
y,
paunchy ass. She’s either an incredible actress or a world-class drinker. I haven’t
figured that out, although I do plan on visiting her right after I leave here.”
“Don’t you dare! I’ll have you arrested.”
“Oh, you’ll be in no shape to pick up that phone when I’m done with you.”
Winston looked hard at his wife, sweat beaded up on his brow. She’d never been one
for idle threats. He’d always loved having her at his side as he’d climbed the ladder,
because if she said she was going to get something done, there wasn’t anything she
wouldn’t do to achieve that end. But now that he was on the other side of that equation,
he was definitely feeling the heat. He wondered how he could have been so stupid as
to leave this very dangerous variable outside of his control.
“What are you planning on doing? Listen, Vivian, we can work this out. There’s no
need to do anything rash.”
“Rash? Dear husband, you’ve known me long enough to realize I’ve never done anything
rash in my entire life.”
Winston hadn’t risen up more than an inch or two off the couch when a single shot
rang out. Vivian looked through the haze of smoke to the look of terror etched forever
on the face of her husband.
“A good mortician should be able to wipe that stupid look off your face.” She placed
the large revolver onto her lap. “Covering that giant hole in your head though, well
that’s going to take sheer genius,” she quipped. “Maybe I should have just shot you
years ago and shoved my hand up your ass like a puppet. It would have virtually been
the same thing. I think I’ll hire the same lawyers you did for our divorce, seems
like poetic justice, I’d say. Well, one more stop before I call it a day.” She walked
over to her ex and kissed him tenderly on the lips. “We could have run the country,
perhaps not from the Oval Office, but we could have ran it all the same. Such a shame.”
Mrs. Deneaux walked to her car as if she didn’t have a care in the world. The engine
in her Mercedes roared to life as she hit the start button. She left a small trail
of rubber on the cobblestone driveway as she peeled out. Pachelbel’s Canon in D blared through her Bose sound system. The drive to Lori’s home took less than fifteen
minutes, but in that time, Mrs. Deneaux saw a police cruiser, a fire engine, and two
ambulances heading in the opposite direction with their lights blazing. She knew there
was no way her husband’s body had already been discovered. And even if it had, it
wouldn’t have necessitated two ambulances. She wondered briefly what the commotion
was all about and then forgot about it as she pulled up to the Palatial Estates.
“Looks like you’ve done alright for yourself, Lori,” Mrs. Deneaux said as she pulled
up to the building.
The gate guard did little more than look at her hundred and twenty thousand dollar
ride before he pressed the button to lift the gate and allow the wolf into the sheep
pasture.
Mrs. Deneaux waited until she saw a man approaching the front entryway before she
grabbed a bag from the backseat of her car. She quickly departed the vehicle and made
sure to get there a step or two ahead of him.
“Would you be a dear?” she asked him with a false smile that would have frozen a bear.
“It seems my hands are full,” she added when he didn’t immediately move.
“Of course, of course,” he said when his ingrained manners took over.
She let the bag drop to the floor the moment she was inside, the man looked down at
it and then up at her.
“Leave,” she said to him, any hint of the earlier deception of niceness gone.
He knew trouble when he saw it and left without saying another word.
“Palatial Estates my ass. What kind of high-class place doesn’t have an elevator?
And of course Little-Miss-Flexible-Bitch lives on the top floor.” Which in this case
was the fourth. “Probably gets off walking up all these stairs,” Mrs. Deneaux said
angrily. “I should shoot her just for this.”
Mrs. Deneaux rapped lightly on the door to apartment 4D and waited patiently. She
heard soft footfalls come towards the door.
“Who is it?” sang out, not in a frightened way, but more of a way she’d been taught
since she was old enough to answer a door.
“Package,” Mrs. Deneaux said in her deepest voice.
“Great!” Lori pulled the door open enthusiastically. “What?” she asked as Mrs. Deneaux
shoved her backwards.
“You really are beautiful. I can see what my husband sees in you. I mean, it is all
superficial, though, because you’re about as smart as toast.”
“What?” Lori repeated, recovering from her near tumble.
“Is that all you can manage? Too bad your mind isn’t as flexible as your body. Let
me try and dumb this down for you. You were doing my ex-husband and now I’ve come
for my sixpence.”
“Sixpence?”
“Payment, you twit. I’ve come to collect.”
“I…I don’t have any money,” Lori said indignantly.
She stood a good five or six inches taller than Mrs. Deneaux and her body was as honed
as any statue ever sculpted. She had fully intended on using that as a form of intimidation
right up until Mrs. Deneaux pulled her widow-maker out and shoved it in her face.
The girl withered faster than a lilac in the desert.
“Go sit, dear girl. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you,” Mrs. Deneaux said.
“He…he said you two had an understanding,” Lori pleaded as she sat.
“Oh, we did. He just changed the rules without letting me know. I’m curious, though.
Besides the money and the power, what else could you see in him? He’s almost as old
as your own grandfather. You into that kind of thing?”
“It’s not like that.” Lori said. “We’re…we’re in love.”
“You don’t lie very convincingly. I bet you make him shut the lights off every time
he screws you. Oh, I can tell by your eyes I’m right. There wasn’t much to see when
we were younger, and he has not aged gracefully I’m afraid.”
“I’m going to tell Winston about this,” Lori said, trying to prop herself up.
“That will fall on deaf ears, I’m afraid. I came here to tell you that your relationship
with my former husband has come to an end.”
“What…what do you mean? He promised that we’d be getting married.”
“It is easier when you’re married, isn’t it, dear? Don’t have to put out nearly as
much—or in my case, at all—once you have that ring on your finger. Why churn the sweet
cream when you already have the butter?” She laughed. “Did you know I once thought
I was a lesbian? No of course not, how could you? Just the sight of that little dangling
thing between a man’s legs made me want to laugh. The last thing I wanted was the
damned thing inside of me ferreting around like a gopher, doing God knows what. My
girlfriends, though, I think they really enjoyed it--sex I mean,” she said with a
faraway look. “It was never a cock that got me off. Oh, I’m sorry, did that word give
you offense? How about prick?”
Lori flinched.
“It was never the sex. I just don’t like other people enough for them to touch me.
It was, and still is, the power.
I don’t care in the least that you took Winston from
my bedroom; in fact I welcomed it. I do however have a problem with you taking him
