The End Has Come and Gone

by Mark Tufo

  “You’re right, more of an Australian rules football fan myself. Brisbane Lions are my team.”

  “You’re kidding me right?” Meredith shot him an incredulous look.

  “Never about the Lions.”

  “Fine, what do I need to do?”

  “Just stay in front. When they swerve to get over, you swerve to block them.”

  BT knew it was an exercise in futility, but it would buy Tracy and Ron a few very precious minutes. Eventually the two trailing cars would see the ruse and instead of following in a line they would come up side by side. No matter how much Meredith swerved, she would not be able to block both at the same time.

  “I’m scared, BT,” Meredith said as she took a deep breath.

  “I don’t know if it’s appropriate right now, but somehow your crazy Uncle Mike convinced me that this was sound logic and I fell for it. We were surrounded by zombies, no hope of rescue, and low on bullets. He looks over at me, his face serious as a heart attack and he shrugs his shoulders and goes, ‘What the hell BT, you only die once.’”

  Meredith mulled it over for a few seconds and then looked over at BT and started laughing.

  “That’s exactly what I did! Ease up now,” BT cautioned, placing his hand on her arm.

  Tracy began to rocket down the roadway. In a few more minutes she’d be a fading memory.

  It didn’t take Officer Gibson long to see the ploy for what it was. He grabbed his police radio. “Job, get up here and get that other car before it gets good and gone. This one is mine,” Aaron said as he tapped the bumper of the slowing truck.

  “He hit us!” Meredith yelled.

  BT was thinking they’d be lucky if that was all he did. BT didn’t hesitate as he blew out the back window with rifle shots.

  Officer Gibson swerved to the left as a bullet came dangerously close to his ear. “He shot at me!” he yelled to Wes as if that was beyond the realm of any conceivable possibility. “Wes?” Aaron looked over to Wes and saw a gaping wound in his chest pulsing blood. Wes looked over towards Aaron, the hiss of air as it escaped his punctured lung louder than the air that came in through the damaged windshield.

  “I think I’m hit, Boss,” Wes said without any volume to the words.

  Aaron was amazed Wes could even speak; his body was hissing like a blown out tire. “Wes, I know we went to the Academy together but I’ve never really liked you.”

  Wes looked more hurt from the words than the wound. His breath started to hitch as he struggled to get elusive air into his system. Blood and carbon monoxide were becoming his biggest enemies, but none of them could compete with Officer Gibson.

  Aaron removed his pistol from his holster and drilled Wes straight through his outstretched hand and into his forehead. He was dead before what was left of his head collided with the passenger side window. “Now I’m going to have to clean that!” Aaron shouted as the gore from Wes’ head streaked down the window and the upholstery.

  BT watched the entire exchange, hoping that the wounding of the cop’s partner would take him out of the game. When it didn’t he turned to Meredith, “You should probably speed up now.”

  “Make up your mind!” Meredith screamed, partly because of the voluminous amounts of air that were cascading in from the rear but mostly because she was scared shitless.

  “Definitely faster,” BT said as he started to reload his magazine, fingers fumbling nervously with the shells. ‘If the cracker was crazy enough to shoot his own friend that doesn’t leave much room for doubt with what he’d do to us,’ BT thought.

  * * *

  Aaron stopped long enough to push Wes from the car.

  “Jesus, Aaron. What the hell happened?” Job asked as he pulled his car next to the other cruiser.

  “Did I tell you to stop?” Aaron screamed.

  Job rolled up his window and floored it.

  “Dude, I watched him shoot Wes,” Kyle said, looking nervously back as Aaron got back into his cruiser. “That man is crazy, we need to get out of here.”

  Job looked at his rear view mirror. Aaron was gaining rapidly even though Job himself was doing 95. “I think you’re right, he’s been acting crazier than an evangelist on acid.”

  Kyle stopped looking back to look over at Job. “What does that even mean?”

  “How the hell do I know? I was under pressure for an analogy and that was the best I could do. But think about it.”

  “Yeah, I guess that would be pretty bad.”

  “He’s almost on us. No, don’t turn around, he might suspect something. Let’s just have some fun with these people, kill them and then we’ll maybe leave tonight. When he takes those pills he’ll be out for hours.”

  “Good plan, then hurry and catch them because I want to get away from him as soon as possible.”

  The cruiser easily climbed to 110 and Job had his foot only about three-quarters of the way down.

  * * *

  Tracy ripped onto the Route 3 off ramp, tires squealing like live pigs shoved through a deli counter slicer. All the occupants were thrown to the left, threatening to overturn the car with the inertia. Angel was damn near in Tracy’s lap. Dizz, Sty and Ryan were pressed so tightly together they could exchange undergarments and nobody would be the wiser.

  “Damn, lady!” Sty said as he tried to pry his mouth away from Dizz’ elbow. Ryan was closer to another man’s junk than he ever hoped to be for the rest of his life. He almost tore a muscle in a straining attempt to keep his hand off of Sty’s thigh. His face hung dangerously close to plopping straight down into Sty’s lap.

  “Like what you see?” Sty said, smiling slyly as Tracy finally hit a straightaway and the g-forces of orbital release were removed.

  “Kiss my ass, Sty,” Ryan said as he turned bright red.

  “I think the left side of my head is flat,” Dizz said, referring to where he made contact with the window.

  “Didn’t Mountain Man say we were supposed to stay on that other road?” Sty asked.

  “I saw a chance for us to get away, it’s called improvisation and I learned it from my husband,” Tracy explained briefly, looking through her mirrors for any sign of pursuit.

  When she turned forward, her heart lurched at the sight of the approaching truck until she realized it had to be Ron. She frantically waved him forward; she did not want him to stop as he barreled to intercept the cops. To his credit, he slowed slightly to look but immediately regained his forward momentum and hurtled on.

  “Where are we going, Pretty Lady?” Angel asked.

  “That’s a good question, sweetie,” Tracy answered. “I don’t know.” And she didn’t, should she follow Ron and see if she could help, or hide somewhere around here and wait for whoever remained alive to drive by. Or did she just keep driving and go back to Ron’s?

  She knew she couldn’t go back into the fray with the kids. The whole reason BT had done what he had was so that she could get away with them. She damn well couldn’t go back to Ron's house without the rest of them. What would she say?

  She pulled into an Arby’s parking lot. It had a ring of juniper trees that encircled the entire place. Only the most prying diligent eyes would see the car. Then Mike’s paranoia crept in on her thoughts. ‘Yeah, but aren’t cops very prying and very diligent?’ “You suck sometimes, Mike,” she said out loud. Tracy parked the car behind the building and started to undo her seatbelt.

  "Whoa lady, where you going?" Sty asked, grabbing her shoulder.

  "Are they open?" Angel asked, looking up at the big Cowboy Hat sign. "I like curly fires."

  "Fires?" Tracy questioned the girl.

  "She means fries," Ryan explained.

  "I don’t think they're open sweetie," Tracy told the little girl. "I'm going to the front of the store and see who passes by. You guys need to all stay in the car."

  "Wait! Out here? By ourselves?" Dizz looked on the verge of a panic attack.

  "Eyean, do they have Happy Meals here?" Angel asked her older brother.
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  "I don’t think so sis," he said and watched as her face sank in resignation, "But we can check." She immediately perked up.

  "Absolutely not," Tracy said, "Nobody is leaving this car."

  "You are," Sty pointed out.

  "Except for me," she said, shooting him a withering glance.

  "Pretty lady just told you!" Angel squealed with delight.

  Sty sat back hard; teenage brooding came to the fore.

  "Eh," Tracy said. "You've got nothing on my daughter," she finished mockingly. "I'll be right back. Dizz, you get in the driver's seat. If anything happens to me, you get out of here. Understand?"

  "God help us all," Sty said sarcastically.

  Dizz looked sick although he nodded once in acknowledgement. Tracy was out of the car and had taken a step away. "Dizz, I meant now."

  He gave her thumbs up, swallowed back some gorge and got into the front seat. Angel immediately got serious. She sat up straight in her seat and allowed Ryan to buckle her in with absolutely no extra added squirming.

  "Which way is reverse?" Dizz asked, looking at the shift box.

  Tracy turned back around. "Get out," she told him. A look of relief flooded his face as he extracted himself from the seat that he was so reluctant to take. Tracy turned the car around and backed up into the parking spot.

  "You crossed over the white line," Dizz told Tracy, referring to her less than stellar parking job.

  "Better than most times," she said looking down. "Now get back in."

  "I'd rather go with you lady," Sty said. "It's way safer."

  "Blow me," Dizz said as he determinedly got behind the wheel.

  "Like a pinwheel?" Angel asked.

  "No, he actually…"

  "Dizz!" Tracy and Ryan yelled.

  "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

  "I'll be right back. Okay?"

  Dizz' thumbs up reply was about half mast.

  "How about a little more enthusiasm?" Tracy asked him. He brought two thumbs way up and the cheesiest false smile he could muster. "Better, but not great,” she said as she went around to the front. Even behind an 8’ high, 4’ wide juniper she felt completely exposed. ‘Didn't even bring my gun. What the hell is wrong with me?’ She was torn between standing at her post or returning to get her weapon.

  Dizz solved her problem as he came walking around the side of the Arby's. "You forgot your gun," he said. "So I brought it to you," he added needlessly.

  "Dizz, you were supposed to stay in the car!"

  "I figured you were going to need this," he said defensively.

  Angel and Ryan rounded next.

  "Guys?" Tracy asked exasperatedly.

  "Eyean said he would look to see if they had any toys," Angel said excitedly. Ryan didn’t look Tracy in the face. He figured his sister could do the dirty work.

  Sty came around last. "Don’t look at me lady, I wasn't gonna stay in there by myself."

  "Fine! Dizz, give me the gun,” Tracy said, “We'll all go in and see if there’s anything we can use in there and then all of you are getting back in that car!"

  Dizz looked thrilled that he didn’t have to go back just yet.

  Tracy hoped the store was locked as she approached. The sun was at high noon and was doing little to shine any light into the store. The interior looked darker than it had a right to. It didn’t feel menacing, but 'inviting' was also another adjective she would not have used as a descriptor. The door swung open easily as she pulled on it. "Of course," she said sourly.

  It was when she opened the second set of doors that reality made itself known. The air that poured around the group was thick with stench. Tracy was physically repelled; she stepped on Sty's foot as she retreated. He didn’t seem to notice as he was doing his best to get away also.

  "Never really liked roast beef," Dizz said, almost removing himself to the other side of the parking lot.

  "I don’t really want a toy Eyean!" Angel said as she rushed to meet up with Dizz.

  Sty and Tracy pushed the first door closed in an attempt to stem the tide of poisoned air. Ryan placed his hands on the glass of the store front. Head bowed, he did his best to calm the currents in his stomach. He spat puddles as his salivary glands were working overtime.

  Sty went over to egg his friend on and see if he could push him over the edge. "Man, that was almost as bad as if you went into a porta-potty and started dunking your head in for turds."

  Ryan gagged again. Sty was loving it, a little more and victory would be his!

  "It's like someone blended old moldy fish with road kill cat and then made…" Sty stopped short as Ryan's hands bounced off the glass from the impact of the zombie that slammed into the partition from the other side. Ryan jumped back.

  "FUCK!" Ryan yelled in surprise, his stomach's earlier unrest completely forgotten.

  "Eyean, Mom says you can't say Fuck!" Angel yelled across the lot.

  The zombie slammed into the glass again. Tracy came up beside with the boys. Another zombie came up to the glass. This one didn’t slam up like its partner. Its eyes slid over towards the door.

  "Whoa!" Sty said. "Did you guys see that? It looked over towards the door!"

  "Did we pull or push that door open?" Tracy asked as she started to grab the kids’ shoulders and herd them back to the car.

  "Pull," Dizz said as he grabbed Angel's hand.

  "Thought so. Kids, run for the car NOW!"

  The kids bolting for the car triggered some subliminal remembrance in the zombie’s rudimentary brain. Chase and pursue. The hunt for food, the most basic of all animalistic instincts and zombie thought. Tracy was rooted to her spot as the zombie met her in the eye – and then it bolted for the door.

  ‘Great, speeder!’ Tracy thought as the zombie began its pursuit which triggered in her the second oldest response known to all living kind, the need to save one's own ass!

  Tracy didn’t stop to check on the advance of her enemy but the smell as it escaped the now defunct fast food restaurant told her all she needed to know. This was going to be a lot closer than she had hoped.

  * * *

  Ron watched as Tracy's car passed by. "She must have been able to get away," he said to his dad. Tony nodded once.

  "Meredith and that big son of a bitch BT will be fine," Tony said. "We'll make sure of it."

  "Thanks Dad." ‘The old man is determined, I'll give him that,’ Ron thought.

  Ron was within a minute or so away from the Route 3, Route 1 interchange. "Dad, can you get on the radio and see if they've passed yet?"

  Tony did as he was asked. When no response was received, Ron's hope began to spiral downward. If he drove forward and they hadn't passed yet, he would not be able to lay a trap. If he waited and they were already gone, he didn’t want to dwell on that thought.

  As they drove up the on ramp, Tony saved him the trouble of making a difficult decision. "Is that a cop car?" he asked.

  "I don’t even see a car, Dad, much less what kind,” Ron responded. “Oh wait, there it is. How the hell did you see that?"

  "Vitamins," Tony answered.

  Ron stopped the truck and opened his door so he could prop the barrel of his Winchester 308 on the windowsill. Tony got out and placed his Browning 30-30 on the hood.

  "Wrong family to mess with," Tony said as he adjusted his scope for the outgoing projectile.

  * * *

  "Is that them?" Kyle asked Job, pointing to the truck parked on the ramp.

  "Yeah dipshit, she traded her red Subaru in for a silver pickup," Job said.

  "Really?"

  "No, not really." Job didn’t like this at all. He was traveling well over a hundred miles an hour; there was no margin for error. He could not maneuver at this speed, and something about the way that truck was just waiting there was unsettling. "Probably nothing," Job said, doing his damnedest to keep his eyes on the road, on the silver truck, and look for the car he was chasing.

  Kyle noticed it first. "They got guns, Job," he said as h
e gripped the dashboard roll handle. "Turn around man, I don’t feel good about this," he said in a near state of panic.

  "I can't, by the time I slow down to a safe enough speed we'll be sitting ducks."

  "Job, I don't want to die a virgin."

  Job couldn’t help it. With everything that was going on, he had to a spare a second to look at his friend. "No way, what the hell are you talking about? You went out with Vickie Johannsen for almost a year."

  "She was saving herself for marriage."

  Job knew that was a lie. He had bedded Vickie on more than one occasion and most were while his friend was dating her. Kyle may have made a startling revelation, but Job felt no such compulsion.

  "We'll get through this…" the live Job started to tell his friend. "…buddy," was what his incorporeal soul finished. Job exited the world of the living and into the plane of the dead so fast that he did not even realize there was a transition.

  He watched from the roof of the car as his own head was thrust back, the right side having caved from the impact of a high velocity 30-30 hollow tip round. His cheek was the first to accept the molten metal. Next, muscle and nerve endings separated as the bullet burrowed further. The impact into his jaw shattered it in four places. Eleven teeth crumbled under the assault and still the bullet pushed on. The back of his skull finally released the offending impact as the bullet came to a stop in the head rest.