by Mark Tufo
"Is it a bomb?" Eddy asked, following the trio.
"He wanted to come with you guys!" Joann yelled from the cab.
"Shhh, Auntie Jo!" Eddy yelled back. "They don’t know I'm here!" he yelled.
"It is most certainly not a bomb," MJ said, addressing Eddy. "And all indications are that it most likely will not blow up," he finished, looking at Paul and Erin.
"Comforting," Paul said sarcastically as he headed back up the stairs.
The huge door swung open effortlessly as Paul pulled on it, the all too prevalent waft of death his only reward. "Does it suck that I've smelled worse?" he asked a rapidly greening Erin. She did not respond as she moved off to the side in pursuit of more breathable air.
"That wouldn't happen to have a fan?" Paul asked as he stepped away and tried to help MJ carry the box up the last few stairs.
"Is she watching?" MJ asked.
Paul wanted to tell him that he was pretty much a shoe-in with April considering that he was the only available male in their party, but it seemed important to the kid so he played along. "Yeah, she sure is," Paul said with a wicked smile.
"I've got it then," he said as he marshaled his reserves and hefted the box the rest of the way.
"Good, ‘cause that thing looks heavy," Paul said under his breath, while also giving his balls a necessary adjustment from the mere thought of carrying whatever the hell was in that thing. Add to that fact that he would have to holster his pistol to help out and he couldn't find any plusses.
Paul held the door as MJ got one foot in. He went immediately to the right and out of eyeshot of the semi and damn near smashed the container in his haste to get it out of his overtaxed arms.
"Heavy?" Paul asked sardonically as he placed a handkerchief over his face. MJ could only manage a weak one fingered response as he leaned over to catch his breath. "Gotcha," Paul laughed.
Erin had secured a scarf around her mouth and nose and now was at the entry way to the church. Paul admonished himself again for his lack of caution. ‘One of these times this is going to bite me in the ass, literally.’ He quickly did a visual sweep of their immediate surroundings as MJ fiddled with some switches and dials. Paul just figured it was all for show as MJ caught his second wind. Eddy slammed into Erin's legs in his rush to get in and check out something new. Joann was right behind him and scooped him up in her arms, all too aware of the danger that could be behind that door.
Eddy stopped squirming when the stench invaded his nostrils. He now looked more eager to remain with the rest of the troupe in the truck.
"Paul, is this worth it?" Erin asked, watching as Eddy and Joann descended the steps much more rapidly than they had ascended them.
Paul had stopped listening the moment he spotted the altar. It wasn't that he was ignoring his wife; it was that his senses could only handle so much input at any one time. A high pitched squawk from MJ's box brought him out of his self-induced trance. "MJ you scared the hell out of me!" Paul said, rubbing his ears.
"Sorry, just calibrating," MJ said, not really sorry. He was used to apologizing for experiments gone awry and had learned long ago that appeasement was sometimes the bastard brother of technological advancement.
Erin gave a deep scowl to MJ who did not even look up to acknowledge the slight, which made Erin even madder until she followed her husband's line of sight. "What is that?" she asked, trying to catch up to Paul.
"It's people," he answered, never breaking stride.
"You sure?" she asked, her own steps faltering.
"I mean, it has to be, doesn't it?"
"Why are they all piled up like that? Paul we should go, there's nothing we can do for them now," Erin said, reaching out to grab his sleeve.
"Maybe it's religious. Some sort of sacrifice?" Paul answered more to himself than to Erin’s query.
"MJ, maybe we should go," Erin begged, looking back towards the door. An even louder box squawk was her only response from that direction. She was halfway through the large church and Paul was halfway again that much closer to the altar. “Paul, please!” she near silently screamed.
He turned to her and pressed his index finger to his mouth to quiet her.
"They're dead Paul, aren't they?" she whispered. That they were dead was preferable to them being in that ungodly clothed pile on the altar, alive.
Paul slunk another five feet closer, every fiber in his flight reflex telling him to get the hell out. He ignored it like most people ignore a yellow light, confident in the fact that yellow is more of a 'travel advisory' than an actual warning to pay heed to.
Another footfall forward and Paul had unwittingly tripped a silent alarm. Well, more like a dinner bell but the result was the same. First one set of brown green goop encrusted eyes opened to be followed by another and then a third. It was the fourth set belonging to the priest of the church that caught Paul's attention. The priest's piercing blue eyes snapped open, did one complete revolution into the back of his head and then solidly met Paul's gaze. There was no hesitation on either side as Paul turned and ran and the priest disentangled himself from his congregation in hot pursuit.
Verbal commands were unnecessary for Erin as she watched the entire event unfold. But Paul's shout of “GO!” spurred her on even faster.
"MJ, gotta go!" Paul shouted as he passed the halfway mark in God's house.
"Just a couple of more adjustments," MJ answered merrily, unaware of the danger sweeping down the aisle.
"MJ NOW!" Erin screamed as she passed his position and ran out into the daylight.
Alex had seen that look of terror on enough folks’ faces lately to realize it was time to hit the road.
Mrs. Deneaux climbed up into the bed of the truck by herself, not willing to wait for somebody to offer a hand, her cigarette still lit and shaking wildly in her hand.
MJ stood up to look at Paul as he approached. A throng of flesh worshippers followed closely, led by the leader of the congregation. Paul stumbled a bit as he did the familiar horror movie faux pas of looking behind him. His foot caught on the edge of a pew and nearly dropped him on his face. MJ moved forward to help.
Paul stuck his hand out. "Forget it man, I'm good, let's go!" Zombies filled the center aisle and both sides of the pews. Some were the traditional shufflers, most however were not, and the distance between Paul, the door, and death was closing rapidly.
"I can't leave the box!" MJ yelled.
"It's not worth getting eaten." Paul said as he got to the main door.
MJ paid no heed and turned around to get the device; thick cords on his neck bulged as he strained to pick the device up. Paul took a millisecond to scan the events. He would JUST make it if he opened the church door and pushed it shut. "Dammit!" he said as he ran to MJ's position. "This stupid heavy thing better be worth it!" he shouted as they lifted it into the air. MJ's side dipped as he struggled with his grip. "How did you carry this thing alone?" Paul struggled to get out through clenched teeth. He shifted the load so that he could get his hand on the door handle and open it. His mind had been doing rapid calculations and he figured by now the priest at least should be on them. He was too scared to even look back. Just then sunlight streamed into the church. Alex was at the front door, rifle in hand. "Come on you crazy gringos! What is it with white boys always trying to play the hero?" he shouted. Alex had the rifle raised, poised to shoot at anything moving that wasn't alive.
"Get over here!" Marta yelled from the truck cab.
Paul could not understand why Alex' rifle was not firing as they quickly moved off to the side to give him a better vantage point.
"O mi Dios," Alex softly breathed out.
Paul almost dropped the box, expecting some new horror to come bounding out of the doors a la Resident Evil. He hoped there were no zombie Doberman Pinschers. "What is it Alex?" Paul said as he struggled with himself whether to drop the stupid box and run or stand his ground with Alex.
"They're just standing there," Alex said, not daring to put his rifl
e down.
Paul craned his neck. Alex was right, about fifteen feet from the door the zombies were crowded around as if they had hit a force field. MJ lowered his corner a bit so that he could peer past Paul.
"I'll be damned! It works!"
"What works?" Paul asked. "This thing?"
"Yeah, it's a frequency modulator. It…" MJ started.
"Fascinating, really," Paul said, "but I'd rather you told me all about it later when we're safe."
"We're quite safe now," MJ said in rebuttal.
"You know what I mean," Paul answered.
"Guys, let's get out of here. This is not how I wanted to spend my afternoon, in a Mexican standoff with zombies," Alex said.
"That's funnier because it's true," Paul said.
"Hilarious. Let's go," Alex motioned with his rifle.
As MJ and Paul descended the stairs, the zombies moved that much closer.
"Paul, we need to put this thing down. My shoulder is killing me and I have a bad grip."
"You're lucky you don’t have a hernia," Paul answered as he put his corner down on the stairs.
With the box on the ground MJ wiped his brow. Paul kept an eye on the zombies.
"Really guys? This is where you want to have a siesta?" Alex asked nervously.
"Relax Alex, it's fine," MJ said, resting against the side of the box. The zombies at the top of the stairs were not moving. The sunlight was not kind in its exposure of the monsters. Shredded gray skin gave way to gray-green ropy muscle, which in turn showed in some extreme cases yellowing bone. Then the unthinkable happened. The priest moved but the box hadn't, from fifteen feet away to twelve. His followers did what followers do, they followed.
"What's happening?" Paul asked as their circle of safety diminished.
"Huh, must be the batteries," MJ answered absently.
"Couldn't think to put in fresh batteries?" Paul asked.
"Can't expect me to think of everything," MJ answered him, a little miffed.
Zombies began to spill off of the stairway as the overcrowding became too great. The ones that had not damaged any parts vital to locomotion began to encircle the trio.
Within seconds before the trio could react, a twelve foot wide bubble of zombies encircled them. Then it was ten feet.
"This isn't fun anymore. I'm thinking we should leave," Paul said as he grabbed the edge of the box.
"In agreement," Alex said. Sweat alternated between running in rivulets down his back and freezing in place.
The circle had become eight feet in diameter by the time MJ got his side up.
"This is going to be a little closer than I thought," MJ said as a red LED light began to flicker on the top of the box.
"Let me guess," Paul said. "Low battery indicator."
MJ could only offer a weak smile in reply. Alex' rifle now went off as the circle became six feet around. The damage the bullet did to the human form from this distance was devastating. Pink gray, brackish brain matter exploded onto their brethren as Alex started to weed out the non-believers in the Power of the Bullet.
And still they pressed on. Paul and MJ kept shuffling backwards. They were careful to make sure that the zombies behind them were given enough time to react to the repelling effects of MJ's box. By the time the three were in front of the truck, a yard stick could have been held to the priest's forehead to measure the space. Black gore stained teeth gnashed wildly as saliva flowed from both sides of his mouth like a rabid dog. Alex had his back pressed up against the side of the box now as the three moved to the cab.
"Careful dude," Paul said as Alex almost jostled the heavy burden from their hands.
Alex didn’t comment as he shoved bullets into the magazine well.
"Screw it dude," Paul said as they got to Alex' door. "Won’t help much now anyway."
Alex nodded.
"Get up there man!" Paul labored.
Alex was hesitant to go first, but he wasn't holding the zombie repeller and this way he could, in theory, cover MJ's and Paul's retreat. Alex scurried up into the cab.
"Okay MJ, put your edge of the box on the step and get in the cab. Can you make another one of these?" Paul asked before MJ could get into the cab.
"Yeah, I've got everything already in my van."
"You mean the one over there?" Paul said, motioning with his head to the van now swathed in zombie kind.
"Yeah, that one," MJ said, bowing his head, "All that beer…" he said resignedly. "You're going to want to hurry," MJ told Paul as he jumped in, passing Alex on the way into the sleeper cab. Brown fingernails were separated from Paul's face by millimeters Paul eased his edge of the box onto the wide step. The box teetered precariously as Paul used the remaining strength in his arms to haul himself in and dive past Alex. Alex fired off two quick rounds at the closest zombies and immediately shut the door. The box fell to the ground as the big rig lurched forward.
MJ watched sadly as the van became a distant memory.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN – Tracy, Ron, BT, Meredith, Tony and Henry
Tony turned his rifle in the direction of the oncoming sound of an engine at high rev. Meredith slid behind her dad, fearful of what this new threat might entail. BT walked up to Ron, gun clutched in his hand. BT's heart had just begun to take on a relatively regular rhythm from the preceding events and seemed a little reluctant to begin such a frenetic pace again.
Henry had climbed over the middle console and let himself out from the passenger side of the now nearly useless truck. With his two front legs in front he bowed his back and stretched. His mouth gaped wide as he yawned, his tongue lolling to the side.
"Rough day Henry?" BT asked.
Henry, in traditional form, did not acknowledge the big man. He walked over to Ron's truck and unceremoniously christened the front tire.
"What the hell Henry?" Ron chided the dog.
Henry walked past Ron and placed one paw on the running board, then looked over his shoulder.
"Is he serious?" Ron asked BT.
"Oh, very much so," BT responded.
"You know, if you lay off the gravy maybe you’d be able to get your fat ass into the truck by yourself," Ron huffed as he picked the dog up and placed him back in the cab.
Ron had no sooner put the dog down on the seat when Henry let out some voluminous flatulence. Even with the sound of an approaching car, BT could not keep from laughing.
"That'll show you to tell that dog off," BT said.
"Should've remembered that was Mike's dog," Ron said, ineffectually sweeping a hand past his face to make the disagreeable smell go away quicker. He had the feeling that the smell had somehow stuck to his hand and all he was doing was continually waving it past his face.
"It's Tracy," Tony said, putting his rifle up, the clenching in his jaw subsiding.
"I don’t think she's going to stop in time," BT said as he stepped away from the truck. Tracy's tires screamed in protest as she took the on ramp at double the legal limit.
"Not another truck," Ron lamented, hoping that Tracy didn’t rear end him.
The front of Tracy's car dipped down as she laid heavily on the brake. She was barely going 2 mph when her front end collided with Ron’s truck, the thud of impact did little structural damage, but Ron's truck could no longer be considered pristine.
"Dammit," Ron said softly as he looked at the seven inch scrape on his chrome bumper.
"Gives it a little character," his dad told him with a smile on his face.
"I liked it just fine without character," Ron answered him irately.
"Hi mister!" Angel said, getting out to survey the damage. "Sure was a nice truck."
"Sorry," Tracy said, hugging her brother-in-law.
"What's your name little miss?" Tony asked Angel.
Angel looked up at the grizzled man and that was it, love at first sight. She stretched out her arms, and Tony handed his rifle to BT in order to pick the little girl up. She was nearly asleep before her head hit his shoulder.
"That's my sister, Angel," Ryan said.
"You kids alone?" Ron asked the trio.
They all nodded in their various ways.
"You boys did good," Tony told them, "keeping this little one safe."
Ryan puffed his chest out. There was something about the older man. He had a calming effect on those around him. Ryan could sense something deeper but was too young to put words to it. If he had been able, he might have said Tony had an air of resolve about him. If pushed, this man would push back tenfold. There was a calm but it cloaked a tempest. He very much wanted to be on the good side of this man.
"You Mike's dad?" Ryan asked him.
Tony nodded, not wanting to speak and possibly wake the little package in his arms.
"Thought so," Ryan said beaming. Tony reached over and tousled his hair.
"We should go." Tracy said, relating the story of the zombies at the Arby's.
"Alright, let me pull up to Meredith's truck. We'll get the supplies and get the hell out of here," Ron said.
"Tony, you want me to take her?" Tracy asked.
"No, we're good hon," Tony answered. "I think we both could use the company," he said, gingerly getting into the truck. Henry looked over from the rear of the cab. "No farting, you!" Tony laughed as he scolded the dog lovingly. Henry licked Tony’s face, leaving a three inch swath of spit down his cheek. "Thanks." He dragged his free arm across his face to remove the slobbery kiss.
