by Mark Tufo
"I don’t even want to know,” Ron told him.
"Probably better off.”
"Are you going to be able to find them? South is a pretty vague direction.”
"I've got an idea, not sure if it will work. Just something I've been thinking about on the fly.”
"The last time you thought of something 'on the fly' it cost me three hundred dollars to bail your ass out of jail,” Ron jibed.
"Don’t go getting all riled up, I paid you back for that.”
"No you didn't.”
"You sure?" Mike asked. “I'll get right on that when I get back.”
"Yeah, a lot of uses for cash these days. Just get your ass back here and we'll discuss repayment.”
"I'm not aligning with the Allegiance of Darkness on the Risk board if that's what you have in mind.”
"Well, that was partially it, but we can figure something else out,” Ron said smiling now. “Alright, call me when you hunker down for the night.”
"Roger that, tell everyone there that I love them.”
"Will do.”
* * *
Ron waited a minute before changing the frequency. “You catch that?" he asked BT.
"Got it,” BT said.
"You'd better be careful or you'll end up passing him by.”
"That would serve him right if I did and then saved the day, so by the time he got there I had Eliza's head on a pike. I’d be drinking the last ice cold Molson on the planet and he’d get stuck having to kill some crippled ass old zombie and drinking a piss warm Schlitz.”
"Umm, still a little pissed that he asked you to stay behind?" Ron asked.
"Does it show?" BT asked seriously.
Ron decided wisely to not answer. “You know the drill. Next time he calls, wait a few, then switch to frequency two and we'll discuss what we want to do going forward.”
"What I want to do is kick his…"
"BT!" Tracy said.
"Fine, we'll be in touch,” BT said menacingly.
"Always a pleasure,” Ron responded.
A loud growl came over his headset. He truly hoped it had something to do with the curvature of the earth as it came in line with sunspots, as opposed to any sound emanating from a human being.
Ron stood there a moment longer basking in the quiet of his home. He hoped that someday soon the quiet would be replaced by the noise of the living, many of the living.
CHAPTER NINETEEN – Talbot Journal Entry 9
"All right Justin, I know this was partially my idea, but I'm not feeling all that great about it,” I said to my son.
"Dad, we've already decided that I can skip one day of shots without any ill effects. This is just one more day and it means that they will last longer,” Justin answered. He had a brave face on, but I wasn't completely convinced. Hell, I was scared and the bitch wasn't in my head nearly as deeply as she was within his. I could feel her on the periphery of my consciousness but that was it. Kind of like a mosquito on the other side of a screen door, somehow we now shared a link from the 'kiss of death' she had given me before the downfall at Little Turtle. But it was more a knowledge of something bad than actually being bad.
As the effects of Justin's shots wore off, it meant that Eliza could begin to hold sway over him. It was not a comforting thought. We sat at the edge of I-95 for a few hours waiting; we actually saw a few cars pass by. It wasn't rush hour by any stretch of the imagination, and they were about as friendly as Yankees fans after losing to the Red Sox, but it was still nice to see actual living breathing, not trying-to-cut-my-throat people.
"Oh Dad,” Justin said with a moan. “I'm beginning to feel her.” He began to scratch his arms like a junkie.
"It's not worth it,” I said, digging through his bag for a shot.
He seemed to rally his reserves. “It's alright, I can do this,” he said, taking a big breath of air. “I need to do this.” He sat there a few moments longer, eyes closed, body shivering even though it was a fairly balmy 40 or so degrees, which after this winter seemed like the tropics. Gary and Travis were busy having a snowball fight, oh how I wanted to join them.
"Do you think we should maybe try this at another time?" I asked Justin. A cold chill wind buffeted my back, although I think the chill was more internal than external.
Justin opened one eye. “She's least active during the day. This is our best chance to go unnoticed.”
Unnoticed under Eliza's watch? I didn't share in the optimism.
Justin seized up, his entire body going rigid. I grabbed him, fearful that he was going to topple like a redwood tree.
"Found her,” he meted out.
"Wonderful.” To those of you that might possibly find this journal having not read the previous three, here is just a brief moment of explanation. ‘Wonderful’ in this context is primarily meant as a term of sarcasm. I in no way relished any more contact with Eliza than was absolutely necessary. “And?"
"Not yet,” he said stiffly. “It's not like there's a set of directions.”
“Sarcasm returned.” I didn’t know it was even possible but Justin seemed to stand even more ramrod straight. Gary caught a snowball with his ear hole as he turned to watch.
"Uh oh,” Justin said.
"Uh oh is bad Justin, what's going on? The last time I said uh oh I had… yeah, I think I'll just hold on to that thought.”
Even under the heavy concentration, Justin was able to spare a moment to give me a sidelong glance. I smiled weakly.
"Whoa, I thought she felt me. It's good now though. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this connection without her feeling me though. And I'm still no closer to reaching out to Marta.”
"Forget it then. There's no sense in giving her a heads up about us especially with no upswing.”
Justin looked as if he was just about inclined to agree, “Wait… wait… she's there!!" he said excitedly.
All I could figure was that it was Eliza. I damn near panicked and shoved the shot in his sternum.
"Marta?" Justin asked. “It's me, Justin,” he said touching his chest. “I can't stay long, but we're coming to help. Where are you?"
Travis, Gary and I were now in a semi-circle watching the birth of a potential new means of communication. Is this what it was like when Edison invented the telephone? Talk about a Smart Phone!
"We're on our way, stay strong!" Justin said beaming, “Hold on, my dad has one quick message for Paul.” Justin relayed the message exactly as I had given it to him even if he now wore a panicked expression on his face. “Dad, she's coming! Hit me!"
I was momentarily lost in the reverie of marketing the new telecomm age, but that quickly changed as I watched elation turn to fright in the span of a blink. I plunged the needle in and the fear in him receded slowly, but the taint of evil took much longer to leave. He spent the majority of that day huddled in the back seat with a couple of blankets on him. Eliza needed to be dealt with quickly.
Eliza and Tomas Interlude
"I am intrigued, brother,” Eliza said coolly. “Why is it that you would allow our enemies to converse?" she asked as she arched an eyebrow. She feigned indifference but it was clear her brother had upset her.
"Does it not make the task at hand easier if they are all together?" Tomas asked.
"Perhaps, my brother, but I do not yet know if I trust you.”
Tomas smiled as he walked away. That smile lay somewhere between conniving and triumphant. Even Tomas did not know to whom he had given the benefit when he allowed Justin a moment to communicate with Marta.
CHAPTER TWENTY - Alex and Marta
Marta's arm shot up as she grabbed Alex' forearm. “They're coming!" she said excitedly.
‘She's gone,’ Alex thought sourly. ‘She's finally lost it.’ Alex was wondering how he would be able to live out the remainder of his days without her.
Marta watched the sadness in her husband’s expression as it traversed across his face. “No,” she said tenderly. “Mike is coming!" she said softly
but excitement punctuated the words.
"Oh Marta, you cannot know this,” Alex hitched. It was one thing to witness the destruction of one's body, a completely different form of torture to watch one's mind disintegrate.
"The boy who was scratched,” she said as she wet her fever dried lips.
"Justin?" Alex asked.
"Yes, Justin,” she answered, putting her head back on the pillow. “He says that we are in danger and that they are coming to help.”
Alex had a look of astonishment on his face.
"He says that he, his brother, Mike, and Mike's brother are coming here and that we should not go anywhere.”
"I do not know what to believe,” Alex nearly cried.
"Believe me, dear husband,” Marta said as she fell back into a much more peaceful sleep.
Alex did seventeen laps around the store alternating between outright joy and terror, never becoming fully comfortable with any one thought. He was on the far side of the store on his eighteenth lap when he heard Paul and MJ coming back from their expedition. He was met with stares of concern as he ran down the center aisle to meet them.
"Everything alright?" Paul asked, scanning the warehouse for any signs of trouble. “Is Marta okay?"
"Mike's coming!" Alex rushed out. He was all out of breath and covered in a sheen of sweat, the exertion of his power walk showing.
"Catch your breath buddy and maybe start from the beginning,” Paul suggested concernedly as he escorted Alex over to a chair.
MJ already lost interest and was pushing his shopping cart full of electronics to the desk section for assembly.
"Hey, maybe work on improving that low battery indicator,” Paul said to MJ before turning back to Alex. MJ was too deep in thought to catch the slight.
"Marta says that Justin spoke to her, and that Mike is heading this way,” Alex reported, looking at his friend. It sounded much less sane when spoken out loud and to one that had not witnessed the event.
"And she's sure it was Justin?" Paul asked, not willing to believe just yet.
Alex nodded.
"And she was sure of Justin's intent?" Paul asked. He didn’t say it, but they were both thinking it. When they parted company with Mike, Justin was already feeling the effects of Eliza’s power and was slipping further away every day. It did not seem that the elapsed time could have done him better. The exact opposite was more likely the case.
"Paul, she looked happy after she 'talked' to him.”
"Far as I know Alex, Justin was not born with the ability to speak psychically. I think that's Eliza's specialty.”
Alex bowed his head. “But why, Paul? Why bother?"
"To keep us off guard, maybe just to raise our hopes so she could be there when she smashed them. I don’t know, who can tell what such a malignant mind might find worthwhile.” Paul's thoughts ran deeper and darker. 'If,' and Paul truly believed that was the case, 'If Justin was now an agent for the enemy, that meant that more than likely Mike had not made it to Maine.'
"If Justin is one of them,” Alex said, verbalizing Paul's thoughts, “then Mike is dead.”
Paul's knees suddenly felt weak, and he sat down next to Alex. A torrent of memories flooded through his senses, from the first time they met, through high school, college and ultimately until they parted. “I'll miss you my friend,” Paul said to the heavens. A more pressing thought came to the fore. “We've got to leave,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I'll start rounding people up,” Paul said as he stood up. Alex still had his head in his hands. Even false hope hurt when it was ripped from your soul, like a fish hook through a cheek.
Erin was walking down the aisle way when Paul stood. “Hi baby,” she told her husband, glad to see that he was safe. “Marta woke up for a second,” she told Alex. He turned to see if it should be anything to be concerned about. “Now this may sound weird, but I'm only repeating what she said.” Paul and Alex looked expectantly at her. “All right here goes. ‘Dad wasn't sure if Paul is still with you guys, but if he is, ask him what he thought of Pete Townsend's piss.'"
Paul damn near choked on his laughter. “Mike's alive!" he said, pumping his fist in the air.
"How… how do you know?" Alex asked, not quite yet willing to grab onto the thread of promise.
"Inside joke,” Paul said beaming.
"Referring to…?" Erin asked.
"Uh,” he stalled, “College, window pane… acid," he coughed out. “A case of beer and some unbelievable amounts of laughter.”
"That doesn't really explain the reference to the Who's lead guitarist’s urine,” Erin said quizzically.
"Didn't you catch the part about the acid?" Paul said, still smiling.
"Fine,” Erin said, "but some day you are going to fill me in.”
"And this isn’t a trick?" Alex asked.
"No way,” Paul said, “There's no way Mike told any of his kids about that night.”
"Please, just tell me that it had nothing to do with that man's piss,” Alex fairly begged.
Paul started laughing again. “No, no, nothing like that… well kind of… but not what you’re thinking. We were talking about Pete Townsend and how he probably had fans who worshipped his piss.” Alex had a blank stare, but Erin walked away. She decided she'd heard enough. “Trust me,” Paul said slapping his friend on the shoulder, “It's hilarious when you’re tripping your trees off.”
"I'll take your word for it,” Alex said, “So we're staying then?"
"I guess for now, this place is a little bigger than I'd like it to be, but as far as defending against zombies our only real concern would be the front door. We picked up some canned goods while we were out, so food will be a non-issue for a few days. What the hell, I say we hunker down for a bit, recharge our batteries, and let Wonder Boy over there finish up his zombie stopper,” Paul finished off by pointing over towards MJ.
"Will she let him?" Alex indicated April, who was nearly tripping over her tongue as she hovered around MJ.
"It's kind of funny the 180 he's done since he first laid eyes on her. The more she talks the less interested he becomes. April has yet to figure that equation out. She rambles on like a meth-head at a rave. All that beauty and not an iota of brain to go with it,” Paul laughed.
"Meth-head at a rave? That gives me a headache just thinking about it. I like the idea of resting for a few days. I don’t, however, like the idea of my wife being the human equivalent of a cell phone. And I'm having a hard time reconciling how close in proximity Tomas' message was to Justin's.”
"It does make for some interesting pondering, I'll give you that. But I'm telling you Mike would no sooner tell his kids about his drug experiences than he would tell his wife about his sexual exploits.”
"Oooh, I get your point.” Alex cringed just thinking about how that conversation would go do with his own betrothed. He inadvertently covered his testicles.
"Yeah, pretty much just like that,” Paul said, catching the involuntary motion.
"We wait then.” Alex rose from his chair and headed back down the aisle to where his wife was resting.
Paul headed back to the front doors. “I'll keep a watch out,” he told Joann, who was all too happy to let him.
"Storm's brewing.” She pointed up to the blackening shroud of clouds.
"Sure is,” he told her. ‘And I don't think it’s the only one,’ he thought. ‘Hurry up Mike.’
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE – Talbot Journal Entry 10
I drove most of that day alternating between looking at the road and readjusting my rear view mirror to keep an eye on Justin. This was a dangerous game we played with a lethal enemy; it was the equivalent of playing with a Black Mamba and seeing if we could inject the anti-venom before the neurotoxin had an opportunity to stop the beating heart. Justin noticed me looking on occasion when he wasn't resting. I saw no sign of the duality from before the shots, but he still did not look well. The expense of that call might not have been worth it, even AT&T in their heyday didn't charge th
at much.
"I'll be fine, Dad,” Justin said as he smiled weakly. “And stop looking at me, you’re kind of giving me the creeps.”
"All right, but you let me know if you need anything,” I told him as I adjusted the mirror back to its intended view of the road behind me.
"Who is Easter Evans?" Travis asked.
"What?" I asked him back.
"The sign right there says welcome to Virginia, home of Easter Evans,” he clarified.
We almost passed it by, it was your standard State sign, but painted very neatly below it was ‘Home of Easter Evans.’ This wasn't your standard issue graffiti, someone had taken painstaking detail to make this look as professional as possible, and I didn’t like it. Anyone that thought themselves important enough to make sure everyone knew about them was not anyone I wanted to know.
"I don’t like it Mike,” Gary said.
"It's just a sign,” I said, half convincingly.
"Yeah, so is that.” He pointed to a much different ‘sign’ a few hundred feet further down the road. Hanging from a highway exit sign were the bodies of three people.
"What does that sign say?" I asked, squinting my eyes to try and get a better look. I knew it wasn't going to be anything good. I mean it wasn't going to say, ‘These were very bad people that did very bad things.’
Gary pulled out a small pair of binoculars. “Sinners, it says sinners.”
