The End Has Come and Gone

by Mark Tufo

  He looked up at me wondering how I got that information. His head bowed as he answered, “I couldn’t go through with it. And by the time Talisker got there with his men they had gone too far. I did not want them to harm the boy.”

  "Why take them alive?" Gary asked, “Didn’t you risk them exposing you?"

  "They did not know who they worked for. I had contracted them to do this before the zombies came. It was all set up through chat rooms and dummy email accounts.”

  "How long did they have that boy?" I asked with disgust.

  "Weeks at least, perhaps as long as two months,” he dispensed.

  "Sweet Jesus,” Gary choked, covering his mouth in fear that he might make an involuntary discharge.

  "I did not know that they had gone through with it,” Easter said in defense. “Not until right before I sent Talisker to get them.”

  "Well that makes you a friggen saint doesn’t it?" I yelled at him.

  Talisker pretty much crashed through the door. “What is going on?" he said, drawing his gun. I had a suspicion that he might start firing first and wait for the answers later.

  "Tell him to stop, Easter,” I said.

  I watched as the squirrelly man started to weigh his chances. Apparently so did Eliza as she redoubled her efforts on his what now must be considered his mushy privates at this point.

  "Put the gun down, Talisker,” he wheezed. Talisker did without as much as a beat of hesitation.

  "You're going to want a seat for this,” I said as I pushed him the chair I had originally been sitting in.

  Easter spent a moment to retell the sordid depraved tale. Talisker looked like he was the one getting nut punched.

  "But what of the trial, the bleeding eyes, the visions of God?" Talisker asked, not believing that the savior that walked among them was a devil dressed in black.

  "Hallucinogens, the power of suggestion and Anistreplase,” Easter said breathlessly.

  "The pious tests?" Talisker asked, grasping for straws.

  "Taser leads in my gloves. Please make her stop,” Easter begged me.

  "What of the zombies not attacking you? There has to be some truth in there somewhere?"

  "Certain sound oscillations seem to have an effect on the undead. I discovered it quite by accident.”

  "Now that's some information we could use,” I said excitedly.

  The screaming that pierced the room next was inhuman, maybe even inhumane if it wasn't being uttered by the creature known as Easter. Eliza had crushed his testicles. It would be hours, maybe days before he was in a state of mind that could help us with the sound machine he had mentioned.

  I will never know how Easter said what he said as he writhed in agony. But the words or at least the vast majority of the message is transcribed below.

  "Is animus has haud inherent macula salvifico unus vos have largior super is, ut libri of revelations civitas, vos have haud vindicatum in is animus quod mos relinquish totus vox prurigo."

  Talisker stood up and placed the barrel of his pistol against Easter's head and blew his brains across the room.

  "He was in misery. He was speaking jibberish,” Talisker said. “And he betrayed me, he betrayed the entire community.” He wiped his free hand across his eyes. “And no one else needs to know.”

  I had my hands halfway raised, fearful he would turn the gun on the rest of us.

  "You are all free to go,” Talisker said as he approached the door.

  "Wait,” I said. "Can we look for this machine that he says can repel the zombies?"

  "You will leave now,” he said, not leaving any room for doubt that we had no other options in the matter. I heard his melancholy footfalls as they faded down the hallway, and then what had to be Travis' as they rapidly approached.

  "Well that was entertaining,” Eliza laughed. “You have your other son with you I see,” Eliza commented as Travis ran in the doorway.

  "Dad?" Travis asked.

  I held up a hand to hold off any further questioning.

  "It amazes me how malleable the human mind can be to the power of suggestion.”

  "Eliza, what did you do?"

  She laughed. “I have given you your way out and maybe rid the world of a small piece of evil, or a small piece of light.”

  "I will kill you, Eliza.”

  "Perhaps Michael, only the great enemy of mortality will tell. Since I have been banished from this host, the next time we talk will be face to face.” With those last words she released Justin.

  "Holy crap,” Justin said as he looked at the slumped over body that was Easter Evans. “What happened?"

  "We either took part in a great good or a great evil,” Gary explained briefly. “Let's get out of here before we figure it out.”

  Talisker was true to his word. Our truck and all of our belongings were waiting outside of the school building. Nobody was in sight as we got in and drove off. We were ten miles out and the whole scene just kept playing over and over in my head like a movie on auto rewind.

  "Justin, how did Eliza come out past Doc Baker's shot?" I asked.

  "Mike,” Gary cautioned.

  Justin looked from his uncle to me. “Easter drew her out.”

  "Mike, enough,” Gary said forcibly.

  That was not normally Gary's role, but I deferred to it.

  We drove through the remainder of Virginia without incident and in silence.

  "He wasn't wearing gloves when he touched my chest,” I said aloud.

  "Mike, I will kick your ass!" Gary shouted.

  "You were in the Air Force, how is that going to happen?” I mocked him. He held up one finger right under my nose. “All right, all right,” I told him, more than willing to let it go at this point.

  Extra Journal Entry: I stopped at a Barnes and Noble store a few hours after our encounter with Easter and grabbed a Latin to English translation dictionary. I knew it was Latin, seems that only very holy people or very evil use the language anymore. Looking back, I wished I had just left good enough alone. Below is a rough translation of the words he spoke the day Justin was freed from the shackles of Eliza's hold.

  "This soul has no inherent stain except for the one you have bestowed upon it, as the Book of Revelations states, you have no claim on this soul and will relinquish all rights to it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO – Tracy, BT and Meredith

  "Who do you think Easter Evans was?" Meredith asked.

  BT opened one eye to look at the state sign. “Don’t know, but he must have lost his social standing because they crossed it out.”

  "Or his life,” Tracy said.

  "You didn’t need to go there. I was trying to keep it light,” BT said.

  Tracy smacked the big man's arm. He immediately sat up. Arm smacking was her signal for danger. “You do know those rings hurt every time you do that, right?"

  "Mike used to say that. I always thought he was being a baby.”

  "Probably got nerve damage,” BT said as he rubbed his arm.

  "BT look,” Tracy said, pointing to a large caravan of trucks, cars and motorcycles.

  "They all have their headlights on like a funeral procession,” Meredith said, as they came up on the last vehicle in the line. The young woman in the car was most definitely crying and paid absolutely no attention to Tracy as they passed on by. Different car, same results. A white hearse led the long line of vehicles. A man with mutton chops drove the car, a grim set of determination on his face. They noted that of all the occupants in the cars, he was the only one that did not shed tears.

  Tracy punched the accelerator to be rid of the reminder of the fate that awaits us all, although, most likely in this day in age without as much pomp and circumstance as the man in the back of the hearse was receiving right now.

  "Mike you think?” BT asked, jabbing his thumb behind him in the direction of the hearse.

  "Cause that? Naw,” Tracy said unconvincingly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE – Paul and Alex

  Paul wa
s moments away from getting someone to replace him on watch. It was MJ's turn, but the man had not stopped working on his zombie box in the last four hours. Movement caught Paul’s eye as he swung back around to look out the large dual glass doors.

  "Zombies it’s always zombies,” he said softly. “Zombies!" he yelled to alert the rest of the group.

  "How many?" Alex asked, hauling half their arsenal to the front of the store.

  "I'd say roughly all of downtown Asheville,” Paul said as he moved away from the doors. “MJ come on, we've got to get some heavy stuff in front of these doors.”

  MJ looked up, smoke from his battery operated soldering iron swirling around his head. In his haste to help he inadvertently put the still hot iron down on his unfinished and delicate circuit board. Paul moved over to an oak chest and hutch set that together easily weighed in excess of three hundred pounds. Moving it was extraordinarily easy over the tiled floor as the three men used their adrenaline testosterone fueled muscles to get it going.

  "Wait,” Alex said as they pushed it up against the doors. “If we moved it this easily won’t the zombies be able to also?”

  "We've just got to keep stacking stuff here until it becomes impossible,” Paul said, already moving on to the next closest item, a butcher block kitchen table that was on clearance because someone had seen fit to drag a key across the surface and mar the finish, deeply in some places.

  The thud of the first zombie impact pushed the hutch almost a half inch away from the door it had just been placed against.

  "Uh oh,” MJ said, looking at the spider web of broken glass that emanated from the collision zone. “Guys, we'd better move faster.”

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Alex asked him, “You’re not even moving.”

  "The glass is breaking,” MJ pointed out.

  "Come on!" Paul urged as he pushed the table into place. “Let's get that book case!"

  The thuds kept coming, but each one was of a slightly less jarring impact as the zombies began to run into their brethren that had reached the doors first. Within half an hour, the small ten foot wide hallway that led to the doors was stuffed with more contents than would fit in a standard U-haul truck.

  "That’s going to hold them?" Joann asked Paul anxiously.

  "It never does,” he told her.

  "Maybe we should figure out how to get on the roof,” was Alex's reply to Paul's words.

  "Good call,” Paul said, clapping him on the back. “Joann, can you keep an eye on the doors while me and Alex check out the roof?"

  She nodded tersely.

  "Dammit!" MJ yelled, his sweat soaked back to the trio.

  "You alright?" Alex asked.

  MJ turned towards them and held up a circuit board with a soldering iron clearly infused with the green plastic.

  "Can you fix it?" Paul was concerned. The sound box had saved them once and there was no reason to think it couldn’t do it again if MJ could get it to work.

  "I can’t fix this,” MJ said in disgust, pulling the iron away from the plastic casing. “I can rebuild it but I lost all that time.”

  "Then why are you wasting more time talking about it?" Joann asked.

  "You know, not everyone likes a New York attitude,” MJ said to her as he sat back down and began to get the pieces he needed out of his Radio Shack bags.

  "I can help,” April told MJ.

  "I'd rather you watch the door with Mouth over there,” MJ said peevishly.

  April stomped away and Joann laughed. “I think I got under his skin,” she said to Paul and Alex.

  "Whatever gets him working,” Paul said. “We'll be right back. Grab a gun, if we hear a shot we'll stop whatever we're doing and be here as quick as we can.”

  Mrs. Deneaux walked up the main passageway, cigarette in hand as if she were on stroll through the streets of Paris, grabbing a small revolver as she walked past the weapons Alex had deposited on the couch in his haste to help rearrange the furniture.

  "You know how to use that thing?" Joann asked her.

  "Don’t be silly, I was the State Champion in 1964,” Mrs. Deneaux replied, yellow tobacco stained teeth showing in her attempt at a smile. It looked more like a dog getting ready to strike with her teeth clenched that tightly together.

  "That smile looks kind of painful,” Alex remarked.

  "Go and find us a way out of here.” She motioned them off with the wave of the gun.

  "Got another cigarette?" Joann asked.

  "Oh honey, of course I do, but I'm not sharing,” Mrs. Deneaux said as she took another long drag, making sure that the majority of exhaled smoke went in Joann's direction.

  A narrow cement staircase led to a locked door which ultimately led to the roof. Paul lined up his gun to remove the lock.

  "Crazy one, what the hell are you doing?" Alex asked his friend in alarm.

  "I'm opening the door,” Paul answered with a look to match Alex’s for the question asked.

  "You're shooting at a metal lock attached to a metal door encased within a narrow landing surrounded by cement, but you don’t see anything wrong with what you’re doing?"

  "Dude, I'm just trying to open the door, I've seen this done a hundred times.”

  "Those were movies Paul, make-believe stuff.”

  "Do you want me to get MJ?" Paul asked, a little hurt that his try was being rebuffed.

  "First things first,” Alex said as he turned the lock.

  "Wouldn’t have thought to do that,” Paul said as he stepped out into the muted sunshine. Black ominous clouds hung overhead and the stench of the dead wafted up from below. “Shaping up to be a wonderful day it is,” he joked in a fake Irish brogue.

  "Damn,” Alex said, looking up at the sky while simultaneously holding his nose.

  "Come on, let's see what we're dealing with,” Paul motioned as he stepped away from the doorway.

  Alex placed a small piece of slate between the door and the jamb, just in case.

  "Good call,” Paul said looking back at his friend.

  Alex gave him a thumbs up with his free hand, not yet willing to take in any more breaths than he had to. They were still a good twenty yards from the edge when they began to see the outer fringes of the enemy below, with still more making their late entry into the fray. And yet they kept marching forward, like lemmings to the abyss.

  "Wow,” Alex stated. “Zombies don’t really care so much about personal space, do they?"

  Paul doubted that if it began to rain any of the water around the zombies would touch ground. Zombies were packed tighter than Legos snapped together. This brought ‘close' to a whole other level. “Do you think they might just crush themselves to death?”

  "That would be great, but it would be better to heed the advice of my Mee-Maw.”

  "I'm waiting,” Paul said as Alex got lost looking at the wall of moving death below them.

  "Oh she used to say, ‘If the shit hits the fan, unplug it before it gets all over the place.’”

  Paul thought about it for a moment. It had a ring of truth to it but he couldn’t see how it fit the present situation, “Any chance you could elaborate?"

  "I never knew what it meant either; it's just something she used to say. How many you think there are?" Alex asked looking back down.

  "Five, six hundred, probably be a thousand in another hour.”

  "Escape?"

  "Not by the truck that brought us here,” Paul pointed. It was nearly consumed by the sea of zombanity that surrounded it. “Let's go see what's going on at the back of the store.”

  "Who parked it that far away?" Alex asked a little miffed.

  "MJ parked it, but I should have known better,” Paul said.

  Alex shook his head. "No sense in slipping in spilled milk.”

  "Another Mee-Mawism?" Paul asked.

  "What's wrong with that one?"

  "Nothing. Come on, let's see if there’s still a way to get out of here which doesn't involve sleeping on the roof.”
/>   "Yeah, especially since it looks like the heavens are going to open up.”

  Shots rang out from the front of the store. Paul and Alex ran for the doorway and made a quick descent down the stairs. Had they waited a few moments more and gone to the far edge they would have noticed that it was still clear of zombies and they could have made a hasty retreat. That fact would radically change over the next few hours.

  Joann was firing blindly into the stacked furniture, wood splintering as bullets crashed into table legs and hutch casings. Mrs. Deneaux sat idly by smoking another cigarette.

  "What's going on?" Paul shouted as he ran up the aisle way.

  Joann was firing blanks by the time he got up to her. He placed his hand on hers to remove the empty weapon.

  "Joann?" Alex asked, catching up.

  Her eyes were stretched wide in fear. “The… the furniture is moving,” she cried.

  "Yes,” Mrs. Deneaux said between puffs. “So she thought it worthwhile to kill the divan.”

  Paul and Alex both looked at Mrs. Deneaux harshly. She didn’t care. “I think she may have gravely wounded the lounger also,” she went on with a dry coated rasp.