by Mark Tufo
Two or three employees came out next. This was easy to tell from their Smacker's Boots and Belts smocks. Two cowboys came out, big brass belt buckles and all, how the hell they still had their ten gallon hats on amazed me. Listen, I know I have issues and if the world is ever once again dominated by humans I promise I will be the first to get in line to get checked. But all I could think when those two came through the door was Brokeback Mountain and how damn disgusting would it be for two zombies to be getting it on. Would maggots make good lubrication? Would the friction cause the skin to peel off? Would 'love bites' take on a whole new meaning? Would the other zombies frown on a male on male relationship? I know brains are just a mixture of chemicals and connections, but apparently I'm missing a synapses or two.
"What are you smiling at?" Cindy asked me as she placed another magazine into her Israeli made Uzi.
"It would be best if I kept it to myself,” I told her, never easing up on my grin.
"Cease fire,” Brian said, holding up his fist.
Would be easy enough for me, I don’t think I ever fired a shot.
Jack walked over and started checking the bodies for keys. Eight dead bodies and five sets of keys, pretty good plan I thought.
The blue Mini-Cooper would have been my first choice in a perfect world. A 78ish Datsun that looked like it was barely able to hold off the effects of gravity was also dismissed. The best out of the lot available was a late year Chevy, it wasn't pretty but it ran, had close to a full tank and would fit them all comfortably enough.
"Alright, this looks like the one,” Jack decided.
"Ready to saddle up Mike?" Brian asked me.
"Alright, so now you've got your own wheels and you're not in as much dire straits that you need to forcibly take my traveling direction. I think we need to take a minute so I can fill in a few holes to the story I told you. Then you can make an informed decision about whether you want to join us or head as far away in the opposite direction as possible.”
"Lay it on us,” Brian said, truly not believing that I could offer anything too far off the beaten path as to dissuade them from their present course of action.
I went back to Day One and our first introduction to Tommy, who even then seemed more than he portrayed. To our first encounter with Eliza in the field and to my biggest mistake for not letting Justin blow her demented skull clear from her tainted body.
'It's all right Dad,' he interjected.
I gave them a recap of everything we had been through. It still wasn't the in-depth exposé they deserved, but the clouds that had been threatening all day finally began to release their loads and I still had a sneaking suspicion that Paul and Alex needed our help and soon.
"Wait,” Perla asked. “So you’re saying that not only are there zombies, there is a Vampire Princess who rules them all?”
"I'm pretty sure I never said the word ‘princess’ but yeah, she holds sway over them. I don’t know if it's every zombie or if she has to be within a certain proximity, but that she can control some of them is without doubt.”
"So I'm confused,” Cindy started. “The kid from the Wal-Mart roof was, I mean 'is' her brother, and now he's with her? Couldn't you tell?"
"It's not like he hung a sign on his neck that said he was a 500-year-old half vampire,” I told her.
"I'm having a real hard time believing this,” Jack said.
"Yup, you nailed me, the zombie invasion wasn't a big enough challenge for me and my family. We figured we'd drum up a few more nightmares and see if that could hold our interest.”
"That's not what I meant,” Jack said placating me. “I'm wondering if you're trying to get rid of us.”
"Truth is, guys, I would never turn away any help, least of all experienced ones, but you need to know what you’re getting into.”
"Cindy?" Brian asked, she nodded. “Cindy and I are in.”
Perla nodded without any prompt. “So are we,” Jack said.
"Well see, this is where you guys, not thinking before you act actually worked out in our favor,” BT said.
Three exits later and we were pulling off the highway again. I had no sooner hit the off ramp when I brought the truck to a skittering halt. Tracy, her usually attentive driving self, almost slammed into us.
"You didn’t tell me you were going to stop!" she shouted irately as she got out of the car.
"Hon, those red shiny things in the back let you know what I'm doing,” I told her calmly.
"Mike, any chance I could ride with you?" an ashy faced BT asked.
"Traitor!" Tracy yelled at him.
"There is nothing wrong with being a self-preservationist,” he said loftily.
Brian came to a stop and our small caravan idled by the side of the road. “What gives?" he asked.
I walked over to the guardrail. Because of our elevation from the outlying areas it afforded us a decent view of the shops below, one of which was a furniture store.
"Oh my God!" Perla gasped, placing her hand over her mouth.
"That would obviously be where we need to go?" Jack asked me.
I nodded once. The warehouse parking lot was entombed by the living dead. I hadn’t seen this great an assembly since the fall of Little Turtle.
"What the hell Mike?" Tracy asked in disbelief.
"They're already dead,” Brian said absently.
"Alex risked his entire world to save my family, I owe him the same chance. He did no such thing for you. You don’t know him and you barely know me, you’re not under any obligation to stay here.”
"Relax friend,” Brian said. “I wasn't saying it as an out. It just was kind of a voiced thought.”
“Oh,” I nodded. “I could relate to those.”
I blasted off a couple of rounds, not sure if the sound would break through the distance or the dampening effects of the rain, but maybe it would give them a small measure of hope that help, no matter how little of it there was, had arrived.
"Alright, it's almost dark and it's raining like hell. Why don’t we find some shelter and see if we can come up with some sort of plan,” Gary said, momentarily taking charge. I appreciated it because the scene laid out before me looked like something from Dante's circles of hell and I had yet to assimilate it all.
* * *
Paul was exhausted after what seemed like his fiftieth time up and down the stairs. They had brought mattresses and chairs. Anything that resembled a tarp, all the contents of the vending machine and anything that could help them wait out an extended stay on an exposed roof top. It was on one of the last trips up the stairs that Paul began to ponder this last strategic weak point.
The stairs weren't going anywhere; they were constructed of a giant poured block of concrete. The railing, however, was only attached with hex head bolts. Removing the railing wouldn’t necessarily keep the zombies from making it up the stairs but it could keep a great many of them from staying there. The more zombies that tried to crowd on the stairwell, the more that would keep getting pushed off the edge. If they could never get a big enough thrust to work on the door leading out to the roof, the survivors would have a much better chance of waiting it out and potentially receiving some help.
Finding tools was easy enough, the loading bay was full of tool boxes where some furniture had to be assembled before making its way onto the show room floor. Paul and Alex started the removal process. MJ came to help when they got down to the final two bolts. The railing was in two sections of about 20 feet long, with the second top piece having an 'L' bend to accommodate the landing. The lower piece came off without much of a hitch. As the last screw came undone, it was then gently eased to the floor. The second piece was a little more difficult, Alex and MJ held it in place while Paul unscrewed the last bolt down by the bottom, his arm hanging through the railing as he sat on the stair trying to get more leverage. MJ did not fully realize the weight of the railing he was supporting from the top landing. When the bolt came free below, he nearly went head over heels off the landing. Wi
th only the concrete floor to stop his fall, his injuries most likely would have been severe. Just as he neared the breaking point which would decide whether he could continue to hang on a little longer or topple over, MJ let loose of the railing. The force pulled the slick metal from Alex' hands and the resulting crushing force of the railing as it came down almost broke Paul's arm in half. The ear splitting sound of two hundred pounds of metal slamming into concrete was immensely louder than rifle shots.
Joann and Erin came running in. MJ had a mild look of shock on his face, while Alex was checking on Paul who was clutching his arm to his side.
"Paul, are you all right?" Erin screamed from the bottom of the stairs just as the sound finally stopped its incessant echoing from concrete wall to concrete wall.
"Whew, that was close,” Paul said to Alex's questioning stare.
"I'm so sorry,” MJ said, coming down to the middle of the staircase. “I guess I didn't realize how heavy it was going to be. You alright?" he asked hopefully.
"Yeah, I think I'm fine. I could feel the railing, it just about caught my arm and then I pulled it in real quick, tweaked it a bit but nothing serious. Scared me more than anything,” Paul said as he flexed his arm out.
Alex grabbed his elbow and gave a squeeze, “Does that hurt?"
"I'm good, just a little hyper-extended. Could you have set it if it was broken?" Paul asked, concerned now because he had not thought of it before. Could any of them survive what was once considered a basic injury?
"Be thankful it wasn't,” was Alex's reply.
Erin came up the stairs to hug her husband.
"Everything's fine honey, just a close call,” he reassured her.
Eddy took this opportune time to come screaming into the loading bay where the staircase was located. “Mean lady says the zombies are almost in!" he screamed.
Alex was gone like a shot, going to grab Marta and his kids. MJ was right behind him going to grab his tools and box. To each his own.
"Hey Erin, why don’t you and Joann see if there is anything else in this general area you think should go up. I'm going to go lay down some covering fire with Mrs. Deneaux.”
"Don’t wait too long,” she told him and gave him a kiss.
"Just long enough for Alex and MJ to get back and up.” Paul hugged her fiercely then let her go and bounded down the stairs.
Shots rang out from the front of the store and, unlike Joann's wild shots a few hours earlier, Paul was under the impression that these were finding targets. He ran to the front of the store. Mrs. Deneaux was furiously puffing on a cigarette while reloading her revolver. Furniture had been pushed back into the store a good fifteen feet. Five zombies lay in a pool of brackish goo.
"Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” Mrs. Deneaux mouthed the words around the cigarette. It looked like something she had been practicing for many a year. “Six shots five kills, not bad.”
Paul hadn’t actually had enough time to access the situation, but now that she brought it up, yeah, that was pretty friggen’ good.
"Well, you’re wrong, because the sixth one is behind the big purple love seat, you just can't see him.” And then she cackled.
'That is pretty good,’ Paul thought. He just couldn't bring himself to verbalize it. He began to open fire with his rifle. Zombies as a whole had not yet completely figured out how to run through the maze, but they were beginning to leak through like blood through splayed fingers covering a wound. The flood was being held at bay but this was now a game with a timer attached.
"Start heading back!" Paul shouted to Mrs. Deneaux. MJ had already grabbed his stuff and was almost halfway to the back of the building.
"One more revolver full!" she shouted gleefully. “It's been a long time since I've done anything so fun!"
Paul shook his head. Blowing holes in zombie heads was not supposed to be anyone's idea of a good time.
Mrs. Deneaux’ facial muscles screamed in protest as she forced them into a pose they had not mustered in decades.
'That is one hideous smile,’ Paul thought, ‘but the bitch sure can shoot.’
"Six shots, six kills, huh!" she yelled, “Okay, I'm out of here!"
She wasn't particularly sprightly as she headed away but there was a definite hop to her step as she retreated down the hallway.
Paul waited for three more zombies to appear, dispatching them easily from this distance before hurrying to catch up with Mrs. Deneaux. They had just reached the far wall when the mountain of furniture avalanched down. Zombies streamed through, nothing short of two Gatlin Guns was going to keep them out now.
"Where you at Mike?" Paul asked aloud as he took one final glance back as the enemy poured in. ‘Although I don’t know what the hell even he's gonna be able to do,’ he thought glumly.
The nine of them sat on the rooftop as the rain began to splatter down, the fat droplets incredibly loud under the banner that read 'Sale.' Whether consciously or not, they were as far away from the access door as possible. Alex had set the lock from the inside and there was no access to the mechanism from the roof side. He then propped up some boards to add as a heavy set door stop. It would stop the zombies for now, but it was a temporary fix at best. They now had no egress to the ground. Zombies surrounded the store and a large number were also inside. Life would be measured in moments.
It came as no surprise but it still startled the hell out of each and every one of them when the first resounding thud came from the roof door.
"Our dinner guests have arrived,” Paul said sourly.
"That was horrible,” Joann answered, fairly close to crying.
Eddy was the only one that seemed somewhat immune from the depressing void that surrounded the rest of their band. He wasn't old enough to verbalize it, but it was the reason he left the relative dryness of the banner to stand by the wall facing the highway. The soaking from the depression weighed much more heavily than rain. Eddy watched the muzzle flashes as a series of gunshots went off not too far in the distance.
"Did you guys see that?" he asked enthusiastically. He should have known the answer just by the way they were all sitting in a huddled circle with their heads bowed. They would have missed a fireworks show like that.
"What did you see, little man?" Alex was able to ask with an almost decent rendition of a smile.
"Gunshots!" Eddy answered happily.
"You saw gunshots?" MJ asked analytically.
"Well, I didn’t SEE the bullets, I'm not Superman,” Eddy answered as if MJ were the biggest dolt on the planet. And who knows, the human population was so low at the moment it very well could be the case. “I saw the bright flashes!" he clarified.
"You saw the muzzle flashes of guns?" Paul asked, now perking up a bit.
"Yeah, over by the roadway there was like five of them and they were pointing up in the air.”
"Like a signal?" Alex asked Paul.
"It's gotta be Mike,” Paul said with a relieved grin.
"Oh, not that insufferable one,” Mrs. Deneaux said, but no one paid her much attention.
"Who else would signal their whereabouts with a legion of zombies around?" Paul asked rhetorically.
"Yes, that does sound like Mike,” Mrs. Deneaux said, but not in a complementary way.
"And you’re sure the guns were pointed in the air?" Paul asked Eddy.
Eddy looked at Paul the same way he had at MJ only seconds earlier.
"Alright, alright, I get it,” Paul said, a true smile now creasing his features.
Alex grabbed Paul's arm and pulled him out in to the burgeoning rain storm. “Listen, hope is a powerful thing and right now even mine is surging, but what is Mike going to be able to do if it really is him?”
"Don’t know,” Paul said still smiling, “but he isn’t going to let us rot up here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX – Talbot Journal Entry 12
We drove a few more miles away from the furniture store than we probably had to, can you blame me? We came across a few zombies
that were still making their approach to the siege. Some were so completely damaged, the fight no matter which way it went would be long over before they ever made it. Jack and Brian shot a few of the Johnny and Susie come-latelies, I didn’t have the stomach for it. I've been over and over this. I know they're not humans and never will be again, but they were once. If they aren't bothering me, then I'll return the favor. Although wouldn’t that be pretty crappy if I went out and got bit by an ankle biter? That's irony right? And why am I asking my journal? Which is basically like asking myself. Which actually is something I do regularly. But enough of this internal musing.
The old apartment building was a four floor, low-rent-looking tenement but it looked weather proof. Some bullet holes dotted the lower level, as if a small battle had been played out here, but maybe if we were lucky it involved something more mundane like a drive by shooting. No lights shone in the windows, either candle or lantern. We'd have to take our chances that any occupants still in the building would not feel the need to bother us in whichever hovel we borrowed for the evening.
Perla started heading right for the front door like she owned the place.
"Uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I told her.
"Why?" she asked, looking a little perturbed.
Screw this, I can get into trouble with my own woman quick enough, I didn't need to go looking for it. Jack was busy grabbing some gear out of the back of the truck when I walked up on him. “Jack,” I said. “I would consider this an urban combat environment, wouldn’t you?"
