The End Has Come and Gone

by Mark Tufo

  * * *

  Eliza and Tomas Interlude

  “Are you controlling the zombies’ motor skills, Brother?”

  “Yes, do you like it?”

  Eliza did not answer her brother. For the first time in a very, very long time, an unfamiliar feeling jolted through her frozen veins. She thought it might be fear.

  * * *

  “Not much choice Mike!” Paul shouted, trying to motivate me.

  I think it was a bit of overkill, what do you think? I had zombies climbing up the truck. They didn’t give a damn about any of my myriad of phobias. I absolutely detest heights, but being eaten alive trumps even that. I was halfway up the truck ladder when the fastest of the zombies stepped onto the rungs. I watched him in disbelief as he tried to coordinate the placement of his hands and feet. He looked like a puppet controlled by an inept puppeteer, but that he was even trying this was a frightening new development.

  “Brian, could you tie the end of that rope down and toss it to me?” I asked him.

  He unslung it from his shoulder, retreated for a minute or two, and then tossed the rope into my face.

  “Great idea Mike!” Tracy said in encouragement.

  “She’s not going to like this,” I said softly to Henry.

  I began to tie a make shift harness around Henry, kind of like what I’ve seen on Animal Planet when they have to hoist a cow out of a well or something.

  “Oh for Christ’s sakes Mike, what the hell are you doing?” Tracy asked with chagrin, “That damn dog.”

  “This damn dog saved your daughter’s life and mine! I shouted back. She backed down but she was not a happy camper.

  I no sooner got the harness as snug as possible when Henry brushed by me. He was either showing me the way or saving his ass, no sense in the both of us perishing here. Henry kept his gaze focused solely on the roof he was striding for. His paws splayed out as he stepped on the rungs; he seemed pretty sure of himself. On second thought, I might have been better off using the rope myself. Although I don’t know how Henry was going to climb the ladder once he got to the incline.

  “Mike, why are they following you?” Alex asked.

  “Really Alex? That’s the question you’re going to ask?” I asked sardonically, looking up at him.

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Any chance one of you guys could maybe shoot the zombies?” I asked. “Instead of watching.”

  “Sorry, Dad,” Travis said. “I’ve just never seen them do that.”

  “I told you Mike was trouble,” Mrs. Deneaux said to her audience.

  Almost as one the group turned on her and told her in varying ways to shut the hell up. I would have savored it a lot more if I wasn’t on a swaying ladder suspended above zombies, frozen by a phobia my crazy ass brother thrust upon me some thirty-eight years prior.

  Travis’ shot went wide of the zombie’s forehead. I couldn’t blame him, the wind had picked up and the ladder was moving a good twenty to twenty-four inches back and forth. The fact that he ripped the damn thing’s ear off was impressive enough and the force of the bullet was enough to dislodge him from the ladder, which was just as effective as a kill. I climbed two more rungs when another shot rang out followed in quick succession by two more.

  “Dad, they’re getting better at climbing,” Travis shouted.

  “Don’t turn around Mike,” Paul said.

  So of course the first thing I did was just that. A line of zombies was making the ascent and they were getting close enough that covering fire was going to be extremely difficult.

  “You’d better get going,” Brian said needlessly.

  “And they always said Army guys were ignorant,” I mumbled.

  “I heard that,” Brian said. “Now get up here so that we can settle this like gentlemen.”

  I was moving a little quicker but I was making Meredith’s five minute snail pace seem pretty damn impressive.

  “You’ve got a ten-foot cushion,” BT said just as I made it to the junction from the fire truck ladder to our make-shift bridge.

  “How’s Henry doing?” I asked, too fearful to look up.

  “Better than you,” BT said.

  ‘I’m screwed,’ I thought to myself. As soon as two or three of the zombies got on the ladder with me, the added weight would pull the skids right off the roof.

  “I’m not going to make it,” I said looking up into my wife’s eyes.

  “You get moving Talbot or I’m coming down there to get you,” she said, and she wasn’t kidding. BT grabbed her elbow as she began to climb over the wall.

  “Just wait, this isn’t the way Mike goes out. It isn’t climactic enough,” BT reassured her.

  “This isn’t a movie or a book, BT, and last I checked you didn’t have the power of precognizance!” she shouted in his face. “For all we know he could die on that ladder by scraping his hand and getting an infection. That wouldn’t be climactic at all, in fact, I’d call that very anti-climactic, but it would still be a reality. Now let me go so that I can get my husband up here!”

  “Don’t you dare let her go!” I shouted to BT. “If I die here, it’ll be alone!”

  A thick rope almost toppled me off my perch. “Wrap that around your waist Mike!” Paul screamed. “Fast!!”

  I was never great with knots, maybe I should have joined the Navy, but in a pinch I can tie a double granny like nobody’s business.

  “Now climb, if you fall we’ve got you!” Paul shouted. “Mad Jack, tie the other end off.”

  ‘Wait, didn’t he tell me they would have me? Should I really trust a man named Mad Jack to tie the other end of my life line off?’

  “Henry’s up!” Justin shouted.

  ‘Damn, that was fast.’ I looked up to verify and immediately wished I hadn’t. Vertigo, like a physical force, pushed my face into the ladder. From my vantage point, with cool aluminum on my cheek, I could see the gamut of encouraging and disparaging (Marta’s and Deneaux’) faces. When the worst of the episode passed, I looked behind me. Mindless pursuit would not be the adjective I would have used to describe what approached. Relentless, yes, mindless, no. The zombie closest to me extended his hand. This was like my worst nightmare in church. If I let him get any closer I would have to take the proffered viral encrusted hand in celebration of a new bond between man and zombie. Yeah, that’s it. I could be the ambassador, the one that broached peace between man and monster! I would be a national hero, heralded as the savior of all mankind! Or he’d gnaw through my fingers on his way to devouring my forearm. Yeah, that seemed much more probable. Still stalling.

  I quickly unsnapped the tie down that was holding the ladder in place; the buffeting wind made it jump. I jumped on it before it could completely bounce off.

  “Mike, what are you doing?” Paul asked in alarm, not sure if the nylon rope they had secured the ladder with would hold the entire weight should the ladder and I both go over.

  I was four rungs up when I felt the ladder shift. Company had joined me on this final leg of the journey.

  I was halfway craning my neck to look back when BT’s words struck me. “Don’t,” was all he said, and the tone was enough, I actually paid him heed.

  The ladder was bowing something fierce. I looked up to watch as the top skids were a good fifteen or sixteen millimeters from losing contact with the roof. See how I did that, I changed from U.S. measurements to the Metric system. Maybe if we had just switched back in the seventies like they said we were going to, I would be able to feel much better about my predicament. Because fifteen or sixteen millimeters sounds WAY better than half an inch!

  Another zombie joined us, or a particularly heady wind hit, or a damn butterfly landed on a palm frond somewhere on an island in the Pacific, didn’t matter, the rear of the ladder came off the ladder truck. What had previously seemed like a good idea now truly sucked as I death gripped the rung I was on as we swung with velocity towards the wall. Memories flooded through my senses, I guess the mind feels the nec
essity to show events that are not life threatening when one is faced with a most certain demise. For the briefest of moments I was once again a fifteen-year-old enjoying a burgeoning beer buzz with my two best friends on the planet, Paul and Dennis, as we discovered a place called Indian Hills. My parents had left me alone for the weekend and I did what any respectable teenager would do if they wanted to hold on to their cool card, I had a raging party. The next morning as my two buddies and I cleaned up, we decided to hightail it from the premises before my mother came home. During the best of times she could give Deneaux a run for her money. With the hangover I was suffering from, I did not want to add her to the mix.

  Paul, Dennis and I had grabbed a few beers and were reinvigorating the buzz we had so much enjoyed the previous evening. Our goal was an area that we had seen from a perch atop our local grocery store. We would come to find out that the area was known as Indian Hills. It was an Indian burial ground (no, really!). The place had become a sort of oasis for us as we had grown over the next three years. That it was mystical was beyond reproach. We had more than our fair share of adventures on that land, but that’s a story for another journal.

  The fingers of my right hand smashed against the wall as I had readjusted my grip from rung to rail. I’m not ashamed to admit I screamed. I’m pretty sure it was a good throaty man scream but I can’t be sure, it might have been as intimidating as an eleven-year-old girl’s. My immediate thought was better the right, I shoot lefty. And then all thought was washed away by the mind-blistering pain that ripped through my neurons. The pain peeled back quicker than I expected. I would learn later that the left side of the ladder had struck first, absorbing the majority of the strike. I would most likely lose all four fingernails on my right hand but that was a small price to pay for my life. I might have had some small micro-fractures in the tips of my fingers as well, but I’d left my Blue Cross Blue Shield card back in Colorado, and I figured that I was out of network anyway.

  The haze in my mind burned off the moment I felt that hand wrap around my foot. So there we were, me and my new buddy, suspended thirty feet above the ground by a small rope attached to a ladder I wouldn’t tie anything bigger than a Chihuahua to. The ladder swayed back and forth against the wall, I’m sure doing its best to cut through the nylon holding us in place just like in every movie I’d ever seen. Sure, I had a safety rope on, but it looked like it had seen better days.

  My new buddy was really trying to climb up the ladder. His hand was wrapped like a vise and I could feel his full weight as he either was trying to pull me down or pull himself up to greet me properly. But he would bite me long before we could exchange banalities.

  “Cut the rope!” I shouted. ‘Did I just say that?’ “For the ladder!!” I clarified quickly.

  “We figured that much,” BT said, looking over the rim of the wall.

  “Just making sure, hurry, my buddy here is pretty hungry and he thinks I’m on the menu.”

  “What do you mean nobody has a knife?” I could hear Tracy ask irately.

  I tried to shake my new buddy’s hands free, but he was having none of it. His right hand gripped my calf. As soon as he pulled up and got his mouth into position, I was about to become his lunch. My arms strained as I supported the both of us.

  “Not that one!” BT shouted.

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ I thought as I hung on, still grimly trying to shake my ‘friend’ loose.

  “Let go of the ladder!” BT said, “Don’t worry, bud, the rope will hold.”

  “The both of us?” I asked him.

  “Probably,” the one called Mad Jack said.

  I pulled my hands back just as the ladder zipped by. The rope tied around my waist bit deep into my flesh as it absorbed all of our weight. I felt like I was being severed, and the added pressure as the group on top of the roof began to hoist me up only contributed to the strain. My biting buddy was still firmly entrenched like a fat deer tick, but without his feet planted on the ladder he was merely hanging on for his dearly departed life. I wasn’t in any immediate danger of being bitten but rather torn in two like a convicted felon, drawn and quartered or, in this case, halved. To-MAY-toe, to-MAH-to, what’s the difference?

  “The rope is breaking!” April shouted.

  “Shut up, fool!” Mrs. Deneaux snapped. I would like to think that perhaps it was to save me from the bad news of my upcoming demise, but more than likely it was to hide the surprise so she could relish the look of shock on my face as I plummeted earthward, the old bitch. There was a lurch in my stomach as I free fell a few feet. I quickly looked up.

  BT was leaning as far over the wall as he could, fat droplets of sweat cascading down upon my face. Normally this would have grossed me out to no end, but since he was single-handedly pulling the rope up hand over fist, I would forgive him this transgression. The veins in his neck stood out thicker than the rope I was tied to. His teeth clenched together in a pressure I think could snap through a steel cable, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration and pain.

  I wouldn’t find out until I was safely on the roof, but the rope had snapped. BT had dived after it and just barely gripped the edge of the trailing rope. He and he alone had my lifeline in his hands. He hadn’t even had enough cord to wrap it around his hands, he was just pulling two full grown men up the side of the building. Well, to be fair, the zombie looked a little on the underfed side and had decayed a substantial amount, but still!

  As more of the rope became available, Paul and Alex gripped some and the pain in BT’s features eased. But he never let go, even as the blood ran from his hands in droplets to rival those from his sweat.

  I had never before been so willing to be embraced fully within a man hug. BT grabbed me under my armpits and basically manhandled me up. Travis got his rifle into position and blew my buddy’s head in two. I looked over my shoulder as the zombie fell towards the ground. His friends greeted him gaily at first, hoping for a meal from the heavens. He was quickly trampled underfoot once as they realized he was tainted. Of all the things zombies were, it was a damn shame they weren’t cannibals.

  BT picked me up and placed me firmly on the roof. It took me a little longer to regain my wits.

  “You can let go now, people are starting to stare,” BT whispered in my ear.

  I pulled back slowly. “Thanks, man.” Those two words meant much, much more but the true sentiment was conveyed in my tone.

  “You’re welcome and we’re even now,” BT said with a smile.

  I watched as he walked away looking for something to wrap his hands up in. Tracy came over to me and pointed out the blood that covered my armpits; his hands must have been flayed. He might think we’re even, but the save-o-meter clearly pointed in his favor. Would it be against the rules if I staged a fake disaster and ‘saved’ him from a perilous fate? Just to swing the meter back in my favor, something minor, maybe a skateboard on the stairs or I could kill a malaria carrying mosquito before it bit him, something small. Just a scale tipper, that’s all I’m looking for. Well, no real worries with the state of the world as it is, I’m sure an opportunity would present itself soon enough. But what if he saves my ass again? Then I’ll be down by two. That could be a pretty big deficit to come back from. Maybe if I just up and chucked Deneaux off the side of the building, he would consider that a leveling of our score.

  “You alright Talbot?” Tracy asked. She looked more nervous than I’d seen her in a long time.

  I nodded slightly. The shock of the event still hadn’t completely registered. I was betting there would be nights to come where I would dream BT hadn’t made it to that rope and I had plunged backwards into a sea of sharp teethed zombies. Maybe even staying asleep long enough to feel them rend the flesh from my bones, elastic skin snapping as it was pulled free from my body. Veins and arteries popping as the sealed blood within arced out in red rainbows of death. Rein it in Talbot! I know my imagination can be like a three-year-old on Red Bull and still I feed it.

  “How�
�s your hand, buddy?” Paul said as he gripped it for a handshake.

  “Hurts like hell,” I said, ripping it from his grip.

  “Dude, I am so sorry. I thought it was the other one,” Paul said, moving in for a hug.

  Erin smacked him on the shoulder. “We really are so glad to see you and your family Mike,” Erin said, moving Paul aside so that she could get her own hug in. “Do you have a way to get us out of here?” she asked hopefully.

  I looked back over the wall at a fire truck that was barely visible due to the swarm of zombies on it. Worse yet was the now thirty foot gap between us and the ladder.

  Erin was still waiting for an answer. Paul helped me out and pointed at the way we had come up.

  “But there are zombies all over that thing,” she answered. “How will we get them off of there?” she asked, looking between me and Paul.

  “That’s something we might have been able to do with the guns. It’s the gap that shuts that avenue down,” I told her.

  “So now what?” April asked. “You bring him!” she spat, pointing to Justin, “but no way out!”

  “April!” Joann exclaimed. “They came to help.” She swore with a contemptuous wave of her finger.

  “They’ve done nothing for us!” she screamed, “except bring us more troubles.”

  “Listen April!” I yelled, “I think you were in a world of crap long before we got here. All I did was risk my family and friends’ lives so that we could help your ungrateful ass! I’ll tell you what,” I continued, “when I figure a way out of this, I’ll make sure to leave you here.”