A Plague Upon Your Family

by Mark Tufo

  “Dad, you alright?” Nicole asked coming up to my side and hugging me, although I think she was trying to make sure I didn’t fall over. To confirm my suspicion, she whispered into my ear. “You can lean on me.”

  “It’s tolerable,” I lied. She knew. Funny how parents want to protect their kids even when the truth is right there in front of God and everyone.

  “Talbot, come on man. I want to get this over with,” BT said grudgingly from across the room. Alex nodded in agreement.

  “Dad?” Coley asked. The concern was etched deeply in her small features.

  “I’m fine,” I answered, doing the best I could to make my shuffling walk look like a cockneyed strut. And trying to make my scowl of pain look like the traditional happy go lucky smile I generally walked around with. If the entire world’s a stage, and we are merely players, I would never earn an Emmy for my performance that day.

  “Alex, you ready?” A superfluous question, but one that needed asking anyway. The poor guy was sweating profusely from the mountain of clothing that he was wearing. Well that and the fact that he was about to make a dash through a throng of hungry meat-eaters. He looked at me like I was fucking nuts. ‘Ah, so my plan was working already. Lithium here I come!’

  “In or out?” BT asked.

  Sarcasm is going to get me killed sooner rather than later. “What’s that, your sex ed book?”

  BT wasn’t nearly as close to his slap happy mood as he had been a few minutes previous.

  “The bars, Talbot, what do you want me to do with them?”

  “In,” I said solemnly.

  “I knew it, two feet to get it out the door, six feet to get it back in.”

  “I’m just trying to ascertain that you are truly involved with the synergy of this colossal undertaking. It’s going to be a team effort, something in which we are all going to have to pull together and think outside of…”

  “Fucken stop, Talbot,” BT pleaded. “I was a Project Manager before I decided to de-stress my life. Zombies I can handle. Corporate speak bullshit, well that’s a different matter. I swore that if I ever had to listen to one more suit and tie or dog and pony conference call I was going to go postal.”

  “Did you know that’s a misnomer, for the amount of the workforce, the percentage of violence in the post office is actually below that of the national average for workplace violence.”

  “What’s the percentage in sheriff’s offices?”

  I got the point and shut up.

  A few moments later I stood at the door, plumes of human exhaust issuing forth from my mouth. I watched as zombies pressed into our make shift walkway from both sides. Their arms nearly met in the middle, it was not going to be a fun walk for Alex. I shivered at the thought of all those germ infested hands reaching out and touching someone, hopefully not me.

  “We’re going to have to push the bars outside BT,” I told him.

  “I wish you’d make up your mind,” he grumbled.

  “We’ll never be able to pull it in with all those zombies pressing in on it.”

  Alex was standing next to me looking like a bowling ball with a sweater on. More sweat popped on his brow as he looked down the expanse of the gate; all that could be seen was a sea of arms and fingernails. As if on cue we turned to look at the huddled form of Justin in the far corner. One didn’t have to be bitten to suffer some effects from the zombies.

  “Mike, I’m losing my taste for this quest,” Alex said.

  “If you stay low Alex, there is a clear pathway.” I said it but I didn’t believe it. It was clear now but as soon as the zombies saw him they would adjust to get closer.

  Brendon had been behind us the whole time, just waiting for some sort of instructions or plan. “This sucks,” he said more to himself than anyone else. The sentiment was appreciated by us all.

  “I hear that freezing to death isn’t so bad,” I said resignedly.

  BT looked pissed. He frustratedly shot a few rounds into the growing mass of zombies. As one zombie fell two moved in to take its place. We’d never be able to fire enough rounds to clear a wide enough hole for Alex, first off would be the fear of hitting him inadvertently the other was that we just didn’t have enough rounds to have a continuous barrage of bullets. The roach motel moniker looked like it was going to stick.

  “FUCK!” I shouted. A baby let loose a long throated wail as if in response. “Sorry,” I muttered earnestly.

  The office had become as quiet as a church. “Mommy, I found some sleds,” one of the little kids said eagerly.

  “Hush now Eddy,” his mother answered him.

  I turned to look, if only to be distracted from what lay outside. I walked over to little Eddy, who looked suspiciously like a little old man. His mother pulled Eddy close to herself and shied away from my advancing form.

  “He didn’t mean anything, Mr. Talbot he was just exploring… you… you know like little kids do,” she said nervously. “I… I promise he’ll be good, and quiet.”

  “It’s fine, Miss…?”

  “Jodi, Jodi Ybarra.”

  “Jodi, everything’s fine. Do you mind if I talk to Eddy?”

  “Sure… sure,” she said nervously. This lady looked like a cat that had had her tail stepped on one too many times. She was ready to jump at the smallest infraction.

  I sat down on my haunches, instantly regretting my decision to get down to Eddy’s level. My knees felt like they were going to shoot straight out of my jeans, like Roman candles on the Fourth of July. Well I was here now, might as well get down to business.

  “What you got there Eddy?” I asked with my nicest voice, but that was in direct contradiction to the distorted sneer I wore on my face from the blistering pain that was emanating from my knees and back.

  Eddy looked at me nervously, trying to ascertain my true intent. But like any six year old, exuberance won out. “I found a sled!”

  “Do you mind if I take a look at it?”

  Eddy eyed my suspiciously like I was going to take his prized possession. I felt for him, I truly did, he had already lost almost everything he had owned. But the riot shield he was holding might be the solution to all our problems.

  “Sure mister, there was a whole closet of them.”

  “Awesome, do you think you could help me back up?”

  Eddy looked at me like I was crazy. “Adults are funny,” he answered.

  I have to admit the little bugger was a lot stronger than he looked, he didn’t buckle once as I placed almost all my weight on his shoulder in a concerted effort to arise like Lazarus. Lazarus was more successful.

  “Can you show me where the ‘sleds’ are Eddy?” He stepped back as my right knee popped like a firecracker.

  “Wow that was cool, can you do it again?”

  “I’d rather bite the head off a bat.”

  I could tell Eddy was wondering if I was serious or not, and also when I might get around to doing just that, because that would also be awesome.

  A minute later, Brendon, Travis, Alex, BT and I were standing behind a beaming Eddy, who seemed very pleased with himself that he was the one that found something that we were all so excited to see.

  I pulled out a large dusty box from the back of the sheriff’s coat closet. The box had suspiciously been ripped open from the bottom. Eddy flushed as the damaged box came into full view.

  I tousled his hair. “You did good, kid.” He stood up straighter, pride swelling his small chest.

  BT finished what Eddy had started. Three more ‘sleds’ spilled on to the floor along with at least ten gun shaped tasers, boxes of shotgun bean bag rounds, and canisters of tear gas along with five gas masks.

  “Why in the hell does a sheriff’s office in the friggen middle of nowhere have all this gear?” Brendon asked.

  I shook my head.

  BT spoke up. “Back after 9/11, when the feds thought that a terrorist plot was being hatched everywhere, they sent these riot control packages to just about every police force in t
he country.”

  “Ah, our federal tax dollars at work,” Alex said sarcastically.

  “Yeah this shit just might save our lives though,” I answered. Alex nodded in agreement.

  Travis was busy grabbing the bean bag rounds, they might not be fatal but up close they could still do some real damage.

  CHAPTER 12 Journal Entry Eleven

  “Ready?”

  “Why do you keep asking me that, Mike?” Alex fumed, his body heat causing a sauna in his makeshift armor. “I just want to get this over with so I can get out of all these clothes.”

  “Brendon, you all set?” I asked. His stance said he was all set, but his eyes belied him.

  BT must have picked up on Brendon’s hesitancy because for the fourth time he offered to do what Brendon was about to.

  I looked at BT with my best expression of exasperation. “BT, we’ve been through this.”

  “But he’s just a kid, Talbot.”

  “Dad?” Nicole asked, her eyes expressing volumes. Her unspoken words were why was I putting her fiancé in danger.

  I had fully intended on playing the role Brendon was about to embark on but my ankles, knees, and back made a stand-in necessary.

  “Who else Nicole?” I begged for her forgiveness.

  The hurt of being let down shone through clearly in her eyes. The pain of my injuries paled in comparison.

  “Talbot, there has got to be a better way,” Tracy chimed in.

  “Et tu Brutus?” I said in desperation.

  “Mike, let’s do this,” Brendon said, saving me from the accusations as he hefted up two riot shields. Covering most of his front and all of his sides he looked like the world’s largest beetle. I prayed that it would be enough.

  “Just hit the hole hard and always keep your legs moving,” Travis the football player threw in for good measure.

  “Alex, you stay close in behind him. But if he gets stuck you have to come back,” I said, the implied meaning obvious to everyone. If Brendon couldn’t break a hole through the zombies he would be at their mercy, and that was not an attribute they possessed.

  “Mike, for God’s sake, I can’t leave him behind!” Alex beseeched.

  “There is no God.” I said flatly.

  Marta hastily did the sign of the trinity on her chest in preparation to ward off the Almighty’s smiting of my heresy.

  “Alex, the train is leaving, you coming?” Brendon asked. He turned to give my weeping daughter a long soulful kiss.

  I turned away, embarrassed, and yes I have to admit a little pissed. She would always be my little girl, if only in my memories, but that illusion was threatened every time I had to witness these intrusions into my fantasy world. It was much easier in my own world not having to think of my little princess doing adult things… much, much easier.

  Nicole’s disappointment in me was clear as her gaze slid across my face before she turned to go further back into the jailhouse, hesitant to witness firsthand the events that were about to occur. No matter how this turned out Nicole and I had just come to a turning point in our relationship. No longer would she look to me as the man that could solve all of her problems, another tiny death suffered. Each one amounted to a paper cut on my soul, as they stood singly not enough to kill me but accumulatively would fray the vestiges of my humanity.

  “Stay low,” I offered.

  Brendon snorted twice, he was psyching himself up. The zombies pressed in on the bars, their arms swinging wildly back and forth like speed metal concert-goers on crack. Brendon backed up ten feet to get as much speed going as was possible. Alex had a tough time keeping up encumbered in his extra clothing. The plan almost came to a screeching, devastating halt as Brendon failed to heed my last words to him. The top right edge of his shield clipped the bars as he entered into the opening. His forward momentum spun him to the right. He nearly toppled over and into the arms of the zombies. God, divine intervention, sheer blind luck, who fucken knows but something kept him from going over. Alex had just reached the opening as Brendon’s shield made first contact.

  Ulnas, radii and humorous bones, first bent unnaturally, twisted perversely and then snapped normally. Brendon’s propulsion, even with the stumbling, easily took him halfway to his destination. I tried my best to equate the snapping of bones to that of wood being chopped. It didn’t work so well, more than one person in our group became sick from the explosion of noise. The forest of arms persisted though, and I could see that Brendon’s initial inertia was slowing. The danger was that once the injured zombies retreated and their healthier brethren filled in the void, any and all chance of escape would be cut off. We didn’t have the ammo or safe enough shooting angles to extract them. He would literally be four feet away but it might as well be four thousand. Alex, sensing that they weren’t moving forward fast enough, plowed into Brendon’s back willing him forward through sheer sense of desperation and instinct. Miraculously or not, some of the last zombies on the line pulled their arms out, most likely to try and prevent any unnecessary injuries. What would a good zombie doctor charge for a house call out in the country? A chicken brain at the least? A cow brain max.

  Brendon stepped onto the truck’s running board, placing his shield between the truck and the cage. It was a tight fit but Alex was able to get between Brendon and the bars to heft himself into the cab. Brendon quickly followed, dropping the shields down into the prying arms of the resurging enemy.

  “Hope he’s got the keys,” BT said as he stepped up alongside me.

  “Not fucking funny BT. Not fucking funny at all.” I knew it was a joke but the relief that flooded through me when I heard the truck engine turn over was palpable, if only to myself.

  Brendon gave me the thumbs up sign. Now I knew it was our turn. Once that truck pulled away we would have seconds to clear the cage from the door, and judging by the added weight of all the zombies that were still tangled up in it this was not going to be easy. But is anything worthwhile in life ever easy, as my dad would say. I guess life is worthwhile, ergo it made sense that we should try as hard as we could to make this happen.

  “Wouldn’t it just be easier if they tied the gate to the truck and just pulled it away?” Joann asked, having come up to get a closer look.

  Without turning to face her I answered. “Easier if it worked, disastrous if it didn’t.” I didn’t wait for her to ask the inevitable ‘How so?’ I kept rambling on. “If the gate doesn’t come straight out, there’s a good chance he’d rip the door frame right out of this building. No sense in having a door if we don’t have anything to close it on. Secondly, the gate could get hung up under the truck and if that truck gets stopped…”

  “I get the picture,” Joann answered. I could feel her shudder, the tiny fluctuations of displaced air rippled up my arms. I had sympathy shudders with her, that or someone had walked over my grave, which I hoped wasn’t in the nearby vicinity. Somewhere in Quebec would be cool. Hell, Switzerland would be even better. I figured my odds of actually getting across seas were slim so if my grave was there… you see where I’m going with this, right? Yeah, me neither.

  Brendon was still holding his thumb up waiting for my reply. I was not in such a rush to mess with the status quo. This status quo had us alive and who knows what was in store once we switched over.

  “BT, Trav, and anyone else that thinks they can get a hand in here, let’s go,” I said as I placed my hands onto the gate. BT and Travis were immediately to my left and right sides. There were no other takers.

  I nodded once to Brendon and turned to BT. “You remember we’re pushing, right?”

  He grimaced in response. I wasn’t happy. I’m into clear and concise, not vague and gray like. The truck pulled away and for a fleeting moment I thought that was the end of us. The weight of the zombies pushing on the bars made it nearly impossible to move. I was resigned to becoming zombie chow, maybe if I was lucky some zombie chef would make a nice paté out of my liver. My knee literally screamed in protest. NO, I mean I re
ally heard it. Sure it was in my head but it was saying ‘DUDE WHAT ARE YOU DOING! THIS REALLY, REALLY HURTSSSSSSS!’ or something to that effect. Whatever ligaments were still precariously attached to my patella did everything in their power to stay attached and give me some forward thrust. But if not for the super human strength of BT we would have been sunk. Hell, I probably could have been pulling against the bars and he still would have forced them through the doors.

  The truck was no more than twenty feet away from the gate when some of the zombies that had graduated from Brain Rending And Intestine Nibbling (B.R.A.I.N.) University discovered there was a way in. The bars were moving but by fractions of inches (or millimeters for you more European thinking folks). Point was that time was not on our side. I couldn’t decide if I should abandon my post and go on the defensive or keep pushing. BT was unaware of how close we were to our demise. His eyes were closed with the intense effort he was expending to move the behemoth gate. Zombies were in the gate and the lead one was eyeing me like I was the last McRib sandwich for the season. Eight feet equated to about a second and a half of sweet sweet life remaining.

  Explosions ripped from below my waist, for one horrifying moment I really thought that the stress I was putting on my body had made me cut a hellacious fart. ‘Just fucking great, my last moments on Earth were going to be punctuated with a great gas blast. And then again maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.’ Another Monty Python reference. Me being the French and the Zombies being King Arthur. “I fart in your general direction!” (You should really try and find a backup generator so you can watch this movie in whatever shelter you have deemed safe enough to wait out Armageddon. But can you really wait out Armageddon? I mean just by its implied meaning, it IS the end of the world.) YES, in the millisecond it took for the explosion to register in my ears and then for me to realize that it was not the largest release of natural gas through my ass, all of the above went through my head. Curse or blessing, or a more strange mixture of both, my mind is always approaching the speed of light. I’ll let you know when I can find the on/off switch. Another explosion shattered my thoughts or more likely coalesced the more important ones. I hastened a quick look down below me and saw something that was INFINITELY more scary than anything that was coming at me. A gun toting, man-hating lesbian carrying a huge pistol was situated in the one-kneed position between my spread legs firing off high caliber, high speed, genital-crushing rounds. I willed the bars forward. I wanted out of this predicament as fast as was humanly possible.