by Mark Tufo
“You’re not really going to allow Tracy to go with you are you, Mike?” Ron asked, coming up to the table.
“Ron, you’re married…when’s the last time you told your wife she couldn’t do something and she listened?” I asked him back. I gave him some credit; he actually spent a moment or two thinking about it. As if, he would have ever forgotten about a victory that significant.
“Listen, I know I don’t have any military training,” Ron began, “but I’d like to go out there with you.”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea. The defense of this house falls squarely on your shoulders. And as soon as MJ’s box fails, we’ll be in full-press mode here. When we get Azile, and maybe take a swipe at Eliza, we’re going to need someplace to come back to.”
Ron looked equal parts relieved and distressed.
“You know I appreciate the offer. We’ll be back before you know it,” I told him as I loaded my fifth magazine. I wasn’t going to die from lack of ammunition—of that fact I was certain.
I could hear Tracy and BT still going on with the merits of who was better equipped to save my ass when I got up from the table.
“We’re leaving in fifteen minutes. You guys maybe want to load up?” I asked them.
“We’re not done here,” Tracy told BT.
“Not by a long shot,” BT told her as he pulled on the waistband of his pants. “Thanks for saving me,” he said quietly as he walked past.
I just laughed.
One more time I half-heartedly tried to convince Tracy not to come; almost immediately the finger of doom came out and I yielded.
We were huddled by the basement door waiting for Mad Jack to dial up some zombie despair. Beads of sweat were glistening on Tracy’s forehead, BT had a look of consternation on his face, and I had just swallowed a live knot of garter snakes—at least that was what my belly felt like. I had not a lick of concern for myself, it was spread out for my two traveling companions.
“What some gum?” Gary asked, his mouth stuffed to near jaw-bursting proportions. He walked over to us extending a giant pack of bubble gum.
The idea of chewing anything that didn’t start with Alka was making the writhing things in my stomach start a gymnastic routine. “I’m good,” I told him.
“Oops, wait,” Gary said as he listened to the crackling in his two way radio. “T-minus ten seconds until operation Zombie Nudge.”
“Zombie Nudge?” BT lipped to me.
“Who knows,” I told him back.
“Does anyone know what the ‘T’ stands for?” Gary asked.
Over the radio I could hear Mad Jack’s explanation. “Ballistic equations begin with the variable ‘t’ minus the rest of the algebraic equation which accounts for time and distance.”
“Well now I can die in peace,” BT said.
“Now?” Tracy asked. “This is the time you want to use that phrasing?”
“No shit,” I told him. “Pretty fucking insensitive, BT.” I chided him.
“Bullshit, Talbot, that’s something you would normally say. I must have just been channeling you or something,” BT snapped back. “And now I’m going into battle with a man with a tinfoil hat on and you’re giving me shit? That’s like the skunk calling the wet dog smelly!”
“What the fuck does that even mean, BT? Have you lost your damn mind?” I asked.
“I must have!” he shouted.
“Boys!” Tracy said.
“What?” we asked, turning on her.
Gary popped an over-sized bubble. “Mad Jack turned the dial.”
That stopped us right quick. I opened the basement door to take a peek outside. Not much was happening; the zombies closest to us were trying their best to not become impaled in the trench from the push behind them of newcomers. Then I began to see a sudden change as they went from holding their spot to shuffling backwards, and within a matter of seconds, they were in a full on ‘retreat’ mode.
I had not a clue how we were going to get through the cluster fuck of zombies, all the closest ones were running to get out of range while the others behind were still forging forward and then there were the multitudes that were caught in the crossfire. Zombies by the dozens were being destroyed or irreparably damaged as they were caught within the vise like grips, of the outflow and influx as they in turn also tried to escape the invisible signal that was washing over them.
“Not going to get any better than this,” I said as I swung the door open.
Tracy gasped at the scene before her, the screams that would be ensuing would have been deafening if they were still people, even so the cracking of bones and cartilage was disturbing maybe even more so because it was done in silence.
“Good luck, I’ll save you some gum,” Gary said as we ran to the right and towards the back of the house and the small footbridge. Gary closed the door and I could hear him engage the fortress-like steel bar across the door.
I couldn’t see any of the guards from our vantage point, but I had to have confidence in the fact that they would be fleeing their posts. Vial or not, zombies running at you tends to loosen bladders and bowels. Our progress was hampered by the jumble of zombies strewn around the yard by the time we reached the trailing edge of the zombies still closest to the house we had in the neighborhood of fifteen seconds before the box fried itself.
The tree line was easily within distance with nothing in our way, fighting through the zombies was going to make it close. Once the box stopped broadcasting the zombies would again turn and head for the house, we would be caught and in a world of hurt, much like the plethora of zombies littering the ground.
“BT, we need to make a hole,” I said pointing towards the nearest large oak. In all fairness by ‘we’ I meant him. He attacked the zombies with gusto, crushing over them like a fat mom does dieticians. I had no sooner touched bark on the tree when zombies in mid-stride changed their direction heading back from where we had come.
“Good luck Gary,” BT said under his breath, his chest heaving from the exertion of zombie tackling as he leaned against the tree looking back at the house that was about to become besieged.
Zombies were within inches as they streamed past, a few took a quick glance at us as they ran by, but they seemed to be so used to the vials they wouldn’t investigate any further.
I motioned to BT and Tracy that I was going to move around the tree. BT acknowledged me; Tracy I had to touch to get her to focus on me and not the shamble of zombies close by. I stayed tight to the trunk of the tree. I figured BT and Tracy were following. I don’t know which of us was more surprised me or the guard when I came around the other side of the tree. He had been scratching his head, I would imagine at the peculiar behavior of the zombies when I showed up.
My rifle had been up against my chest, I would not be able to pull far enough away to use it anyway, the knife strapped to my thigh seemed the best course of action. That was up until BT came over the other side. I winced as BT’s butt stock made bone crushing contact with the side of the man’s skull. His eyes didn’t even have enough time to roll back in his head as he fell over.
“Thanks, man,” I told BT. “Hold Tracy back for a sec would you?” I asked as I leaned down. Blood was oozing from the side of the man’s head as I reached down and yanked the vial off his neck. I stuck the chain in my pocket, then grabbed the man by the waistline and the back of his collar, when a slight break came in the zombie traffic I tossed him a few feet into the fray. He moaned for a few heartbeats as the zombies made short work of him.
BT gave Tracy the all clear sign when the zombies closed the gap around the man.
“Why the delay?” she asked, looking around.
“Mike ripped one, I waited until it cleared away.”
“Thank you for that,” Tracy said, placing her hand on BT’s arm.
I flipped him off.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The Bulkers
“Yes, Eliza, that’s what my man reported. He said the zombies started r
unning away from the house and then started running towards it and now they are right up against it. I bet whatever they were using had a power surge, then blew,” Kong said to Eliza. He felt bad; he had hoped that the Talbots might make it through. If something as evil as Eliza wanted them destroyed then they must have walked strongly in the light. The world needed more people like them if it was ever going to recover, and now he was on the opposing force. If there ever was a history, how would he be remembered? I’m the fucking Benedict Arnold of the zombie apocalypse, he thought sourly.
“Release the contents of truck fifteen,” Eliza said as Kong wrapped up.
He wanted to question the validity of her plan, but as long as it didn’t involve his men, he thought discretion was the better part of valor. He might not be able to save the Talbots, but he would do all he could to save the people that he called his friends and co-workers.
He nodded to her. He noted the look of concern on Tomas’ face; apparently the boy had the same reservations that he himself had. He walked away from the duo and back towards where the majority of trucks were parked. “Roy, radio the guards tell them to pull back to the fallback area.”
“We getting out of here?” Roy asked, the hope clear in his voice.
“Just do what I said,” Kong told him as he walked by. “Walt!” Kong yelled motioning with his hand. Walt had been reading when he heard Kong’s yell. He stepped down off the truck holding on to his book fearful he was going to lose his page. “What are you reading?” Kong asked, astonished that the man could concentrate enough to read in the midst of all that was going on.
“BeSwitched by Molly Snow, it’s a paranormal romance, funny shit.”
“Romance?” Kong asked.
“It takes me away from the horror of all this.”
“Fair enough. In about ten minutes I’m going to need you to open up your trailer.”
“You’re really going to let them go?” Walt asked.
“I’m not doing anything Walt.”
“Shit.”
“Just make sure you get back in your truck as soon as you undo the latch.”
“I appreciate the advice, but that’s like telling me not to put my hand on a stove burner.”
“I’m sorry for getting you into this, Walt.”
“I’m a big boy, Kong, I should have taken one look at Eliza and left.”
“Just get back in the truck as fast as you can,” Kong said, clapping the man on the shoulder.
“Not a problem, even being in the cab knowing they’re locked in the trailer is an uncomfortable feeling.”
Kong wasn’t sure where Eliza got the new breed of zombies, but they terrified him. There was rumor that she had a doctor that could genetically alter the zombies; some thought she had perhaps gone to a ‘Fat Farm’ and bitten the residents there. Though no matter where she got them from, the zombies in the back of Walt’s truck were enormous; the smallest of the them tipping the scales at five hundred pounds, and they were meaner than the normal zombies, the vials were no guarantee against an attack. More than one of Eliza’s helpers had been devoured while they were tasked with the unenviable job of strapping helmets on the brutes.
Eliza had armed herself with the zombie equivalent of a tank and she was about to unleash her armada. God help them all.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Mike Journal Entry 19
We were advancing slowly. The zombies were beginning to thin out as we got further from the house where rifle shots were starting to ring out. Thoughts of Little Turtle shot across my brain plate. I shook them out, that hadn’t ended so well. Tracy kept looking back, worried about the kids. I was being cautious looking for guards. I knew that they must have sought safer ground for a moment as the zombies retreated, but that didn’t explain the complete lack of them now. They were nowhere in sight. Normally that would have made me happy, except for that damn nagging pit in my stomach that told me all was not right in Oz.
“You feel that?” BT asked.
And I had. It was a slight tremor, then it began to build. I could feel the vibrations as they moved up my legs. We all were looking around trying to figure out what it was.
“Maybe hide?” Tracy asked the best question of the day.
We moved forward to get in and around some raspberry bushes. It wouldn’t stop a bullet, but we were damn near invisible.
“Tanks?” BT asked.
“We have to go back!” Tracy said with alarm as she started to rise.
“It’s not tanks,” I told her, cocking my head to listen better.
“How do you know that? We have got to go back and protect them!” Tracy was on the verge of panic.
“Trace, hold on, it’s not tanks. I’m not saying it’s good, it’s just not tanks,” I told her, trying to get a bead on what was happening. The hanging raspberries in front of us were starting to dance on the vine.
“How do you know that, Mike?” BT asked looking around.
“Been in a few combat missions, tanks are noisy as fuck, so loud you can’t hear yourself think.” Now the bushes themselves were starting to sway. It’s fucking huge whatever it is, I thought, keeping that little nugget of discord to myself. “Here goes nothing,” I said as I slowly stood up so I could look over the hedge. At first I didn’t see anything…and then I’d wished I hadn’t seen anything. Amazing how quickly that change in thought set came about. I dropped down.
“Well?” BT asked.
“Tanks would have been better,” I told them.
Tracy hazarded a look. “Oh my God.”
BT popped up. Had anybody been watching, they would have thought they were catching an episode of Mere Cat Manor on NatGeo. “Are those helmets? Are those giant fucking zombies with helmets?” BT asked as he sat down hard in our makeshift hidey hole. Tracy had not yet come down. I pulled on her shirt.
“How can something that big be moving that fast?” she asked, looking off into a distance only in her field of vision.
“Now at least we know why all the guards are gone,” I said.
“Now what?” BT asked.
“Eliza pulled her men back because of those things, so apparently they’re as dangerous to her side as they are ours. We wait until they pass.
“The vials don’t work?” BT asked, holding tighter on to his.
“I’m not sure maybe you should go check it out,” I told him.
“Oh hell no. As the only black man surrounded by a bunch of whities, I’ve already bucked the trend by staying alive this long. I’m not going to do anything that would threaten that now.”
“Fair enough,” I told him. Wait it is.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Last Stand
Travis had been behind the steel curtain firing rounds at the advancing zombies. It was like killing mosquitoes; no matter how many you took out, there was always another one to take its place. Rifle fire was happening at various parts of the deck as the Talbots tried to keep the zombies at bay. The trench claimed a fair number, but was rapidly filling in as zombies literally fell ‘on the sword’ for their brethren.
“Should have dug it deeper,” Ron said as he came in next to Travis. “Any return fire?”
“Nothing,” Travis said, taking a moment to reload. “I don’t think they’re there anymore, but like my dad says, ‘life isn’t something you gamble with’ so I haven’t stuck my head up to really look around.”
“Smart boy. They’re going to have that trench filled in soon, and the fire won’t last forever. The blood and gore from the zombies is going to clog the nozzles.”
“You know that’s pretty gross right?” Travis asked as he put his rifle back up to the firing slot.
“You feel that?” Ron asked as he watched a spent casing jump.
“You’ve got to see this,” Travis said, pulling back and handing the scoped rifle to his uncle.
“What am I looking for?” Ron asked, looking through the scope.
“Look at the edge of the zombies.”
“W
hat...the...fuck?”
“Yeah that’s pretty much what I thought.” Travis said.
“They moving in heavy machinery?” Gary asked, running around the corner of the house.
“I guess that settles the idea of guards still being out there,” Travis said. Standing so he could get a better view of the oncoming nightmare.
“Cave trolls!” Gary yelled. “Where did they get cave trolls?” he asked, looking at his older brother who had just stood up.
“They’re zombies, Gary,” Ron told him.
“They have cave zombies?” he asked.
“There’s no part of cave in it, I think,” Ron said, doubt creeping into his voice.
“So we’ve got shufflers, speeders, headers, and now bulkers,” Travis said, looking through the scope at the approaching horror.
“Headers?” Ron asked.
“The ones with the thicker foreheads. We didn’t really prove it, though,” Gary told him.
“They’re running over the smaller zombies,” Travis told them.
The smaller zombies that could not move out of the way in time found themselves melding into the ground as they were trampled underfoot.
***
The giant zombies had passed us by when I chanced another sneak peek. “They’re just mowing the others down. It looks like a pro football team playing a pee wee team.” BT and Tracy joined me.
“It does look like the other zombies are trying to get out of the way, though, doesn’t it,” Tracy asked as more of a statement.
“That’s strange behavior in and of itself,” BT said.
“Not entirely. I think they have a rudimentary self-preservation mode. It’s pretty under-developed, but it’s there. Come on, this doesn’t change our mission. If anything, it means we need to move faster.
***
The bulkers were at the edge of the trench. They traversed over the broken bodies of those that had gone before them, never once slowing their stride.
