by Mark Tufo
I smiled. And I looked forward to both.
“Coffee?”
“Of course, baby. A big mug.”
And I ate enough for both of us.
After I finished eating, Hemp and I went out to check our snare traps. All empty. We were relieved, to say the least. Finally, I asked about the video.
“It’s interesting, Flex,” Hemp said. “When you were close to her and the process began, I realized how I was taken so quickly by the one in the hardware store.”
He paused a minute, as though the memory of that day disturbed him.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The mist . . . well, I think you’ve got to see it. Let’s watch it and talk about it then, okay?”
“Sure,” I said tentatively. “That’s fine.”
We walked back to the house, our guns at ready, but we didn’t need them. The isolation of my property had done the trick for now. For now, but who knew how long that would last.
When we walked in, Gem was playing with Trina. Playing might be the wrong word; she was showing her a .22 caliber long barrel revolver. She looked up at me and smiled.
“I’m introducing her to firearms. Hope that’s okay.”
“It’s empty, right?”
Gem looked at me, and I knew the look. I shrugged and laughed. “Okay, okay. Sorry. Yeah, she needs to know how to handle them, and I guess it can’t be too soon.”
“Good little gun, too. Takes the long rifle rounds. She should be able to handle this one with live ammo before too long.”
Charlie was sitting on the other side watching the training session, and smiled at Hemp as he came in.
“Is it video time?” she asked.
“It is,” he said. “I want to show him the vapor.”
Trina held the empty .22 up and Gem instructed her.
“You see the little V shaped thingy closest to your eye? And you see that little I shaped thing at the end of the barrel? You want to point at something, make sure the I thing is right in the center of the V thing, and then pull the trigger very slowly until you hear a click.”
Trina held the gun up more easily than I would have believed she could. It was a .22 Magnum Taurus revolver with a five inch barrel, and it weighed just under two pounds. It would be a pretty easy trigger pull, but I was wondering if we’d have to modify the grip to allow her little hand around it. When I heard the click as she pulled the trigger, and then another five subsequent clicks, I knew I was mistaken. The true test of her ability to handle it would come later, when we were actually willing to let her fire it.
“You have to learn the proper way to hold the gun, especially when you’re not using it. The end you point must always be pointed away from people, and you never have your finger on the trigger unless you plan to fire it. Got it?”
Trina nodded. “I always point it away from people. Dogs, too?”
“Especially dogs,” Gem said, smiling again.
“And my finger on the trigger.”
“No, your finger off the trigger. When you’re not ready to shoot it.”
“Off the trigger.”
“Right.”
Charlie patted Gem on the leg and Gem smiled at her.
“You want to go watch the video with the guys? I’ll watch Trina.”
“I wanna go!” said Trina. “I wanna see a video!”
“You and I will watch a video in here, okay? We’ll watch Lion King.”
Trina’s eyes lit up. “Can we watch Little Mermaid instead?”
Charlie smiled and held out her hand. “Of course. Little Mermaid it is.”
“Goody!” she shouted.
I watched her holding the gun in one hand, and all the while she held the barrel away from everyone. I was instantly proud of her, assuming it was intentional.
“I have to put this away first,” she said. She stood, opened the wood case, and holding the barrel away from everyone, she placed it in the box and closed the lid, spinning the double combination lock wheels.
She looked at every one in sequence. “Did I do it right?”
We all applauded. No more words needed to be said. Trina jumped in the air, grabbed Charlie by the hand and led her to the television. She knelt down and got the DVD out of the rack, removed it from the sleeve, and popped it in.
“We’ll see you in a bit,” Charlie said. “Enjoy the movie.”
“You, too,” said Gem, leading the way to the lab.
Hemp pressed play on the DVD player and the flat panel LCD monitor showed the gurneys. It was split screen, as there were two cameras and that’s how Hemp manipulated the recording.
One camera was behind our heads and high up, angling down at our faces. I still had difficulty looking at her, the non-stop jaw-moving, the black tongue visible behind the rotting teeth.
It was not, and is not my sister any longer, and in my heart I knew it was true. Even recovery, if it were possible, would leave her a vision of horror to her only remaining child. I would not, I knew, do that to either of them.
The other camera showed us from the foot of the gurneys, and showed our bodies in their entirety.
And that was the moment I turned my head to face her, and she turned to face me. I could see on both camera views the sheer vapor, its coral-colored mist seeming to become more dense and visible on the screen, rising from her eyes.
And then, with her face looking directly at me, her mouth movement intensifying, the mist seemed to become a spray, but in slow motion, such as a fog machine would billow it out. The lights were dimmed further in the room.
“I dimmed the lights to see if the eyes created the phosphorescent glow, or if the mist carried the properties on its own.”
“Wow,” said Gem. “It’s the vapor. That’s why her eyes weren’t glowing before, when she hadn’t eaten, right?”
Hemp nodded. “It seems nourishment, either from food eaten just before death or anytime after entering this state, is what is required for this particular component to trigger. It may evolve, too. Perhaps it increases in potency as they consume more food.”
“Brains,” I said. “Not food.”
As we watched in silence, the directed mist overtook me, nearly engulfing my entire head. Suddenly, the image of me on the screen shuddered from head to foot, my neck straightened, and I was staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.
Conversely, Jamie’s body twisted and pulled against the restraints, her back arched to the extreme. Her arms and legs strained against the straps so powerfully that they cut into her rotting, ever-thinning skin. Around these gouges that would never heal, from beneath the straps, a blackish-red ooze leaked out and soaked into the white sheet and pad between her and the gurney.
And then, as soon as the desired effect had been achieved, the spray-mist slowed, then stopped. My eyes had closed, and now my body was limp, my breathing slow, my chest barely rising and falling.
The mist over my head dissipated slowly, the red cloud dissolving into nothing. I was out cold.
“You see, Flex,” said Hemp, “it’s as though she knew that the creation of the mist itself weakened her, so when it was no longer necessary, in other words, because you had succumbed, she stopped it.”
“Fuck me,” Gem said. “That means they can think. Like in that house, Flexy. The fact that they knocked all those people out to fucking eat their brains when they pleased tells us they know what they’re capable of.”
She snapped her fingers. “Unless it’s instinctive, like a puppy searching for its mother’s nipples right after being born.” She shook her head in disgust at her own idea.
“You have something there,” I said. “Right after they’re born. These creatures are essentially born, aren’t they? Hemp, could it be a transformation, complete with instinctive knowledge, like Gem said?”
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” said Hemp. “Because as you know, I don’t think of much else these days. But I searched for examples of it in nature, and about the closest thing I can come up with w
ould be a comparison to a creature that morphs into something else on its own, such as a caterpillar into a butterfly, that instinctively knows how to fly even though it’s never done so before.”
“Jesus. I’m glad these fuckers can’t fly,” Gem said. “That would pretty much make me throw in the towel.”
“I guess I’d start practicing my trap shooting,” I said, taking Gem’s hand. “Hemp, when will your testing of the vapor be complete?”
“Looks like it’s winding down. I should have the results by tonight or tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Good. I can tell you, and you probably experienced the same thing, there aren’t any real after-effects. I didn’t feel hung over, no headache, nothing. So whatever it is, it keeps you out until someone shakes you awake, but once you’re awake, you’re fine.”
“Exactly,” Hemp confirmed. “Except for the fact that the entire event seems to be fading from my memory. Though I know I did, I don’t remember going into the stockroom anymore at all. No real memory of walking to the door, opening it, and then seeing the abnormal.”
“Fuck it,” I said. “Zombie.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, anyway. I just said abnormal.”
“Do you think pushing the vapor like Jamie did weakens them for a time?” Gem asked.
Hemp considered the question. “She was straining very hard against the restraints, so there is effort involved. When Flex was out, she stopped and dropped back to the bed, fairly motionless. So I’d say the answer’s yes.”
“So they’d be vulnerable. I wonder if they have enough strength to vapor two people in rapid succession. Or at the same time,” Gem said.
“We got a lot of shit to figure out,” I said. “But we don’t know what’s important and what’s not.”
“Anything that can help us cure them, kill or otherwise defeat them is important, and right now, the more we know the better. Period. Even if we learn things that don’t seem to help us, every piece of information is part of the puzzle, and ultimately, the solution.” Hemp shrugged.
“If there is a solution,” said Gem.
“Yes. If there is one.”
“God, I hope there is one. I’d like my world back.” Gem took my hand and pulled me up out of my seat, then put her arms around my neck and kissed me there. I wrapped my arms around her and closed my eyes.
I had her. And whatever battles lay ahead, we would fight them together.
Hemp, Charlie, me, Gem, and Trina.
And Bunsen.
Chapter 230
“We’re going shopping,” Charlie announced, her crossbow strap over her shoulder.
Earlier, she had been in the yard with Gem showing her how to use the weapon. The sight on the bow was similar to a long rifle, but gauging the drop of the arrow at a given distance was the true trick. Bullets didn’t fly near the same as a long shaft, so there was a learning curve.
From a distance, as I typed on this chronicle, I occasionally looked up and smiled at the two. Charlie had set up a target made out of some old, padded chair seats that were in my storage shed. One on top for the head, two side-by-side for center mass, and one lower for the groin area. She disregarded and provided no representation for the legs . . . I suppose she never considered shooting to maim.
“What are you shopping for this time?” I asked, leaning back from the desk, stretching.
“Canned meat, vacuum packed shit that’ll last forever. We need to get stuff with high calories and lots of preservatives.”
Today Charlie was wearing a tee shirt that said “Animals Taste Good,” with silhouettes below the saying of a pig, a cow, and a chicken. With the shirt she wore her usual blue jeans with lots of holes.
Gem stuck her head in behind Charlie, Trina in tow.
“Did you see me with that crossbow, Flexy? I fucking kick ass with that thing.”
“Gemmy!” said Trina. “Bad word!”
“Look, Trini,” Gem said, kneeling down. “You might not have noticed at your budding age, but sooner or later you’re going to have to realize that we’re in a new world.”
I glared at her for a moment, and she held up one finger, telling me to let her finish. I silently agreed.
She continued: “First rule: In the new world, fuck is not a bad word. It’s just a very versatile word that can be used as a noun, a verb, or an adjective. Shit is right there with it, and it can almost be used anywhere fuck can.”
I laughed. “You may not be as good with the crossbow as Charlie, baby, but you sure know how not to waste a good global catastrophe.”
“You watch,” she said. “You take care of Trini, okay? After we get some food we’re hitting Dick’s Sporting Goods. I’m getting me a top-of-the-line crossbow. Charlie wants a new one too, now that they’re affordable and all.”
“And all,” I echoed.
“How’s the book coming?” asked Charlie.
I’d told everyone I was writing all of this down just in case something happened. I didn’t know how many people in the world were safe enough to spend the time writing rather than running or worrying or just plain being eaten, but I didn’t want to risk that nobody would. Surely there would be some future generations of humans that would want to know what some of us went through.
“Very good. I’m almost there, caught up. In fact, I am here. I’m going to have to wait for shit to happen before I can write more, actually. And if you don’t mind, I’d like that shit to be boring, if you think you can help me out on that.”
“We’ll do our best,” Gem said, leaning down to kiss my mouth. I rested my hand on her arm.
“Take your radios, weapons, flares, everything. And you know the drill. Double tap if you get into trouble.”
I reached into my desk and pulled out my radio, flipping the power switch on.
“Remember, double tap the talk button if you encounter some of them, single tap after that if you need me to get to you fast, and triple tap me if the threat is eliminated.”
“Double, then triple or single.”
“Yes. Easy to remember. Single is quick and you need me there quick.”
“Good,” said Gem. “We’re going now, dad.”
“You are one funny girl. Be home by eleven.”
They smiled and headed to the Suburban even though Gem preferred the Crown Vic. She clearly thought she needed payload capacity for this particular shopping trip.
As I watched them walk away, Gem with her reliable Suzi on her shoulder, Charlie with her weapon of choice, I marveled at what a tight group we’d become and how fast it had all happened. Charlie had only been with us a day and a half, but it was as though she had been with us for months. Hell, years.
I wondered if the honeymoon would end, or if we’d all just grow closer. I knew I’d never let Gem go again, and I knew instinctively that she felt exactly the same. We’d made that mistake once, and you don’t get second chances dropping around to see if you wanted them all that often.
I won’t need a third chance.
I started writing more as I remembered it. I filled in areas of the story, changed some stuff. Generally cleaned it up.
I flipped off the computer monitor as Hemp came into the dining room where I’d set up to write. Trina had apparently gone right in the house and fallen asleep on the sofa in the living room, and remained out. Turns out the new world where fuck was no longer a dirty word really tired her out.
Gem and Charlie had been gone a long time and I was getting impatient. Shit, I know Gem is probably better on her own than me, and doubly so with Charlie by her side, but it doesn’t mean I’m not smart enough to know anyone can get caught off guard now and then. I picked up my two-way and pushed the button.
Violating the “click to start” rule we’d agreed upon, I said, “Fuck me, Gem. Can’t you guys check in now and then?”
I sat down on the sofa next to the lightly snoring Trina and waited. There was silence for at least twenty seconds before a response came, slightly sarcastic
; “May I help you?” came over the radio.
I clicked on again, waving at Hemp to sit. “Just checking,” I said. “How’s it going?”
“We’re five minutes out. And we only ran into a group of about eight of them. They didn’t see us. We were downwind, and behind them, so . . . lucky.”
“Where were they?” I asked.
She clicked back on and said, “I’ll talk to you in a minute,” then clicked off.
Just about six minutes later she and Charlie strode into the room. “How are you feeling?” Gem asked, leaning down to kiss me.
“Feel great,” I said. “Perfect. What did you guys find?”
“What didn’t we find?” asked Charlie. “Gem and I got kickass new bows, fuckin’ titanium.”
Trina stirred awake and looked up at Gem and Charlie: “Cool shit,” she said. “What’s tintimium?”
“Titanium,” corrected Gem. “Very strong material. Fuckin’ tough.” She turned back to me. “You asked me where the zombies were,” she said. “About two miles from here. The ones I saw. But I have to tell you, sweetie. Strange. Know how so many are starting to look worn and decomposed? Similar to Jamie, but exposed to the elements and other zombies, bumps, bruises, just the everyday shit of zombie life that can play hell on your complexion?”
“So these didn’t look like that?”
She shook her head, and Charlie spoke up.
“These looked kind of strong. But if they only turned a week ago, then why? Who were they – where were they before they turned? Why did it take them so long? Isolation chamber? Nuthouse? In the International Space Station?”
“We need to capture one of them,” Hemp said. “I could run some blood tests, other stuff. I need to run blood tests on all of us, too. See if I can find a common component we share that kept us all from getting this disease. DNA would be better, but there’s no way I have what I need to run that kind of sophisticated testing. Nor the proper environment, really.”
“It would give us a goal, anyway,” I said. “Right now I feel like we’re existing in a fucking Mad Max flick or something, just trying to survive and protect ourselves while the world outside becomes more and more of a wasteland.”
