Zombie Fallout 10

by Mark Tufo

  “Now you’re just being racist,” he laughed. His eyes grew wide with a thought; he seemed pretty excited about it. “What about a ship!”

  “Huh?”

  “We go find a cruise ship or something and just take it. We sail the high seas for a few years until they forget about us.”

  “You want me to start at the top with all the things wrong with that?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I’ll start with a personal one. I hate the fucking water.”

  “Hold the phone...Michael Talbot has a ridiculous phobia. I think the rest of us will be able to overcome that one.”

  “Jerk. Fine. Okay, here’s a good one...do you know how to drive a ship? I’m pretty sure it’s a little more involved than driving that scooter you had.”

  “You said you weren’t going to bring that up anymore! Man, you put me on that thing!”

  “I mean, I don’t know for sure, BT, but I imagine it takes at minimum twenty to thirty highly skilled people to operate a cruise ship. If it fails or we run out of fuel...hell, I don’t even know what kind of fuel we’d need. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days drifting out in the open water where I’m a hundred percent positive we’re going to encounter the Kraken.”

  “RV then,” he hadn’t skipped a beat. “We get a huge RV and we just keep traveling across the country, see? That way they can’t get a lock on us.”

  “Have you been hanging with Trip again? Are you listening to yourself? You’ve met the same assholes out there that I have. The world is chock full of them. It’s like God’s reckoning; he took all the good people and left us shadier fucks behind to determine our own fates.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure God’s plan wasn’t to turn the good people into zombies to make the bad ones suffer. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Well, not when you use that kind of logic,” I told him.

  “Mike, if you use this against me, I will bury you. Are we clear?”

  “Crystal,” I said as he shook his huge fist in my face.

  “I love these people, hell I love you. I don’t want to be apart from any of them. This is my...this is our family now and I want us to be together.”

  It was a given that I had a comment all ready to go. I decided to let it pass unsaid. He was being brutally honest and besides I felt the same damn way. Why go on if there’s no one around to care about?

  “Fuck,” I said as I rubbed my eyes then pinched the bridge of my nose. “There’s no easy answer.”

  “What about a Sam’s Club or a Costco superstore?” he asked. He was reaching and he knew it.

  “Every prepper with a modicum of knowledge will have holed up in one. It’d be like trying to break into a bank vault, and for what purpose? We’d have the same problems there as we will here.”

  “What gives?” Tracy had walked out onto the deck.

  “I don’t even know what you’re talking about, woman,” BT said brusquely.

  “That right there tells me all I need to know,” she replied.

  “See, Mike? This is the stuff that makes me wonder how she ever put up with you for all these years.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked him.

  “She knows things before they even happen; there’s no way you’re going to get anything past her.”

  “The key, my friend, is inundation. She can only track so many issues; some are bound to leak through the cracks.”

  “That’s what you think.” She was smiling. “Spill it. When the two of you are together and you look all morose I know something is up.”

  “You want me to tell you what morose means?” BT asked me.

  I appreciated what BT was trying to do which was throw Tracy off our scent. Wasn’t going to work—she had far too much experience and knew all our ploys. I sighed heavily before I told her. “We need to leave here and we need to split up.”

  She didn’t say anything for a few moments, took a couple of sips of her coffee, and leaned against the railing, much like BT was. “I was wondering when you were going to bring that up.”

  I looked over to BT with a surprised expression, I hadn’t been expecting her to say that.

  “I don’t know how to do this, Tracy.” I pleaded. “The only part of me that wants to split up is the part that wants to keep all of you safe, but the more selfish part cannot imagine life without you all. What’s the fucking point?”

  “It’s settled then,” she said as she stood up.

  “It is?” BT asked.

  I put my hand on his arm. I wanted to hear what she had to say.

  “Sophia is dead, right?”

  We both nodded.

  “Charity may be as well; at worst, she’s injured. They are on the run; we cannot give her time to heal and bring the fight back to us—we need to go to them. Hunt them down. Make them wish they had never fucked with the Talbot line.”

  “You want to pack up the entire clan here and go out on a war party?” I asked.

  She didn’t skip a beat. “Yes.”

  “Whoa,” BT said backing up. “This is different. Mike is usually the one going bat shit crazy.

  Chapter 2

  MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY 2

  I needed to hit up Tommy first before calling a family meeting. The success of Tracy’s pitch was going to depend completely on what the boy had to say.

  “Can you find her...err, them?” I asked. We were in the basement; Henry had opted to take the most comfortable chair for himself. I noticed Riley and Ben-Ben were on the far side of the room. I didn’t need to get any closer than fifteen feet to realize why. “Oh come on, Henry, that’s not even right.” I blocked my nose, he lifted one eyelid and snorted before resuming his slumber.

  “They’re hiding.”

  “So Charity is still alive?” That was a blow. Payne was a formidable enemy all on her own; she needed no help.

  He nodded. “She was, at least.”

  “Tommy, some very difficult decisions have to be made in the next few days.” I could hardly believe the next words I was going to say. “The best course of action we have right now is to hunt those two down and chop off their miserable heads.”

  “It’s not like they’re wearing GPS locators, Mr. T. They have a psychic imprint like everybody does, but they’re aware of it, and when it suits them they can mask their scent.”

  “But masking doesn’t mean disappearing, right?” Looks like I was reaching too.

  “I could dream walk.”

  “Dream walk? Like astral projection?”

  “Pretty much. I don’t think they’d feel the need to hide there.”

  “That’s possible?”

  “It’s merely another plane. There are rules that are different, there are rules that are the same. I’m going to need help.”

  This was where the conversation started to turn south. “Uh-huh…” was all I managed.

  “I’ll need your help.”

  “I’m not a fan of other planes, Tommy. I barely have a grasp on the things I need to do here. I think I’d be a bigger liability in a place where I have no idea how to respond.”

  “Mr. T, you’re more powerful in ways you don’t want to admit. They can kill me easily enough over there if I don’t have your help.”

  “Wait, wait, wait, one.” I put my hands up. “Everything I’ve ever read about astral projection says that you can’t be harmed while you’re out and about.”

  “You didn’t read the fine print.”

  “What the fuck? Did a lawyer write the rule book?”

  “In the vast majority of walks, that is the case. Take for instance a person walking in a wonderful, flower-strewn meadow. Almost always, nothing is going to happen, right? But sometimes there is a confluence of events and a Siberian tiger escapes from a zoo and just so happens to be hunting in upstate New York when it wanders across someone out for a beautiful spring stroll.”

  “Poor bastard.”

  “It doesn’t end well.”

  “
Wait, this really happened?”

  “You’re the one that makes things up Mr. T, not me.”

  “Can we bring weapons into this other world?”

  His lack of response said it all.

  “It gets worse.”

  “Oh do tell.” I prodded.

  “Only thought can travel into this realm.”

  “Okay?” The other shoe was hovering high overhead, I was pretty sure I could see it already beginning its descent, figured it would hit terminal velocity the moment it struck my head.

  “Usually, not much in the way of higher functioning makes the journey, either.”

  “Well, you should be fine.” BT had taken just that moment to come and see how everything was going. I’d told him I was going to talk to Tommy. “Mike like food, Mike like sex, Mike like gun. That’s somewhere around eighty-five percent of his thought process.” He sat down heavily next to Henry. He got up as if the chair had an eject button and it’d been activated. “What the fuck?” He was grabbing his nose.

  “Serves you right,” I told him.

  “I’m going to kill Trip!” BT was looking around for the stoner.

  “What the hell are you talking about man?” I asked him.

  “The crazy fucker keeps making egg salad sandwiches. He takes one bite and then throws it to the dogs. Then he says he can’t stand eggs and that he wishes people would stop giving them to him to eat. You know man, it’s not like your dog smells like daffodils to begin with and then you throw mayonnaise and eggs into the mix and it’s...it’s just fucking gross, man. I’ve been in overused Porta Potties that had a better bouquet. Kick him out of the house until he takes care of some business, will you?”

  “Henry doesn’t like to be moved when he’s sleeping,” I told him.

  “He’s always sleeping, Mike!”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Naw...he eats sometimes.” I held my breath and went over to rub Henry’s head vigorously. “Don’t listen to the big mean man,” I pinched out. I headed out of range before I had to breathe again.

  “Can he find them or not?” BT asked with a disgusted look on his face.

  “He’s right there.” I pointed to Tommy. “And the answer is ‘sort of’. We need to astral project to find them.”

  “Astral project? Come on man, we don’t have enough shit going on we’re going to travel into dream realms?”

  “Can he come?” I asked Tommy. The boy’s head shook from side to side.

  “Why the hell not?” he asked indignantly. “Is the dream realm whites only? You think honkies invented trance travel?”

  “Are you serious right now? You can’t possibly be pulling the race card.”

  “Is it working?” BT was looking over me, mean-mugging Tommy who seemed slightly bemused.

  “He’s right there, man.”

  “It’s not because of who you are,” Tommy told him, “but what you are.”

  “A proud black man?” BT asked.

  “Mortal,” Tommy said flatly.

  “Oh, well that makes more sense.” He calmed down.

  “Yeah, and I’m the fucking crazy one,” I said.

  “The first step is admitting you have a problem,” BT said. “So how dangerous is this plan?”

  Tommy laid it out. The more information I got, the less I liked the idea. But for right now it was the one that kept the majority of us safe and that was really all I needed to know.

  When Tommy was done he excused himself, said he needed to prepare.

  “How you feeling about this, Talbot? I’m not liking the part where you can get killed while you sleep.”

  “It won’t come to that. We’re merely heading out on an expeditionary quest.”

  “How many people do you think died trying to discover new things?”

  “You’re ruining this for me, man.”

  “Yeah, because I bet no one died finding the new world, or climbing Mount Everest, or even crossing this country.”

  He went on talking about all the famous explorers, got to Amelia Earhart by the time I walked out on him.

  About an hour later most of the adults were in the living room going over what Tommy and I had discussed. Ron took a skeptical position; he’d never been one for the occult. Most had anecdotal stories about times they went out-of-body, some with fear, some with awe.

  “So you’re telling me you’re going to dream-battle two vampires, otherwise, we have to move and split up? That’s just fantastic, brother. I love how you come up with these most awesome ideas.”

  A big meaty paw fell on my shoulder—it was BT. I looked up at him; he shook his head almost imperceptibly. This was Ron’s new thing. Whenever I was around, he would bait me, looking for a fight of some sort. I’d been pretty good about just moving away and biting my tongue; he was grieving and his way of dealing with it was by lashing out. But not at multiple targets, just at me. As if I were the root of all his evils. With how much vitriol he directed my way, I was beginning to think that maybe I was. Until I had shown up, he’d not known his daughter was dead and his wife, Nancy, was most certainly still alive.

  “The floor is yours, big brother, in fact, the whole house is yours. Maybe we should hear what you have to say. Maybe you could even be a man and stop this passive aggressive attack against me and just tell me what you want me to do. If it’s leave, just say the word. There're enough enemies out there—I don’t need any more in here.”

  Ron held his chin high, I figured this was it. The confrontation I’d been waiting for. It wasn’t. He acquiesced. That I hadn’t been expecting. Kind of sputtered over myself: I’d been gearing up for a fight of some sort and when it didn’t happen…well, I mean, picture yourself bracing to pick up something you think is in the thirty-pound range and then you come to find out it’s just an empty box so you lose your balance and the force of your momentum makes you canter off a few steps. Just like that, only not physical. So close. So fucking close to making it out.

  Chapter 3

  DENEAUX

  “I would not suggest driving up as if you own the place,” Deneaux said as a swirl of smoke encircled her head.

  “What the fuck do you know, bitch?” Veeral asked.

  “Do what you want, then.” She took another long drag.

  “Veeral there’s a tree stand,” Wember said.

  “So, what do we look like? Deer?”

  “Stop in the name of the law,” Gary delivered in his best Sylvester Stallone / Judge Dredd voice, and with Mad Jack’s electronic box, it sounded pretty convincing.

  Jolly put a round into the side of the stand. Gary had ducked down, thrilled he’d listened to Mike and put in the quarter inch steel plating.

  “Fool,” Deneaux said.

  A burst of gunfire blew through the hood of the truck and slammed into the engine block, instantly rendering it into a large piece of trash.

  “Any of you move without me telling you to, and my large friend here with the RPG resting atop his shoulder will disintegrate that truck. And I’m here to tell you, this isn’t like the movies. You won’t be able to run fast enough to clear the blast zone. Sure...it’s one thing to be shot by a rifle, but to be torn apart by shrapnel? Well, holy fuck that’s just a whole new level of hell.”

  “Who the fuck is that?” Wember asked angrily.

  “Michael Talbot.” Deneaux took an extra long drag, snubbed out the cigarette in the coke can she had, sighed heavily and slowly got out of the truck. “Hello, Michael,” she said.

  “Shoot her, BT. Shoot her now,” Mike said.

  “She’s just an old woman,” BT said, trying to convince himself to ease up off the trigger.

  “Old woman my ass. There’s a legion of demons hiding under that sallow, saggy skin bag. Come on man! You know she’s evil—even the cigarettes can’t kill her.”

  Chapter 4

  MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY 3

  “It just can’t be,” I whispered.

  “Mike, I feel like I should just let this rocket loose.”


  “Yeah you have no idea how close I am to telling you to really do it. Can’t you just have a minor epileptic seizure or something?”

  BT grunted.

  “Deneaux, what the fuck are you doing here?”

  “She told us there was gold!” A man that looked like he stepped out of Redneck Quarterly said as he stuck his head out of a truck window and then opened the door to let himself out. The problem was he had not pulled his head back out of the window; he’d moved with it, so when he stood he gave himself a solid thunking.

  “Where does one go to get plaid pants?” BT asked me.

  “Squeal Like A Pig country store I would imagine,” I told him.

  BT snorted. “Fuck, Mike, you almost made me pull the trigger.”

  “That was the idea.”

  “Jolly, you’re a dumbass!” someone shouted from inside. “He ain’t just gonna give us the gold.”

  “Your brother sitting on some gold?” BT asked.

  “Fuck if I know. Probably has the federal reserve under this house.”

  “No, seriously, man.”

  “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

  “This bitch said you two were friends and that you’d pay gold to get her back.”

  “Get out of the truck, slowly,” I told him. “Keep your hands in front of you.” By now there was a small contingent of people on that deck.

  “Travis, Justin, go make sure nobody is trying to get into the house from a different side,” Tracy told the boys.

  “Look at you getting all tactical and shit,” I told her. “Military women make me hot. You thought any more about that camouflage outfit I asked you to wear?”

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Talbot?” she asked. “And it’s camouflage. How would you even know I have it on?”

  “That’s the point,” I told her. I think she blushed but I didn’t want to turn away from our newest threat.

  The man got out of the vehicle warily. He’d fiddled with something in the truck and I was pretty sure he’d tucked a gun in his waistband.