A Shrouded World - Whistlers
Page 25
“Well, you couldn’t afford me anyway.”
“That, I’m pretty sure of.”
I proceed to tell Mike of my being scratched, the subsequent coma, and how I came out on the other end. I mention how I can hear better; although how Trip heard the bikers before me still has me amazed. I let him know about my night vision and how I can see better in the dark than if I were wearing night vision goggles.
“And here’s the doozy, I can sense and talk with night runners,” I say, wondering about his reaction to that.
“Wait, you can talk with them? Like, they can still speak?” he asks.
“No, not quite like you would think. They communicate telepathically through the use of imagery. Like…well…picture messages. I can understand that to an extent, and even send them messages,” I answer.
“That’s…well…I don’t know what to say, other than, if they can communicate telepathically, that’s kind of fucked up. I guess that explains how they were able to coordinate their attacks. Why don’t you tell them to just back off, then?”
“I’ve tried. They don’t seem to like me much and won’t listen. It confuses them, but just for a moment. Then it’s all, like, dinnertime again.”
“So, you can tell where they are at all times?”
“Pretty much. It depends. For some reason, I have a hard time while airborne. And, in the area where we’re based at, it’s kind of sporadic,” I explain. “The problem is, they can sense me as well. So, it’s not quite the advantage it seems. I’ve learned to shut it down and do so for the most part. They really don’t have much to share other than what prey they’re after. Oh yeah, there’s also the chance that I may be a little stronger and perhaps a touch faster, although I’ve yet to experiment around with those and don’t feel any different.”
“It seems you could use that communication thing to your advantage somehow,” Mike comments, pondering.
“Maybe. If there is, I haven’t figured it out,” I say. “Besides, I haven’t had these abilities that long and haven’t worked with it much. The ability to see in the dark seems to be the most helpful. And the hearing thing, that’s kind of a break even deal. That fucking noise those assholes put out just about drove me into the ground,” I state.
“That was messed up, man.”
“I’m also going to also have to alter what my idea of thirty yards looks like,” I say, smiling.
Mike chuckles. “I would say that bike was exactly twenty-nine yards away. I think the rocket pushed it a yard, and then, when it fell over, that made it thirty.”
“Luckily, or we’d be having this conversation floating on a cloud and holding harps,” I comment.
“I seriously doubt I’ll be going there,” Mike says, his face clouding over.
“Well, with some of the things I’ve done in life, I’m not sure I have a ticket either.”
“So, what do you think happened here?” Mike says.
“I don’t have a clue. I’m thinking some space-time experiment that didn’t go as well as they planned. Other than that, I couldn’t hazard a guess,” I answer.
“What the fuck was up with that leg? I kicked it, but the fucker didn’t move.” Mike shakes his head.
“Fucking oddest thing I’ve ever come across. Did it seem fused into the road to you?”
“It seemed like the road was growing a leg, it was that embedded. I almost felt like watering it,” Mike says.
“Did you see the actual leg part?”
“No, did you actually touch it? I couldn’t bring myself to.”
“No way. Who knows what would have happened? The pant leg was down a little bit. Just enough to see part of the shin…although it was hidden in shadow. Man, I tell you, the skin seemed healthy,” I reply.
“You mean, like…”
“Yeah, like healthy. It was pinkish like it was still…well…fuck…living. It wasn’t the gray of someone who died.”
“Whoa! I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“I think I’ll do the same…pretend I didn’t see it.”
We fall into silence, each of us fading into our own thoughts.
Michael Talbot – Journal Entry 13
After a few moments of sitting in silence, we both know that we should to be moving on. The day wasn’t getting any younger, and we still hadn’t found a place to hole up when night came around. Without a word, we both rose and walked down to the road.
“What are these fucking things?” I could barely look at them to formulate the question.
“I’m not sure, but I can’t help believing that they’re the reason this place is screwed up.”
Jack was kneeling by the one I was looking at. He had pulled off a glove and its jacket. Skinny wasn’t even the word that I would have used to describe the thing I was looking at. Its forearm wasn’t much more than two of my fingers wide. I knew immediately what Jack had been looking for; we were both looking at the weapon strapped to its arm. It appeared that the triggering mechanism was activated when the wrist bent upwards. Kind of like Spider-Man. There was a black box about the size and shape of a pack of cigarettes attached right below its wrist. Protruding from one end, and running up the length of its arm, was a piece of what looked like aluminum shaped exactly like the staple that had been yanked from my back.
“Is that a rail gun?” I asked him.
He surprised me when he picked up the whistler’s arm. Personally I wouldn’t have touched it. He aimed it to the far side of the bridge and then moved its wrist. We could hear the whine of the ricochet as the round struck concrete.
“I have got to have me one of those!” Trip was heading towards another whistler.
It took twenty minutes of cajoling and promising that we would get him one once we could eventually figure out a safer way to use them.
“You’ll send shots down range every time you make a toking action.” He seemed alright with that explanation.
There were four motorcycles that were still serviceable. I had not ridden anything with two wheels since I was twelve and rode my friend’s mini-bike – which I had blown the engine of not a half mile into my tour. I had two options. Ride double-bitch (Trip did not know how to ride) or take a crash course, I hope the ‘crash’ part was just a saying. I put it on the ground a couple of times until I felt more comfortable.
“We should get going,” Jack said, looking up to the sky and the dipping sun.
Trip was directly behind him blowing smoke from a joint past his face.
“Do you mind?” Jack asked him.
“I don’t, man, I don’t.” Trip was all smiles. “Giddy-up!”
“This ought to be fun,” Jack said, rolling his eyes.
“Where should we go?” I asked him.
“Atlantis, of course.”
“Of course,” I echoed.
# # #
About the Authors
Mark Tufo
Mark Tufo was born in Boston Massachusetts. He attended UMASS Amherst where he obtained a BA (and an advanced degree in partyology) and later joined the US Marine Corps. He was stationed in Parris Island SC, Twenty Nine Palms CA and Kaneohe Bay Hawaii. After his tour he went into the Human Resources field with a worldwide financial institution, after beginning his climb up the corporate ladder he found himself laid off. His wife, Tracy, who was desperate to keep him out of her hair, dared him to write a book, and the Zombie Fallout series was born.
He wrote the first installment of the Indian Hill trilogy in college, it sat in his garage until July 2009 when he published it on Kindle. Mark is currently working on the continuation of the ZF series and a new book due out in August of 2014. He lives in Maine with his wife, three kids and two English bulldogs, Henry and Riley.
John O’Brien
John O'Brien is a former Air Force fighter instructor pilot who transitioned to Special Operations for the latter part of his career gathering his campaign ribbon for Desert Storm. Immediately following his military service, John became a firefighter/EMT with a
local department. Along with becoming a firefighter, he fell into the Information Technology industry in corporate management. Currently, John is writing full-time on the series, A New World.
As a former marathon runner, John lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest and can now be found kayaking out in the waters of Puget Sound, mountain biking in the Capital Forest, hiking in the Olympic Peninsula, or pedaling his road bike along the many scenic roads.
Connect with the Authors Online
Mark Tufo
I love hearing from readers, you can reach me at:
email
mark@marktufo.com
website
www.marktufo.com
Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mark-Tufo/133954330009843?ref=hl
Twitter
@zombiefallout
All books are available in audio version at Audible.com or itunes.
All books are available in print at Amazon.com or Barnes and Noble.com
Zombie Fallout
http://www.amazon.com/Zombie-Fallout-Mark-Tufo-ebook/dp/B003A022YO/ref=la_B002I7PJ68_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1408747013&sr=1-1
John O’Brien
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/AuthorJohnOBrien
Smashwords:
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/JohnOBrien
Web site:
http://anewworldseries.com
Email:
John@anewworldseries.com
Merchandise Store:
http://www.zazzle.com/anewworldsupplies/gifts
http://www.cafepress.com/anewworldseries
A New World: Chaos
http://www.amazon.com/New-World-Chaos-John-OBrien-ebook/dp/B004W0CL2Y/ref=la_B005IDEPP0_1_5_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1408747046&sr=1-5