by Ron Tufo
As Jim stops, hypnotized by what he has just witnessed, our friend, the motorcycle zombie, closes in for his own banquet. In the middle of this mess, the little girl is simply standing there, crying uncontrollably.
“Mommy, mommy–what happened? You have to get up! Little Coleman is still biting you!”
Give credit to Melissa’s fortitude, or the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything in awhile, she didn’t upchuck again.
The rest of their little expanse of highway, however, was looking like a pool of burnt orange stomach effluvium, as by now, other cars had begun to notice this bizarre scene and were reacting just like Massachusetts drivers always react. Panic City erupted almost instantaneously.
Watching what was happening without truly understanding it, Melissa knew the little girl was in trouble. She made sure Andrew wouldn’t be moving the car in the abysmally slow traffic, sprang out from her passenger seat, and ran to the girl. My petite, hundred-pound daughter made it to the breakdown lane in record time, she picked up the child and hightailed it back to her own car, slammed the locks, and rolled up the windows before anyone could protest.
The highway looked like the bumper car ride at the old Nantasket Beach Paragon Park amusement center. Cars were bouncing off each other as they tried to be the first ones away from the growing delirium. Of course, just like on the ride, there’s no escape and every vehicle involved is getting hopelessly cratered–an auto body tech’s dream. Meanwhile, in the breakdown lane, supper at Table 2 was almost finished and our zombie friends were already looking for the dessert cart.
If it was panic before, it is high hysteria now. Melissa, Andrew, and their sobbing new passenger were hopelessly mired in this clusterfuck of a traffic jam. The first zombie had indeed finished eating and was approaching the nearest car. The passengers inside were struggling to roll up their windows as fast as they could, which begs the question: Why the fuck, if you are witnessing this outlandish scene, is your fucking window still down?
Melissa shouts to Andrew. “Andrew, barking. I hear barking. Do zombies bark? I am really freaking out here.” Why barking would upset her more so than just having seen people getting disemboweled and eaten, I haven’t a clue.
It seemed Andrew was not immune to the excitement of the evening, either. “Melissa, you know I never swear, but how the fuck do I know if zombies bark? I just saw Underdog leap from the cab of the tractor trailer rig behind us, though. That was an Olympic-sized feat for a dog only about a foot tall. I’m betting it was him you heard.”
One voice then boomed out over all the others. “Noodles! Get back in here.” Too late. Noodles was off to the races. That dog high jumped and latched onto the zom just as he was about to get a hand into a not quite closed car window. Distracted him enough that the passenger inside was able to finish closing it at last.
The zombie was not having any luck dislodging Noodles. This was a twenty-pound mini-pinscher with a hundred pounds of attitude. The ex-biker turned zombie was down and flailing away at this blur of a hellhound. Noodles was having the time of his life! Rip, tear, swing your head back and forth, repeat. Yucky gunk spewed everywhere. It was like he had been given his own personal teddybear and was being allowed to spread the stuffing all over the highway. Doggy Heaven!
A big rig air horn is a wonderful thing. Remember when you were a kid and a truck would go by and you would make the raised forearm pump to try and get them to blow their air horn? Even when you expected it, it blew you away. Ear splitting Bwaaahhpp! Bwaaahhpp! Smiles all around, from the kids as well as the truck driver who obliged. Too cool!
None of them–none of them-even came close in decibels to the horn on a Freightliner Cascadia. It was like the thing was shouting out. “I am coming! You best get out of the fucking way!” That horn was also Noodles’ call to return to his roost in the side seat. The big door opened up and in he climbed.
The blast of horn reverberation had not even died away when “Boom! Fucken! Diggety! bawled from the cab in a female alto. (I have no idea what “Boom! Fucken! Diggety!” means either. Could be a regional cultural greeting or could be someone telling me to get my hand out of their French fries. I am from New England. Our call is “Wicked Pissah!”) The Freightliner swung out of traffic, made cream of fiberglass out of the rear end of what was once a very sexy, metallic blue Corvette and started to smash through anything and everything else that was in its path. Our friendly zombies were now smears on the road along with the remains of the two adults who had provided them with an early evening repast.
Andrew, who usually makes Clark Kent look like a longshoreman, aggressively flies out of traffic and tucks in close behind the big tractor. Melissa stares at him with the I did not know you had this in you look. Right then and there, she knew he would always be welcome into the Talbot clan.
They followed the rig as it snowplowed its way onto the nearest exit ramp and then finally out onto a side road. The Freightliner stopped but did not shut down. The driver’s door popped open and a young woman sporting a wild headful of blue dreads hopped down out of the cab. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five years old and was wearing the universal female truck driver’s uniform of jeans, a tank top, and a baseball cap. Noodles the wonder dog got out right on her heels, ostensibly to make sure there were no more expendable teddybears around ready for gutting. She came over to Melissa and Andrew’s car to introduce herself.
“Hey Y’all,” the girl with the blue dreadlocks said, smiling. “That was some escape wasn’t it?! What the hell was going on back there? Ah…makes no diff anyway. I have wanted to do that for years…just like in the movies, am I right? Things look bad all over the place according to the news. How is the little girl? I am pretty sure Noodles just ate himself a zombie! He smells even worse than usual. Damn.” Breathe! Breathe!
Melissa was about to say, “Thank you so much for helping us get out of that mess,” when a whole new barrage of questions geysered up.
“Where are you guys going, anyway? We best stay off the highway. Are you headed north for a while? If you are, I can lead. I am on my way to a drop a bunch of light equipment in upstate New Hampshire. God knows if there is anybody there to accept it, though. Do you want to follow me? Got a great, intelligent GPS system that can help us out, if it still works. Oh, by the way, I am Nikkiye, Nikkiye Dettle.”
Andrew couldn’t resist. “I am Bond, James Bond.” Nikkiye’s appreciative laugh broke up whatever tension remained from the gory scene that had just played out. Andrew quickly corrected that they were actually Andrew and Melissa. Yes, they were headed up north, to Maine, to reach Melissa’s family at their homestead. They had seen the news and so had a lot of other people it seemed, judging by the traffic.
“I am not sure how we are going to make it up there now, though,” Melissa piped in.
“No prob,” Nikkiye countered. “I have done this run so many times, I know every trick there is to save some time. Some legal, some not so much. Follow me and we’ll get you up to Maine in no time.”
Talk about Godsends! Once they got going, Andrew drafted Nikkiye’s semi so close, she couldn’t see them in her mirrors most of the time.
Melissa had decided to sit in the back with the traumatized little girl. Poor kid was just squoze to Melissa (yeah, squoze) like a bag curly fries on the seat. Melissa made to throw a small car blanket over her and she crawled into her lap with some great heaving sobs. Bloody hell, how your heart goes out to little kids when they have to deal with something no little kid should have to deal with. Melissa covered her in the blanket and hugged her tightly, as much to console herself as the child.
Andrew was more judiciously concentrating on his driving, afraid if he looked into the mirror he would break down and cry too. I can’t throw a man card point penalty here; if I had been there and looked into the back seat, I would be bawling louder than any of them.
After a while the sobs subsided and our little orphan looked to Melissa with questioning eyes. “Is my mommy going t
o be okay?”
So, playing the “What if” game I had taught my kids early on actually did have some benefits. Melissa had anticipated the question and had prepared an answer that she hoped was calming to the girl without having to lie to her too badly.
“Sweetie, we are going to live with my family way up in Maine. Have you ever been to Maine? It is a wonderful place. We will be with so many people who are gonna love having a little girl living with them. If your mom can make it up there, she will find us.” It was true, or at least, not an outright lie, anyway.
Not surprisingly, the child was still in some shock and was reaching for any hope that her mommy was all right. She grabbed Melissa’s lifeline like a buoy in a weathered sea and hung on. Couldn’t blame her if she didn’t press with any more questions; sometimes you stop when you get a reasonably hopeful response. Melissa was relieved too, because she really didn’t have any more answers.
No answers, but plenty of questions of her own. Melissa led with, “Since we are going to Maine together, what is your name?” The change of conversational topic was welcome all around.
“Izabelle, but my mom just calls me Iza with a short i. "
"Well, Iza with a short i, how about we stop driving for a little bit, wash up and make a visit to the ladies room. Maybe get something to eat, too? Would you like to do that?" They had been going non-stop for some time now and a rest break was just what everyone needed.
“If you will come with me, yes that would be nice.”
“Sweetie, I will stay with you as long as you want me to be.” Melissa thought quickly back; only hours ago she was cruising through life having a wonderful time with her boyfriend. Not a care in the world.
My daughter will probably punch me for this next reveal, but, what the hell. Have I mentioned that Melissa has a bladder the size of a peanut? Yep, just like Trixie from Paper Moon…an oldie, sure, a classic. Maybe I can’t always remember my kid’s names, but, yeah, ask me about a decades old movie.
Anyway, they were coming up on the northern New Hampshire/Maine border in some lonely little out of the way town that, thankfully, had never heard the word “traffic” when Andrew hit the horn for Nikkiye’s attention.
They pulled into the nearby Wilsons Mills Truck Stop parking lot, alongside a bunch of other cars and trucks parked in it. They got out of their respective vehicles. Nikkiye let Noodles out for some sniffs and a pee, also. Nikkiye was smiling. She knew the folks who ran this place and was looking forward to saying hi.
They noticed quickly enough though, there was zero activity in the parking lot. No other cars or trucks coming and going, no one walking in or out of the building. Just no one around. Creepy, especially because it was during that last vestige of the evening, the false dawn.
Yeah, creepy was the right word alright. No one was comfortable making the short walk from their vehicles to the building. Except Noodles, who walked along beside them having a wonderful time snuffling out the familiar smells and exploring all the new ones since the last time he was here. Andrew did the gentlemanly thing and opened the door for the three ladies. Actually, he joked, “If someone’s going to get bit, it won’t be me.” He couldn’t understand why nobody laughed. Andrew can be somewhat humor-challenged sometimes.
Well, to misuse an old phrase, the lights were on in the lobby, but nobody was home. Silence. No Muzak. No bustling tourist activity. No smells of food cooking. No nothin’.
Iza and Melissa headed for the ladies room. Once they had both answered the calls of nature, Melissa took some wet paper towels and started to wash away the dried tears from Iza’s face and clean the array of scratches on the girl’s arm.
Andrew was in the men’s room, also washing up a bit, when a scraping sound came from one of the stalls. Although he wanted to say, “Hey man, you okay?” he chose to stick to the man code, and quietly finished cleaning up and turned to head out. The scraping was getting louder and more agitated. Ah, the hell with it. He went back to the door of the stall and queried, “Everything alright?” He was answered by the stall door swinging right off its hinges and the ugliest of uglies falling out and lurching toward him.
Usain Bolt’s world sprint record would not have stood up to how fast that young man made it out of the men’s room.
Nikkiye had just flicked on some more lights and found what was left of the owners. Not a pretty sight. Doing what she could to hold down the bile as she was blindly backing out of the kitchen toward the main seating area, she tripped over something. “Something” turned out to be a spasming body that was grabbing for her leg as she fell over. She hit the floor hard enough to bounce her head off the tile. Couple of gnawed up friends, another zombie, and now a world class head smack. Her shaky hold on reality was really being threatened here.
Adrenaline is a wonderful thing. Keeps you going when your mind has no idea what the proper response should be. She kept scooching away as best she could but she was losing consciousness and separation fast. Her new acquaintance was really looking forward to some unwelcome body contact. (“Ewww!” would be the correct non-word here, but my particular choice though may have been a bit more picturesque.)
Andrew got to the main dining room just as Melissa and Iza were getting there. He was yelling at the tip top of his lungs, “Out, out! We have to get out now! Another one of those things is in here.”
If Iza’s eyes got any rounder, she would have looked like one of those Margaret Keane Little Big Eyes dolls. Melissa started to follow Andrew’s lead, dragging Iza along with her toward the exit. It was Iza, spinning her head around exorcist-style, who said, “Where’s the truck driver lady?”
Everyone screeched to a halt and started yelling for Nikkiye. Thankfully, her burbling moan for help was just about the only other sound in the building. The dirt and blood encrusted fingernails were horror film close to her leg.
Andrew exploded toward the sound. Heroically, he grabbed one of the brass area dividers and quickly unhooked its velvet covered cordage–exactly the weapon he needed.
He reached Nikkiye just as she was closing her eyes, surrendering to unconsciousness while the zombie was salivating over digging in to the Early Morning Special. He swung the divider like Ted Williams and took off the zombie’s whole shoulder. The hand made a few more inches before it realized that it wasn’t getting any more instructions before coming to a halt.
Nikkiye was out like the proverbial light, sprawled on the floor with a gasping Andrew standing over her.
Now it is Melissa and Iza’s turn, no reason they should be left out of the fun. Men’s room Mr. Ugly had also decided to join the party in the main dining area. This guy was about as zombified as you can get and still be connected to all his parts. Tracking his progress would not have been an issue. He was leaving a trail of sickly mud-colored slime with every slithering step. This guy would have been scary enough even if he was just a statue in Madam Tussaud’s Wax Museum.
Iza’s beat up little eight-year-old emotional system picked that moment to self-destruct. She went down to the floor and into a fetal position, doing her level best to hide from the world.
Two good guys down…one out for the count, one softly crying and wishing she was back with her Mom. Now our stinking uggo friend was beginning to sense he had a meal lying around waiting for him.
Andrew, who had been dragging Nikkiye across the room, realizes Melissa is in danger, only he does the slapstick bit and drops her a little too ungently. Thwack goes the head again. If Nikkiye was even close to regaining her consciousness, she was certainly going to be out a bit longer now.
Shit! Melissa thought. The brass divider was too far away. She’d already used up her Supermommy magic for the day; she couldn’t move Iza worth a damn. Staying with the baseball analogies here, Andrew does a slide into the zombie that Maury Wills (a great base stealer for the old Dodgers–yes, yes, another useless factoid) would have been proud of.
Andrew and the zom go skidding across the tile floor like an out of control two-
man toboggan team and slam into the nearest wall, zombie first. Andrew disengaged himself from the walking sludge machine, looking all the while like he just stepped out of a Nickelodean cartoon, covered in green slime. The zom had just blown apart at the seams. A leg here, an arm there…you get the picture.
Melissa is helping Iza to a sitting position and moans are finally coming from Nikkiye.
Outside, they hear Noodles barking. They assume he is yip-yapping because they are inside and he is not.
Nikkiye struggled to get her feet under her while Melissa and Andrew helped Iza to stand. Slowly they made their way to the glass entrance door, carefully and with their heads on a swivel, looking for any more bad guys. They didn’t notice what was outside with Noodles until they were just about to open the door.
It was like Zombiecon was just about to officially open for the day. There had to be fifty zombies approaching the entrance. A snarling Noodles had them momentarily confused, but they could see that wasn’t going to last as the smellables began to close on the fearless little pooch. Mini or not, this dog was a Dobie throughout! Regardless of the ferocity in his heart, though, he was going to be overwhelmed in short order.
Nikkiye made a move to open the door and let her dog inside. Andrew threw himself against the glass. “Are you nuts?! You’d never get him in before some zombies also made it through!”
Nikkiye was quickly building up to a scathing: “Screw you! I am going to get my dog safely inside,” when Andrew ran over to push a food cart up to block the door.
“Andrew, if you don’t move that cart now, I will use you as battering ram to get to my dog!”
Andrew responded by yelling commands. “Nikkiye, get me that brass divider stand again. Melissa, empty that basket of apples and grab that velvet divider cord with the hooks on it. Get them to me quick.” He then climbed on the cart and used the stand to break out the vent grill above the door.
