by Ron Tufo
Just like Dorothy, the Lion, the Tin Man, and Toto (no Scarecrow though, none of us are tall enough), we started to follow the yellow brick road. It was not looking good, but staying still was sure and absolute death. We found ourselves constantly looking over each other’s shoulders. If we met up with any undead now, the only weapons we had were our feet. Like I said already, this sucked.
With our heads on swivels, we had gone about a mile when something out of place caught my eye from behind a fallen tree. Joy and Rapture. I’d know that black bumper anywhere! “I’m coming sweetheart! Daddy will be right there!” At first, Meredith thought I had just gone over the top all the way and was seeing things again. Then she saw what I was running toward and screamed loud enough to get a cringe from Gary, who was standing next to her.
The big SUV was in the ditch up on her side with a fallen tree keeping her from going all the way over onto the roof. Mer looked completely crestfallen, but I was busy estimating how safe it was going to be to hook the winch cable to some other fallen trees to pull the Chevy back onto its wheels. Man, I have never felt so go about seeing one of my trucks on its ear!
It only took us a few minutes to right her and winch a few more trees out of the way to be able to get back on the road. Inside was a mess and nobody gave a damn. All the windows were broken and nobody gave a damn. All the extra fuel cans were gone, nobody cared a whit. Lyn’s alchemy compounds were spread to the winds and everyone felt bad for the environment. Gary’s MP3 player was smashed and he cried like a baby. All his songs were saved on iTunes and were only accessible through the internet. They were not backed up anywhere else. I wasn’t sure how he would rationalize this calamity but I was sure it would be my fault.
Three very fucking cold hours of driving later we crept into the compound. My father and Squeak were sitting on the front porch and saw us coming in. Squeak yelled through the front door: “They’re back! They’re back!” Everyone was outside waiting for us as we limped up the driveway. The looks on their faces told us that we looked as bad as we felt. There were many warm and long hugs to go around. I looked at Nancy with sorrow in my eyes that was unmistakable. She nodded and hugged me again. It was so good to be home.
Dad was never one to miss a good dig. “You know Ron, I think most of the damage to your Chevy Submarine will come out with a good buffing!” Squeak choked on his beer again. Even Manuia had a big laugh, a sweet sound that made everyone smile at her.
Melissa came out of the house to be part of the homecoming. As soon as the dog saw her he took off like he been fired from a canine rocket launcher. He bounded up the porch stairs and leapt squarely into her arms.
“Noodles? Noodles! Is this really you? Where is Nikkiye? Dad, how in the world did you get this dog? This is the dog from the lady truck driver I told you about.” All during this bout of questions from Melissa, Noodles is performing like a twenty-pound ball of doggy happiness. Melissa smiled for the first time in many days. My heart was bursting and my smile was so wide it hurt.
Squeak was the one brave enough to ask. “Ron, we heard an explosion for the ages. What in the world did you blow up this time?”
“It wasn’t my fault. Honestly, we had nothing to do with it.”
“That may be, Talbot. I‘ll believe it when I see the evidence. But you still haven’t answered my question. What blew up?”
“Portland.”
“Portland?” You mean like the Portland Cement Factory, right?”
“No bud, I mean Portland. Pretty much a big hole where the city used to be now.”
No more questions were forthcoming. I think “stunned” about described the state of the audience well enough. Neither I, nor anyone else from the trip, felt like elaborating.
That night, I asked Nancy if she wouldn’t mind if I slept on the couch. I felt I probably wouldn’t be warm again until sometime in July and wanted to be as close to the fire as I could possibly get. I also needed the alone time to stretch and replay the last conversation, if you could call it that, with Chief Longwalker. He may be a royal pain in the ass and his words as vague as a politician’s promise but so far he’d been spot on. Got me to thinking about what he had said about paying attention to the little things so the big ones didn’t sneak up on us.
Epilogue
Early Mike: A warning no one paid enough attention to.
“I want to ‘splode it.”
This is what we all remember as Mike’s first sentence. It seemed to be his reaction to anything he didn’t understand, recognize, like, or care about.
That ranged from things that were not his to my first truck, a 1963 Cherry Red Ford F100 pick-up. Thus began a recurring theme in Mike’s life: “I don’t like it. Let’s blow it up.”
Thing is, on his 6th birthday, he got a brand new bike. He was told to ride it in the driveway for awhile to get used to it and then he could go out into the neighborhood. He announced to no one in particular that Ron’s truck was in the driveway, so therefore it was in his way. He went back into the house and emerged with some firecrackers he borrowed from Gary’s secret closet stash.
The simpler solution would have been to go and get Ron to move his truck. But noooo, that is not how Mikey’s addled little brain worked, even back then. He proceeded to line up his firecrackers under the pickup, all connected to each other with fast burning flash paper fuses which he also got from Gary’s so-called “secret” stash. I keep telling you all what kind of issues this family has; I notice no one’s asking what Gary was doing with flash paper. So, now we have Mike’s first effort with explosives and make-shift det-cord. O Joy!
Meanwhile Gary goes into his room and sees that his closet has been rifled and starts to look for the usual suspect. He sees Mike bolting into the house and then back out the front door with some matches and decides to follow the little troll. As he gets to the front stoop, he sees him lighting one of the matchsticks and yells at him: “You’re not going burn Ron’s truck, are you?”
“Nope.”
“So, what are you doing with the match?”
“Lighting the firecrackers so I can blow it up.”
You had to be very literal with Mike. He wasn’t burning it; therefore he had given a truthful answer.
Twenty connected firecrackers, twenty sequential bangs. Gary was so impressed he didn’t even notice the smoke from the oil fire under the truck.
Ron, on the other hand, vowed to shoot both Mike and Gary as soon as dad wasn’t looking. The beginning of what would become a lifelong dream and theme.
About the Author
Ron lives in mid-coast Maine with his hound dog Sophie. He is now retired and yet seems to be working harder than he ever did. He is surrounded by his immediate family and his siblings and overall is having a mahhhvelous time being himself. Being in Maine really is the culmination of a lifelong wish. Surrounded by family, friends, and dogs is the icing on the cake.
Also From DevilDog Press
Also From Devil Dog Press
Zombie Fallout By Mark Tufo
All That Remain by Travis Tufo
Prey: Blood Of The Ancients By Tim Majka
Humanity’s Hope By Greg P. Ferrell
From The Ash By Dave Heron
Flags Of The Forgotten By Heath Stallcup
