by Mark Tufo
“Oh yeah, you definitely have the drop on, Yorley,” Scarlett scoffed. “She doesn’t know you’re here and she’s already shot you and has you running like a rabbit from a fox. I just watched you fall down the stairs because you’re so petrified. You can’t even get your body parts to work correctly! Just go out there, show her your forehead, and get this over with. It will be merciful. Put us all out of your twisted misery.”
When my heart stopped feeling like it was being punched by a donkey, I was finally able to speak. “She kills me, you don’t see your kids.” I thought that would tear her up inside. I was shocked when it didn’t.
“That’s what I want. I don’t want them to see me like this, with this sickness I now carry inside of me, and surprisingly, I’m not talking about the zombie virus. It does what it does because that’s what it has been genetically programmed to do. You, on the other hand, there aren’t even the correct words to express the type of thing you are. Certainly not human and definitely not animal.”
“Oh, look at pious, little Scarlett. Tell me there was never someone who fucked with your perfect little world that you wanted to gut like a fish?”
“You just don’t get it do you? I truly think you’re incapable of ‘getting it.’ Were there people in my life that needed a karmic slap? Of course, as you’ve proven repeatedly, there’s assholes everywhere. That in no way implies I wanted them hurt or killed. Somebody checking out with twenty-two items in a fourteen or less aisle is not an offense punishable by death.”
“Should be. It’s basic fucking math.” By this time, I’d got out of the house and was heading away from Yorley’s. I’d not been shot again and I was not being pursued. So far, so good. Manny was repairing the damage from the bullet wound. I was three blocks away before I felt confident enough to stop and reassess. I pulled the corner of my shirt down. The bleeding had stopped and the hole was mostly knitted up. Scarlett’s days of wearing a strapless dress were over though. She had a large puckered wound, looked a lot like an octopus’s mouth.
“Fucking Yorley,” I said as I ran my finger over the burgeoning scar.
“She’s better than you in every way imaginable.”
“She doesn’t have a penis,” I retorted.
“Ah, Tim. Neither do you!” Scarlett said. I could tell she thought she was just the funniest thing ever.
“I hate you.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way. If something as loathsome as you actually liked me, then I wasn’t living my life the right way.”
“I would have never given you the pleasure of a good fucking.”
“What makes you think I would have ever allowed you the chance? Do I look like I’d need your dick to make my life complete? Celibacy would take on a magical quality if you were the only alternative.”
“I’m going to deal with you, Scarlett; your time is coming. First things first though, Yorley has to die.”
“Yeah good luck with tha…” Maybe I couldn’t smack the hell out of Scarlett, but I could shut her up. Or at least make it so I couldn’t hear her. Close enough as to be the same thing. Gunfire went on for another fifteen minutes. It was entirely too much to hope for that the zombies had broken through the defenses and killed everyone except Yorley, who in a desperate bid to escape, had fallen down the basement stairs and broken her leg. But not before she’d shot and killed the last zombie. So there she lay, busted up, unmoving but alive. Exposed and vulnerable. If I dwelled on that long enough I could almost make it real within me, so much so, I thought about heading back.”
I knew the lie for what it was when I looked over to Scarlett and she was mouthing the words “do it.” Chick couldn’t wait to get us killed. She was like all women everywhere, psychotic. The silence was daunting, giving me ample opportunity to realize the magnitude of my failure. I’d sent a stasis hive, and it had been wiped out, Yorley had nearly killed me, but more importantly, she was going to be on higher alert now that she realized there was another player in the game. I wouldn’t be able to go back to that house. Chances were she’d have some sort of booby trap set up. If I had a shred of sanity in me, I would have left, right there, right then. But I thought about having some sanity, doesn’t that mean I did? Somewhere, someplace? Naw, I guess it’s like an alcoholic. Sure, there’s times when they’re sober, but they’re always thinking about their next drink.
“Need to eat soon.” Manny flashed in like a low gas warning light.
“Working on it. We need to find more zombies. I think I have an idea.”
Didn’t take too long to find what I was looking for. There it was, sitting in the back lot of the local grocery store, and the employees had had the common decency to empty most of it before they’d departed or perished. So that was decent of them. I’d gotten my CDL soon after graduating college. I thought correctly, I might add, being behind the wheel of a big rig would beat that of sitting in a cubicle. You get two complaints against you of potentially running people off the road and all of a sudden nobody wants to hire you. It had been a couple of years since I’d driven one, but it was like riding a bike. Sure, a giant, eighteen-wheeled bike, but same difference. I had to move the seat close enough to the dashboard I could have licked the steering wheel if I so desired.
“You should have eaten your broccoli when you were a kid, maybe you would have been taller than a small child. Shit. Can barely see over the damn dashboard, Scarlett.”
“What are you doing?” Scarlett had some alarm in her voice. As well she should, she already had a good idea on what I was planning.
“Just having some fun. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Lords knows I’m going to.”
Didn’t take too long to find another stasis group, although it did take a bit of convincing on Manny’s part for them to get in the truck. Zombies are all about immediate gratification, not that mythical, looking to a brighter future bullshit. Packed the smelly bastards like cattle in there, crushed a couple getting the doors shut. It was all right, they didn’t complain too much, sort of like smellier illegal aliens. I drove the few miles back to Yorley’s, stopping a ways away, while I figured out exactly how I wanted to do this. The best way for me to stay safe was going to be a little tricky, but what the hell, safety first isn’t always that bad of an option, especially given that it was me that would be in harm’s way. Maybe this was like riding that big stupid bike, but I had forgotten a couple of things along the way. Damn near jackknifed the rig as I turned it around. The smarter play might have been to just drive past the house and then immediately back up, but there was no telling what Yorley would do.
I got out, opened up the back doors, and immediately five zombies spilled out onto the roadway.
“Food’s up there, fellas.” I went back to the cab and started backing up. Ran over two of the idiots before the other three figured out that getting out of the way might be smart. I was picking up speed, going backward, when a few more zombies fell out and I summarily flattened them into the roadway, the truck jostling as I did so. This would cause more zombies to fall out, it started to become a cyclic condition. The rearview mirrors were bouncing wildly, but I could still detect that there were people gathering on Yorley’s porch. I couldn’t exactly tell who, didn’t matter, I was going to introduce myself soon enough. The truck slammed into the wooden fence, foot-long splinters shot away like I’d blown the thing up. The steering wheel was jumping wildly in my grip as I tried to keep the truck lined up with the porch.
Gunfire was coming in earnest, and my driver’s side mirror was blown completely off the truck. I was forced hard into the wheel as the rear of the truck smashed into the porch, the windshield splintered. There were screams coming from the people in the house, most were panic, but a couple were the sweet ambrosia of those in great pain and suffering.
“Time to bail.” I slid across the seat and went out the passenger door, keeping the truck between me and anyone with a gun. The zombies were streaming out of the trailer like Black Friday Walmart shoppers all vyi
ng for that one cheap television. “Good luck, fuckers,” I said as I headed across the street. “But not too much, I want to come back and do some clean up duty.” The house directly across the street was far enough from the action I’d not be in trouble from a stray round but definitely close enough that I could watch the action. The whole street-facing section of fencing had been obliterated, zombies had the whole front of the house encased.
Couldn’t tell from here, but they looked to be busy on the porch, eating at least one victim. The front door was shut and shooters from upstairs were pouring lead on the enemies at the gate. Still, zombies were coming out from the truck. They began to circle around to the back, looking for alternate means of entry. Couldn’t have been more than ten minutes later the gunfire became sporadic, then more and more infrequent, until finally it stopped altogether. That meant a couple of things. The first being that they had a finite number of rounds, and because of that had, secondly, given up the yard to the zombies. Got to imagine that was going to piss the emus off something fierce.
Where’d that leave us though? Wasn’t like I could just stroll over and claim the spoils. I could wait them out, Manny could not. Could I chance them finding a way to leave as I foraged for other food? I’d never find them again. How the hell did this happen? I had them exactly where I wanted them, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Yorley came to the top window, why I hadn’t thought to arm myself with a rifle eludes me even now. I could have watched her head explode with bits of brain and skull flying around. It would have been fantastic, not magical, however, and that’s how I wanted her death to be. I wanted to embrace the memory of her most exquisite dance with death as if it were a passionate love making session between us. I found the thought of her demise to be erotic. It needed to be intimate; I wanted to feel her hands on my hips as she struggled to take that last breath. I wanted to feel the feather light touch of her soul as it glided by me. Those were things I did not want to be denied. Yes, the rifle would do the job, as crude as it may be. But we deserved so much better than that, and I aim to please.
“Please, you’ve never satisfied anything in your life, and beyond a doubt, no woman.”
“Oh, I see where you’re going with that, Scarlett. Very funny, the thing is, I never cared in the least if the chick got her rocks off or not. Not my concern. I did my part.”
She was disgusted. See, that’s the problem. What the fuck response did she think she was going to get? Have I in some way alluded to the possibility that I am actually a deeply caring, altruistic, empathetic sap that will bend over backwards while the asshats of the world shove shit up my rectum? I’m consistent, but no, that’s not how women work. They have to change things, they have to change everything. They are so screwed up in their own selves that the only way they can begin to reconcile themselves with the world is to attempt to change it so it looks right to them. How fucked up is that mentality? “It’s not me,” they say. “It couldn’t possibly be me. It’s every other thing,” they say. Hey don’t hate me, I just call them as I see them.
I railed on the insanity of women for a little while longer before the seed of an idea began to germinate within me. An hour later, it had flowered into a wonderful plan with long, broad leaves and deep roots. Tonight, Yorley was going to be mine. After all this time, I was finally going to cash in on this debt she owed me. Yup, she was going to pay me back and with all the interest I could muster. It was all I could do to keep from dancing like a six-year-old that had just been told he was going to Disneyland. Although I really didn’t know how that felt. The only place my parents had taken me to that was even remotely fun was the laundromat, and that was only because occasionally I’d find some money in the machines. It certainly wasn’t because of the smell of urine that emanated from the corners of the building.
Night had descended in all its dark beauty. I’d not heard anything from Yorley and her cohorts since right after I’d taken out the fence, and that was fine with me. But between the earlier doomed attack and the next, the sounds of battle had attracted other zombies from the area. The numbers had swelled to about triple the amount I had shoved in that semi. The Garcia household was now under siege, with more coming all the time. I waited and watched as a trio of new zombies were coming to join in. I fell in behind them, making us an easy going quartet. Fuck it, I was going to hide in plain sight. Yorley wasn’t shooting, and if they started, I had some chaff in front of me. I stayed up right in tight and close as we approached the household, I kept scanning the second story windows for any signs of trouble.
There was no way for me to know what was going on. I can’t imagine Yorley giving up, but to not even have someone stationed at the window with a rifle was strange, unless they had some sort of bunker in the basement, which could be a whole other set of problems and difficult to breach. Though I’ve had prior experience in that department. It had almost got me killed, but I’d learned from my mistakes. Yorley was a woman, and as such I had figured her beneath me and not worthy of my respect. I had a higher opinion of Clarence, and he was an idiotic, simpering, virginal fool. That should give you a good idea of how I feel about the lesser sex. They were weaker in every way that mattered. Except that one, there is always an exception to the rule and that was Yorley. I’m not saying she garnered my respect or admiration, but she was worthy of my attention.
“Oh aren’t you magnanimous. She’s worthy of your attention? She’s better than you in every way that not only matters but also is imaginable.”
“Is that what’s going on here? Did you and Yorley have some serious scissor action going?” I made a ‘v’ with my pointer and middle finger on each hand and then thrust them together repeatedly so the webbing touched.
“I’d tell you that you were sick in the head, but it would mean nothing to you. Maybe I’ll try to say this in terms that will get through the disease that has plagued your brain. Yorley is all the best in humans, that which we should all strive for, while you are what she should kill so we have a better chance of achieving that greatness.”
“How’s the view up on that pyre you’ve erected for yourself? Don’t move, I’ll light a match so you can see better.” I was threading my way through the horde, trying my best to not look any different from the hundreds around me, although if anyone were paying attention they would notice that one of these things was not the same as the others. The zombies were mildly milling about, some dim circuitry within their heads alerting them to the fact that there was food inside, although they just weren’t quite sure how to get inside. It was like the house was a closed can to them; fortunately, I was a can opener.
The doors that led out into the backyard were glass, but they looked stout and without getting too close, it appeared that they’d been fortified as well. I guess I was going to have to see just how much. I moved in closer, not really all that thrilled with being up in the front lines. I found what I was looking for in the form of a zombie child, maybe six or seven years old, and she looked fairly starved. Swinging her around should be easy enough in this little body I found myself in. I had Manny mentally “push” a few zombies away from us, and then I hefted the little zombie kid up. I had one hand wrapped in her long, greasy hair and the other had a fist full of her denim pants. Then, like a battering ram of old, I slammed her skull into the glass.
I had not been expecting the shock of vibrations up the entire length of my arms. The glass had bent but not broken. I reared back further and thwacked the living shit out of that door with that skull. A spider vein of a crack formed and was immediately filled in with the spilled blood that shot forward from the split in the zombie’s head. A cry of alarm rang into my head from the zombie child. I’d not been expecting that. Most of them seemed entirely too stupid to be self-aware enough to know when they were about to die. I rammed that little shit’s head into the glass again, she went limp as I smeared her mind all over that plate glass. She’d done her job though; those earlier spider webs had turned into a network of major arteries, tra
veling the entire length of the door.
“Have at it!” I told the zombies behind me as I stepped back. At first, they had not a clue what I was talking about. Manny got them on the same page. Zombies began to press against the weakened area en masse. I heard the sweet angelic sound of glass shattering and falling to the ground, where it was trampled into a fine powder. I’d hoped that the zombies would have gained entry but wasn’t overly surprised when that didn’t happen. Yorley didn’t seem to be the type that would have her life depend on a sliding glass door. I wormed my way back to the door and moved aside the heavy curtain material to reveal the back of some large piece of furniture—book shelf maybe, could have been an armoire. Didn’t matter, it was in the way, and it was heavy. I pushed against it, hoping to get a hint of a wobble or something along those lines. The thing was either a thousand pounds, or more likely, anchored to the wall.
“Dammit. I really hate smart food.” I circled the entire house looking for another, what I hoped would be a weak entry point. All of the windows on the first floor were covered over with the same blackout material as the back door had been. My guess was they were fortified with wood as well. I craned my neck to look at the second story. Again, slivers of a thought began to shimmy into my mind, until they were deep enough they could form into something cohesive. This was going to be extremely dangerous both times. First when I left, and more so when I came back. The night was nearly pitch dark, the elements having conspired on my side tonight as thick cloud cover had completely concealed a crescent moon. Without the use of infrared, which I wasn’t sure if they had or not, I would be completely invisible. It’s one thing to think you’re safe, but it’s a whole other thing to absolutely know. I wouldn’t know until I knew, not really something I wanted to gamble with, but the pot was too magnificent to not.
