by Mark Tufo
“You know that’s pretty gross right?” Travis asked as he put his rifle back up to the firing slot.
“You feel that?” Ron asked as he watched a spent casing jump.
“You’ve got to see this,” Travis said, pulling back and handing the scoped rifle to his uncle.
“What am I looking for?” Ron asked, looking through the scope.
“Look at the edge of the zombies.”
“What...the...fuck?”
“Yeah that’s pretty much what I thought.” Travis said.
“They moving in heavy machinery?” Gary asked, running around the corner of the house.
“I guess that settles the idea of guards still being out there,” Travis said. Standing so he could get a better view of the oncoming nightmare.
“Cave trolls!” Gary yelled. “Where did they get cave trolls?” he asked, looking at his older brother who had just stood up.
“They’re zombies, Gary,” Ron told him.
“They have cave zombies?” he asked.
“There’s no part of cave in it, I think,” Ron said, doubt creeping into his voice.
“So we’ve got shufflers, speeders, headers, and now bulkers,” Travis said, looking through the scope at the approaching horror.
“Headers?” Ron asked.
“The ones with the thicker foreheads. We didn’t really prove it, though,” Gary told him.
“They’re running over the smaller zombies,” Travis told them.
The smaller zombies that could not move out of the way in time found themselves melding into the ground as they were trampled underfoot.
***
The giant zombies had passed us by when I chanced another sneak peek. “They’re just mowing the others down. It looks like a pro football team playing a pee wee team.” BT and Tracy joined me.
“It does look like the other zombies are trying to get out of the way, though, doesn’t it,” Tracy asked as more of a statement.
“That’s strange behavior in and of itself,” BT said.
“Not entirely. I think they have a rudimentary self-preservation mode. It’s pretty under-developed, but it’s there. Come on, this doesn’t change our mission. If anything, it means we need to move faster.
***
The bulkers were at the edge of the trench. They traversed over the broken bodies of those that had gone before them, never once slowing their stride.
“Off the deck!” Ron yelled. “Everyone off the deck now!” he yelled louder.
He had just stepped into the living room when the first of the bulkers slammed into one of the support beams for the deck. The house shook from the contact—the unmistakable crack of pressure-treated wood cracking came next.
“That’s a four by four support post,” Gary said. “I should know, I’m the one that set it there.”
“What the hell is that?” Tony asked coming across the room, he had been stationed on the other side of the house.
“Giant zombies.” Ron told him.
“Will the basement door hold?” Travis asked, a hint of fear in his voice.
“It’s a solid oak door with a two-inch thick piece of steel laid across it and the mounts are set with four inch concrete screws,” Ron informed him. He seemed to be doing the math in his head, with the strength of the doorway with the force being applied. Although it was difficult to concentrate with the house shaking like the foundation was set on liquefied lard, and the deafening sound of splintering wood as the deck began to sag as its support posts were destroyed.
Planking rained down as it was torn free from the moorings to the house. The heavy decking crushed a few of the bulkers, but not enough to celebrate a victory.
“Holy shit,” Cindy said as she gripped the couch. Dust hung thickly in the air as it poured in the open windows and doorways.
The bulkers surged back in following the brief lull, after the collapse, the house once again began to shake as they kept ramming into it apparently looking for the weak spot.
“We need to get everyone that isn’t making the last stand into the bunker,” Ron said.
“You don’t think the door will hold up?” Cindy asked.
“It will for a little while,” Ron said, looking a little lost in his thoughts. The zombies would destroy his house and that wasn’t sitting well with him.
“Last stand?” Gary asked. “Is that literally or figuratively?”
“Figuratively,” Ron clarified. “I’m not just going to give them the house…plus, we have got to give Mike, Tracy, BT, and Azile a chance to get back here. If we close up shop, they’ll have nowhere to come back to.”
“I’m in,” Gary said.
“Me too,” Tony said.
“So are we,” Justin said putting his arm around his brother.
Everyone who was upstairs at that point volunteered. Ron pared it down to the Talbots; “his house…his rules” he had told them, and it seemed fitting anyway that they should be the ones to defend the homestead.
“Well at least let me figure out if there’s a way to keep the door shut for a longer amount of time,” Mad Jack said.
Ron waved him to go, Gary went with him.
“Alright, everyone else, grab what’s important to you and get going, consider anything left out to be gone forever,” Ron said having a hard time believing his own words.
“Better get moving, little brother,” Ron said to the departed Mike as he walked around his house one last time.
***
“She’s in that truck right over there,” I said, pointing. We were a good ten or so feet within the trees.
“Oh, you mean the one on the other side of the road with all the men near it?” BT asked.
“Did you really think it was going to work out any differently?” I asked him.
“A boy can dream,” BT said in seriousness.
“Hey at least they’re not congregating around it.” I told him.
“Is that her?” Tracy asked.
“Where?” I asked, looking up and down the road.
“She’s looking out the window, it looks like she’s going to try and make a run for it,” Tracy said.
“I told her to stay put,” I said.
“Talbot, how much luck have you had with telling any woman to do something?” BT said.
“Good point, BT.”
“She can’t see the one leaning up against the back of her truck.”
“She’s going to get caught. I do not want to get into a firefight right now,” I told my band of travelers. I started waving frantically hoping she would see me, but all of her attention was to the front of the truck. The driver’s side door started to ease open.
“Why doesn’t she go out the passenger door and into the woods on that side?” Tracy asked.
***
“Shit,” Azile said, peeking through the windshield. There was a man going down the line of trucks and looking in the cabs, she was far enough over on the shoulder that she’d been able to watch him go into the last five trucks. He didn’t appear to be on alert, like he was looking for somebody, more likely something. But her cab was not big enough that she would be able to hide.
“Come on, find what you’re looking for,” she said through gritted teeth. She watched raptly as he stepped up on to the truck two spots ahead of her. He was in for about a minute, then jumped down, heading to the one right before hers.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Azile couldn’t take the chance that he actually found what he needed in that next truck. The view ahead and behind, from what she could tell, seemed mostly unobstructed, there were men about but they were mostly distracted talking with each other. She figured she could slip out the driver’s side, cross the street and hide in the woods until that night when she would either get back in her cab and wait one more night for Mike or hunt down Eliza herself. Within moments, she was about to get to find both, although not on her terms and not even remotely how she would have planned it.
She opened the door as quietly as possible and cl
imbed down, her left foot touching the pavement when she heard, “Well, well, what do we have here? A stowaway?”
She turned to see the trucker heading her way, his face split with a lascivious grin.
“Damn blind spot,” she said softly. “I’m not a stowaway, this is my rig.” She held herself high, trying to sound convincing over her fear.
The man faltered for a moment, but recovered. “There’s no women on this haul.”
“I was a last second addition, Kong needed someone to haul more zombies,” Azile, said, sounding convincing even to herself.
“I’m still not convinced, there would have been talk of a woman…especially one that looked like you.”
“Fine, let’s go talk to Kong about it,” she bluffed. Take the bluff, take the bluff!
He looked like he might walk away. “Fine, I needed to talk to him anyway.”
Azile looked over to the tree line, wondering if she should make a run for it, that was when she saw Mike looking back at her. She didn’t want to bring the fight to him. “Let’s go.” Azile waited until this man caught up so that he could lead. She saw the look of concern Mike displayed as he watched her walk down the roadway.
***
“Where are they going?” Tracy asked me.
“Brunch,” BT said.
“Nice timing,” I told him.
“Thanks, I’ve been working on it. Do we save her now?” he asked.
“That would be the wisest course of action,” I told him.
“I forgot how much fun we have together,” Tracy said sarcastically.
“Yeah just a barrel of fucking laughs, let’s go,” I said, pushing through the scrub brush. We were parallel to Azile, but we couldn’t keep up with their unencumbered movement, add to that we had to have a factor of stealth in our travels. “Next place we live is not going to have bushes,” I said, pissed off as I ripped through the barbs of another bush.
“Thorn or bullets?” BT asked, referring to how if we did not have cover we would be out in the open.
“Why are you spoiling my bitching session?” I asked.
The further Azile and the trucker walked down the road the more men they encountered. I was running out of ideas, although I guess that’s not entirely accurate, running out of ideas would imply that I had some in the first place. The duo had stopped and the big man was moving quickly towards them talking animatedly. We were able to get alongside as they had as of yet not moved away, although it was easy to see that Azile’s ruse had come to an abrupt end.
“This sucks,” I said as I slowly stood from my crouching position, rifle at the ready. We would be able to do some serious damage before they knew what hit them. I could feel Tracy and BT rise next to me, next thing I knew I was forcibly put back into a crouch with the vise-like grip of BT’s hand on my arm.
“I feel sorry for your penis,” I told him, rubbing my arm after he let go.
Tracy and BT both looked at me. “What?” they asked.
“Nothing…sorry.”
BT pointed down the road, my heart thudded in despair as I watched Eliza striding purposefully towards the burgeoning group with Azile at the center. The group parted quickly as Eliza stepped in, no one wanted to be that close to the devil, not even the ones that had struck a bargain with her. The slap and the resulting bright red spot on the side of Azile’s face was easily visible from where we sat.
“How did you get him to find you?” Eliza asked coolly.
“I do not know what you are asking?” Azile said placing her hand to her sore face.
“That makes sense.” I said aloud. I had been wondering how it had been possible, the chain of coincidences was entirely too great. I did find it funny though that I was willing to wipe all of that away and blame it on a spell cast by a witch. What a weird fucking world I was now living in.
“Are you a lunatic?” BT asked softly, not believing that I would say anything with Eliza that close.
“Probably,” I told him, my feelings slightly bruised.
Tracy gave me the stink eye, meaning that if I spoke again, she was going to twist my ear off my head.
“It matters little what you say you don’t know. You have accomplished what I needed anyway,” Eliza said as she looked around her. “Michael, I can ‘feel’ you…muted somewhat, but I can feel you. If you do not come out now, I will rip out the throat of this pretty little thing that you risked your life to save. Making your actions all for naught.” Eliza placed her hand around the front part of Azile’s neck.
“Mike?” Tracy started.
“You know I have to. Eliza is not one for threats.”
“Shit, let’s do this,” BT said as he stood up with me and Tracy.
“Oh look,” Eliza said as she pushed Azile away. “It appears that the prodigal bastard has returned. Come out here and take off whatever that is on your head.”
I did as she told me and nearly shattered my knee caps as I fell to the ground. Luckily for me I was still on the grass of the shoulder. Eliza was ripping though my mind like a seven-year-old spoiled brat high on Red Bull through a Toys R Us. She was pulling thoughts off the shelves and letting them cascade to the ground, not caring the damage she was wreaking.
***
“You dared to defy me?” Eliza asked coolly.
Mike didn’t even have the mental capacity to reply, especially with any sort of wit.
“You’re killing him!” Tracy screamed as blood was running from Mike’s nose.
“Not yet, but soon,” Eliza said releasing her psychic grip upon Mike’s psyche.
“How could you let this happen?” Tracy asked of Tomas, who looked away.
“Excellent,” Eliza said as BT emerged from the woods. “With the three of you destroyed, the rest will capitulate quickly.”
“I think you overestimate our importance,” Mike said with his head hanging down. “And underestimate theirs.” He got up slowly, a river of red still flowing freely from him.
“I’m sorry, Michael,” Tomas said.
Mike looked over at him, still not able to reconcile who stood before him as the boy Tommy he had known.
“Will your apology allow you to sleep at night?” BT asked.
“I do not sleep anymore,” Tomas said honestly.
“Good, I hope it’s torture for you,” Tracy said. “We should have left you up on the WalMart roof to die.”
Tomas flinched as if the words had been a physical entity hurled at him.
“Come here, Michael.” Eliza said. “I had thought that I would like to stretch out your pain and misery longer, but now that you stand before me I only want your death which has eluded me for far too long.”
Instead of running like his head wanted him too, Mike’s legs betrayed him and brought him forward into the clutches of Eliza.
“NO!” Tracy screamed as she and BT rushed forward.
***
“NO!” Gary yelled as he stepped back.
The lag bolts sunk into the cement were moving as the heavy zombies repeatedly attacked the door.
“How is that possible?” Gary asked as he grabbed an aluminum chair and placed it up against the door as a prop.
“Force plus mass,” Mad Jack said as he was thinking of how to delay the zombies, halting them at this point was an exercise in futility.
The best he could come up with on short notice and even shorter supplies was to wedge some two by fours against the door and the lolly column a few feet away.
Gary had put a couch parallel to the door and was laying magazines across it so he would have easy access.
“When you start to hear the support beams cracking you won’t have much more than thirty seconds to get back to the shelter. You understand?” Mad Jack asked as he hurriedly went upstairs to tell Ron the status.
“Beams start to crack, thirty seconds to let everyone get back to the shelter. Got it,” Gary said, making a clicking sound out of the side of his mouth.
Tony came down next followed by Justin and Travi
s. They wordlessly took up spots behind the couch as the booming of the zombies became louder; perhaps realizing that a viable food source was near.
“Any room for me?” Ron asked as he got to the bottom step.
Gary scooted over.
“Five Talbots ought to be able to do it,” Ron said as a lag bolt tinkled to the ground. There was one more round of magazine checks and making sure the weapons were off safe.
“I’ll stop the world and melt with you...” Gary began to sing. “What?” he asked as Ron looked at him severely.
“Nothing, just wasn’t ready for cheesy 80’s songs,” Ron replied.
“Cheesy 80’s song!” Gary said aghast. “That’s a classic!” He began anew. “You’ve seen the difference and it’s getting better all the time.”
“Getting better all the time,” Travis mumbled. The second lag bolt on the support bracket tore free. The door was groaning—the two-by-fours were creaking.
“This might be important, but Mad Jack said that once the boards start to crack, you have thirty seconds to evacuate and get back to the shelter,” Gary told the group.
“You?” Ron asked.
Gary shrugged, the two-by-fours were beginning to bend under the strain, and light was spilling all around the door as the seal was broken.
“For honor, for freedom, and most importantly…for family,” Tony said as he rested the barrel of his rifle on the back of the couch.
The two-by-fours blew apart, the heavy cellar door slammed against the wall. A bulker that seemed surprised it had made it through took a step towards the rifles and came face to face with oblivion, the heavy metal helmet proving incompetent as the bullets entered its face and went into the brain cavity destroying the nerve center of the beast. He was pushed to the side; even as he thudded to the ground another took his place. Travis’ next shot pushed the zombie’s head back as the bullet struck the metal plating, it locked eye contact on the one that dared shoot at him and began its fifteen foot traversal, Tony’s shot caught the zombie on the bridge of the nose, the cartilage erupted; white, wet, soft material sprayed against the far wall.
