by Mark Tufo
“What do you know?!” I screamed at him. Tracy ran up to shield Justin from me.
“What are you doing Mike?” She yelled back.
“He knows something!” I shouted “And I want to know what it is.” The rest of the occupants looked at me like I had finally lost my marbles. I attempted to push past Tracy to get to Justin. BT was having none of it.
“Have you lost your damn mind?” BT asked as he grabbed my arm. I would have shrugged him off but I would have had an easier time taking a tire lug nut off with my fingers. You get the point, right?
“Fuck!” I shouted as I turned away. BT let go as he realized that my offensive had petered out.
“You done lost your mind Talbot. The fight’s outside.” BT reiterated. As if in response to BT’s words, the zombies were realizing their opportunity at an ambush had come to an end. They were now launching an all out offensive on the small sheriff’s office. Shards of glass splashed inside as cut and bleeding arms shot through attempting to ensnare anything that might venture close enough to them. No matter how close or far we were to the windows we all backed up a step. It was clear the zombies couldn’t get in. It was also clear we couldn’t get out. But just because they couldn’t get in, didn’t mean we could stay. We had left the majority of our supplies, including food, in the trucks and they were outside. The thought being that if we had to evacuate in a hurry we wouldn’t be hampered with the added weight. Add in the fact that we now had central air conditioning installed via the broken windows, we had a multitude of ways in which we could face our demise, none of them seemed that appealing. Let’s see, we could start with starvation, but that could take up to 10 days. There was always exposure, that would be quicker. Probably take in the neighborhood of three days. Or the least savory of the trio, death by consumption, and not the kind that killed good Ol’ Doc Holliday.
I went back to my cell, calling it that seemed more apt at the moment. Paul came over to see how I was doing.
“You alright bud. You seemed to have flipped there for a minute.” He said.
If I had installed laser beams in my eyes he would have been severed in two. The damn zombies had upgraded, why couldn’t I?
“You know we’re screwed right?” I asked him. He nodded in ascension.
“Mike I never thought it would end like this.” Paul said solemnly.
I let my sarcastic side out. “Like what Paul? In a jail cell, in a fly speck of a town surrounded by zombies?” His head bowed even lower. Now I felt like a shit. “I’m sorry man, it just came out.”
He looked up at me. “Dude, no you’re right. Even with all that’s been going on I still haven’t completely wrapped my head around the idea that what is happening is ‘real’. Do you know what I mean?”
I nodded because I did know what he meant. In horror book after horror book they talk about how it just seemed like a nightmare and eventually you will wake up and that werewolf chewing your leg off isn’t real. The boogeyman that comes out of your closet in the middle of the night to steal your soul is merely fiction. We’re just innately not built with the capacity to wrap our heads around things with this much magnitude. We push it aside or underneath or we choose to completely ignore rather than accept what is directly in our face.
I knew this guy in high school, Jeff, he was a senior when I was a junior he was going out with this girl, Hillary, who was arguably the hottest chick in the school. But that’s neither here nor there. They were the epitome of the traditional high school sweethearts. They had known each other in grade school and as they matured, their relationship developed. They dated the entire four years of their high school experience. Upon graduating they went off to the same college so they could stay together and during their sophomore year at college they decided to tie the knot. They wanted it to be a large elaborate traditional wedding. They came back home during the Thanksgiving break to tell everyone of their momentous decision, although it would have been to no one’s amazement. But this isn’t Oz, some douche bag decided to wash his car during a cold spell in the Northeast, the runoff from his car rinsing, froze out in the street that night. Jeff lost control of his car and hit a UPS truck head on. When they finally extracted his 302 hp engine from Hillary’s lap, her inner light had long expired. For the two weeks Jeff spent in the hospital he had to be constantly sedated because he would wander from room to room looking for her. I even heard that years later he would periodically call Hillary’s parents and ask if she was home. How would any of us react to that set of circumstances?
The zombies were like that for us. It was a difficult concept to accept as reality. I even found myself sometimes thinking when I could go home and play with the Wii again, or mow the lawn or just sit and watch a baseball game. But that was all over, whether I wanted to believe it or not. Our new reality involved monsters of mythical proportion. Every day was to be a struggle to survive. That was truth. Living was now a burden to be hefted onto one’s shoulders until the accumulated weight of despair broke our backs.
Paul leaned in for a man hug, as I did my best to console him, my gaze was driven skyward because of his head.
“Holy shit!” I exclaimed as I nearly kneed Paul in the nose as I jumped up. I ran up to the cell bars trying my best to suppress my enthusiasm until I could make sure that the idea forming in my head could hold any water whatsoever.
“What is it Mike?” Paul asked, doing his best to wipe away the tears that had built up under his eyes before I could notice. MAN CODE Alert. Dudes don’t cry in front of other dudes. They just merely ‘Sit on their keys’ bringing a tear to one’s eye.
Alex and BT had come over to watch and to see why I was so interested in the bars.
“What’s up Talbot? You already going stir crazy?” BT asked. He laughed as he said it probably thinking it was exactly what was happening.
Alex however was taking more notice of what I was doing. “Hex heads Mike?”
I nodded. “All the way around Alex.” I answered enthusiastically.
“Who’s a hex head?” BT said angrily, thinking that he might be the butt of a joke he didn’t understand. Personally, that was like poking a bear with a beehive. Why would you even want to go there?
“No BT.” Alex said diffusing BT. “The bars are mounted into the ceiling and walls with hex head screws.”
“Who gives a shit?” BT asked “Hex heads, screws, nails, magnets, fucking bubble gum, what’s the difference?”
“This means we can take them down.” I answered with excitement in my voice, more people were taking notice, but I think only to witness the completion of my mental breakdown. “We’re going to need tools Alex.”
“I’ll look Mike, but I’m still not sure what taking those down is going to accomplish.” Alex said.
“Alex how far away do you think the cab to the truck is?”
“Maybe five, six feet, seven at the most. Why?”
“How long across do you think these bars are?” I asked him.
“Eight…oh I see where you’re going.” Alex answered happiness and hope spreading across his face.
“What?” BT asked. “I don’t get it.”
“Don’t worry big man. You’re going to play an integral part in all this, that is, if we can find some tools.” I told him.
BT didn’t ask any more questions, but he did have a concerned look.
Alex came back a few minutes later. “Man, all I could find was a pair of channel locks under the sink.”
“Shit, not exactly what I was looking for, but it’ll have to do. You sure there wasn’t a ratchet set there too.” I asked, only half kidding.
“Yeah, Mike I’m holding out on you.”
“See, you’ll get this sarcasm thing down eventually.”
“Let’s hope.”
That dampened the mood a bit, but it didn’t extinguish the flame completely. It was slow, finger cramping work, but an hour and a half later we had removed two cell bar assemblies. Of course it was the very last screw that threaten
ed to sideline the whole plan, repeated attempts at trying to remove the stubborn nut had turned the hex head into a near cylindrical fastener, only BT’s unbelievably strong vise-like grip was able to find purchase on the head, he didn’t actually unscrew the nut, he had sheered it off. Didn’t matter to me how it came off as long as it did.
CHAPTER 11
“Alright I’m going to need some help standing these things up.” I told everybody. BT grabbed one set by himself. Travis Brendan and Alex grabbed the other. “BT you want some help with that one? I need it over here, I want to lean the two sections together so they form an ‘A’.”
BT strained, the cords in his neck stuck out like thick ropes as he manhandled the five hundred pound bars into place. “Holy shit, BT what do you bench? Chevies?” The floor shook as he dropped the bars into place. I grabbed two sets of handcuffs and pulled a desk over to the bars so that I could reach the top, I fastened the bars together with the cuffs about a foot in on each side. On the bottom of the bars I had attached the two utility belts, so that the bottom didn’t flare out like a cheerleader doing the splits. It was Alex that came up with the idea to duct tape the police batons to the bottom. In theory this would keep the assembly from collapsing under the impending assault.
“What are you planning on doing with this thing Talbot?” BT asked, he knew the answer I just think he wanted it spoken out loud.
“Have you ever been to the aquarium?” I asked him.
“Do I look like I’ve been to the aquarium?”
I didn’t know how to answer the question, I wasn’t sure what the right answer was and I had seen his kung-fu grip in action and didn’t want any of it near my neck. I did what any good self-preservationist would do…I ignored it. “Okay at some of the bigger aquariums they have underwater walkways so that people can sort of view the fish and sharks in their own habitat. So basically we’re making a zombie walkway.”
“Is there a gift shop?” Brendon asked. After a few seconds of some good humored laughter I resumed.
“That was a good one, Brendon.” I said wiping a tear away from my eye. MAN CODE note, it is acceptable to shed a tear in front of others if it is due to excessive laughter or one’s sporting team wins a major event, i.e. the Red Sox in the 2004 World Series.
“Dad.” Travis said pointing to the windows. “Do you think they know what’s going on?” The zombies were not completely standing idle, their arms still futily waved about trying to grasp anything that might be foolish enough to wander close, and there was still that soft high pitched mewling that would probably make me insane long before I ever froze to death. But the arms weren’t waving around quite as frantically and the mewling had softened noticeably. And the look in some of their eyes was almost questioning, like they were trying to puzzle out this new factor.
“Let’s thin this herd a little bit, give them something else to think about.” I answered. If this failed there was no contingency plan.
“We don’t have a shit load of ammo in here Mike.” Brendon said. Needlessly I might add. I had struggled with this decision last night with how much ammo to bring in, and I had come up wanting.
“I don’t want a sustained fire fight. I just want them to remember that we’re still in charge. And watch out for the bars, I don’t want any ricochets.” I furthered. Travis, BT and Brendon lined up for the firing squad. Everyone else had pretty much gone as far back to the rear as was physically possible. “Hey Trav, you should probably get back there too, that buck shot will bounce right off the bars.” That in part was why I wanted him off the line, the other more significant issue was he looked entirely too eager to be a part of the killing. I was afraid for him. The look of bloodlust can overwhelm even the strongest of men and my son had just barely joined the rank of manhood. I had seen it enough in Iraq, once the sickness got in you it was damn near impossible to eradicate it. Squads would go into remote villages in the mountains and just slaughter everything, men, women, children, goats, it made no difference, if it spilled blood and could die it was fair game. The higher echelons almost always covered these transgressions, usually with a rocket attack to wipe out any evidence.
“No sweat Dad, I switched over to slugs.” Travis answered with a smile.
“Fuck.” I muttered. What good was surviving if we had to drag our souls through the mud? I might not be a holy man, but I was still afraid of what God would think when I showed up at the pearly gates dragging the dilapidated leftovers of my shredded soul.
“So Michael Talbot, what have you done in your life that warrants your entrance into this the most Holy of Sanctuaries?” God, Saint Peter or Buddha, might ask.
“I survived.” Would be my meek reply. Might as well have said. “Blue! No, No, Yellow!!” Right before I was launched into the abyss. (You would have to be a fan of Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail to catch the reference. If you have by some chance gone this far in your life and have not witnessed one of the greatest comedies created then odds are you’re not going to find a DVD player that works now, sorry.)
My meager portion of breakfast was not sitting well and I did not want to sour it any further. I went back to the cell where Nicole and Tracy were sitting. Justin was facing away from the windows, presumably sleeping but I don’t know how with all the noise we had been making. Tommy was sitting in the corner, holding an unopened bag of pop-tarts. That more than the expression of woe on his face told me that he was extremely upset. I was about to ask him what was the matter when the first volley of shots exploded within. I covered my ears, as did most everyone else. Within a minute the shooting had stopped. It would be another fifteen before the choking smoke cleared.
I walked over to Tommy and put my hand on his shoulder. “You all right Tommy?”
Tommy looked up. “He’s close Mr. T.” He stammered out.
“Is Ryan back?” I asked. That would be the best thing I had heard today.
“No it’s someone else.” He answered somberly.
My ass clamped tight. I don’t know why, it was an involuntary reaction to Tommy’s words. Apparently my body thought it was the right thing to do, who’s to say. I turned back to face the windows and it was a sight to behold, not a zombie in view. With renewed hope and an unclenching sphincter I asked. “Did you get them all?”
“Naw Mike they left.” Brendon answered.
“Son of a bitch, that’s something new. They usually hang around for their punishment.” We had all witnessed hundreds of zombies walking into sheets of lead without so much as a pause as their comrades in mouths fell. That these zombies were smart enough to realize the pointlessness of staying at the windows was foreboding.
“We killed a good ten or fifteen of them Dad.” Travis said beaming.
BT cautiously walked up to the window to better survey the damage done and to try and assess our odds of success.
“What’s going on BT? Can you see anything?” Alex asked.
“Yeah, damnedest thing. They pulled back about hundred feet or so, and they are just sitting there looking at me.”
“How many?” I asked. ‘Please say, two maybe three PLEASE!’
“Two maybe three…hundred.”
‘Well that’s what you get for wishing, how many times my mother told me to be more specific when I asked for something.’
“They’re just kind of standing out there in a loose semi-circle. Guys I wouldn’t want to bet my life on it but they look like they’re waiting for something.”
“Or somebody.” I finished.
“Mike what if the zombies at the window were just a distraction?” Alex asked me. A new thought furrowing his brow.
It took me a quick second to get over the initial shock of how many zombies we were actually contending with. “How so Alex?”
“I mean we knew they couldn’t get to us and I think they knew they couldn’t get to us, but they sure did keep us away from the windows.” Alex stated. “That sure would keep us in the dark to how many of them were out there.”
“Or they were just stalling us.” I said. These new developments were coming faster than I could recognize them.
“What’s going on Mike? You seem to know more than you’re letting on to.” Alex asked.
“Not really Alex, it’s just a feeling I’m getting. I don’t have any ‘knowledge’ but all the same I think the quicker we get out of here the better off we’re going to be.”
Alex kept looking at my face hard, trying to glean some inkling to what I was feeling. There was nothing there to give him.
“Brendon can you hit the zombies from here?”
“Shit yeah Mike, its a hundred feet. I used to shoot gophers at a hundred yards back in Missouri.”
“Take a shot every few seconds, so that they don’t get any crazy ideas about coming back. Apparently the thought of dying again doesn’t sit well with them. Jen you ready for round two with the door?”
She stomped out her cigarette and nodded grimly.
“BT how much help will you need pushing our causeway through the door?” I asked.
“Seriously Talbot?” BT answered looking at me like I had asked him if he could cut up his steak by himself.
“Fine BT, but we’re not going to have a lot of time for you to build up a head of steam and get that thing going. The fucker’s got to way half a ton.”
“You worry about protecting my ass. I’ll get this to the truck.”
“Alex I want you to put on as many clothes as you can and still be able to move, including gloves.”
“Why don’t I just make a run for it, they’re a hundred feet away I only have to go six, I’m not Speedy Gonzalez but shit a tortoise would like those odds.”
