by Mark Tufo
Gary was at my side, nodding as he looked at the outstretched ladder swaying gently in the breeze. “I wouldn’t trust a monkey on that.” A rifle shot exploded through the relative stillness of the day. “Nice shot, Meredith!” Justin yelled.
“Fifty feet, Dad!” Travis yelled.
Now came the dilemma. If we tried this insane plan we were stuck here. It was an all or nothing proposal and to what end. Within seconds, we would all have to be on the fire truck or in our own vehicles getting the hell out of Dodge. The plus side had completely diminished as far as I could tell. The absolute best we could hope to accomplish at this point was to be stuck up on the roof with Paul and Alex, the worst would be being stuck in the fire truck. I didn’t think it would be capable of pushing through a wall of zombies. Well scratch that, the absolute worst would be getting eaten. Yeah, that would take the cake.
“Twenty-five feet!” came the update.
“Let’s get out of here!” I yelled. I’d made up my mind, there was no upside anymore.
“I can do this,” Jack said as he began to climb the extended ladder with the mobile ladder.
“What’s going on Mike?” BT asked.
“Zombies will be here in a few seconds,” I told him.
“And then we’re stuck,” Tracy added, filling in the blanks.
Perla seemed relieved that her fiancé would not be making the attempt.
“Just let me try it once Mike?” Jack asked, never really stopping his ascent.
“Brian, he’s not going to listen to me. You need to get him down so we can get out of here,” I said. Gunshots from Meredith, Travis and Justin seemed to reiterate my point.
“Jack, he’s right!” Brian yelled. “We’ve got to get out of here while the getting is good.” “Get the girls and get the hell out of here!” Jack said as he reached the end of the ladder.
“Can we just drive away with him on the ladder?” Perla asked, nervousness putting a tremor in her voice.
“He’s having a hard enough time staying on as it is, we hit a bump…” I let my frank answer trail off.
“We stay. Travis! I’ll help you, let’s grab the ammo cans, everyone else on the fire truck,” I said with dejection. This was not how I had envisioned this moment.
I had no sooner handed up the last ammo can when the zombies came around the back of the truck. I scrambled up the truck quicker than I thought my bone-weary body could move.
Meredith started firing into the rapidly growing crowd around us. I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Save the ammo for when we’re going to need it,” I told her.
“That isn’t now?” she asked me incredulously.
I just shook my head in negation.
I turned to watch Jack’s progress. It was at this exact moment that I wished I had been forced to watch a 72 hour Glee marathon, anything but what I was about to witness. Jack had propped up the smaller ladder by jamming it through a couple of the much bigger ladder ’s rungs. Now he was trying to secure it with some cabling. But before he could do that, the swaying from the wind, the jostling of the truck from our movements, and the zombies bumping into the body of the truck began to jar the ladder loose. I saw the small aluminum ladder begin to slowly fall as Newton ’s law began to take effect. My first instinct was to tell him to let it go. I had always taught my kids that it was not worth injuring yourself to save ANY piece of equipment, get out of its way and let it fall where it may.
Jack did not adhere to those rules. He reached out and grabbed it with one hand. There was a moment where it appeared that he might be able to muscle the wayward steps back into place, but the centrifugal force of Mother Earth was just a bit stronger than him that day. Jack began to lift off the ladder as the levering action began to outweigh him.
I swear it seemed to happen in super slow motion, but before I could form the words ‘Let it go!’ he was already past the point of no return. Perla turned just in time to watch as he pitched head first into the throng of zombies below. The sound as his head crashed into a zombie’s was sickening. Why had I told Meredith to stop shooting? At least it would have masked that cracking noise.
I ran up the ladder halfway. What I was expecting to see that would be any different from the reality of the event, who knows? It just seemed like the right thing to do. But it wasn’t, Jack was lying prostrate on the pavement, blood pouring from a fissure in his skull. A zombie was lying next to him, at least he had taken one out with him. As I write that thought down, I can’t decide if it’s a crappy thought or a realist thought. A small circle of empty space formed around Jack and the zombie. There was more going on here than met the eye, but that always seemed to be the friggen’ case.
“He’s alive!” I yelled as I watched Jack’s hand twitch. Although I was thinking that I should have maybe kept that thought to myself. It could have just been the spasms of death throes and even if he was alive, he was basically the last bottle of beer in a dry county.
“Jack!” Perla screamed from the base of the ladder.
Cindy was next to her with her arms around her shoulders.
“We’re going to get you out of there!” Brian yelled.
‘We are?’ I thought. Hey, I was all for a rescue, but short of a helicopter, this was going to be a bit tricky.
BT was looking over Brian’s head at me.
‘No clue.’ I mouthed.
Jack slowly turned over, his mouth full of blood. “Bufsted a few teef,” he said as he gingerly pulled himself to a sitting position.
“No biggie, buddy,” Brian said. “Don’t need them to drink beer.”
Jack gave him the thumbs up, but his head was hanging down.
From my elevated perch I watched as a path began to form from the front of the store right to Jack. I lifted my rifle. Something wicked this way came and I was going to blow it back to the corner of hell it had been let out of.
“Hi asshole!” Durgan yelled as he approached. “And put the damn gun down, you shoot me and Eliza sends zombies onto the roof, and you know what happens then. Friends get eaten, blood spurts everywhere, it’s a mess!” he shouted gleefully. “Oh, what’s the matter? You look like someone just dropped a big smelly log i n your Cheerios! Bet you didn’t know my Mistress was here, did you?” I still hadn’t said anything.
“Shoot him! If you don’t, I will!” Paul yelled from the roof. “We’ll take care of ourselves!” Durgan hesitated, he hadn’t been expecting that.
I loved Paul for that, but I’d been shooting with him before. If the target wasn’t the size of an elephant and stationary, he would have a difficult time putting a bullet in it.
“Don’t you dare!” Durgan shouted at me. I pulled the muzzle up just to see the asshole sweat a little.
“O mi dios!” I heard Marta scream.
“Zombies are banging on the door,” Alex explained.
Durgan smiled. I lowered my gun, not willing to let the bluff get out of hand.
“Oh, and shithead, Eliza says if you try to leave on that fancy truck of yours, she will let me bust down that door and kill your friends.” That was of course if I even thought the truck could roll over this many deaders.
Paul picked up his rifle and started to pepper Durgan’s general location. Zombies fell as bellies erupted and heads splintered. Zombies closed around Durgan like a shield, I could see the small bubble of protection as it weaved its way back to the safety of the store.
“Not a great idea!” I yelled to Paul.
“Screw him. Do you think they’re really just going to let us go? I could have at least had the satisfaction of watching him die!” Paul yelled angrily back.
“I guess you’ve got a point there.”
“How’s he doing?” Paul asked of Jack.
“My heaf if killing me,” Jack said as he shakily got to his feet.
I started firing into the zombies that began to tighten their circle back around Jack. His time on earth had come to an unmerciful end. Perla started running up the ladder which began to sw
ing from the effort.
“I love you Perla!” Jack yelled just as the first of the zombies tore into his flesh. It came out more as ‘I wove woo’ but the man was about to die and I let him have his dignity back at least in this journal.
I kept firing into them long after his screams had died down. What was once Jack O’Donnell would now fit snugly in a lunch box with room for a thermos. Perla nearly pitched in after him, wrapped up in her grief as she was. Brian wasn’t much better.
I slowly descended, bringing Perla with me so that Cindy could try and console her. The guilt that dropped onto my frame would weigh heavily for a long time.
BT met me at the controls to the ladder as I handed Perla off.
“You still going to try this?” he asked me.
“Got nothing better going on,” I told him.
“Mike, come on man, its suicide,” BT said seriously.
“It’s only suicide if I take my own life, not if they do it.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean, I just think I’d rather die up there than down here.”
“Why don’t we just run the squishy turds over and get out of here?” “Eliza is not one for idle threats, we leave, they’re dead.” I said pointing up towards the roof.
“Mike, we stay, they’re dead AND we’re dead.”
“Man, I know it, you know it, they know it,” I said pointing to the front of the store.
“But you’re still going to try, aren’t you,” BT stated in amazement.
“It’s what I do man, I’m a helper.”
“Durgan was right, you are an asswipe,” “That hurts man, now help me get another ladder.”
Tracy watched BT cover me as I reached down to unfasten another ladder. “What are you doing, Mike?” she asked, although she already knew. “You are not going to try that again,” she said, pointing her finger to Jack’s last perch.
I stood back up with the prize in my hands. The zombies watched me with a predatory gaze but they never made a move for me. I had been within reach as I bent down to retrieve the ladder but they had remained fairly civil.
“Mighty decent of them,” BT said echoing my thoughts.
“I thought so. Maybe we could take a few of them out for drinks when this is all over,” I told him.
“Don’t you dare say it!” Tracy snapped.
“What?” BT asked in bewilderment.
“Fine, tell him,” she said, turning towards me.
“We could get Zombies!” I said with a small smile.
BT still looked confused.
“Oh, you’re ruining it, man. A Zombie is a drink we used to get at Chinese food restaurants,” I explained.
“That’s not a good joke, Mike,” BT said seriously.
“It sounded way better in my head.”
“What color are they?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“The drinks, what color are they?”
“Green,” I told him.
“Man, they don’t even sound good,”
“Well, they’re not really. They’re just really strong, supposed to make you feel like a zombie.” “Maybe we should just move on to the whole ladder thing,” BT said, grabbing it from my hands.
“Mike, no,” Tracy entreated me.
“Need some help?” Gary asked.
“Are all you Talbots insane?” Tracy asked.
“I’m not a Talbot,” BT said indignantly.
“Oh, that makes it all better then!” Tracy yelled at him.
BT shrugged his shoulders and went back to his climb. I followed close behind.
Gary stayed down as the ladder began to dip under the added weight of BT and myself. In fairness, the downward slant of the ladder had more to do with BT’s bulk than my own, although I’d never tell him that.
“What’s the plan?” BT asked once we reached the top.
“You know how I feel about plans.”
“Okay, what’s your idea then?”
“Well, let’s extend this bad boy as far as it will go, straight up, and then we’ll try to do a controlled fall so that it hits the roof.” “And if it doesn’t?”
“Then make sure you let it go before it falls into the crowd.”
“Seems sane enough.”
“Yeah, most of my ideas start off with great expectations, only to decay rapidly into…”
“Devastation,” BT concluded.
“Well, I wasn’t going to go that far, but whatever. Let’s do this.”
By the time we had the ladder fully extended, it looked about as sturdy as a pipe cleaner. The swaying of the main ladder and the resultant swinging of the one we were holding had my confidence ebbing faster than Superman’s libido after putting on a kryptonite condom, that is providing of course that such a thing can be made. But IF it could be, it would be disastrous for him, and I guess Lois too.
“This seems safe,” BT said as he tried to keep his footing while also steadying the ladder.
“You guys ready?” I yelled to Paul.
“What the hell do you want us to do?” Mrs. Deneaux shouted.
“Catch it!” I yelled back.
“Yeah, preferably with your face,” BT muttered for my ears only.
“Good one, let’s let it go.”
It fell faster than I was expecting. The good news though was that we had about a foot and a half to spare as it slammed onto the roof. Our end kicked up a good foot from the shock of the contact. It missed me completely but caught BT squarely on the shin. It wasn’t an injurious hit, but it had enough force to make him lose his balance. BT began to pinwheel his arms. I could hear the horrified cries from above and below as I reached out and grabbed the waist line of his pants. There was a shockingly long second where I thought we were both going over. BT wasn’t a piece of equipment and I was not going to let him go.
We were frozen between absolute death and relative safety. A butterfly landing on BT’s shoulder would have been enough to tip the scales. As it was, there was a slight breeze to my face that I think God issued just for us. The death détente was shattered by minutiae; the forces I applied pulled us back from the literal edge.
“Whew,” BT said as he sat down, placing a tight grip on the ladder he sat on. “That was close.” I didn’t say anything. I probably would have just vomited anyway. And that really would have just killed the heroic moment I was hoping to bask in for another minute or two while I got my heart rate under control.
“Mike, I can’t…”
“Don’t,” I said putting my hand up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
BT remained seated while he secured the ladder with some tie downs and a few bungee cords. “I don’t think this would stand up to a regulatory inspection.” The whole assembly was bouncing around like Mexican jumping beans high on cocaine.
I eyed the climb as I psyched myself up.
“What are you doing?” BT said ominously, placing massive arm across my chest.
“Getting an ice cream cone. What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” I asked him.
“I’ll go first,” he said.
“BT, come on man, this won’t hold you.”
“So was that how you planned on getting rid of me? You all go up there and then I’m stuck down here by myself.” “I hadn’t really planned it out,” I told him honestly.
“Listen, this makes the most sense, IF this holds me then there’s no doubt it will hold everybody else.” I started to protest.
“Shut up Mike, I know you’re the Type A personality with control issues and a hero complex, but I’m doing this. It makes the most sense and now once afriggen -gain, I owe you,” “We’re not keeping score, BT.”
“Maybe you aren’t, but I am. Just make sure your end doesn’t come undone,”
“Fine, your funeral…oh man, I didn’t mean that… that was a poor choice of words,”
“Actually it wasn’t, just poor timing. Stop looking like you just swallowed a mouse, it’s alright my friend
.” He fist bumped me and started up.
Paul and Alex each grabbed their respective ends of the ladder to keep it from shifting around too much, which was not an easy task with BT’s weight. The real problem began to arise as BT was halfway through his climb, the bow in the ladder began to pull precious inches of aluminum from its perch on the roof. The eighteen inches he had started with had rapidly been reduced to less than two .
BT had not raised his head during the entire expedition, wise move. I don’t think I would have either. He just stayed focused on the task at hand, hand to rung, foot to rung.
“Stop, BT,” Paul said.
“I’d rather not.” Although he did.
I had been so intent on watching BT, I did not realize the drama happening up above. I looked up to Paul and instantly saw the issue.
“Foh!” I said.
“What, Mike?” BT asked without looking.
“I said that out loud? Apparently it’s Shakespearean.” “Mike!” BT roared.
“Sorry man, your weight is pulling the skids of the ladder off the roof.”
“How much more of a climb do I have?”
“Fifteen feet,” I gauged.
“How much of the ladder is still on the roof?”
I looked up to Paul, he held up two fingers.
“Two inches,” I told him, my heart sinking.
“Am I over halfway?”
“I’d say you’re just about dead center,”
“What is it with you and bad word choices?” he asked.
“Huh? Oh man, I’m sorry,” I said again.
“In for a dime, in for a dollar,” as he reengaged his movements.
A third person who I had not seen previously came to the aid of Paul and Alex by getting in between them and reaching down to grab the top rung. I think that may have been what saved BT’s ass. Looks like he was going to owe someone else big time. He was soooo not going to be happy about this.
“Ten feet BT!” I shouted.
“How much?” he asked in return.
I once again looked to Paul. He let go his hold with one hand to raise all his fingers.
“Five inches! That’s awesome!” I said with jubilation.
“Maybe where you come from,” BT said.
“Did he just make a dick joke?” Alex asked.
