Zombie Fallout 8_An Old Beginning

by Mark Tufo

  “Mike?”

  “I’ll be fine, get your ass out of here.”

  I watched as Dennis and the captain left. Dennis kept turning around to look at me, as if he couldn’t believe his act of betrayal.

  Dixon’s hands again raked on my arm as I was once more choking the wind out of him. This time I completely let go. The sense of loneliness I felt as I watched Dennis join with my family and they left the building was profound. My heart thudded in my chest; it felt like I was absorbing a mid-strength punch to my chest with each beat. Whatever chemicals are responsible for depression were working overtime to worm their influences throughout my brain.

  “I promise when we’re done, we’ll make it as humane as possible,” Dixon said in a comforting tone. If my family was not still in striking distance, I would have just repeatedly slammed his head into the wall until there was nothing there save the leakage that would seep into the porous material.

  “Are you really trying to make me feel better about the death you want to force upon me? I can see you’re not much of a people person. Why don’t you just shut the fuck up and let me enjoy my family for a minute?” I’ll give him credit—he did just that. Seemed more like one of those people who needed to get the last word in, and he was sort of right in that aspect. If he had spoken, it would have indeed been his last words.

  Tracy waved back to the camera as she got into the front passenger seat. BT gave me the finger. Trip was kissing his hands and waving á la a Miss America pageant winner. Travis picked up Henry and placed him into the back of the military truck. The rest got in with various gestures. I loved each and every one of them and hoped I’d be back to see them again. The truck pulled away, and the camera followed until they took a turn and were out of sight. In this case, out of sight did not nearly equate to out of mind. Unless I added one little pronoun and said out of my mind, because then, yeah, I definitely was.

  There was a second or two as the picture on the monitor turned to that of a satellite image hovering hundreds of miles in the sky. It wasn’t difficult to find the truck, as it was the only thing moving in the whole city block the camera was focused on.

  “How do I know it’s them?” I asked aloud.

  The camera was zoomed in from a remote operator. Inexplicably I saw an insanely large black arm come out from the back of the truck, followed immediately by the revealing of a large, black middle finger.

  “Fucker,” I said. BT’s other eagle-gestured arm came out as well. I had no idea the cameras on those things were as powerful as they were. I probably could have been able to tell if he had a hangnail if I looked hard enough.

  I kept watching, the camera panning back out to reveal what looked to be about a square mile. If somebody was following, they were staying safely out of the shot. They’d traveled not much more than ten miles when I started to see people, at least what I originally mistook for people. Maybe “hoped” for was a better word. But no, it was a horde, and it was massive. I hadn’t seen that kind of amassing since Eliza.

  “Operator, zoom back to the truck, please.” There was an urgent tone to my voice. “BT, can you still hear me?” He must have picked up on my distress because he didn’t flip me off this time. “Better yet, can everyone hear me?” Waving arms came out of both windows and the rear. “Operator, please pan out with a few square miles showing, please.” I could still just make out the truck, the roads, and the horde—which was enormous. If I hadn’t seen if from closer up, I would have assumed it to be a body of water.

  “Gary, I’m pretty sure you’re driving, at least I hope to God it isn’t Trip. You have a horde straight ahead. You keep going the way you’re going and you’ll see what I’m talking about soon enough.” I was frantically looking for an alternate route for them to take which did not involve coming back this way. “Gary, there is a right in about a half mile. Take it for maybe a mile, I can’t really tell, and then take a left. That should get you going back in the right direction and avoid the zombies.” The truck was slowing as it came up to the turn. “I’ll let you know when to take your next turn.”

  “Satellite feed loss in thirty seconds,” the operator’s voice came on.

  “That’s not the deal! Captain Najarian!” He had come back after getting Dennis to the rendezvous point.

  “I’m sorry, Mike. I can’t alter a satellite’s trajectory.”

  “What else did you lie to me about?”

  There was silence until the operator came back on. Ten seconds to feed loss.”

  “Gary your turn is coming up. Ditch the fucking truck when you can. I’ll catch up.”

  Static filled up the screen.

  “Catch-up, Mr. Talbot? What did you lie about?” Captain Najarian asked over the computer.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty much thinking I’m going to get away when that horde gets here, because I guarantee they’re headed this way.”

  “Zombies can’t get in here. This facility is sealed.”

  Tommy got in, I thought. ‘This your doing?’ I asked Tommy.

  ‘Not me, but it’ll help. I saw Tracy and the rest leave. Everything looked on the up and up.’

  Rifle shots immediately snagged my attention.

  ‘Not at me,’ Tommy responded when he caught my concern.

  Chapter Four – Mrs. Deneaux

  She’d known the moment the arrogant bastard had walked out of his office and grabbed three armed guards that everything was about to change…and not for the better. At least not for Dixon’s better—she would do everything in her power to make his loss her gain.

  “I’ll be back shortly.” He’d let the corner of his mouth pull up in a wry smile. She thought that perhaps this was some sort of display of masculinity on his part, a ‘going to face the wild beast’ sort of thing. It was one more reason she was happy she’d never been cursed with a penis. Men would do the most idiotic things in an attempt to sway a woman into opening their legs. “Please wait and I’ll break out the Cognac upon my return.”

  Shit, she thought, he really does think he’s going on a safari or something. Oh, I’ll stay, but only because I want to see how you die. Idiot.

  Mrs. Deneaux went over to the other side of Dixon’s desk, sat down, and adjusted the posh chair to her liking before settling in for the show. Dixon walked into the cellblock and smiled up to the camera. Did he know she was watching, or was it for the sake of posterity?

  She leaned forward as Dixon went closer to Mike’s cell. She swore she could hear Mike’s rattle of warning before he was about to strike.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she mumbled. “Kill him.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. She wasn’t sure whom she was rooting for. Dixon, in some odd fashion, cared for her; but he cared much more for his power, and just her being here threatened that. He was just as likely to kill her as woo her. If Michael killed him, she would become the heir apparent to whatever new world she decided to build in her image. Oh, it would be grand. She cupped her hands together.

  If Dixon wised up and stopped poking the tiger and just shot Michael repeatedly, her biggest, non-duplicitous enemy would be dead. She could maneuver with Dixon, but if Michael ever got free, she knew he would crush her skull in his hands, as no words would ever smooth over the betrayals she had inflicted upon him. She’d assuredly been the main reason for his best friend Paul’s death, and she’d also done her best to deliver Michael into Eliza’s arms. And she had nearly succeeded, although, upon reflection she was not sure what ground she would have gained from the vampire’s victory. She would have had to work that one out later. All she’d known at that point was she didn’t want to be on the losing team when the end came.

  “Backed the wrong horse in that race.” She laughed again, and then took a sniff of her sleeve. “And I still smell like roses!” She grabbed Dixon’s half-smoked cigar and lit it, taking a large drag from the Cuban.

  She’d been so busy making sure she was getting the cherry lit properly that she’d nearly missed Michael
getting the rifle away from the guard. The part where the guard was shot and folded in on himself—that she saw in vivid detail. She coughed as she pulled too much smoke into her lungs. Even she didn’t think it would happen that fast. The other guards were dropping their weapons. Dixon had his hands up in the air. Mrs. Deneaux moved closer to the screen. Watching this was better than anything that had ever been “produced”. Michael had the man trapped, and even though he might not be the smartest man on the planet, he was savvy. There would not be much Dixon could say that would warrant Michael letting him go. Desperation was its own motivation.

  Dixon was ensnared and Michael was still locked up, although that would change soon. She knew in a moment that neither man could be allowed to leave that block. She spoke when Dixon got caught and had been enjoying herself immensely until the savage Talbot and his sidekick Dennis had destroyed the cameras. Then she realized her mistake for what it was—time. And she’d wasted it playing around. She hit the silent alarm on Dixon’s desk even as she cursed herself for slipping.

  Dixon’s office door exploded open.

  “Sergeant Merts, we have an emergency in the holding cells.”

  The sergeant took note that Mr. Hawes was not sitting at his desk. Dixon had told the sergeant to treat Mrs. Deneaux with all the courtesies afforded to her station, but if he noticed any suspicious activity, he was to contact him immediately. As far as Sergeant Merts thought, this would constitute suspicious.

  “Stop looking at me like I stole a baby’s rattle. Your boss is being held hostage. Come here if you don’t believe me.” She had replayed the dvr and was pointing to the monitors that were playing back the footage.

  The sergeant came around, his eyes growing big, barely believing what he was watching. “This is Sergeant Merts, get a detail down to Cellblock B now!” he spoke into a small radio attached to his shoulder. “Are you alright, ma’am?” the sergeant asked.

  “I could use an ashtray, but other than that I’m fine, thank you.”

  Sergeant Merts paused to look at her.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine. Go save the day, Sergeant.”

  “Ma’am.” The sergeant was out the door so fast that he created a breeze.

  She would have a small window in which to consolidate her power. Best case scenario, Michael and Dixon would both be pushing up daisies soon. She couldn’t count on that, though. Michael could not afford to kill the man, and Dixon’s men obviously would not shoot him. She needed to force one of their hands. She smiled as she thought about it. Michael’s family—that was the key. If they were dead, Michael would wish he was as well, and he would attempt to tear down the walls of this facility around them all.

  “Will an RPG kill him? I do hope he’s in a section with video surveillance when it happens. I would really like to see it.”

  She pressed the alarm again. This time a corporal came in—Dowery she thought his name was.

  “Corporal Dowery, how good it is to see you.”

  “Is there another emergency?” he asked, looking around.

  “Well, there is, not necessarily here, though. Do you like being a corporal?”

  “Excuse me? There’s really a lot going on right now, and I need to be doing other things.”

  “Relax, my boy, we’ll get to that. I asked you a question.”

  The corporal debated answering the question and, realizing that this mysterious woman had Dixon’s ear, thought better of it.

  “It’s better than being out there, I suppose.”

  “Oh, it is. You can trust me on that. Now I don’t know much about the military rank structure, but corporal…that’s pretty low down there, isn’t it? Excuse my ignorance.”

  The corporal looked at Deneaux, realizing she was playing for something. He could tell by the way she’d said it that she was full of shit. “Umm…yeah, pretty low down there.” He agreed with her, as it seemed the safest route.

  “How would you like to be a captain? No…let’s say major?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

  “Oh, I’m not really asking. I’m about to give you a task that, if you complete it successfully, I will promote you to the rank of major.”

  “Who would I have to kill?” he laughed.

  “Now you get it.” Her eyes narrowed, her face becoming severe.

  “I can’t kill Dixon Hawes if that’s what you’re saying.”

  “Don’t you worry about that, it’s already being taken care of. There are about to be some sweeping changes here, and you can either remain on the bottom where you currently feed, or you can rise to the top and be the officer I know you can be.”

  “I’m a soldier, Mrs. Deneaux, not a mercenary. I don’t kill for personal gain.”

  “Oh how quaint, an assassin with morals. Have you been to war, Corporal?”

  “Every man in this facility has been. Mr. Hawes only wanted seasoned personnel. Soldiers that wouldn’t run at the first sign of trouble.”

  “Don’t you realize that every war is predicated on gain? Perhaps not personal gain, but most definitely gain. Sometimes it is for money, gold or other valuable resources. Sometimes it is for the advancement of one country’s religious beliefs or ideals. Sometimes it is just to gain precious land. But make no mistake; every soldier who has ever killed another human being has done so for gain in one manner or another.”

  “Mrs. Deneaux, part of the reason I’m here, that all of us are here, is that we’re trustworthy.”

  “Wonderful, but I’m not asking you to break that trust. I’m asking you to start forging new relationships…ones that will further advance your livelihood. Your previous boss, Mr. Hawes, has got himself into a very compromising situation, one I do not believe that he will be able to extract himself from. I’m sure you already know what is going on. That madman Michael Talbot will probably tear him to shreds before this is over. When Mr. Hawes is gone, there will be a struggle for control of this facility. Perhaps it will be that idiot Harry Wendelson, the man giggles like a girl and somehow he is the Third Member of the Triumvirate, or more likely Captain Najarian. At some point, you are going to have to choose an allegiance, and I can guarantee you will not be in a position of potential strength like you are now.”

  “I’m still listening.”

  “Dixon is a dead man. I do not see a way he can escape the clutches of Michael Talbot. It is imperative that Michael die as well.”

  “I would think that would take care of itself the moment he killed Mr. Hawes.”

  “One would think that…and why not? However, I need to force Mr. Talbot into doing something rash, and this is where you come in.”

  Corporal Dowery said nothing.

  “I will take your silence as a possibility that you are entertaining my idea.”

  “You haven’t told me what it is yet in order for me to agree or not.”

  “I need you to kill Michael’s family.”

  The corporal laughed. Mrs. Deneaux did not. “Wait, you’re serious? You just want me to barge into their room and mow them down? There’re two kids and two women in there.”

  “I know who is in there. And I want the dog dead as well. Come, come, Corporal. I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share of death and destruction.”

  “It was during a war,” he replied.

  “This IS a war. Make no mistake. Michael Talbot is a threat like nothing this place has ever seen, and you must kill the roots if you want to take him down. You’re wasting my time with that slack-jawed look. If you are going to say no, get out of here and I will find somebody that will. But be warned, Corporal, my memory is long I will remember those who did not help me. For two minutes of distasteful, but necessary deeds, the rest of your life will be secured.”

  “I cannot do this alone.”

  “Of course, of course.” She waved her hand.

  “I will need to be able to promote four or five individuals that I bring with me.”

  “Gladly…if they help you, they will be helping me as well.�
��

  “This is going to take a minute. I will have to track down men I can trust.”

  “Not too long, Corporal. Michael Talbot has never been blessed with the gift of patience. Rest assured, he will act soon…whether to his detriment or ours.”

  Chapter Five – Mike Journal Entry 3

  “Who is shooting?” Dixon stood up.

  “I would imagine Deneaux has launched her coup,” I told him.

  “You have got to be kidding me!”

  “I’ve only had the displeasure of knowing the lady for the last seven or eight months, so it’s not really that big of a surprise to me. But what is, is your thinking that she’s not capable of it.”

  “These are my men. Most of them hand-picked.”

  “I’ve already shown you that money doesn’t buy respect, Dix. Fear and power maybe, but not respect. There’s no guessing what the hell she’s offering. It might just be that she won’t kill them.”

  “Never have I been so simultaneously happy and sad to see someone as I was when she showed up here.”

  “At least you had some reason to be happy, I’m just usually depressed. People just continually die around her. The Reaper probably sends her a thank you card ever year.”

  “What of our deal?”

  “You in a rush to go out there? I say we let them sort it out, and I’ll do my part.” I was splitting hairs with my words, not promising at all that I planned to be his lab rat. If Tommy could get me out of here, then I was going. I’d perhaps spare his life, but even that wasn’t a foregone conclusion at the moment. We’d have to wait and see what the captain had to report when and if he came back from his fact and support finding mission.

  Chapter Six – Tracy

  “Is this Woodstock?” Trip asked, looking out the front windshield of the truck at the seemingly endless expanse of zombies.

  “I wish,” Tracy said. “And I don’t even like most of that music.”

  Trip had come up front to sit in between Tracy and Gary. He’d told his wife that sitting in the back reminded him too much of the teacups ride from the carnival, and that was just too traumatic an experience for him.