by Mark Tufo
“Aren’t you guys vaccinated or some shit?” I asked, looking for a way to save at least one life in this room of growing horrors.
Mano shook his head. “Only officers and VIPs.”
“Michael, if you won’t I will.”
“He’s got a few hours. Why are you in such a rush?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Odds are, none of has a couple of hours. I see no sense in adding the mark of his death to our souls.”
Deneaux was about to speak.
“Figure of speech, for all of us, I’m thinking,” I told her.
She smiled, this one was real. I don’t think she believed she’d lost her soul, I just think she thought she’d never been encumbered with one.
“Very well.”
“Glad I could get your stamp of approval.” I turned back to the soldier. “Would a vaccine help now?”
“Not the vaccines,” he gulped. “I know they’re working on a cure though.” He looked hopeful.
“Working on one? Or have one. They have to have something because they treated and cured my son and friend. Where would they be?” I was beginning to scan the myriad of tables and cabinets.
“Not here.” James finally returned from the deep depths of mourning. He gently laid his brother down, stood and wiped his eyes. He was a warrior; he knew if there was time later, he would give his brother the remembrance he deserved. “Hospital would be the place.”
“And where would that be?” It didn’t matter much—it could be the room next door, but we couldn’t get there.
“Other side of the facility.”
“Of course it is.”
“I can make it!” Mano offered feebly.
Well, if that doesn’t give you an indication of how scary Deneaux is, I don’t know what will. He was willing to brave ten thousand zombies alone rather than her. I guess that…and the fact he now had the virus in him.
“He tries to open that door, I’ll kill him.” Deneaux still hadn’t looked at him. Her eyes were glued on our other adversary’s avenue of approach.
Mano had pulled his pant leg up. I could see thick, black-red tendrils sprouting from the wound, heading to his heart and brain. The virus was spreading and quickly; even as I watched it moved up past his knee and out of sight, buried beneath the camouflage material.
“Get it out!” Mano wailed, looking at all of us. “I’ve got to go try!” he pleaded.
“You won’t make it,” James told him.
“I have to try, man, I have to.”
“I know you do. I know,” James told him.
“Th-thank you,” Mano blubbered, heading for the door where Tommy was stationed.
What happened next…I saw it and I barely believe it. Mano had no sooner turned his back when James reached down and pulled his sidearm out, a Colt 1911. He shot Mano with a .45 caliber bullet straight through his spine. Smoke wisps trailed up as Mano fell down.
“I’m so sorry,” he told Mano as he shot him again, this time in the head to make sure he was down for good and not suffering. He just stared at the body.
“There’s a man that knows how to take charge.”
“Not now, Deneaux,” I told her.
Even Tommy looked surprised, and I had to imagine he’d seen worse.
“It had to be done.” I think James said this more for his own sake than ours, but Tommy tried to comfort him as best he could.
“Then there were four,” Deneaux said with her usual cackle. I wondered how many times she’d probably played this little game in her life; and, inexplicably, she always ended up as the last man standing. I wanted to tell her she was a sick fuck, but she’d probably like that.
“Deneaux, do you have an angle on that lock?” I was whispering.
“Why are you whispering?” Then she added, “Really? Do you really think what is back there can understand you?”
“Are you willing to take that chance?”
“Fine, your game, I’ll play until it isn’t amusing anymore.” She lowered her voice. “Yes, I do. Why?”
“I can feel it in every fiber of my being…that thing is watching us. Can you get a shot off and drill it in its fucking eye?”
“From here? I could put the bullet through the center of a penny.”
The lock hole was much bigger, more like a silver dollar, according to Deneaux this was like a three-yard field goal attempt in football. Or for you European types, a free kick without a goalie. If I was taking the shot, I would have propped the weapon up on something stable and unmoving, lined it up for half a minute, and most likely would have had my tongue firmly clenched in my teeth as I concentrated hard enough to burst a blood vessel in my eye before taking the shot. I like to think I’m a decent shot, at least with a rifle…and still, the odds I would make this shot under the current circumstances were fifty-fifty; with a pistol that would have dropped down to about ten percent, and that one-in-ten chance would be attributed to sheer luck.
Deneaux took maybe half a heartbeat longer to aim and fire, but that could have been because her exhalation of smoke was clouding her vision. All hell broke loose when that round left the chamber. The beast beyond the door howled in rage and pain when he—or it—was struck. It sounded like the thing was tossing Chevys around the room. I fully expected the adjoining wall to collapse and the thing to come hurtling through at any moment. Even the unflappable Deneaux got off her perch and behind a desk. Not that this was going to stop that thing, for her it was just the perceived safety.
“I think you got him,” I said, holding my rifle up firmly to my shoulder, waiting for it to come.
I wished it would get it over with, as the anticipation was not a good one. I had adrenaline prickles running the length of my arms, shoulders and torso. My body was under the firm belief that I should be getting the hell out of here, and I agreed.
“Whatever gave you that impression?” Deneaux answered wryly.
“Just a hunch.” A loud thump to our backs was fighting to grasp my undivided attention. “Tommy?” I asked, not daring to turn.
“Bulkers.”
“I love today. How in the hell was I better off in my cell?”
“Oh, dearie, it’s just your mind’s way of telling you where you belong.”
The bulkers were, I believe, attracted to the noise our “friend” was making, and somehow I got the impression that was what it meant to do. A normal, enraged, wounded animal would have charged. That’s just the nature of an ordinary creature. Kill what is threatening it; hell, that’s a normal human response. Not this thing, no, we had to get a damn animal that had studied the Art of War. It knew…it just fucking knew it could not come at us directly, that to do so would spell its doom.
The pile of furniture jumbled as bulkers once again took a go at our door. A cabinet overturned and a chair skittered across the floor, finally resting on the far wall.
“The hinges are starting to show signs of stress,” James said.
Tommy nodded when I dared take a quick glance at him for confirmation.
“We need to shut Sasquatch up, he’s attracting them,” I said, although I had not an iota of a plan to back my words up with.
“I would imagine a good meal would keep him preoccupied for a while.” Deneaux was looking at me.
“I guess that leaves you out,” I said, referring to the stringy, tough meat Deneaux would yield.
She got it. For a second I thought she was going to stick out her tongue at me.
Another battering, and furniture spilled like a moving van filled with a homeowner’s goods driven by pissed off underpaid employees, so yeah, basically every mover ever. James and Tommy were trying to rebuild our barricade, but that was going to matter little if the door came unhinged. Periodically the Abominable Snowman would screech this ear-piercing sound. I think, if he kept it up, I would have gladly offered myself to it just to escape the din.
For a second that seemed pre-ordained, I mean it had to be, the timing was just too incredulou
s, the Yeti had stopped screaming. Whatever he had been smashing had finally broken, and there was a blissful second where he was quiet. The bulkers had stopped to regroup before once again attacking the door, so, for just this small window, there was a blaring quiet, if that makes sense. This was shattered with the metallic sound of a door hinge bouncing off the tile floor. All of our gazes were torn to that small, cylindrical piece of metal like it was the key to the universe and technically, for us, it sort of was. Then the cacophony started anew.
“Well, that doesn’t bode well.”
“How dare you call your son Captain Obvious,” Deneaux said.
“I really wish I could figure out how not to always speak my mind. Anybody holding on to an idea…now might be a fantastic time to let the rest of us know.”
“Mr. T, I think I can get that door open before the animal can react.”
The rest could go unsaid. Once that steel shield was out of the way, we could drill it with as much lead as we could sling. My fear was that it wouldn’t be enough. Did Yetis need to be shot with silver bullets? Or maybe it was platinum, I don’t know. Never really done my research on the matter. Just because I always wanted there to be proof they existed didn’t mean I necessarily wanted to count one as an adversary.
I could hear the machinations in Deneaux’s twisted brain already wheeling around. I seriously would not put it past her to put a round or two in Tommy, just enough to slow him down so that the animal could get a hold of him. While it was busy trying to kill the boy, we could take care of it. I mean it was an evilly brilliant plan. Tommy was strong enough that he could put up a viable enough fight while we surrounded and pounded the animal. None of this would portend well for Tommy, but it certainly would for the rest of us, including Deneaux—which, in reality, was all she cared about. There was an animalistic simplicity to her way of thinking. It sure did make going through life a little easier if all you were ever concerned with was your own skin.
“Do not fire until he is clear.” I was looking at Deneaux when I spoke. She didn’t say anything, but I might have seen the slightest drop to her lip as if I’d caught her. “I’ve been around you long enough, and yeah, I meant to say that part out loud.”
I turned to look over at Tommy. Our barricade was rapidly becoming a pile of rubble. The door now had a noticeable bulge, and the second hinge was holding on for its life. Well, our lives really, but the point made is the same. I nodded tersely to Tommy as our choices, which we really had none to begin with, were rapidly diminishing.
“I’ve got this,” James said to Tommy as he took his place trying to hold the bulker door in place.
Tommy had a look of consternation on his face. Just because he was as close to immortal as possible, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fear for his safety. A torn off arm was a torn off arm—the bleeding would stop, and the wound would knit itself closed quickly, but the arm, well yeah, that would be gone forever. What happened next was instantaneous. (Reading it will take longer than what actually happened.) Tommy became a blur as he crossed the room. He pushed so hard on the Yeti’s door that I thought there was possibly a chance it would slam against the wall to the side and just as quickly shut again, leaving us back to square one. Although, now the monster would know our plan, or at least part of it, and I was confident it would not allow this to happen again.
Alright…let me try to get the timing right here. Tommy had just shoved the door open, and for a flash of a second, I saw an ape. It wasn’t a Yeti, but it could have been if I was just using sheer size as a comparison. The right side of his face had suffered some serious damage from where Deneaux’s bullet had struck; a crevice easily as thick as my finger and just as long had burrowed its way from the corner of its eye socket back toward its ear. A yellowish-red pus oozed from the wound. The ape was about to throw what it had in his hands, it could have been a table leg, I’m not sure. I was still completely transfixed by the sight of an ape that was clearly a zombie, but it was more than that.
Deneaux was rattled as well, though she was still able to get a shot off. The bullet penetrated the ape’s massive brown chest, leaving a smear of blood. Another concerted attack to our rear sent James hurtling past our location; though I, along with Deneaux, soon found ourselves being shoved along as furniture was spewed about like an erupting volcano filled with office supplies. James was impaled in the stomach with the metal desk leg as the ape fired it past me. Something struck me in the back of the head, spots danced before my eyes. I felt a stream of blood travel down my neck and follow the hollow of my spine. I twisted to see another hinge pin roll to a stop. Anything bigger and it would have made my brain into soup.
James screamed from the insertion of the foreign object. Deneaux was nowhere to be seen. Bulkers had crashed through and were forcing entry into our rapidly diminishing space. A small tsunami of compressed organs and blood were making their way toward us, splashing up against and going around every obstacle in its way. The bulkers, in their desire to get to a food source, any food source, crushed every impediment in their way, squashing them to the point where those unfortunate bastards had popped like overblown zits on a fourteen-year-old Twinkie junkie. The ape was rushing forward, James was his only impediment. The ape seemed to war within itself in regards to destroying or eating the enemy, he seemed to satisfy both urges as he bit through James’ shoulder, taking out a chunk roughly equivalent to half a dinner plate. Impossibly large canines shredded through the meat and bone. What was still cognizant within James screamed his final hill-shrilled pitch.
‘The ceiling, Mr. T, hurry!’ Tommy’s in the head voice threatened to complete what the hinge pin had started.
I didn’t know what he meant, but that he had an idea was enough for me. I took one stride and hopped atop a table. With one forceful jump and outstretched hands I broke through the pasty dry ceiling shingles. I dislocated two fingers as they struck a heavy metal pipe that looked like something gas or propane would travel through. I grabbed hold, wincing as my fingers wrapped around the metal. A bulker’s hand reached up to grab at my thigh, and I quickly pulled my legs up as I struggled to find a suitable enough place to cram the toes of my boots into so that I could hold on…suspended like the world’s largest bat.
“You see Deneaux?” I yelled.
Tommy, like me, was clinging to an overhead pipe. He thrust his head over his far side. I could just make out one of her legs. She was on the ground, laid out. Dead or unconscious, either way, she was about to meet one of her two makers, I had my bet in on which one that was going to be as bulkers were within feet of her. On one side of the coin, the world—and my world specifically—would be better the moment she departed this plane. A sort of justice would be paid. On the dreaded flip side, our odds of escape had been greatly reduced, meaning I wouldn’t be able to enjoy her demise for quite as long as I would like. Can’t have it all I suppose.
The thing that was once an ape bridged the gap between Deneaux and the bulkers. He wrapped his large hand around her ankle, lifting her up effortlessly. A snarl opened up so wide I figured for a second that he was just going to swallow her whole. Instead, he swung her like a club, his goal to bash the bulkers into submission, I guess. Deneaux’s head whipped past the first line of bulkers. She narrowly missed having her skull caved in from the contact. King Konglet roared in rage that he’d come up empty. Then something happened that none of us had been prepared for. Deneaux’s shoe came off in his hand as she was at the apex of the ape’s swing.
You have got to be shitting me was quite literally my thought as Deneaux’s unconscious body came flying through the air right at me.
Tommy asked the same question I was asking myself. ‘Are you going to catch her?’ I didn’t know the answer until I let go with my right hand and snagged her out of mid-air. There was no question I was going to regret this. I was disappointed with myself for saving her. I would have only been marginally more distraught had I let her sail on by, and I was confident I would have been able to reco
ncile that.
“She’s heavier than I figured she would be,” I said as I grunted to swing her around so I could keep her as high off the ground as possible. “Would have figured carcinogens didn’t weigh as much. She’s a fucking rock-solid old lady alright, and I cannot even begin to tell you how revolting it is to be this close to her.”
“You did the right thing.”
I wanted to ask how he’d reached that conclusion, but the events immediately below us warranted our attention. The ape, deprived of his throw toy and the bulkers, denied their food, now discovered they were enemies. The ape clearly had a case of the zombies, and for some reason, the bulkers weren’t picking up on that. The ape was most definitely on their menu, and they were doing all in their power to get at him, teeth gnashing wildly and clacking together like dominoes being slammed down on a table in a particularly rowdy game of Muggins. The ape seemed more than up for the challenge as he slammed bulkers and speeders with his massive fists. If they got too close, he wasn’t squeamish in the least about biting off whatever was before him. He opened bodies wide, internal organs sloughing to the floor as he did so, intermingling with the thick layer of viscera already there.
The ape was winning; there was no doubt about that. The bulkers, for all their girth, were not nearly as big as the beast, their advantage lay in numbers. It was a fight to the end, one the ape would finally succumb to. Either way, stuck to this ceiling like a bat or a scared cat was not going to do us any favors.
“The animal lab, Tommy!” I nodded my head over to the open door.
The ape seemed to understand my words and roared his disapproval, not that he was in any position to do anything about it. He was rapidly becoming surrounded. I felt a pang for the majestic animal he had once been, but not this man-tampered abomination. I began to move toward the door. Shifting my feet was easy enough, but I only had my left hand to grasp the pipes. When I let go with it to move, Deneaux and my upper torso came dangerously close to the fight below.
“I’ll go first and then you toss her.” Tommy had already halved the distance, a few more feet and he could drop down and run in.
