Zombie Fallout (Book 11): Etna Station

by Mark Tufo

  “What do you think, Mike?” BT asked as we watched the sun begin its descent. We’d got as close to the zombie line as we dared.

  “We go back. I’ll talk to Tracy, but I think tomorrow we should leave.”

  “How did this get so fucked up?” He asked. “We were doing alright and then it just kind of all went to shit. I can’t stand Trip but I would have never wanted this for him.” He was close to tears. We were all riding that particular train and it didn’t appear to have any stops in the foreseeable future. I was so defeated, I hadn’t looked up from my feet the entire walk back. If it wasn’t for BT, I would have walked into multiple obstacles. Travis gave a small wave from an upstairs window as we approached. Nobody asked if we’d seen anything, I telegraphed the answer in my mannerisms.

  Tracy merely nodded. Her red-rimmed eyes met mine when I suggested we leave in the morning. The only surprise we had was that Winters and Kylie’s sister, Brooke, wanted to come with us. Even as I welcomed Winters’ expertise, I dreaded the thought of adding any more responsibility to my shoulders. I had failed in that aspect; maybe I was just carrying too much. I had done everything I knew how to do to ensure the safety of those around me and had come up wanting.

  Deneaux was outside early that morning–surprisingly, she was without a cigarette. There was a nip in the air I found refreshing; it woke me up immediately and let me know I was still alive.

  “Michael,” she said, a plume of cool air coming from her mouth.

  “No cigarette?”

  She stink-eyed me. “You might find this strange, but…I’m thinking of quitting.”

  I thought she was screwing with me. It was more likely Trip would give up weed than Deneaux would her smokes. “You’re serious?” I asked after a moment.

  “One can’t normally live forever,” she said. “The more I thought about having you bite me, the more I thought about my own mortality.”

  “I’m not sure I’m up for another existential moment with you.”

  “Too bad. Perhaps you might have learned a thing or two.”

  “I do have a question; it’s been bothering me for a while and since you were with Knox…”

  “I was not with Knox,” she corrected me.

  “Yeah, you said that. Highly uncharacteristic of him to let you go.”

  “He let you go, did he not?”

  She had me there.

  “He is truly interested in watching what others will do in a given situation. It’s similar to reality television for him. Will they rise or fall to any given obstacle; will they ally or betray; who will emerge on top, that sort of thing. He was a psychiatrist before this happened, if you can believe that. He is very much into studying the human condition. How do you think a madman was able to start his own army?” She asked.

  I’d read that shrinks were among some of the most troubled people on the planet; I can’t imagine how they couldn’t be, listening to other fucked up people’s lives eight hours a day, five days a week. I would think you’d take on more psychoses than you could prescribe away. None of that mattered; unless we could outwit him with his own ego.

  “Look, Deneaux. I want to know how he has been keeping tabs on us. If he had his own access to a satellite device, he would not have needed ours…or you, for that matter,” I said.

  “You do not know? Really? You are not thinking this through. He has helicopters; does he not?”

  I feel like I would have noticed a chopper up on the sky, or at least heard it. But a plane flying high enough? Could have easily missed that. Wasn’t much reason to look up these days; the enemy was on the ground. Looking up only gave them more of an opportunity to get at you.

  “Planes. He has planes,” I finally said.

  “Two Cessna Skylarks and a Lear, I believe.”

  “The zombies?” I asked.

  “What of the beasts?” she asked.

  “Does he control them?”

  “Humph,” she half-cackled. “I doubt it. He is no Eliza. Speak of the devil…have you considered that it is possibly Tomas that draws them to you?” She arched an eyebrow.

  “Don’t. I fucking knew it. Don’t even try and place wedges where none need to be. If I imagined I had a dangerous adversary in my ranks, it would be you. In any case, I wouldn’t look to you for an alliance.”

  She shrugged and reached for a lighter she no longer carried. “I am merely citing the fact that Eliza was a vampire and she had control over zombies. Does it not make sense that her brother would have the same influence? Or you yourself, for that matter? I’m not suggesting it is even a conscious effort on either of your parts, but rather you ping off their sonar like a nuclear sub with fangs.”

  “You always make me feel my best.” I walked away from her to help the others as we packed some provisions into the large SUVs we had rounded up.

  “Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s not true,” she said to my back. I did the only thing afforded to me; I flipped her off.

  We said our goodbyes and I thanked Sanders, his wife, and Biddeford profusely for their help.

  “If you change your mind, you know where we’re going,” I told Sanders. I hoped I wouldn’t have to repeat that speech ever again–just meant we were leaving more good people behind.

  We had driven for about four hundred miles. I’d never been on a quieter jaunt in my entire life, even when I was alone. There was no music, no talking, thankfully minimal crying. When an occasional cough came, it was startling to the senses, sending a jolt of adrenaline through the system. I found myself periodically looking up for some sign of Knox’s aerial reconnaissance; never saw them, if he was still out there. The sun was beginning its downward trend and I could barely keep my eyes open from the lack of outside stimulus. I would imagine this was a lot like what deprivation chambers felt like; wouldn’t doubt if I began to hallucinate, or at least get road hypnotized. Seemed like the right place to do it as we rolled into Gettysburg. The place was deserted–like, I’m talking nuclear reactor melt-down deserted. No people, no zombies, no animals, no nothing. It was eerier than it had a right to be. Although, maybe all those Civil War soldiers were finally getting the peace and quiet they had so brutally earned all those years ago, free from the battle scavengers, then the war re-enactors, and finally, the legions of tourists that came to have their photos taken at the gravesite of the worst loss of life on American soil. Well, I mean, up until very recently, that is.

  Looked like we had our pick of places to spend the night. I settled on the Inn at Cemetery Hill; wasn’t as keen on the name as I was the building itself. It was a solid brick mansion that had been converted into an inn. At the moment, it did not appear that we would need to actively defend it; it looked stout enough that if it came to it, I did not think bulkers would be able to break through the walls. I watched as everyone got out of the cars, heads bowed, shoulders sagging, we were the defeated but not the dead, not quite yet.

  “Winters, you help me do a quick check inside?” I asked. He nodded.

  “BT, you keep an eye on the outside?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got it,” he said.

  Twenty-five minutes later, Winters and I came out. The inn was as empty as the rest of the town. Well, not really. I was carrying a case of Moosehead beer on my shoulder. I cracked the box open and tossed a beer to Winters and BT. Justin and Travis came up just as I was popping the top off one for myself. There wasn’t anyone, save the little kids that didn’t grab one. I sat down on one of the many benches that were on the large, wraparound porch.

  “Can’t believe you found a case of beer in there,” BT said as he sat down on the bench next to mine.

  “Not just one,” I said, tipping my beer to him. “I don’t know what convention they were about to have come into town, but the bar is stocked and so is the holding room and the kitchen. There’s a ton of stuff. The meat and anything else in the walk-in freezer is bad, but they have shelves and shelves of canned goods. I’m going to talk to Tracy and everyone else,
but I’m going to advocate that we stay here for a while.”

  “You sure, Mike?”

  “I think we need this. You saw this town; there’s nothing for days. I don’t know why that is,” I said, briefly looking skyward for the shoe. I shrugged it off in favor of another beer. “Maybe we’re finally catching a break. A minute to recharge and regroup–get our minds screwed back on.”

  “Well, at least the rest of us can. Yours was barely on before this shit started. I would imagine your threads are all rusted out by now, maybe even stripped. Never be able to seat it right. It’s probably just sitting up there hanging by one twist. Stiff breeze would knock it down.”

  “You done?”

  “You serious…about staying, I mean?”

  “I am, buddy.”

  “How much booze did you say there was?”

  “More than we could drink in a good long while.”

  “And you haven’t considered the as of yet unseen reason why this is a ghost town?” he asked.

  “Of course, but, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this and I don’t even know if it's believable, but what if no one is here, including the zombies, because this place is so damn haunted?”

  “Like Amityville Horror haunted or Casper haunted?”

  “Don’t know, maybe both?”

  “Part of me loves the idea of staying here for a little while…but I gotta say I’m not looking forward to finding out why everything is pristine.”

  “That’s the spirit,” I said.

  “Did you mean the pun?”

  “Pun?” I smiled.

  11

  Mike Journal Entry 11

  One day turned to two, then a week, then a month, finally we were pushing two months in one place. No Knox, no zombies, no vampires, and more importantly, no fucking death. That first week I did a steady diet of beer and Vodka and maybe a giant can or two of beans. Not a great mix, and truth be told, I can’t stand beans. Weird what you want to eat when you’re fucked up. If we weren’t all so busy healing, it would have been a damn near perfect vacation. Room service was a little spotty, though. I spent a lot of time wandering around the battlefields. Strange sensation being there. Could just about feel the ghosts of the dead soldiers swirling about as you walked among fields. It didn’t help that more times than not there would be a thin mist coating the entire place like they were congregating. I wondered if other places around the world had the same phenomenon; did the beaches in Normandy feel this way? Waterloo, Stalingrad? So many lives lost, their bodies on the ground before most even realized they’d passed over–that had to do something to a soul, didn’t it? Can’t imagine how much it would suck being confused that you were actually dead, seeing your own face in the dirt…I could see how one could just remain stuck in easily one of the worst times in your life. Still, though, I found solace among those poor, tortured men. Felt that I had a connection. I’d seen people fall; the shock. And maybe I wasn’t completely dead, but parts of me were. We shared that kinship.

  “Weird place, isn’t it?” BT asked as he came up alongside me. He was holding out a new bottle of vodka.

  “It is, and didn’t you hear me this morning? I said I wasn’t drinking ever again.”

  “I figured you meant until noon. Then the clock resets.”

  “My insides are begging me to stop.”

  “Who you going to listen to? That weak-ass stomach of yours or the man with the hootch?” He was still holding the bottle out.

  “Is this peer pressure? Because if I go back to the Inn today shittied again, I want to be able to tell Tracy I was forced.”

  “Call it whatever you want.” He pulled the bottle in, spun off the top, and took a chug that made it look like he was drinking water. “Ah…smooth,” he said in a gravelly voice, as he wiped the sleeve of his free arm across his mouth.

  “Yeah, sounds it. This the bottom shelf shit?” I choked out after taking a particularly burning shot. That the bottle was made of plastic should have been my first clue.

  “Don’t be a candy ass.” He took the bottle back and another swig. “Whoo!” he yelled. “If that doesn’t make you feel like a man I don’t know what does.”

  “Sex. Yeah, sex makes me feel like a man. Oh. And peeing standing up. That’s a pretty big one, too.”

  We sat on a felled oak; killed half the bottle as we watched the sun climb up the sky.

  “I’ve been here before,” BT said after a while. “Linda wanted to see it. Didn’t hold much appeal for me then, but…”

  “So, you came.”

  “Of course I did. Lot different back then. More of a tourist trap vibe to it. There were stands that sold food and Chinese-made replicas. Hundreds of people were out here walking around taking thousands of pictures. There was still this strange undercurrent, a feeling that we were intruding on something private, but nothing like it is now. I think if we had a few of Trip’s stores we’d be able to watch a battle. That’s how close we are to the veil here. I….” He paused. His eyes filled with tears, though they had not fallen yet. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I miss that crazy stoner. I miss them all, your brother, Mad Jack, your father, the kids.”

  I think he would have run through the entire list, but I wasn’t up for that. I was doing my best to rebuild the shattered parts of me, I wasn’t ready to think on them all just yet, especially on my way to another drunk. I cut him off abruptly and he looked at me knowingly.

  “Sorry,” he said. “This was a good place to stop. I didn’t think so at first. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about Linda. But I feel differently now; we’re healing up a bit. Putting band-aids on the gaping wounds, maybe throwing a stitch on them to keep them closed. I even have a scab or two.”

  I agreed, though I didn’t say anything. Typical guy. I figured my silence was an affirmation of his words, and like a typical guy, he understood that. Women are wonderful creatures, far superior to men in a countless number of ways. This isn’t one of them. More can be said within the silence two men make than the five thousand words two women speak.

  “I’ve got to tell you something, Mike, but I don’t know how you’re going to feel about it.” He paused. I again said nothing, waiting to hear his words. “Your sister…”

  “I’ve already heard about it, man. You’ve got dibs,” I told him.

  “No, man. Hear me out. I love her.”

  Now I turned. I don’t know what I thought he was going to say, maybe something like she was a wildcat, and no brother ever wanted to hear those words, but I knew this was different.

  “Really, man?” I asked.

  “I do, man.”

  “You realize that’s the same woman that tried to cave my skull in with frozen pita bread when I was, like, ten.”

  “If anything, man, that makes me love her more.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” I told him as I took a swig. We were facing toward the Inn and we saw Tracy coming, from a long way off. She had her arms crossed in front of her to ward off the chill in the air, which always seemed to be about ten degrees cooler whenever you stepped onto the battlefield. I had thoughts of hiding the bottle, but that would only piss her off. I reeked of booze and you didn’t need to be a cop to realize I shouldn’t be operating heavy machinery.

  She sat down next to me and grabbed it from my hands; took a longer drag on it than I’d ever seen her drink anything.

  I held up the bottle. “Damn, woman! You planning on leaving any for us?”

  “This is a strange place,” she said, looking out over the grass. “A lot of peace to be found here, considering the events that took place. You think that’s why it’s so peaceful? Like maybe all the bad that could ever happen here, already has?”

  “Shit, that’s deep,” BT said. “Like maybe this is hallowed ground,” he added.

  “You tell him?” Tracy asked once again taking the bottle from my hands.

  “Just did.”

  “And?” she asked after she finished d
rinking.

  “If you have kids are they going to be Talbots or Tynes?” I asked.

  “Why would I burden them like that?” He smiled. “Anyway, I’ve got to figure my genes would completely wipe out anything Talbot related.”

  “Too much information,” I told him.

  “BT, do you mind if Mike and I have a few minutes?”

  “Not at all. Right now, I’m surprisingly ready for a nap.” He got up and rubbed his ass. As he started to walk away, he turned. “Your sister is a lot saner than you.”

  “Yeah, that’s what you think. She’s just luring you in close so when she springs the crazy-trap there’s nowhere for you to go. I’d get out while you still can.”

  “Fuck you, Mike.” He walked away.

  I called after him. “And no matter what you think about your over-sized genes, those kids will have Talbot in them and then you get to have mini little berserkers running around. Going to fuck up everything you think you know about kids.”

  Tracy nodded in agreement. “He’s telling the truth, I wish I had been warned.”

  “Hey.” I turned.

  We watched as BT crested a small rise and then disappeared.

  “How are you doing?” she asked in all seriousness.

  “Me? I could ask that about you.”

  “I’m better. It will be a long process, but I’m better. It’s you, Mike, that I’m worried about. You take all of these deaths so personally. Wait, that’s not the right word. We all take them personally; these are family and friends so close as to be indistinguishable from each other. What I meant to say is that you take personal responsibility for them. Like, whether we live or die is on you; our lives are your burdens. Maybe you’re the de facto leader; we do turn to you when we’re in trouble because somehow that crazy, beautiful mind of yours excels in crisis situations.” She reached out and held my hand. “But the things that are happening? The people that are dying, those that get hurt; that is not your fault, Michael, and I won’t sit around and watch as you beat yourself up about it. The world is a not a good place right now, well, that’s an understatement. But the truth is it has always been a little fucked up; always had some less than desirable qualities, basically since the dawn of man. And even before, I’m sure there were asshole dinosaurs as well.”