by Mark Tufo
“Take your pants off,” I told him.
“What are you, a faggot?” he shouted back.
“Yes, yes I am. I am a very, very cautious faggot. Now take your pants off or I’m going to put some new holes in you that I can fuck.”
“Mike,” Tracy said.
“Sorry, I wished you hadn’t heard that.”
“What about the rest of us?” BT asked.
“What do I care what you think? I’m not asking you to wear camo lingerie for me.”
“TMI, Uncle.” It was Meredith.
“I’ve have got to remember I’m not always the only one in the room.”
“I ain’t gonna do it,” the man said.
This one looked dangerous—the black knit cap, the long beard, the tattoos on his neck and arms just gave him an appearance of malice. He didn’t move when I put a round a couple of inches from his foot. He glared at me as he undid his belt, the pistol fell to the ground as soon as he pulled down.
“Aw man,” BT groaned. “He doesn’t have any underwear on.”
“Well, there’s another sight you can’t un-see. At least it’s covered in filth...can’t see so much.”
“Whoa. Who’s the dude with the fro?” Trip asked; he was licking mustard off his fingers. I’d like to tell you that some had dripped off the sandwich he was eating but that wasn’t the case. He literally just had mustard smeared all over all of his fingers.
“Pull up the damn pants,” I told him.
“Mike you don’t know if he’s hiding anything...in that thing,” BT said.
“You want to go check?”
He grunted a no.
“What’s your name?” I asked once the man had stowed the stuff that should never have seen the light of day. Think I saw a couple of birds nesting before he was done.
“Veeral,” he said, as he looked to his side where the gun was lying.
“He’s a horrible shot,” Mrs. Deneaux said. “You should go for it.”
I don’t know what lines of shit she’d been feeding him or if he was already so close to the edge he just needed that final nudge, but he did just that. Well, tried to, I mean. He was hardly twenty yards away. He’d barely turned before I shoved a bullet in his sternum. I could hear the air rushing from at least one of the punctured lungs. Blood filled his airway and spilled from his mouth as he dropped to his knees and fell over.
“You fucking shot him!” Jolly shouted at me.
“Yup. I’m not overly thrilled with that fact, but give me a reason why I shouldn’t shoot the rest of you.”
“What? Because…because we’re friends of this Deneaux broad!”
“Oh man, that is probably the worst excuse you could have for me not killing you where you stand. Deneaux is friends with no one. I think the best you can really hope to achieve is a temporary alliance. I’m not completely sure, but I’m pretty sure her actions led to the demise of my good friend. I’m definitely to the point where shooting her wouldn’t cost me any sleep. Fuck, maybe even sleep better knowing I’d given him some small measure of justice.”
“Michael, I don’t think you’re going to want to shoot me,” she said as she bent over and fished around in Veeral’s pockets to grab a lighter. She stood and lit another cigarette, not even blinking that she’d pulled her flame from a dead man.
“Blow the fucking truck up, BT,” I said.
“Are you sure?” he asked looking over.
“Mike?” Tracy asked.
“Come on, we all know how this is going to go down, don’t we? She’s definitely going to have something we could use or some knowledge that’s pertinent to our safety. So we’ll strike an agreement with her that she can stay and then when a better offer comes around she is going to do her damnedest to make us all look like Veeral over there.”
“You can’t just kill her outright,” Tommy said.
“I don’t need a conscience right now.”
“We take a vote,” Mad Jack said.
“Michael, do you want to know what I have?” she asked casually.
“Hold on a sec, we’re trying to determine if we should kill you.”
“I’ll wait.” She waved her hand. “The two with me are murdering rapists, though. I wouldn’t leave them to their own devices too long.”
I was about to ask her if that was true when the third man answered it for me. “You fucking two-faced bitch, you liked my dick. Everyone likes my dick!” He was coming out of the truck, rifle in hand. Gary lit him up; the first bullet pierced his shoulder, the second came pretty close to his world-beloved dick.
“Filthy pig,” Deneaux said without ever looking over to him.
Something the size of a bowling bowl got caught in my throat.
“Mike, man, please tell me what I think happened didn’t really happen,” BT said.
I involuntarily gagged, that was about all he needed to know. The front of Jolly’s pants stained dark as he wet himself.
“I ain’t moving. I ain’t moving.” He raised his hands higher.
“It would be so much easier if he did.” That from Tracy.
“I can’t just kill him?” I looked over to her.
“Unfortunately, that’s not who you are and you know it. He may indeed be scum, but we can’t go by Deneaux’s word. Is there anybody she wouldn’t throw under a train?” Tracy asked.
“No. She’d probably put herself under one if it somehow benefited her.”
“So what’s it going to be? I don’t have all day.” Deneaux interrupted us deciding the fate of her kidnappers.
“You got a litter of puppies to set on fire or something?” I asked her. “You can wait.”
She sniffed.
“The vote isn’t going well; can you give us a hint of this information you possess?” I asked.
“Tell them, please tell them!” Jolly whined.
“You’re pathetic. Deneaux elbowed past him.” She turned on a phone she had in her pocket. She held it up and faced the screen toward us.
“Great. You have a phone. Call someone who gives a shit,” I said.
“Good one,” BT said.
“It’s alright. A little dated, but it works in this situation,” Mad Jack elaborated.
“Hey, thanks for that,” I told him.
“You are most welcome.” He seemed pleased as punch.
“It’s what is on the screen that matters,” Deneaux said.
“What is it?” I asked her.
“Satellite imagery,” she replied.
“Great. You have Google earth.”
“It’s real time.” She pulled the phone back to her.
I paused, letting that sink in. “You’re full of shit.”
“Am I? Don’t you think this would be technology housed at the now-defunct Demense group building?”
“Don’t go anywhere! I’m coming down!” Mad Jack said excitedly.
“Whoa! Hold on there, killer.” I reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
“I am not a killer; I am a scientist,” he explained, a confused look on his face.
I didn’t tell him that among scientists were a fair amount of the most infamous mass murderers of all time. “MJ, we’re still in a little bit of a volatile situation here. Why don’t you put that big head of yours back under a hat and you can whip it out when it’s safe.”
“That a dick joke?” BT asked.
“Sort of,” I replied.
“You’ve done better.”
“Sorry. I haven’t had a lot of time to come up with new material.”
“I’ll allow it,” BT said.
“Are you two serious right now?” Tracy asked.
BT shrugged.
“She’s just a little old lady. Shouldn’t we help?” Tiffany asked.
“I know—I do feel bad for the guy,” I said.
“I was talking about…”
“Oh, I know who you were talking about.” I’d interrupted her. “That woman down there is one of the most lethal people, man, woman, zombie, vamp
ire you will ever come across. She’s got more kills under her belt than everyone on this deck put together.” Maybe...maybe not. But if we switched out “kills” for “murders” then yeah, she was the winner hands down.
“What about the man with her, Mike? We don’t really have a jail. We’re already stretched thin on regular guard duty,” BT said.
“Him? I’m more worried about someone watching her full time.” I said truthfully.
He grunted that he felt the same way.
“What do we do about him?” I asked Deneaux. “We don’t really have a way of watching problem children.”
“You could just let me go, man.” Jolly nervously licked his lips. “I’m gone like I was never here. I get away from this crazy bitch.”
“You’re just going to walk away after two of your friends were killed here and not seek some sort of revenge?” I asked.
He hesitated. “They weren’t no friends of mine, man. I got caught up with them when this all started. I stayed because it was safer, that’s all. I’m happy to be rid of them.”
“He’s full of shit,” Deneaux said. She was leaning against the car, her head slightly tilted up as she smoked her cigarette, a look of sheer ecstasy on her face. It almost looked like a damn sexual experience and now there is another moment of imagery I will never be able to burn from my memory. Dammit. Not enough vodka in the world to scrub clean that etched-in thought. “He was an active participant in all their debauchery.” Smoke poured from her mouth along with the words.
“Shut up, bitch.” Jolly half turned to talk to her.
“He has friends,” she said.
“Listen, man, she’s lying. It was always only us three. I swear it!”
“These three wanted the gold I told them about. You let him leave, he’ll go back and get the rest of them. And they have heavy equipment, Mike. They figured they could do this little detour, ransom me off, and then stash the gold before anyone would be the wiser.”
There was no way I could tell if she was lying or not. More than likely she was; it wasn’t even fair to call it second nature for her. That was just the way she operated continually. But it could be true as well, and if he went and got his buddies we could be dragged into another battle.
“How stupid are you?” BT asked Jolly. “There're zombies, and you’re looking for gold? What are you planning on buying?”
“This one here said that the zombies’ll be gone soon, then the government will make things right and that the ones with the gold will have all the power. She said that civilizations have been collapsing and rebuilding ever since, like time started, and that us smart ones should be the ones to rule when we was back up and running. That’s what she said,” Jolly said.
“Fuck me if that doesn’t sound legit,” I said aloud. “Shit, Deneaux, even I might have bought that.”
She nodded her head slightly in acknowledgment.
“Whoa, man.” Trip had gone back in the house for a few minutes before coming back out in a rush. He came to a skidding stop by the railing. He was looking up in the sky.
“What the hell are you doing, you damn fool?” BT asked.
“I’m looking for Auntie Em’s house, man.”
“What in the fuck is he talking about, Talbot?” BT asked.
“Wizard of Oz, man.” Trip said, still peering intently up. “Isn’t that the Wicked Witch of the West?”
Deneaux took one final drag, dropped the cigarette by her foot and with a very practiced routine, ground it out. “You can’t hold him and you can’t let him go, Michael. You know your choices. Do not let your pesky morals get in the way.”
“Yeah, I hate when I act all human and shit.”
“Why start now?” BT asked. It had come out so effortlessly; he had not even looked over to gauge my reaction. It was not even meant as a barb, just a truism.
“The bigger they are the meaner they are,” Trip stage-whispered to me.
“Deneaux, if I lacked morals I’d be more inclined to save Jolly and blow your ugly head off.”
“Oh, I simply cannot take too much more of this. The suspense is killing me,” she said dryly. She reached into the truck.
“Hold on, Deneaux,” I said as she came out of the truck holding a revolver. At least four rifles were trained on her. She was a crack shot but there was no way she could kill all of us before someone drilled her. Now with that being said, I was fond of all the people on this deck, myself included, and I didn’t want to see any of us doing some bullet catching.
Jolly jumped as if he’d been goosed as Deneaux appeared to have shoved the barrel between his ass cheeks. Before I could get her to drop the weapon or Jolly could get away, she pulled the trigger. The devastation to the man was immediate, and graphic. The front of his pants bloomed in a bright red. He was in such shock he never got the chance to bring his arms down to cover the wounded area. Deneaux dropped the gun.
“Asshole,” she said to him as he fell over. She then stepped over his body.
“You can’t let her in here,” Tiffany said as she was looking over to the man who was crying out. There wasn’t a medical team in existence that could have saved him. Even at society’s best no one could have salvaged his now hollow tip injected junk. There wasn’t a guy on that deck that couldn’t commiserate with the pain that man was feeling. It was Gary, after a healthy retching, that put the man out of his misery.
“Hmm,” Deneaux said turning and looking up at Gary. “Have a little more of that Talbot blood in you than I originally thought. I’ll have to keep an eye on you.” And with that, she winked at him and walked towards the deck. A shark with a chainsaw would have looked more inviting.
If there was some nerdy way for a geek to jerk off using nothing but his mind, Mad Jack would have been spewing brain cells all over the device Deneaux handed him. He hooked it up to a series of monitors, and in a few moments we were looking at what he told us was the CDC building in Atlanta.
“Not sure how that’s going to help us,” Ron said.
“I have access to the satellites...I can direct them where I want to! This is amazing!” I was thinking MJ might need a little alone time; maybe this was a good thing—keep his mind off of the damn fission bomb he was so diligently working on.
Ron had told Deneaux a half dozen times “no smoking in the house” and she’d ignored him each and every time. It got to the point where Ron just left the room whenever she lit up.
“We need to talk,” I told her, grabbing her arm and steering her out to the now empty deck.
“Is the rifle necessary?” she’d asked as I sat her down at the deck table. I sat across from her.
“Oh...I’m going to say yes. Now, we’re going to have a little discussion, you and I, and listen, I realize that speaking the truth is not something you’re overly familiar with. I think you might just get lost in your lies; you’ve traded money for lives for so long it’s just who you are.”
“I want amnesty,” she said, as she fished a cigarette out and lit it.
“Look around, Deneaux. This ain’t the good old U.S. of A. anymore.”
“Even so, if you want the truth, something it seems you desperately need, then I have to have some guarantees for my safety.
“What the fuck makes you think I won’t kill you anyway after you give me what I want?”
“Please. You won’t,” she smiled. “What’s done is done. It cannot be undone. We move on. I seem to remember those being words of your speaking.”
“In a different context, but sure.”
“Am I safe? And before you answer that, the satellite receiver requires the input of a new password every twenty-four hours and without the master key stored in my head...”
“The device locks.”
She exhaled. “So?”
“Give the truth your best shot and I promise not to kill you until you force my hand.”
She looked long and hard at me. “Fair enough. I sent Paul away without a rifle.”
She’d said it so m
atter-of-factly, calm, cool, collected, and all that shit, like it was the most natural thing in the world to send another to their death.
“He was my best friend.” Anger wanted to come to the surface; instead a wave of sadness washed over me.
“He was not made for this new world, Michael. You knew that. So ill-prepared he almost got your boys killed. How would you have felt about him, had that happened?”
“I’m not a big fan of the “what-if” game. Way too many variables. Why did you send him out?”
She took a little longer with this answer, I was having a hard time figuring out why, though. She’d just admitted to having a hand in killing my friend; what more could she heap on something already so heinous?
“Brian was injured. Broken collar bone and gut shot; we were hiding in the woods while Paul was searching for supplies. I’d fallen asleep, and when I awoke, I realized we were surrounded by zombies.” She took two long drags. I think the physical exertion of actually telling the truth was taking its toll on her. “Brian wasn’t going to make it; he was already bleeding out. I certainly couldn’t carry him away from the danger; I gave the zombies incentive to find him over me.”
I squeezed my rifle—not the trigger mind you—oh that I wanted to do, very much so. She was the enemy I knew. If I didn’t watch her vigilantly, I deserved to have her knife blade dragged across my neck. “At any point in that long, winding life of yours have you ever placed anyone ahead of yourself?”
“Why would I? There is no one more important in my life than myself. The question should be, why do you do it all the time?”
“Okay...just continue. We view the world through such vastly different eyes we are never going to see the reasoning behind the other’s motives very clearly.”
“When the zombies attacked, I left. I found Paul and we got to the safety of a house. When Brian showed up a little while later, he’d been bitten a few times. He’d not had the good graces to die, though. The bastard had killed them and escaped.”
“What a dickhead for wanting to survive,” I said.
She didn’t take the bait. “He’s walking down the street, cursing at how I had betrayed him.”
“...And Paul was there; makes sense now. Paul knew you were a back stabber and he would have told me.”
