by Mark Tufo
“What?” BT looked shocked.
“Kiss my ass. But you’re right. My kids deserve a chance too. We pack everybody up and we head out.”
“What are you possibly going to get that can fit twenty-eight of us plus the dogs?”
“Bus. Screw the RV...we’ll get one of them comfortable casino buses. They have plush seats, small monitors, we can play movies. There’s tons of storage for food and fuel underneath. We can do this, man. If nothing else, just think of how many fewer nights you’ll spend on guard duty.”
“Keep talking.”
“Maybe there’s some women there into circus acts. You could love again, my friend.”
“You get so close to me liking you and then you throw it all away.”
“I’m serious though, BT. There're things all of us could gain from being around more people.”
“Yeah. Trip could get that psychiatric help he’s been putting off. That’s all I really need to know, that is the deciding factor for me. Ron’s going to be the tough sell,” he said, getting serious. “I think everyone will fall in line behind you except for him.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“You want me to be there?”
“Listen, man, this is nothing personal. I love you like a brother, but you intimidate the hell out of me and we’re besties. I don’t want Ron thinking I’m strong arming him.”
“I thought I probably intimidated you. Is it the right arm?” He flexed. “Or the left?” He flexed that one as well then he did the traditional power muscle making move. “People have to apply for a special permit to climb these mountains. Hire Sherpas, even. Some have even known to get altitude sickness at the top; some have never been seen again.”
“How come no one else is around when you show just how nuts you are?”
“I saw it.” Trip had come into the room.
“Oh, man, please,” BT said putting his arms down. “What exactly did you see?”
“Don’t I know you?” Trip asked BT. “You were a cop once.” Trip got a far away stare into his eyes.
“Yeah, I probably busted you a dozen times. Surprised they didn’t lock your ass up for life.”
“She lived.” Trip said without missing a beat. It was easy enough to see he was traveling in other planes or at least across other levels of his head.
BT’s smile couldn’t have vacated his face any faster if it were on fire.
“No…she…did not!” He looked pissed off and about to go Twin Peaks on Trip. “I buried her!”
“Whoa. Mike, man...why is this mad dude all up in my personal space?” Trip asked, returning from orbit. “Western culture dictates at least two and a half feet of personal frontage space. I wish we used Native American proxemics of four feet, but right now he’s going the Chinese route and it’s freaking me out.”
“Come on, BT.”
“She didn’t live, Mike.” BT had a panicked look in his eyes.
“BT, you can’t take everything he says seriously. You know that right?”
“There you are,” Stephanie said as she came into the room. You would have had to have been Trip to not realize there was a strange vibe going on in that room. “Everything alright?” she asked, looking from me to BT.
“Uh yeah,” I said, looking at BT, who was clearly remembering something distasteful from his past. “You might want to grab Trip.”
“Come on, Trip. It’s time for your bath.” She gently grabbed his arm.
“Again? It’s spring already?”
She smiled weakly at us. “He’ll only take showers in the spring so I, um, have to tell him it’s spring all the time.”
“What about when it’s snowing?” I had to ask.
“Pollen.”
“Of course.”
BT had sat down, or rather sunk to a sitting position. I stayed with him for a few minutes; he never said anything.
“You can go, Mike. I’m alright. It happened a long time ago. I won’t dwell on it too long. Go talk to your brother. The sooner we can head out of here and do other stuff the less I have to think.”
“Yeah I get that.”
He started laughing. “Oh man, thank you for that.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked.
“Just the idea of you stopping to think—that’s one of your better ones.”
I flipped him off as I left the room.
Chapter 6
MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY 5
Ron and I were better; we weren’t back to normal, just...better. He’d said some things that you just can’t ever come back from. It wasn’t that I was holding it against him, but rather he was maybe beating himself up for saying them. A measure of guilt, perhaps. It was enough that our relationship had shifted on a fundamental level. Strained might be a good word. He tended to be less combative, so if anything good could come out of it, that was a plus.
“Leave? You just want to leave?”
“Want? Whatever. I guess I do, as a matter of fact. At first, I was thinking it wasn’t such a good idea. But I’ve had a change of mind and heart. The things I love are here. My family, my friends...a twisted sense of safety and security. Leaving is not high on my list of things I want to do.” I stressed the “I” part. “But we both know it’s not just about me.” I waited, half expecting him to throw something out there along the lines of: “Oh really? Now you’ve finally come to the conclusion that it’s not all about you?” That he hadn’t taken the opening spoke volumes to the new parameters of our relationship. “It’s our kids, Ron. It’s BT, it’s Mad Jack...they deserve more. They deserve better. Maybe not better; maybe there is no ‘better,’ but a chance at real happiness. All we can offer here is more time. Sure, it beats the alternative, but it’s not really living, either.”
“And you just want to grab a bus and trek across the country like we own the joint?”
“Flying would be better, but I’ve already been up in the air with the only man qualified to fly and I’m not fucking doing that again.”
“This is my home, Mike.”
“Yeah, I get that, but maybe both of us can leave the ghosts behind. I hate to say it, but I get the feeling this place is haunted. Not in the traditional ‘there are monsters in the closet’ thing, but rather the ones floating around in our skulls.”
He was surprisingly compliant. I had not been expecting it to go so easily; I figured this meant Tracy was going to be the most difficult to persuade. We had a meeting that night. This wasn’t a dictatorship; we’d think aloud, throw our ideas out there, kind of get a feel for where everyone was—and then take a vote. Plain and simple. Yeah, you’d think that, maybe in the abstract, it was. I’m not going to go into details, but did you ever watch YouTube before the zombies came? If you did, I’m sure you saw some of those Australian legislative sessions where punches are thrown and furniture is tossed. It was a lot like that, actually. Resistance to the ideas came from some of the weirdest angles. Stephanie was all against it, and because she was, so was Trip. Though, to be fair, he thought we were trying to move from the lawn to some crappy seats for the Phish show. “No dancing in the stands, man.”
Gary was a big fat “no” because he’d lose his beloved tree-stand hide out. Justin didn’t want to leave the last place Jess had been alive. So when he’d said that, Angel had said the same about Dizz. When the dust settled and the blood was mopped up off the floor the decision to head to Washington State won by a measly two votes. It had almost been a bad idea to let the kids vote at all, as they had single-handedly almost thwarted the attempt. Then I started to wonder about that whole “out of the mouths of babes” thing where maybe they knew something more than we did and that staying was the right thing to do. But second guessing myself lead nowhere. The decision was made.
We weren’t going to head out for at least a little while. Mad Jack was going to do some serious reconnaissance on the place first to make sure it really was going to be an ideal location for us and that it wasn’t some sort of barbaric human
barbecue pit set up to process people meat for the black market or some other weird shit. We had to also be very deliberate on what we took to make the journey, plus we still needed to find a good bus. And even when we got one, we planned on doing some serious retrofitting to make it a lot sturdier, should we run into any trouble.
“I said should,” I mumbled, and then shook my head.
“What, Mike?” Tracy asked. We were laying in bed; I was looking at the ceiling, now totally stressed out that I had fought to leave with so much vehemence. If things went wrong on the road, it could all be traced back to me. I would trace it back to me, anyway.
“I was thinking to myself and I said should something happen while we’re on the road. Like there’s really a chance that something won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Now you’re just patronizing me. Am I doing the right thing?”
“This isn’t all about you, Mike. We voted.”
“Did you vote with me because you wanted to move or because I’m your husband?”
“I voted with you because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Yeah, but if I hadn’t brought it up this wouldn’t even have been a discussion.”
“The moment Deneaux gave us a way to use satellites it was going to be an issue sooner or later.”
“Yeah. That doesn’t make it any better. Her being the source of the move, I mean.”
“We’ll make it, Mike. We always do. You have this innate ability to always land on your feet.”
“Please tell me that’s not a cat analogy. And haven’t you ever seen those investment commercials?”
“What…what are you talking about?”
“They always say that past events cannot be predictors for future ones.”
The next day was a busy one. Mad Jack had spent the entire night finding suitable buses. We’d dismissed all the ones on the road; we had to assume they’d received some sort of damage in one way or another. There were two bus depots and a casino in Bangor, roughly forty-five minutes away. There were four bus depots in Augusta—but that added another twenty minutes to our drive time. More chances for a fully operational bus, but more time driving. In the end, I flipped a coin. Life was one big fucking coin flip anyway. Wasn’t it?
“Heads,” I said as it landed in my palm and I flipped it on to the back of my hand.
“Great. Was Bangor heads or Augusta?” BT asked.
“Shit. I forgot to designate one or the other.”
“Typical Talbot—just start flipping away. You can’t even properly plan a coin toss. Personally, I’d like to go to Bangor.”
“Any particular reason?” I asked, pocketing the coin.
“I want to grab a slot machine,” BT answered.
“You’re kidding, right? Never pictured you as much of a gambler. Can’t imagine many casinos letting you in any way.”
“All right out with it. Let’s hear your ‘funny’ explanation of why casinos won’t let me in.” He used air quotes around the word funny like I wasn’t going to deliver.
“Well, I was going to say something about you being a cop once and how they probably hated seeing you since they had to pay you out protection money.”
“That’s the mob, dumbass. You got anything else?”
“Um, okay...maybe when you lost money you smashed machines like the Hulk.” I made two fists and brought them down heavily on the table top. “BT break.” I did in my best Hulk smash voice.
That got a smile. “Okay, that was alright. You want me to make you feel like an ass now?”
“Not really. I can do that all by myself.”
“Linda and I used to go to Vegas once a year. We weren’t big gamblers, it was just the fun and excitement of the place. I’d like to have a memento of those better times.”
“How about a nice casino chip instead? Those machines have to weigh a couple of hundred pounds. I mean, I guess for you that’s like a keepsake, but you do realize we’re trying to travel light, right?”
“Man, I just want to play.”
“There’s the truth, hiding just around the corner. Did Linda even go to Vegas?”
“Yeah, for the shows. I’m telling you, man, I was addicted to all those lights and sounds.”
“Monsters usually are; that’s why they always attack big cities.”
“See? That’s pretty good, right there.”
“Thanks, man.”
“I don’t know what it was; they were able to make me completely forget about the outside world. I had cases that still haunted my dreams, but no matter what was going on in my life or what I had seen, when I sat down with a one-armed bandit, everything else was blitzed over. I’m wondering if I could do that again.”
“Fine...we’ll find an extra seat on the bus for it. Not sure how popular you’re going to be at four in the morning when everyone is trying to sleep and your bells and whistles machine is spouting off. But I’ll let you deal with that.”
I wanted to go very light: myself, BT, and one other...whom I was about to enlist right now. I found Deneaux in the living room; she was reading a murder mystery. “Haven’t you had enough of that?” I asked pointing to the book.
“You read what you know.” She smiled. “Is this a social visit? I’ve been feeling very secluded.”
“Get your shit. You’re coming with me.”
“Where are we going?” She had not moved.
“We’re rounding up a bus.”
“Road trip? Under these circumstances? So you believe Etna Station to be the haven you hoped it would be?”
“You knew it was there?”
“Of course. When the Demense group was ready they were going to incorporate it into their fold.”
“Any other secrets you think I should know?”
“Plenty.”
“But you have no intention of telling me—am I correct?”
“You’re getting smarter! Almost as fast as the zombies.”
“Since this involves you as well, tell me: is the Etna Station a worthwhile trip?”
“They are people.”
“Okay. Let’s try a different tactic. Are they people like you, or normal people?”
“You’re asking if they are survivors?”
“Sure. Let’s call you a ‘survivor’ with maybe a tinge of ‘murderer’ in there.”
I got a glare, but she let it drop.
“Well, it’s very heavy-handed on the military side. Not sure how comfortable you’re going to be with all that authority, especially with your penchant for rebellion.”
“You wear one ‘Fuck the Man’ t-shirt and suddenly you're labeled as a conspirator. I can deal with authority if it means my family is safer. Let’s go.”
“To get the bus? I’d rather stay and finish the book.”
“Not going to happen. I’m not leaving you behind without me here. You’re entirely too treacherous.”
“What good would murdering everybody here do for me?”
“I have no idea. But the fact you even thought to say that makes me think you’ve considered it in passing, which means you are, without a doubt, coming with me.”
“No.” She brought her book up.
I pulled my Ka-Bar from its sheath and pushed the top of the book down with the blade. “Do you believe that I would stick this knife through your eye? Then pull it out…would look like an olive on a toothpick.”
She looked to me. “I do believe you might.”
“Get up then,” I said, putting the knife away. “We leave in ten.” And I strode out. I have a feeling that if she’d had a gun she would have placed a round in the small of my back, neatly severing my spine. Keeping extra guns accounted for in the midst of a zombie apocalypse was not the easiest of tasks. I did a check every night, to make sure they were secured but handy. A time would come when she would be able to get a hold of one. I needed MJ to hack that password before that could happen.
“I’d like to come.” It was Tiffany.
I was
n’t big on bringing who I considered a kid. Tough to tell a woman who stood up to vampires that I didn’t trust her out in the field, though.
“Sure. One thing, though...Deneaux is coming, and yes, she looks like a frail old woman, but I’m telling you she is the most dangerous one of us out there. You need to keep that in mind at all times. She will sacrifice you in a heartbeat if it gains her even a one step advantage over her enemies.”
“I understand. Meredith told me all about her and I saw.”
“How you doing? We haven’t had much time to talk.”
“I like it here. It isn’t home, but it feels a lot like it.”
“Is that why you voted against the move to Washington?”
“I’m not a fan of strangers, Mr. Talbot.”
I smiled. “Yeah, neither am I. Wasn’t before the zombies...less so now. Grab some gear. We’re getting ready to go.”
I shrugged at BT who glared at me when Tiffany came outside and hopped in the car.
“Be careful out there,” Gary called down.
I waved. This started out like our runs always do. Smooth sailing for a bit, then storm clouds form and a hell of a squall hits. In this case, it was a little more literal. MJ had said there was a potential for some weather and here it was. We were maybe fifteen miles from Ron’s house when the front rolled in. It went from crystal clear blue skies to heavy dark rain clouds in fifteen minutes. It was too much to hope for that they would roll on out as quickly as they’d come in.
“Oooh...an omen,” Deneaux cackled as the first fat drops splattered on the windshield.
“Witches melt, sweetheart. You shouldn’t be so happy,” BT said to her.
I hadn’t thought about it when BT sat up front and Deneaux hopped in the back with Tiffany. I watched them in the rearview. It was after the second time I caught her looking to the girl’s sidearm that I stopped the car.
“What are you doing, Mike?” BT asked.
“Sorry, big man. Tiffany, can you come up front please?” I asked.
“I’m not sitting back there, man. I won’t fit. My head will be all scrunched over, I’ll be eating my damn knees.”
“You big baby. Tiffany, do you know how to drive?”
