by Tufo, Mark
“So when are we going in?” Kirby asked again.
“We’re holding here.” She was looking at the ZAD. “Looks like there’s more of them.” She was referring to the blob of zombies around the ranger station.
“Exactly. We can’t abandon them.”
“Private, he gave me a direct order.”
“Fuck that. How many orders has he disobeyed? They need help.”
“Kirby, listen to me. I don’t like it either, but we have no backup; the Hummers won’t be able to get through there. If they’re making their way out and we get stuck in a firefight, we could make matters worse.”
“You getting soft on me, Stenzel?” he sneered.
She spun on him quickly. “I will knock you into next Tuesday if you ever say that again. I don’t see a scenario where anything we can do makes a difference. We have to trust that they figure a way out.”
“This is bullshit!” he shouted before storming off. He knew pushing any more of her buttons would end up with her fist in his face, and he knew enough to realize she could kick his ass. He’d watched her during their hand-to-hand combat training, and it was likely none could best her.
Sergeant Talbot had not left the display since it had been turned on. He was studying it, looking for an opening or weak point, or even a shift that would make either getting in or getting out a possibility. Stenzel was next to him.
“He going to be all right?” Sergeant Winters had been looking under the hood of their Humvee; it had been making a disturbing clicking sound and he wanted to make sure that when the time came, they wouldn’t have any mechanical difficulties.
“I would imagine it’s just, you know, Marines aren’t much on waiting to see how things shake out,” she replied. “Why aren’t they moving? Converging, I mean. They have them hemmed in; doesn’t make any sense,” she said to Gary.
“Makes perfect sense,” Gary responded. “They’re waiting for us.”
She looked over at him. “Don’t like that thought at all, Sergeant.”
“I’m not too keen on it either, if that helps. You do know that if there is anyone capable of extracting himself from a shitty situation, it’s the LT, right?” Winters added.
“I know that. Doesn’t make sitting here on our hands any better,” she said.
“Get Grimm, Springer, and Kirby on a guard rotation—keep them busy. Sergeant Talbot, I’d like you to stay on the display. The way the zombies converge when they’re of a mind, it’s too fast. We could find ourselves in our own trap if we’re not careful. Looks like we’re going to have fog to deal with as well, and that tends to mess up the display.” Winters had been thinking this entire mission had been destined for failure, but more of the variety of them not finding Trip. He’d never considered they might lose the three top-ranking members of their squad. He stared out at the woods; he couldn’t see anything, but something in the back of his mind and the depths of his belly said they were being watched.
“You feel it too?” Stenzel asked as she watched him.
“Just make sure they stay vigilant.”
Stenzel left, and Winters was with Gary.
“He’ll find a way out,” Gary said after a few moments of silence. “He’s been escaping impossible situations since he was five. It’s like he’s been training for the apocalypse all his life.”
“I’m listening,” Winters said.
“I wasn’t going to explain because I’m partially culpable.”
“Who am I going to tell?”
Gary pondered; Winters was right. Regrettably, with his parents both gone now, there was very little chance he could get into trouble for something that happened so long ago. “We’d gone up to Maine. My father brought us up there, had a friend that owned a cabin—this was before he bought a place. Maybe a half mile from there was a small general store. I told my dad I wanted to go and get some BBs; he asked if I’d bring Mike along. I didn’t mind; he wasn’t quite the pain in the ass yet, not so full of the sarcasm. Mike was thrilled; brought his favorite Tonka truck with him…thought I was going to have to carry it. Was one of those old school all metal ones, and the kid was only five. But he never let go of it. Now that I’m thinking on it, he was adamant he brought it, even though it wasn’t his favorite toy. Just said he had to bring it, like he knew.” Gary paused, reflecting on the events. “We get to the store, no problem. I’m just about to head in, and this pick-up truck pulls in, and a girl my age steps out of the passenger side. I think it was the first time I’d ever experienced love at first sight. I lost track of my brother.”
Winters sucked in a breath, expecting to hear the worst, like possibly Mike had been kidnapped or nearly so.
“I couldn’t help it; she was beautiful,” Gary pleaded. “Mike being Mike, had walked behind the store and toward a guy’s property. The halo around the girl’s head vanished when I heard the first deep growl and savage barks. I looked around; couldn’t see Mike anywhere. The only thing surer than Mike’s ability for getting himself out of trouble is his penchant to find his way into it in the first place. I ran and I saw something—something I still think about, still shake my head at the impossibility of it. There was this huge, mangy mutt running full-tilt toward Mike, lips pulled back, teeth exposed, drool dripping from his muzzle—just think Cujo, which I had just read, by the way, and you have an idea what I’m talking about. Wasn’t a doubt in my mind that the dog was about to do him serious bodily harm.”
“Shit,” Winters interjected.
“I wasn’t going to make it. The dog was bigger than me, had to outweigh Mike by a hundred pounds. I ran; Mike didn’t move. At first I thought he was too afraid, like he was frozen in fear, but that wasn’t it. He was lining up his shot. His arm pulled back with that impossibly large truck and he chucked it. I don’t know how he did it. Thing had to have weighed eight pounds, and it was as long as his arm; it shouldn’t have traveled more than a few feet.” Gary looked at the other man, wanting to make sure he understood and more importantly, believed him. “That yellow truck went twenty feet on damn near a frozen rope. Nailed that dog square in the nose. The dog fell hard; his head slammed off the ground. He was howling like an entire hive of hornets was stinging him, couldn’t get his feet up under him fast enough to get the hell out of there. Took off faster than he’d been coming. When I got to Mike, he just asked if he could have his truck back and a Fudgesicle. I thought my heart was going to break through my rib cage, and he wanted an ice cream. That’s how I know he’s going to be all right. He doesn’t know how not to be. There’s more, if you’re interested.”
“Still got my attention by the short hairs,” Winters answered honestly.
“Animal control was called to a dog carcass a few days later. Mike’s truck had shattered the upper part of its muzzle. Come to find out that not only had my kid brother killed the animal, he’d potentially saved the rest of us from a vicious attack by a dog suffering from rabies.”
“Whoa.” Winters clapped Gary on the shoulder in the universal male tradition of full understanding.
It was some hours later. Kirby was walking around on his patrol, must have been his fiftieth time walking the perimeter, and he was still muttering. He made sure to raise his voice a decibel or two as he passed by either Corporal Stenzel or Sergeant Winters. “This is horseshit. Good to know we’re safe here, though.”
“You going to say anything?” Stenzel asked Winters.
“No. It’s when he stops talking I’ll know he’s up to something. Until then, I’m in agreement with him.”
The fog had rolled in quickly and settled thickly on their location, the entire area enshrouded in an impenetrable murkiness. Unconsciously, all of the Marines on foot patrol had pulled in closer to the two vehicles, and when it got too thick, Sergeant Winters told them to remain stationary so as not to wander off and become lost. Kirby had just finished his fifth go-around of checking his magazines. He was sitting on the front fender of the Hummer, doing his best to peer through the fog, when his n
ose was assailed by the smell of salami.
“Reach for the guy,” a voice said directly into his ear, the press against his back was unmistakable.
“You picked the wrong group to hijack,” Kirby said, raising his hands.
“Hijack? Like hi, Jack? I know a Jack…or is it Yack? I always get those two mixed up, and I don’t even want to talk about Otter. That messes my head up.”
Kirby slowly turned around. The man had a large meat stick in his hand; it was firmly pressed into Kirby’s side.
“Sergeant, we have a situation here!” Kirby yelled over his shoulder.
“Where?” the man asked, looking around wildly.
Winters came quickly, Stenzel in tow. “Trip?”
“I feel like I should know you. Where’s Ponch?”
“They’re in a bit of trouble; we’re waiting.”
“What kind of trouble?” Trip took a bite of the meat stick, spitting out the plastic he’d taken with it. “Which world is this?”
“Are you stoned?” Stenzel came up close enough to get a whiff of his clothing. “You reek of weed.”
“Well I’d better be; I paid plenty for this.” He pulled out a gallon-sized baggie, stuffed full of sticky buds.
“Where did you come from?” Winters asked.
“I’ve…” Trip hesitated. “I’ve been traveling, and right now I’m not sure where I’m at. Does this place have werewolves?”
Kirby shook his head.
“Giant crocodile things? Ghosts, ogres, trolls, clowns, night runners, whistlers?” Kirby kept shaking his head in negation at every suggestion.
“Zombies, Trip. It’s always been zombies.” Winters wanted to add vampires to that as well, but refrained and hoped the stoner would too.
“It hasn’t always been zombies. Where’s the cuddly fellah?” Trip asked.
“The who?” Winters asked back.
“Big dude, about yay high.” Trip jumped in the air, his hands stayed down by his side. “Perpetual scowl? Same color as those awesome chocolate waterfalls they have at Easter brunches.”
“Are you talking about Gunny Tynes?” Kirby asked.
“I know the big man likes me, but I don’t think he’s ever called me that.”
“Called you what?” Kirby asked.
“Honey.”
“I said ‘Gunny.’”
“That’s what I thought you said. ‘G’honey.’ You might want to get that frog you swallowed out of your throat.”
“Is this guy the one we were looking for? The LT didn’t say he was loonier than shit.” Kirby stood up, wanting to put as much distance as he could from the perceived insanity. As a Marine, he knew it was fairly common to be somewhat unstable, but not completely off your rocker.
“Shows what you know,” Trip said.
“Are you here alone?” Gary had come up to see what was going on.
“Only if you’re figments of my imagination.” Trip reached out to touch Gary’s face. He grabbed a cheekful and pinched.
“Damn, Trip! You pinch as hard as my grandmother used to.”
“I had to make sure…it has been a strange few months. Did I tell you I’m a wizard? I think they call me Tryptophan there.” He tilted his head to the side. “Or maybe it’s Merlin? Nope, not him; he’s sort of a gobber. Have I asked where Ponch is?” His eyes were bloodshot, which was not an unnatural state, but there was also a deep red rim to them that led one to think that he’d recently been crying hard, or perhaps a deep worry had settled into them.
“He’s in trouble,” Gary reiterated. “We’re waiting for them to get here.”
“We should just fucking go get them,” Kirby said from a respectable distance away.
“I know he’s in trouble. That’s why I’m here,” Trip said.
“What the hell does Chong here think he can do that we can’t? Seriously, man, you’re like a walking cliché,” Kirby said.
“Who do you think started this look? Can’t be a cliché if you were the first to do it.” Trip smiled.
“Sergeant, who’s watching the ZAD?” Winters was talking to Gary.
“I grabbed Grimm,” Gary told him.
“Sergeants—you’re going to want to see this!” Grimm yelled out.
Winters winced at the volume. A few seconds later, they were staring at the display.
“They’re converging,” Winters said as everyone watched.
“We going now?” Kirby was getting more anxious to get into the action with every passing second. “Or are we just going to watch them die from a safe distance?”
“Enough!” Winters spun, upset with himself for losing his cool. “We’ve been ordered to hold our position. And before you spout off about disobeying orders, I agree. I’d do it in a heartbeat if I thought it would help.”
The zombies moved as a single monstrous unit, converging on the station; it was like watching a noose tighten around a condemned man’s neck.
“There!” Stenzel said as she pointed to a red spot among the multitude of purple. “It’s muted, but it’s moving away!”
“Just one?” Grimm asked.
Gary and Winters gave each other a quick glance, then down at the darker spots that bracketed the red.
“No, there’s something else.” Stenzel was looking closely. “Some sort of cloaking? Camouflage. I see three distinct shapes moving. That’s got to be them, right?”
“How are they doing that?” Kirby asked as they watched the tiny spearhead cut through the river of zombies.
“Let’s pack up. We’ll meet them on their heading.” Winters wanted to shut the ZAD down before too many questions were asked.
“Too late,” Trip said as he pulled out a neatly folded tin foil hat and placed it over his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few more, though they had not been treated quite as kindly. “You’re going to want these.”
“We’re risking our asses for this space cadet?” The words had no sooner got out of Kirby’s mouth when he bent at the waist and grabbed his skull in one motion.
“Never been to space,” Trip said as he hastily placed the hat on Kirby’s head. “Been spaced-out plenty, though.”
“Fuck—” Kirby was attempting to walk off the pain in his head; he did not take off the hat.
Trip immediately began to place hats on every member of the squad. “They’ll be attacking soon.”
“Thank you,” Winters said. He had one hand propped against the hummer and was breathing heavily.
“You’d think you’d get used to that,” Gary said, adjusting the hat.
“Not really,” Winters said. “Can’t imagine getting used to being stabbed in the brain.”
Kirby was the first to fire as a zombie materialized out of the soup.
Winters didn’t have time to wonder how the zombies had snuck up on them before he ordered everyone into the Hummers.
4
Mike Journal Entry 3
I sat up; the sun was high above my head. My clothes were dry and somewhat clean, though my pants were going to be tossed the moment I had something to change in to. The shirt was new; figured it was a spare from Tommy. The cami top I’d had on was gone. Wasn’t going to look for it.
“Got some water.” Tommy was walking toward me. “How are you feeling?”
“Where’s BT?” I asked, avoiding the question but taking the water.
Tommy pointed to a small stand of trees a few yards off. I stood and immediately regretted it. I swayed from the lightheadedness; spots danced in front of my eyes as I sought equilibrium. Tommy reached out to steady me.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“Just be careful…you’re on a precipice.”
I didn’t ask if he meant literally or figuratively—probably both.
Once the vertigo passed and I felt confident enough to walk without swaying, I got a look at where we were. We were indeed on a plateau, and sprawled out ahead was a valley, a couple hundred feet down.
“There is a way down; I just didn’t
think it would have been wise to do it last night. Not with the conditions the way they were.”
I noticed he left out mentioning the condition that I was in. “Thank you,” I told him.
He gave a small smile, but it looked forced.
I went to find BT. He was sitting against a tree, rubbing pine needles over his hands, doing his best to scrape the blood away. I found a tree opposite him and sat. He said nothing for a good long while. He didn’t tell me to get lost, so there was that.
“Tommy says the zombies are following.” He didn’t look up as he said the words.
“That’s news to me. What’s the first thing you’re going to eat when you get back?”
Now he did look up. “Eat? I can’t even think about it.”
“I’m going to have a massive cheeseburger. Gonna fry up some onions and french fries, put them on top, and yeah, an egg. Ever put a fried egg on top of a burger? It sounds weird as hell but it’s delicious. And I guess if I’m using an egg, I’ll need some bacon. Think I can find someone to bake up some brioche buns? I love that buttery goodness. Fuck it. I’m gonna live a bit. Ever seen those burgers they make with the donut buns? I’d eat that. Right now I’d mow that thing down.”
“Shut up about food, Mike,” BT said.
“Is it because of my sister’s cooking?”
“I know what you’re trying to do. Just stop.”
“Me? Brother, you know I’m too much of a narcissist to be doing this for you. I’m doing it for me.”
BT let out the briefest gusts of air. It would have been a stretch to classify it as a laugh.
“I slipped last night.” BT looked up, made eye contact for a moment before breaking it off.
“Slipped? I careened off the edge and hit every outcrop I could like I steered into them on purpose.”
“Stop, man. This is serious. I’m not doing too good.”
“This is going to seem weird, BT.” I propped myself up against the tree to stand, happy the weird vertigo was only a small nuisance. “If you need to, just blame me.” He said nothing and did not push me away when I hugged him. At first, he did not react, then ultimately, he wrapped a large arm around my midsection, pulled me in tight, and cried deeply into my chest. Wracking sobs coursed through his body, each with enough power that I was lifted off the ground.
