by Tufo, Mark
“Got one!” BT yelled.
“Diminishing,” I said aloud and with relief.
“What?” Tommy asked.
I would have shaken my head to ward off the question, but my brain was still sloshing around in its holster, and I didn’t want to give it any more reason to keep doing that.
“I think I can get an angle on another one.” BT was adjusting again. By now, my entire body was off the floor. I was very much that young child going for a foot ride, although they tended to enjoy the hell out of the journey. Me, not so much. Tommy was now bracing his feet and pulling back. BT was at the tipping point; I would have readjusted for better leverage, but I was in it for the long haul now, having made my bed—or my footstool, as the case may be.
Another burst of shots. “Fucked him up…not dead though. Need to move.”
“NO!” Tommy and I yelled in unison.
“Different window is all,” he said, pulling his bulk in. “Fucker!” he yelled. He had a hand up by the side of his face, a gash in his cheek. I mistakenly figured he had cut it on some broken glass climbing in. “One of them threw a rock at me!” He was pissed, with good cause, I might add.
One of the zombies had a major league arm, which was one thing, but more importantly, now they had crossed into the realm of using physical weapons and all that it entailed. Right now, I wanted to punch Bennington in his face. I wonder what he would think about his “acceptable percentage of smart zombies” if he was in this situation. What was he going to say when one of them got ahold of a machine gun and figured it out?
With two bulkers either injured or dead, the vibrations had eased up. I didn’t think that would stop our zombie leader from calling up a couple of replacements from the Triple AAA league. We got our next wrinkle soon enough. Rocks began to bounce off the exterior of the fort, and occasionally, one would make it in. Like the synchronized strikes, it started slowly enough, then ten hits became thirty, then a hundred. It got to the point where we had to overturn a table and hide behind it to keep from getting hit by the projectiles.
“Good thing this isn’t Maine.” I was referring to the craggy dirt that made up the majority of the state. There had not been a time there when I had put a shovel into the ground I hadn’t hit a multitude of stones followed by bedrock.
“Fuck’s that mean?” BT was still pissed. He had pulled his shirt up by his face to staunch the blood leaking from his wound.
“Rocks, they’d have an unlimited supply,” I clarified.
“It seems to me they’re doing all right.” Tommy felt the need to burst my bubble.
He had me there.
“They’re going to get more bulkers,” BT said.
“Yup, and this is the way they’re going to keep us from doing anything about it,” I said just as a fist-sized rock struck the table top, causing me to flinch. Hannah and Johnny had overturned the couch and were hiding in their makeshift fort, safe as safe could be.
“You two all right?” I asked.
“Just fine,” Hannah replied in that contempt dripping voice that only a female in her prime teenage years can pull off. A lost art, really.
The rock tossing subsided. “Must be re-arming,” BT said, sticking his head up.
“Funny. Come on, let’s take out another bulker. This time I’m leaning.”
“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that whole leg wrapping thing.”
“We’re never discussing that again,” I told him. I checked my magazine and the safety. I knew once I showed myself, they’d begin the pelting again. I suppose I should have found it strange that no one brought up the bizarre fact that zombies were throwing rocks, but it made sense. If anyone accepted the reality of the growing capabilities of the zombies, it would be members from my squad. The only question they’d ask would be why it had taken them so long.
“Shit,” I said the second I stuck my head out. Zombies with arms cocked back were already awaiting my presence. I ducked back in to hide from the first volley. I’d not even had enough time to locate my target. BT moved to the side just as one whistled past his face.
“Fuck, Talbot! You think you could have given a warning?” he shouted.
I’d not stood up yet. “You know, I figured when I swore and hit the deck that it would have been self-explanatory.”
“He’s got you there,” Tommy said.
“Of course you’d say that. You’re family.”
“Umm, technically, we’re all family,” I told him.
“There are things you don’t ever want to talk about. And there are things I don’t either,” he replied.
“Fair enough. This is your warning.” I’d gotten up and poked my head around the window sill to get a look. Another half dozen rocks came hurtling up. “I think I can get a better shot by the hatch. This is going to be another one of those things we’re not going to talk about,” I said as I laid out my plan.
“Oh, I’m definitely doing that part.” BT rubbed his hands together.
“What are you, an evil villain from the ’20s?” I asked. “Are you going to tell her she must pay the mortgage now?”
“I’d tie you to railroad tracks in a second. No, I need to do this because sooner rather than later, you’re going to drag us into something incredibly stupid. And the only thing that’s going to get me through it is the remembrance of this.”
“That’s not really painting me in a great light.”
“Listen, man, you’re the one that smudges the colors together and attempts to do things by the dimness of a penlight.”
“Fuck you,” was the only thing I could think to say. Sucks when someone calls you out on your dimwittedness and that’s the best you can do for a witty retort. Pretty much just bolsters their argument.
We were prepped, which meant I was floating in the air like Superman, again, feeling very much like a three-year-old. BT had the back of my pants and my shirt. Tommy had his hand on the hatch latch, waiting for my go-ahead to open it. I figured if we were going off of previous encounters, I had three seconds to find and shoot my target before I needed to be pulled away so as to avoid getting a face full of rocks, which I greatly wanted to avoid, for obvious reasons. I nodded to Tommy. BT grunted as he swung me into place and dipped me down.
I think three seconds was being optimistic. I was going to have to take a couple for the team on this one. The first rock was a foot to my left.
“BT, swing me to three o’clock! Your other three o’clock!”
A rock struck my chest protector. No pain yet.
“Left or right next time!” He swiveled me in the right direction.
I saw the rock that was coming for my head; wasn’t a fucking thing I could do about it as I sighted in on my target. I pulled the trigger just as it collided with my forehead. Blood was pouring from the wound. My head throbbed. I wasn’t even aiming; I just kept pulling the trigger, hoping I was still in the general vicinity of my intended.
“Got him! Pull him in!” Tommy grabbed me and was doing his best to yank me through and shut the hatch. Not quick enough, though, as I was hit again. It felt like what little amount of brain matter I’d been able to retain over the years now had a good-sized hole to slide out of.
“Damn,” BT said as he put me down and rolled me over. He reached for the first aid kit.
“Morphine,” I mumbled.
“Fat chance. I did that before we left.” He tore a large swath of gauze as Tommy bathed my head in hydrogen peroxide; my head fizzed like a shaken two-liter bottle of soda. Stung a bit; BT squished out a tube of antiseptic ointment before wrapping my head. “You need stitches.”
“I need a fucking beer. I’ll take the ibuprofen, though.” He shook out a few into my hand and I swallowed them down. “How the fuck are they so accurate?” BT knocked my hand away as I was reaching up to touch the gauze.
“Could you at least let me finish the field wrapping before you fuck it up?”
“You’re a shitty nurse,” I told him.
Hanna
h had come out from under the couch. “The shaking stopped,” she said. I hadn’t noticed as I was trying my best to not lapse into unconsciousness.
“That’s cool and gross,” Johnny said, looking at the pool of blood that had collected in my lap. “He doesn’t look so good.” The kid was pointing at me. “You think he’s going to die?”
“Can’t,” BT said. I figured he was going to defend me; should have known better. “Too stupid to die.”
Johnny laughed. “Is that a thing? Because I think Hannah would be good at that.”
“Hey!” his sister shouted.
Tommy stood up once I was cleaned and wrapped. “We’ve got another problem.” He was looking at the camera displays. “They’ve taken out two of them.”
“What the hell?” I stood with BT’s help, honestly wished I’d stayed where I was for a few more moments. I was still feeling a little woozy. “It’s scary enough, them tossing rocks, but this is not an easy throw. Straight up? That takes a lot of coordination,” I said.
“I think in this instance, the lack of brain power might be playing into their favor,” BT said. “When we aim with anything, a rock, a spear, a gun, we can sometimes over think the shot. What if I miss? This is a difficult shot. What happens to my loved ones if I can’t make it? Got to be a dozen different things going through our mind besides just making the shot. They don’t have that problem. They see a target and let go, simple as that.”
“Yeah, sure, to a point, but there’s still the machinations of trajectory, distance, picking out targets; it’s not quite that easy.”
“So, they are using brain power. They just don’t have all the emotional baggage attached,” he rectified.
“Yeah, and somehow I think that makes them more dangerous,” I said.
“In a way. It’s kinda like you,” he said.
“Let’s hear it,” I sighed.
“Acting on instinct alone.”
“Figured this was going to end in a dig,” I told him.
“Oh, it’s supposed to be. I just haven’t got the handle on it yet.”
“You keep thinking about it, and thank you for not dropping me.”
He nodded. It looked like he was upset at himself that he had let pass an opportunity to give me shit. His window was closing; I didn’t think he should get too upset about it, it’s not like I wouldn’t give him something to use later on.
“What are they doing?” I was watching the zombies mass together underneath the house. “They protecting the bulkers?”
“I don't think so…the two still alive left, and I don’t see any new ones coming.”
“They’re laying down. They taking a nap?” I didn’t know what I was seeing, or rather, I couldn’t explain it. It didn’t stop my gut from reacting, in either case. I was somehow cognizant of the fact they were up to a new plan, even if my head hadn’t caught up.
We were all crowding around, watching as another layer of zombies climbed atop and proceeded to lie down.
“Like a rugby scrum,” BT said.
“Will you stop with your weird football-wannabe sports talk?” I asked.
BT once again had something on the tip of his tongue; this time, Johnny cut him off at the knees. How long could BT deal with insultus-interruptus?
“Looks like a pig pile,” Johnny said.
“Why?” Hannah asked.
“Are they seriously going to try and get here by stacking up like that?” I asked the question, but the proof was piling up; pun may or may not have been intended.
“They’re building a zombie tower? This is insane,” BT said, echoing my thoughts perfectly. “The weight on the bottom zombies will crush them.”
“Somehow I don’t think their fearless leader gives too many craps about the zombie regulars. Says something, though, that she pulled her bulkers back.” I was thinking.
“Can’t they just get more of the big ones?” Johnny asked.
“They’re rare. There’s something special about them genetically, otherwise she’d keep using them. It wouldn’t have been long before we would have been tossed from these trees. But the regular foot soldier zombies, they’re basically in unlimited supply.”
“Hey Mike, maybe you should filter some of what you’re saying,” BT said as he pointed to an obviously frightened Johnny.
“I’m…okay,” Johnny said haltingly.
“Tough to shield the truth at this point,” Tommy said absently. The zombies were a good five or six layers high now, and still more poured from the woods, ready to add themselves to the tower.
The woman zombie leader was closing the noose. She’d done something that had effectively taken our only advantage away from us. We could shoot every last one of the zombies beneath us, but that would do nothing to alter what was happening. Dead or alive, the zombies were basically Lincoln Logs being stacked one upon the other. I began to pace around the perimeter of the house, feeling more trapped with each passing lap. A honey badger with rabies would have been less antsy. I’d never considered myself a genius, but I was being outsmarted by a zombie. That was not going to look good on my tombstone.
“They’re halfway.” Tommy had designated himself the official doomsday announcer. If he was a clock, he’d be seconds away from midnight.
“Let’s barricade the hatch,” I said. BT and I headed to the kitchenette to grab the table. Didn’t take long. When we were done, I figured we had a couple hundred pounds sitting directly on top of it. I had to think that would be enough; it wasn’t like anyone down there was going to have a good base under their feet to push up against it. It was a band-aid on a compound fracture. The zombie pyramid was wide enough that when they made it up here, they’d be at the edges of the house and would be able to pull themselves in through the windows. We would hold them off for a while, and when the bullets ran out, we’d use whatever we could as weapons to send them spiraling down the slippery slope of their own creation. At that point, it would be fatigue that did us in. We could fight for a good long while, but not indefinitely. Time was on their side. We hadn’t heard from the rest of the squad in hours, and the base didn’t know where we were. Help was not coming.
“Anybody got anything they want to share?” I asked, looking for some thoughts on how we might escape our current predicament.
“We could run down the mountain, once it gets here,” BT offered.
Sounded about as much fun as licking razor blades. Hannah looked like she had swallowed a golf ball as she thought about that. Still, it was a possibility, and right now, the only alternative we had. But all of us running down a pile of zombies…the margin for error was slim, while the potential for harm was exceedingly high. One misplaced step…an arm shooting out to grab an ankle…a mouth in just the right place. It was an option, but staying put, at the moment, was still the better course. We’d live longer. And even if we somehow got down the mount, we’d now made running harder. Sure, I could carry Johnny and Tommy or BT could carry Hannah, but it still made things more complicated.
Now I had the added guilt of getting these kids in trouble. If we had just moved on when Hannah had prompted, at least they’d be safe. BT grabbed my arm and walked me to a far corner.
“Not your fault.”
“What?”
“I see it going through your head, the guilt, I mean. The second we walked past this place, the zombies were going to find it. With us up here, they, at the minimum, have a chance. And don’t start with that shit about ‘if we hadn’t walked past here.’ How the fuck could we have prevented that?”
“I don’t like that you know me so well.”
“Yeah, I’m not all that thrilled about it either. Makes me fear for my sanity.”
“About three-quarters up,” Tommy said.
I went over to look at the monitors. One, because I was hoping the pile was swaying like an over-extended tape measure; it wasn’t. And two, I was going to tell Tommy he didn’t need to keep announcing their progress. It was freaking the kids out. It was freaking me o
ut as well, but I used the kids as an excuse. Zombies were scaling the pile; I wouldn’t be surprised if they began breaking out grappling hooks, rope, cleats and all the other stuff climbers needed. As soon as each layer made it to the top, they just lay down. I couldn’t even conceive of how the zombie leader was pulling this off. How many thousands of pounds were the ones on the bottom being pressed with? She had to be sacrificing hundreds of her kind, for what? For us? Was this meal worth the expenditure? I guess the question was answering itself.
The going was slower as they got higher. Some zombies would fall away, a few took a section with them, but they were persistent. Two hours later, we heard the first of them scratching on the framing underneath us. Johnny stepped up on a chair; I thought about asking him to make room for me. Then they got to the hatch. There was scratching, thumping and pushing. It had barely shuddered, so far; I was correct in the assumption that they would have a difficult time getting the appropriate leverage. Twenty minutes later, there was scraping on the left, the side closest to us. A few minutes after that, the right joined in stereo.
“I sure do wish Grampy’s zipline brakes worked,” Johnny said, just as we saw the first hand grab the lip of the window sill. The smoke from my rifle still hung in the air as I turned to ask Johnny what he was talking about.
“The zipline, it has no brakes.”
“Got that part. Where is this line?”
He pointed to a panel I must have passed a hundred times; I’d assumed it was a pantry cabinet.
“Tommy!” I wanted him to keep an eye on my window as I went and checked out the cabinet. “What the hell?” I hadn’t noticed the lock.
“The key is on top. He had to put that on because of this one,” Hannah pointed at Johnny, “almost walked right off through it one time.”
I grabbed the key, undid the lock, and opened the door. The area wasn’t much bigger than a standard cabinet; I’d have to go in sideways, but there it was, a way, a hope, a chance. A cable was anchored to a beam above my head. There was a small wooden seat attached to what looked like bicycle handles with levers for brakes. I checked the pads; sure enough, they’d both been ground down to the metal. Beyond the cabinet and the wall of the house was a small gangplank, which was the launch point. I tentatively took an extra step and looked down. “Yeah, that would be a hell of a fall,” I said. I could only see the cable for about fifteen feet before it faded into darkness. This was a chance, and that was all it was. A wet zipline, at night, with no brakes. Sounds like something I would have been eager to try in my youth.
