by Mark Tufo
In a few more minutes, we were back on the road.
“Is it safe?” Tracy asked.
She could have been referring to any number of things. And I had not a single answer for any of them.
Chapter 2 – Mike Journal Entry 2
The ride had been somewhat muted after Henry’s umm…outburst. I’m thinking most of us in the car were more or less holding our breath just in case. I know I was even driving about twenty miles per hour slower just so I could stop faster if the need arose. Luckily, we’d only had one false alarm; Justin had moved in his seat causing the material to squeak. I had the front end of the truck dipping down I was bringing it to a halt so quickly.
“What do you think the odds of this are?” BT had asked. “I mean it’s pretty much like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“How big is the haystack?” I asked him in all seriousness.
“You know it’s just an analogy, right?” he queried back.
“I mean, if the stack isn’t too big and maybe we have a giant white tarp underneath when we separate the straw we could probably find the needle fairly easily. Maybe even get some magnets. That would be fucking genius.”
“Just turn the damn truck around,” he told me. “I’m not sure how long I can be in here with your crazy ass.”
“We’ll find him,” I said.
“You’re that sure?” he asked in all seriousness.
“Yes…there’s no other alternative.” What I left unsaid was that if we didn’t, this trip would end with a bullet for Justin and himself. Eventually they both would succumb to the zombie virus they each housed inside themselves.
We were nearly to the New Hampshire border when our first—and I could only hope, last—spate of trouble reared its ugly head. I had to slow the truck as we were coming upon zombies. So far, only in the ones and occasional twos, and then they really started to thicken. A bunch were meandering along the shoulder; but most tended to stay in the roadway, making driving become more like a video game as I tried to avoid hitting them.
“Oh, these zombies you avoid,” Tracy said sarcastically, referring to her Jeep Liberty I had totaled seemingly years ago on our quest to Walmart to get Justin and subsequently Tommy.
“You’ve got to let it go, woman,” I said, not risking turning back towards her. One, because that would take my eyes off the road; and two, I didn’t want to see how much I had angered her.
“This is Eliza’s work,” Tommy said as he placed his hands on the window and stared out. “She called them here, and now that she’s gone…”
“They’ve lost purpose,” I finished. Made sense. They had a new purpose now, though. As they saw us, they started to congeal on our space, which was somewhat funny. I mean, at least at first. It was hopeless for them, but that abruptly changed as we came upon the main part of the horde.
“My God, there must be hundreds,” Tracy said in alarm.
Yeah there were hundreds…adding up to a thousand or more. Plus they looked hungry; and considering that we were the only items on the menu, well, you get the point.
“Now what?” BT asked me.
“Should have just taken the damn Gatlin gun,” I told him.
I had the truck crawling at a measly ten mph. We were in imminent danger of becoming encircled. Going forward was not going to happen. Not without a tank. And back was rapidly losing its appeal as well.
“Everyone got a seatbelt?” I asked as I buckled myself in.
“You can’t possibly go through them.” BT’s eyes were growing wide.
I smiled a sick grin at him. I felt like I had just eaten old, slimy, cheap, (you know the extra fatty kind), uncooked bacon, and maybe it had a coating of green with a few maggots thrown in just for effect. Yeah, it was that bad.
I heard belts buckling so quickly it almost sounded as if it had been choreographed.
“Dad?” Travis asked.
“It’ll be alright,” I lied.
I took out my first zombie as I hit him dead center with the grill of the truck. His head struck the hood with such force that it sent a spray of broken teeth and blood halfway up the windshield. I was glad for small favors when, instead of his whole body coming up the truck, we were just momentarily jostled around as I ran over him.
“Gross,” Justin said. He had turned around to see the damage done. I’d seen enough of it in my rear view mirror to be happy I was only viewing a six-inch-by-two-inch rectangle. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like I had run over its midsection, pushing internal organs out through its mouth. Long ribbons of what looked like skinned animal parts lay on the road next to its head. The slimy bacon was sounding worlds better right now.
The nose of the truck dipped down as I drove off the road and into a culvert. My heart skipped a beat or seventeen as I dug the front end into the upslope. The wheels spun for a moment, I think it was zombies who actually saved us. A few slammed into the rear end and lent just enough force to allow my rear wheels to catch and make the truck start up the other side.
I rolled down my window. “Thanks for the push!” I yelled as I waved. It’s quite possible I wasn’t completely under control of my own emotions. (Lack of blood flow to the brain most likely being the cause—see earlier part about heart skipping beats).
“You are fucking nuts!” BT yelled, looking around I think for another seatbelt to strap over himself.
“Please tell me you haven’t just figured that out?” Tracy asked. She had both hands wrapped around the back of his seat as the truck was bucking wildly back and forth and up and down.
We were off-road now, the high grass and weeds making it a particularly difficult chore to see the surrounding terrain. I saw the small barbed wire fence and heard the high-pitched twang as we snapped through the line. I exhaled hard as my chest was forced into the steering wheel. We were in danger of high centering over a large rock, the screech of metal was deafening. I could only hope I hadn’t just taken out the oil pan.
A group of birds flew up as I was barreling down on them. “Pull!” I shouted enthusiastically. This only made BT dig his fingers harder into the dashboard.
“Damn you, Talbot,” he muttered.
I was racing across the expansive open field, thankful to whoever had spent the time to clear it of trees. My hands were swinging back and forth on the steering wheel so rapidly from the uneven ground it really did appear like I was ‘playing’ at driving much like a child might.
“They’re falling back,” Justin said, probably in the hopes that I would slow down.
The rising of the oil pressure was a contributing factor in determining that I needed to go even faster to put as much distance between us and them as possible.
“I smell smoke,” Tracy said.
“That’d be the engine,” I told her, I could only hope it wasn’t actually caused by the scummy pretend bacon sloshing around in my stomach.
“Not one fucking day, not one day could you make it with my truck!” Blared over the car speakers.
“What the hell?” I asked, looking around.
“I hooked up a two-way radio to the car sound system,” Ron’s voice drifted out.
“Sorry about the truck,” I told him.
“Screw the truck, how much trouble are you in?” he asked, concerned.
“No video camera?” I asked, quickly sweeping a hand across the front of the stereo.
“Mike,” Ron said smoothly.
“Umm…enough,” I said vaguely, not trying to alarm the rest of the occupants.
“Where are you at? I’ll send help.”
“This is kind of like On-Star,” I told him.
“BT, where are you guys?” he asked, completely deciding to skip over me.
“Pretty close to the New Hampshire border, saw a sign saying something about toll booths,” BT replied. I think he was happy to be doing anything else besides watching me drive.
“You guys must be close to Kittery,” Ron said.
“Did he say something about kit
tens?” I almost shrieked.
“Kittery…he said Kittery.” BT did his best to calm me down. “But right now Ron we’re off…umph…off the map. Will you slow down so I can talk?” he roared.
“Sure, sure, I’ll let them know what I’m doing,” I told him as I pointed behind us. A legion of zombies blocked out the entire rear view.
“You’ve never listened to me before, don’t start now.”
“Oooh, fudge,” I whistled.
“What’s oh fudge?” Ron asked.
We had narrowly missed a metal hydrant sticking up from the ground. My guess was that once it had been used for agricultural purposes, it had almost become our demise. As if the ruts and valleys of this uneven land weren’t enough, now I had to wonder how many of those ‘meat sticks’ were around. (Is further explanation necessary? See, if we got stuck it would be like ‘meat on a stick’ for the zombies.) Not the best analogy, but I was scared; we were on suspect turf with a failing vehicle, and no place to hole up. Oh yeah, and I almost forgot to add the part about the zombies chasing us. The shitload of zombies chasing us.
“Road!” Justin yelled so loudly I nearly lost control of the truck altogether.
I was going to thank Captain Obvious, but I was too relieved after our venture in the unchartered.
“Look out, man!” BT shouted.
It was not enough warning, the passenger side of the truck rose precariously high as I hit what looked like the rear axle of some large truck, lying in the road. The impact had either shifted the tire off the rim or blown it out completely; didn’t matter which really. We now had a disabled wheel to go with the rest of the problems. Coolant was blowing all over the windshield, smearing the glass, making it that much more difficult. I felt rather than saw when we touched down onto pavement. Smoke and fluids were pouring from the hood; the truck was hobbling along like we had square tires.
“I’m not hearing anything. Is everyone alright?” Ron asked.
We took our turns letting him and each other know we had made it through to the other side nearly unscathed.
“How about the truck?” he asked.
“Umm…it’s salvageable,” I told him as the poor thing creaked and groaned its final death throes.
“He means it is salvage,” Tracy clarified.
I glared at her.
“Son of a bitch. Find somewhere to stay I’ll start getting things rounded up. This is on tape, so just let me know where you go and we’ll find you. Mike…” He paused.
“You might want to hurry,” I told him as I looked back. The speeders were doing what speeders do, haul ass. “Okay, baby, you’re not quite dead yet, get us out of here,” I begged the truck, caressing the dashboard.
“I heard that,” Ron said.
“You’re supposed to be hurrying,” I snapped as the front fender sparked along the roadway. We were on the outskirts of Kittery, I guess, not that I really knew. The houses were much too close to the roadway and didn’t look too particularly stalwartly to withstand any sustained zombie attack. By the time I hit the main drag, the engine was beginning to cough and sputter, the businesses here looked like they catered to tourists and the large front-facing picture windows looked like a large invitation to the zombies about to visit. This way they could see the food inside before they sampled the wares.
“Take a right,” Tracy said as she slapped my arm. I don’t think it was intentionally so hard, but one never knows what past transgression she was just now remembering.
“Shoe store?” I asked stupidly, rubbing my arm. “Oh,” I said appreciatively when I saw the building up ahead. It was the town library, made from brick and mortar; from this distance it looked somewhat like a castle. I could only hope its defenses were as formidable. The building was huge, and two stories high. The windows…the blessed first story windows were at least seven or eight feet off the ground. No zombies would be coming through those. There was, however, the wide staircase that led to the front double doors. That of course was a problem. But right now those doors were shut, and I hoped they stayed that way.
“Ron, you still there?” I asked. I waited for a moment before I remembered he said this was recording. “Okay we’re going to the library…(I looked around)…on Wentworth. Big brick behemoth. Didn’t think this many people read in Maine. See you soon, big brother.” The last part he may or may not heard as the engine began to throw a rod, the loud metallic thumping making it difficult to think, much less talk. Time was running short; I pushed my foot heavily down and was rewarded with a spurt of speed followed immediately by the seizing of the engine. I was now coasting towards the library; thankfully, it was downhill.
“Talbot, the library,” BT said.
“Yup.” I told him.
“It’s coming up.”
“Yup,” I replied.
“Fuck.” He said resignedly, once again bracing himself.
The truck jolted as I jumped the curb, we crossed over the cement walkway and were now riding the brick pathway to the front. A handrail bisected the wide stairway, a fair amount of the truck’s momentum was taken as I hit that rail, shearing it from its moorings. I had at least one of the gods on my side that day as the front end of the truck kissed the front doors and stopped with hardly a tap on the brakes on my part.
“Can I look yet?” BT asked.
“Um…sure,” I told him, “but don’t look back. Everyone out.” More superfluous words had never been spoken; even Henry was halfway out by the time my words ceased.
Tracy looked at me questioningly. “The windows,” I told her, pointing.
Travis, Justin, and Tommy were busy gathering all our supplies. I grabbed the shotgun, went down the stairwell and off to the left, blowing a hole in the closest window.
“BT!” I shouted. I was going to have him toss me in, and then I realized I could do it on my own. I may have lost my soul, but at least now I could play in the NBA. I got onto the ledge of the window and cleaned the broken glass with the butt of the gun. I hopped inside the building, taking a real quick glance around, making sure we weren’t jumping into a mess worse than the one we were leaving.
I was pretty certain all was well when I turned back to the window. What I saw, I did not like. The truck had been losing speed for a long way, but I didn’t think it was enough to allow the zombies to catch up. They were streaming onto the roadway.
“Tracy, get over here!” I shouted.
She must have seen them, because she didn’t so much as tell me to ‘hold one horse’. With her hand outstretched I pulled her up easily.
“Grab my gun and make sure nothing bites me in the ass, please,” I told her as I put her down.
BT handed up Henry who apparently thought playing Superman was the coolest thing ever. His stubby tail was wagging rapidly. The boys were now tossing me up the ammo and food and whatever else was in the truck. Most of my attention was on the zombies coming our way.
“How much more shit is there?” I asked as I deposited another box on the floor.
“Last one.” Travis jumped up to grab the ledge. I reached down under his arms and yanked him in.
Justin stuck his hand out, I was somewhat alarmed at how light he felt; it was as if the disease were eating him from the inside out. “Travis, Justin, carefully check out this building, make sure there’s no zombies and no way for them to get in.”
Travis nodded and then they were gone.
“Go,” BT urged Tommy. I stepped aside as Tommy effortlessly jumped up and through the window.
“Show off,” I told him. He smiled and turned back to help me with BT.
“Any time,” I told BT who was watching the zombies. The fastest of them were now on the walkway.
“You going to be able to pull me up?” He was looking pretty scared, and who could blame him.
“Don’t worry, fat is lighter than muscle,” I told him. He glared at me as he stuck his hand out. Even with my added strength, he was heavy. Luckily, Tommy shouldered his way into the window frame and
helped me—okay, more like did it himself. It got a little awkward when we had to turn him sideways to fit through the frame, but other than that, we were all in and at least safe for the moment.
“Couldn’t you have just checked to see if the window was unlocked?” BT asked when the waft of zombies drifted through the opening. Even Henry seemed repulsed as he walked away to investigate his new digs.
I was still looking at the broken window when Travis came back. “There’s a basement door and a fire escape on the second floor. Both open outwards, are steel, and definitely locked.”
With the front doors blocked by the truck, we were in pretty good shape. I mean other than being surrounded by a thousand zombies. Yeah all was grand.
“Could be worse,” I told Tracy. “We could have got stuck in the shoe store.”
She laughed. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?” I asked.
“Make me laugh in these situations.” She squeezed my hand.
I didn’t ask her what the alternative was. “Want to go play librarian?” I asked huskily as I playfully swatted her butt.
“What does that even mean?” she asked.
“Who cares?” I told her.
“Wait, I really need to get all the facts in a row here. Okay, first we’re in a library with two of our children, three including Tommy. We’re surrounded by zombies waiting for your brother to rescue us somehow, and yet you have time to think about sex?”
“Well, duh,” I told her. “The day I stop thinking about having sex with you, I hope I’m dead.”
“Let’s go see if we can find a quiet area.”
“That worked?” I asked as she led the way.
BT was griping as he tried to find things to cover the broken window. He looked over as he watched us leaving.
“Umm, we’re going to check to make sure the books are stacked properly,” I told him.
“Holy crap, Talbot, you finally started shitting gold coins.” He was smiling as he pulled the Maine state flag down and pinned it up over the opening.
