by Mark Tufo
The basket began its third descent. This was where it was going to get interesting. Everyone that was left now was one less person manning the walls, so to speak.
“Travis, grab your mom!” I yelled, using a middleman as a buffer.
I knew Tracy would agree to this as much as she did that one time I tried to buy a cow. And not a butchered one, either. Long story short, we never did get Bessie. Hey, what pseudo prepper doesn’t think about getting some livestock? Her argument was that we only had a fifteen-by-fifteen foot yard at the time. Always the pragmatist; or is it realist?
She gave a half-hearted fight, but she was exhausted and knew she was only moments away from collapsing as it was. I was thrilled when they were halfway up. No matter what happened now, the majority of my family was safe. It now came down to Gary, Tommy, Trip, and me to hold down the fort. Maybe not the optimum fighting force, but I was happy to be alongside them nonetheless.
“When do the tickets come out?” Trip asked, taking a moment to look into the side cutout in hopes that the prize redeeming coupons would begin to spit through. “I should be able to get a huge teddy bear after this game!”
“Gary, you and Trip next!” I yelled.
“What about you and Tommy?” he asked breathlessly.
“We’ve got this,” I told him wearily. “Right?” I asked Tommy.
He nodded at me grimly.
By the time the bucket was down again, it nearly came down on Trip’s head, he and Gary had been pushed back that far by the zombies. I cut in front of them, creating the room they would need to get up into the air.
***
“These guys are phenomenal,” Barnes said, more to himself as he looked through his binoculars. “No wonder they’re still alive.”
“Keep an eye on the two that are still in the truck, sir,” the corporal said. “If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t believe it. He spins that tire iron like it’s on a sprocket, and when it hits, I swear he goes halfway into the skull. And the older guy, he looks like he could be prior military because he knows how to use his weapon, but he’s just too fast. I can’t think of any other way to explain it. He shouldn’t be moving with that much ease.”
“Definitely interesting.” The Lieutenant watched the two try to keep the converging zombies at bay. “We got anything that can help them?”
“We’re low on everything, sir. Plus, we’d like to save a little for the ride home in case we encounter any trouble ourselves.”
“Hate to see them fall now. I can’t imagine they’ll make it, though.” He put down his glasses as zombies broke over every part of the truck bed. The two men left were now fighting back to back.
***
“Odds?” I asked when Tommy’s back met mine.
“Odds? As in the chances we’ll make it?”
“Yeah.”
“You want to know what odds I would be giving on whether or not we survive? That’s kind of inappropriate,” he said.
“Not as much as mirrors on shoes.”
“Please tell me you haven’t done that.”
“No,” I told him. “I could never get the angle right and the glue wouldn’t hold. Plus, I mean, unless you tack on some good-sized pieces of reflective glass, what are you really going to be able to see?”
The mounted thirty cal in the helo opened up again, but it was blowing zombies away too far from us to be of any immediate help. The basket finally made its way down to us. Unfortunately it was a good five feet and half a dozen zombies from our present location. It would be a life or death struggle just to get there.
Tommy had a much better weapon for the close-quarter combat we now found ourselves in, and unlike me, he looked like he had another couple of hours left in him. It was getting to the point where I could barely drive my blade through the skull plate anymore. It was much more jarring to the arms than one might imagine. I was slogging through the bodies of two dead zombies by the time I reached the basket. Tommy was inches from me; the basket began its ascent.
“Going up, lingerie, jewelry, perfume,” I told him, hoping that the levity would break the spell of despair I was feeling even in the midst of a rescue.
Tommy jumped easily enough, the basket swaying drunkenly. He kicked out a few times, taking out some of the more rambunctious zombies that appeared to want to go for an aerial joyride themselves. We were about halfway up; the operator was guiding the cable onto the winch. I don’t know what it was, but something didn’t seem right, another crewman kept looking out over at us, but none of my family. I at least expected Trip to wave or something, or for Tracy to make sure I made it safely on board. I could only reason that they’d been made to strap themselves in and were telling them about our progress. I still didn’t see that working on Tracy…or Trip for that matter.
We were three-quarters up as that second crewman peeked out again. Tommy looked over at me, I shrugged. He didn’t appear to like my response. Hands reached out and grabbed me just as the basket was coming even with the skids of the helicopter. My eyes immediately went to BT as I stood and was being helped in. The big man was passed out on a stretcher. That was not a shock. It was when I panned around and noticed that everyone was passed out. I instinctively pulled back.
“Michael Talbot?” the man asked.
“Uh…yeah,” I answered, still looking at my entire family.
It was then that the second crewman came up by my side. I felt rather than saw the prick of a needle going deep into my neck. I reached out and grabbed his windpipe, slowly constricting his airflow as I applied more pressure.
“What’s going on here?” I asked. Whatever he had hit me with was already beginning to take effect as his image blurred and multiplied. All three of him were rapidly turning red as I kept squeezing.
I felt another needle on the side from the man that was working the cable. Tommy and the basket were just coming even with the opening to the craft. He saw as the second needle plunged into my neck and I would imagine, the status of everyone. His face twisted into a mask of anger as he grabbed the man that hit me the second time. He picked him up and threw him hard against the cockpit wall. The man slumped down. Two others that looked like Marines trained their weapons on Tommy. Before either of them could react Tommy hit the release on the basket; cable spun freely as he and the sled plummeted to the ground.
“Grab him!” someone shouted.
I thought they were talking about Tommy until I felt hands roughly grasp my arms and shoulders, dragging me the rest of the way into the helicopter before I rolled out and down. I was unconscious before I felt the hands leave me.
***
Lieutenant Barnes watched as the basket and the young man fell from the helicopter. “Dipshit air jockeys,” he said as his heart skipped a beat. It was always difficult to watch someone die, and the more he saw, the worse it got. “Can’t even pull off a simple rescue mission without killing someone. Alright, Godson, get everyone on the same page. We’re out of here.”
“We going to see if the kid is alright?” Godson asked.
“He just fell a hundred feet out of a helicopter into the waiting arms of several hundred zombies. I’m going to say the outcome is predetermined on this one. Let’s saddle up and get out of here.”
Barnes’ radio crackled and came to life. “Pounder Four, Pounder Four, this is Wing Six, standby for orders.”
“Shit, looks like we’re going in after all,” Barnes said.
“Pounder Four, this is Captain Emery. Do you still have an RPG?” he asked.
“Hello, Captain, this is Lieutenant Barnes, we’ve got one round left. You want us to go in and save the boy?”
“Negative, Lieutenant, I want you to put a round into that truck.”
Barnes didn’t say anything. He couldn’t figure out the reasoning for the action.
“You still there, Lieutenant?”
“Uh…yes, sir, I think our last communication got garbled. I thought you said to light up the truck.”
“You heard
right. Put a round in the truck…now.”
Godson was looking over at Barnes, he mouthed ‘Why?’
“Lieutenant, put a round in that truck now or we will fire on your position.”
“How about I just put the round in your ass,” Barnes shot back. “Be a lot easier for me to hit a nice easy non-moving target like yourselves with a rocket.”
“We’ll talk when you get back,” the captain said. The helicopter rose a little more and got to the side of the plow. Thirty caliber machine gun rounds plowed into the truck, shredding everything in and around it. By the time the gas tank was struck and ignited, nothing was living in a ten-foot perimeter of the DPW truck.
“Should I shoot him down?” Godson asked. He had grabbed the RPG and had it by his side.
“Normally I’d say yes, but he has all those civilians onboard. Just because Emery is an asshole doesn’t mean they deserve to die.”
A plume of flame erupted from the truck. The helicopter turned and the gunner was now pointing in the lieutenant’s direction.
Godson shoulder mounted the tube and flipped the safety off.
“One damn round comes this way, blow that motherfucker out of the sky,” the lieutenant said.
“With pleasure, sir.”
Godson centered the helicopter in his sights. The last time he’d had such an easy flying target had been on the practice range a few years back. The copter would never be able to maneuver fast enough to get away from the rocket-propelled grenade. He’d feel slightly bad for the civvies, but they were nameless, faceless people to him right now. Tough to have nightmares about people you didn’t even know.
The helicopter abruptly veered to the left and made a hasty departure.
“Ought to be a fun night on the base tonight,” Barnes said. “Alright, let’s try this again, round everyone up and let’s get the hell out of here.”
“I could still take them out,” Godson replied.
Barnes thought about it for a moment. In the fog of war, all sorts of stuff went down that was never explained, and not too many people would miss Emery.
“As tempting as that sounds, I’d rather break that aristocratic nose of his with my fist instead.”
Godson put the weapon on safe and quickly put it away without any more thought to the fact that he had his finger on the trigger of twelve human lives, and more importantly—in his opinion—one dog.
***
My head was splitting when I awoke. A harsh light from the ceiling shone down and, of course, directly into my eyes. I sat up slowly knowing to do it any faster would cause a serious case of vertigo. Sometimes it was alright to be a little older; at least I knew the limitations of my body.
“Tommy!?” I called out, sitting bolt upright quickly despite the pain. Last I had seen, he was plummeting to the ground. What had happened to me, to my family? It was then I realized I was in a cell. For just the briefest of moments I imagined that it was padded and everything that had happened that early December day last year was the result of some psychosis. I’d finally snapped and had been living a nightmare of zombies and vampires ever since. Typical Talbot shit, though. Why couldn’t I get lost in a world of Hooters girls and unicorns? Nope, I had to go right for the shit storm. When I realized I wasn’t in a straightjacket, holding on desperately to crayons, I got up to further inspect where I was.
“Hey, Mike,” I heard off to my right. I whipped my head so fast it took the blinding white headache a second or two to catch up, but when it did, it took twice that long to be able to focus on the person in the cell next to mine.
“Wags?” I fairly sobbed. “Is that you?” I moved quickly to the heavy iron bars that separated us. I stuck my hand out and wrapped it around Dennis’ head. “It’s so good to see you, man. Have you seen the rest of my family?”
“No, I don’t know where they are...they don’t let me get out much.”
I wasn’t feeling all peachy-keen, but if they’d wanted us dead, they had ample opportunity to have done so. “How’s your family?” I asked. His hangdog expression said everything. “I’m sorry, man.” I quickly moved on. “What are you doing here? Were you ‘rescued’ too?” I asked with the air quotes. “They don’t even know me and they already stuck me in jail. I mean, sure, once they get to know me, they’d probably figure out this is where I belong, but not yet. I should at least get the benefit of the doubt.”
“My only crime is hitchhiking,” he told me.
“Huh?”
“I was on my way up to Ron’s when my car broke down. I flagged down this old bitch in a semi. One look at her and I knew I should have just walked away. I was desperate, though.”
My worry over my family’s safety began to compound on itself as I waited for him to give me an answer I already knew.
“The lady is one of the craziest, meanest snakes I’d ever come across,” he continued.
“Yeah, that would be Deneaux,” I said.
He paused for a moment as he raced to catch up to how I knew.
“Makes sense,” he said. “Is what she said about your family and Paul true?” he asked. When he realized that I had no way of knowing what she’d said, he added, “That they’re all dead.”
“We’ve taken some losses,” I said, not wanting to go into detail. They were all still too fresh.
“Paul?” he asked.
I nodded. “And I don’t know how yet, but I know that bitch had something to do with it. I was going to beat it out of her, but she slipped through my hands and right into the arms of the enemy. She pulled a Benedict Arnold when she thought she could shake a better deal. If it’s not for the betterment of Vivian Deneaux, don’t expect any help.”
“Wish I’d read that pamphlet before I got in the truck.” Dennis replied.
“Maybe they should have had a film in our Health class back in school. Right after the Birds-and-the-Bees flick, they could have had one entitled Deneaux and Deception.”
“Or maybe Vicious Vivian: How to avoid a deadly strike.”
“I like that one. Do you know anything about this place?” I asked.
“Not much. I know it’s a military base of some kind. I’ve heard some of the guards say something about the Demesne Group, but that means nothing to me. How about you?”
I shrugged my shoulders; it meant nothing to me either.
“That’s really it. Deneaux comes down once a day; I think just to torment me. She talks a lot without really saying all that much. I get the feeling she’s somewhat afraid here, but by the way the guards act around her, I think they’re the ones who are scared.”
“Naw, she must have power here, that’s why the grunts are afraid. It’s at the higher echelons where the shit is getting a little stickier. I wonder if she knows I’m here? I’d love to wrap my hands around her scrawny little wrinkly neck.”
“Tell us how you really feel,” Dennis said with a crooked smile.
“How long have I been here?” I asked, my pounding head once again making its presence known.
“Five…six hours maybe. They said you’d be out until tomorrow when they dropped you off.”
“I’m glad you didn’t try to take advantage of me.”
“Bars were in the way.”
“What is going on here? Makes absolutely no sense,” I said. Just then, we heard the distinctive sound of a heavy lock being opened and the clanging of a metal door as it opened wide and struck something.
“You smell fried chicken?” Dennis asked me.
And I did. “Porkchop?” I asked when the poultry-wielding boy stepped in front of my cell.
“Want some?” he asked, sticking his hand out about halfway, looking more like he hoped I would refuse his generous offer.
“No, it’s alright--I haven’t eaten in about two days,” I told him. “What are you doing here? Where’s…Doc! Oh my God, it is so good to see you.” I came up quickly to the bars. Porkchop backed up just in case it was a ruse for me to grab the chicken.
“Michael,” he answered
coolly as he approached. “Where’s Tomas?” Doc asked in that same grave manner.
“Not here,” I answered, trying to understand what was going on.
“You were with him?” It was phrased as a question, but that he already knew the answer was not in doubt.
“I was.”
“Could you have killed him?”
“Probably not,” I told him in all sincerity. Anything short of a second coming wouldn’t kill him, I figured.
“He killed my family,” Doc said with vacant eyes.
“I’m sorry, Doc. I loved them as well,” I said, reaching out gently. My hand brushed against his arm before he backed up and out of reach, sticking his forearm out to block Porkchop from me as well.
“What are you now, Michael?” the doctor once again asked a question he already knew the answer to.
“What the hell does that mean?” Dennis asked.
“How many families have you killed, Michael?” the doc asked me.
“Mike, what’s he talking about?” Dennis asked again.
“Mister, have some chicken,” Porkchop said, sticking a half-eaten wing through Dennis’ bars. It was clear this conversation was upsetting him.
“So it is true; you both do know each other. What a strange little world we find ourselves in,” Doc said. “So much of what comes out of her mouth is a falsehood that it’s difficult pulling the slivers of truth from the myriad of lies.”
“Is that why I’m in this cell? Because she knows I’m here? Is she somehow running this place? What is this place? Where is my family? BT?” I was rapid-firing questions at him, none of which he seemed to want to answer…at least at first.
The doc smiled a little. “No, she doesn’t know you’re here. I do hope I’m around when she finds out, though. Seems she has a deep-rooted hatred for you.”
“I did nothing but repeatedly save that old bitter bitch’s life. Let us out of here, Doc, let me get to my family.”
