by Mark Tufo
“Your family is fine. Apparently you’re a better guardian than I am, Michael. Somehow you were able to kill Eliza where I failed.”
“Technically it was Tracy,” I said.
“Who’d Tracy kill?” Dennis asked. “The vampire chick?”
“You going to eat that?” Porkchop asked Dennis who was now holding a piece of chicken that he had seemingly forgotten about or never realized was there in the first place.
“I watched my whole family die. Butchered like farm animals really, and that traveling partner of yours drank them all.”
“Mike, what the fuck?” Dennis asked. “That shit about the vampires Deneaux was telling me, that was real? I thought she was full of shit or at least a butt-load of Vicodin.”
“I’m sorry, Doc, I truly am. But that doesn’t change the fact that you need to get me out of here. I’ve got to get to my family and BT needs help,” I said, ignoring Dennis.
“BT is dead,” the doc said, looking hard at me.
I staggered away from the bars as if I’d been punched in the solar plexus from the very man…nay, the friend that had died. My world was spinning, I watched as Porkchop looked up to the doc and then to me.
“The giant man?” Porkchop asked. “He’s okay. He was asking about you, Mr. Talbot,” Porkchop said.
“What?” I asked, my eyes filled with salty tears.
“Hurts, doesn’t it, Michael, when you realize that people you care for are dead. That small sample you just had is what I feel every waking moment. It never ceases, I see their accusation each and every time Eliza slices their throats…their cries of betrayal as I sit there, impotent to do anything. She made me watch as the blood flowed out of them. As their light of life left them, it left me as well, I’m an empty well inside.” The Doc said.
“You’re right, Doc, I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through. And maybe I’m selfish, because I never want to have to go through what you’ve been through,” I said, truly empathizing with the man.
“Lawrence is responding well to the drugs. He was my first human trial. We weren’t quite ready for that stage, but it didn’t appear he was going to wait,” Doc said, slipping from destroyed married man and father into the successful doctor persona.
If changing between the two roles is what kept him sane and operational, who the hell was I to say anything.
“Is he cured?” I asked, hoping.
“Not yet, but I believe that with aggressive treatment, he will be. I believe it will take a combination of drugs and radiation. Your grandfather made that intuitive leap almost a hundred years ago. The key is to hit them hard and fast or the virus adapts surprisingly well.”
“And Justin?” I asked, swallowing hard.
“We should be weeks away from human test trials and I did not want to endanger him unless it becomes absolutely necessary, like it was with Lawrence.”
“What about the shots that you were giving him?”
“I’m afraid those may have done more harm than good,” he said. “The parasitic virus that now runs through him will be surprisingly immune to a lot of what we will attempt.”
“Is there a chance?” I asked.
“There is…but it’s significantly less than BT’s.”
“Thank you, Doc.” I rested my head against the bars, letting the new information soak in. When I opened my eyes, Doc was staring intently at me.
“I’ve been working on a way to kill Tomas,” he said, matter-of-factly. And with those last unsettling words to me, he turned. “Come on Porkchop, it’s time for your lessons.”
“I’ll tell Henry you said hi,” Porkchop whispered loudly to me.
“Thank you,” I nearly sobbed.
“Mike, any chance you want to tell me what’s going on?” Dennis asked.
“Not-fucking-really,” I answered. “Sorry, man. Alright, here’s the short version. Zombie apocalypse starts. This crazy zombie-slash-vampire chick decides I’m at the top of her shit list. Her half-vampire brother Tomas, with Ryan Seacrest as his spirit guide decides he’s going to do his best to protect us. We end up on this roof fighting for our lives and it comes down to Tomas, infecting me with vampire blood so that I can beat down this über-asshole named Durgan. Yada, yada, yada, I lose my soul, win the fight. Huge battle with Eliza and her minions, which we win, and now I’m on a quest to get my friend BT who was bitten and Justin who was scratched cured somehow.”
Dennis’ eyes were huge. “Dude, did you just ‘yada, yada, yada’ me with the zombie apocalypse?”
“Dude, listen, I know there’s enough holes in that story you could fly a plane through. I promise if we get out of this I’ll relate the whole thing. Plus I have a bunch of journals you can read. Just don’t let Tracy see them. Right now, though, I’ve got to figure a way out of here.”
Dennis’ eyes were still huge, and now his mouth had dropped.
“You’re going to start drooling soon,” I told him.
Once again we heard the door open down at the end of the hall. I pulled back from the bars and deeper into the dark cell. I could smell the smoke from here. I retreated even deeper into my cell.
“Hello, Dennis,” Mrs. Deneaux said in that oh-so-familiar raspy voice. “I brought you something.” She placed a small flask on the floor and pushed it through the bottom of the bars.
Dennis turned towards her, his earlier facial expression not changing all that much.
“What’s the matter with you?” Mrs. Deneaux asked, a large swirl of smog around her head. “I can be nice from time to time.”
“Oh, I doubt it,” I said, coming forward. I’ve got to admit it was extremely satisfying watching her stagger back, although the bitch recovered faster than humping rabbits.
“Michael? It’s so good to see you,” she said before spinning and quickly retreating.
“I’m going to take your cigarettes,” I yelled down at her.
Bitch got spunk, had to admit that. She flipped me off.
***
Vivian entered Dixon’s office. “Why did you not tell me you had apprehended Michael Talbot?” she demanded, interrupting the conversation between Dixon and Captain Najarian
“That will be all, Captain,” Dixon said. “Vivian, so good to see you.”
“Cut the shit, Dixon. What is he doing here, and why wasn’t I told?”
“Vivian, it was a military operation. There was no need for you to know. And as for the reason why he is here, think about it, Viv. The man possesses the opportunity for immortality within the confines of his blood and body.”
“He’s not going to just give it to you, Dixon.”
“Oh but he has. The lab is already working with the five vials they pulled from him while he was knocked out.”
“Then kill him, Dixon. Kill him if you already have what you need.”
“In time, Vivian, in time. There are still many things we can learn from him.”
“He is dangerous and resourceful, Dixon. If given the opportunity, he will bring this place down.”
“I did not realize you had a flair for the dramatic, Vivian. This is a military base with hundreds of military personnel and weaponry, I’m not overly concerned.” Dixon laughed.
“You should be.”
“We also have his family.”
“You have the Talbots here?” she asked, pointing to the floor.
“Yes, Vivian. You act as if we let sharks loose in a fish tank. This Talbot will not do anything if he believes it could harm his family.”
“You’ve got it wrong, Dixon, he will do something because you are threatening his family. Kill them, kill them all.”
“I’m not a murderer of women and children, Vivian,” he said indignantly.
“Oh…NOW you decide to employ a moral compass. Little late for that, don’t you think? I’m going to pack so that when this goes to hell, which it will, I’ll be able to leave that much quicker. I should have stayed on Michael’s side,” Mrs. Deneaux said sadly as she walked out of Dixon’s off
ice.
Dixon shook his head as she left. “Age has tempered her resolve.”
Chapter 27 – Talbot Family
“He’s alright?” Tracy asked, hugging Porkchop.
“He seemed alright…but probably not, because he didn’t want any of my chicken,” Porkchop said.
“This is so exciting,” Trip said, walking around the room, a glow seeming to emanate from him.
“Exciting?” Gary asked. “What’s exciting?”
“Backstage, man,” Trip said enthusiastically. “How many times can you say you’ve been backstage at a Dead show?”
“Ummm…still zero,” Gary said.
“Leave him be,” Tracy said. “At least one of us should be enjoying themselves.”
She smiled. She was relieved to hear her husband was alright, even if he was in a cell, it wasn’t his first time. Doc had been in earlier to tell them how BT was doing. The flat emotionless way he had talked was disturbing. Tracy couldn’t blame him for that, though, not after all he’d been through. That he was still functioning at all was a testament to the strength of his will or his desire for revenge. She hoped for his and Porkchop’s sake it was the former rather than the latter.
Chapter 28 – Mike Journal Entry 13
‘Tommy?’ I asked, feeling the boy around the peripheries of my mind. ‘You’re still alive? I thought I’d lost you.’ The relief within me was palpable.
‘You alright?’ Tommy asked me back. ‘I’m almost as hard to kill as you are.’ Even though he was talking in my head I knew he said that last part with some mirth. ‘When we were going up in that helicopter, I was just happy that all of you were safe. And then I saw everyone unconscious and you had just been given a shot. I hit the release on the winch. Crashing down onto the zombies bought me the time I needed as I jumped out of the truck and ran for cover. I got the distinct impression if they couldn’t catch me they would attempt to kill me, and I wasn’t wrong. They shot up the truck until it finally caught the fuel on fire.’
‘How’d you get away from the zombies?’ I asked.
‘I can move faster than they can react.’
I was having a hard time with the concept and Tommy could tell.
‘Just think about you walking around normally and everyone else is in super slow motion. That’s what it’s like for me with the zombies. What’s this got to do with women’s locker rooms?’ Tommy asked, picking up on some stray thoughts.
‘Ah…nothing…sorry. I’m glad you’re here,’ I changed the subject.
‘I’m not quite there. I’m following the ground unit back. I just picked you up a few miles ago. How’s everyone else doing?’
‘Good as far as Porkchop says.’
‘Porkchop’s there?’ I heard Tommy ask. It was a mixture of anguish and thankfulness.
‘Doc’s here too, Tommy,’ I said. The boy went silent. I was picking up images of horrific detail. ‘He may have found a cure for BT.’
‘That’s great,’ Tommy said with true appreciation for that fact, but the thoughts of Doc’s family dominated his attention.
‘Tommy, he said he knows a way to kill you.’
‘I would imagine,’ Tommy said.
‘I’m telling you this so you’ll be careful,’ I admonished.
‘I’ve got it, you don’t want me to die until I help you get out,’ he said with some withdrawal in his voice.
And for the most part, he nailed it on the head. On some level, I did love the kid, but he had destroyed the foundation of trust from which our relationship was based. I hoped that someday we would get back to where we were, but it was going to take time. He had been lying to me the moment I had seen him on the Walmart roof.
‘Tommy, would it help if I said I don’t want you to die at all?’ I asked.
‘It would, Mr. T, it would.’
‘Get us out of here kid, all of us.’
He pushed his darker thoughts down. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
‘Looking forward to it.’
Talbot-Sode #1
As it’s been noted in previous journals, and from what goes unstated, I’ve not been a poster child for the law-abiding citizens of the world. I’d been caught in enough scrapes that I’d been forced to join the military or watch out if I dropped the soap. If I’d been caught in even a tenth of the things I’d truly done, I’m sure I’d still be doing hard time. And at the root of a lot of those things was Dennis. Now, I’m not saying it was his fault, not by any stretch of the imagination. It just so happened that when we got together, bad shit just kind of happened.
More than likely booze was the biggest mitigating factor. I don’t know…when we got together it was like adding a flare to a gas can. I had just picked Dennis up from his house. Okay, shit, let me throw in a disclaimer. I am in NO way advocating Dennis’ behavior or mine. If I caught any of my kids doing the shit I’d done, I’d kick their asses two ways to Sunday. Yeah, I know, I’m hypocritical. Any of you parents reading this know what I’m talking about, any of you without kids right now will eventually get it. Back to the...umm ‘story’ that’s right…story, this is a piece of fiction that will not run afoul of jurisdictions, paroles, or statutes of limitations. So I had mythically picked up Dennis at his house, and he had figuratively pulled out a bottle of Southern Comfort—which is basically bottled diesel fuel. I took a pull on it like only an inexperienced drinker does, meaning I took in way too much of the fiery liquid.
“Good!” I lied. “Where’d you get this shit?” I looked at the bottle.
The ‘shit’ part I meant. I’m not really so sure why the majority of my youth revolved around booze and drugs. I grew up in a relatively stable environment. I wasn’t abused, mentally, physically, or emotionally. I had no ailment that the drug companies had yet to create a moniker for. It was just what we did—partying I mean. This was before Nancy Reagan got on her high horse and started talking about ‘Just Say No.’ We were always pretty much ‘Just Say Why Not.’ It was an accepted part of our youth. It was as much a part of our growing up experience as was texting for my kids.
We had some time to kill before Linda Mahoney’s party began, so we were basically riding around catching a hell of a buzz from the SoCo. It was then I noticed the cop lights, not behind me, but rather in front. We were on a side street and the cop had pulled up to someone’s house on a call. I drove by slowly, making sure not to look over and make any sort of eye contact. Not that it would have mattered, the cop was inside the house.
“Nobody’s in there,” Dennis said.
“Good,” I agreed as I cruised slowly past.
“Pull over up here a little bit.” Dennis pointed to a darkened area on the street.
“This really isn’t the best place to take a piss,” I told him.
“You got any tools in your car?”
“Just you.”
“You want any more of the SoCo?” he threatened.
“Fine, I’ve got a little roadside assistance kit or something my dad put in the trunk.”
“Let me see it.”
“Why?” I asked suspiciously.
“I want those lights.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. At first I figured he meant a streetlight, but we were nowhere near that HIGH. Then I figured something on a house; still…nothing stood out.
“Dude, what are you talking about?”
“I want the cop lights,” he said, sticking his hand out for the keys so he could get in the trunk.
“What? Are you nuts? You want to steal the lights off a cop car with the lights going and the cop in the house?”
He thought for a moment. “Yeah…that’s about it.”
So then I thought for a moment. “Okay, let’s go.” I handed him the keys. I don’t think the accumulated brainpower we shared that night could have powered an LED light.
“That’ll work,” Dennis said, grabbing a couple of screwdrivers and an adjustable wrench.
We walked up to that cruiser like we owned it, the red an
d blue lights playing havoc on my head. Vertigo was threatening to toss me on my ass—or maybe just my stomach contents onto someone’s lawn.
“Hold this.” Dennis directed my hand to the adjustable wrench.
There were two bolts on each side of the car that secured the lights to the roof. We spun the driver’s side ones off in under a minute. Now came the more dangerous part, because we would be on the side that faced the house we figured the cop to be in. Although, in reality, he could be just about anywhere. I once again placed the wrench over the nut while Dennis worked furiously on the screw. I would alternate between closing my eyes from the nauseating lights and keeping lookout. The bracket clattered to the ground, bouncing off the top of my sneaker first.
“Ready?” he asked.
“For what?”
He tore the lights free from the car, snapping the wires that supplied the power. It took me a moment to get over the thrill that the stupid lights had finally stopped swirling before I sped to catch up with my fleeing partner-in-crime. I may have heard someone shout ‘Hey you’ or the much more scary ‘I know your mother’. Either way, I wasn’t stopping. Dennis tossed the lights into the backseat of my car and we both hopped in. My heart was slamming against my chest and it was all I could do to start the car. We hadn’t driven more than a quarter mile away before we both started laughing so hard I had to pull over because I was tear-blind.
I drove around with those cop lights in my car for a good week. If I had gotten stopped for a broken taillight (which I had at the time) I would have been busted.
Of course it was big news in the small town. It made the front page of the local newspaper. There was a picture of the cruiser sans lights, and how they had some leads and suspects, but nothing ever came of it.
Dennis ended up putting the lights in his room, dragging them out a couple of times for parties. Hooked up to a car battery, they were just as obnoxious then as when they were mounted. I think he eventually ended up trading them for a bag of weed.
