by Mark Tufo
“Fine!” I said through gritted teeth. “This is the way you want it…let’s play.” I marshaled up my white blood cells that had not yet fully recuperated from our last round. But Hugh was also degraded from our fight, plus he had his forces split, some still working on repairs others were being used in an effort to take over.
My body broke out in a bathing sweat across in its entirety. My thoughts became fragmented as my temperature soared. Hugh was cutting paths through my defenses like a blowtorch to snow. He was a virus on a mission. I pushed away from the door with my flagging reserves. Hugh was charging for the brain, and once he got to the control tower he wasn’t going to stop until one of us was dead and gone; and right now the smart money was on him. I wobbled mightily as I stood, a fortuitously placed hat rack the only thing allowing me to keep my balance.
“Who uses hat racks anymore?” I asked as I pushed away down a small hallway.
The bathroom was a few steps away…or a few miles, depending on perspective. The pain along with my weakness was threatening to topple me like a tree in the forest.
“KILL!” Hugh shouted.
“My sentiments exactly,” I told him.
As I gripped the edge of the bathroom doorway, I had one chance. If this failed I didn’t have enough left to stave him off for very much longer. I let go of the doorframe and fell towards the sink, thankful that the craftsmanship kept the pedestal style sink standing as I slammed into it. A small, mirrored medicine cabinet above the sink was my goal. My left arm betrayed me; I couldn’t move it at all. To move my right meant releasing my tenuous grip on the porcelain edge.
I shot my arm out there and gripped the corner of the cabinet. It tore loose from its anchors and toppled to the ground with me, glass, and a variety of washroom utilities cascading around me. I was thankful the same handyman had not put the mirror up or I would have slipped off it without my prize in hand.
At least three orange-brown prescription bottles landed on the floor near me, possibly more, but if they weren’t directly in front of me they were, for the most part, lost. I fumbled until I could bring a bottle up to my eyes; my vision was clouding from pain.
“Cialis. At least I can die with a hard-on.”
I tossed it aside; although that was a liberal use of the word, more like let it roll out of my clenching and unclenching near-traitorous hand. The next bottle was labeled: Valtrex. Somewhere in my head the word ‘herpes’ flashed.
“Next,” I said as I grabbed another bottle. “Fucking-A!” I shouted in triumph, which cost me a coughing fit. Penicillin. I twisted the top off, thankful that it was not screwed on the childproof side.
“One fucking pill? Are you kidding me? Douche bag has herpes, the clap…and needs help with stiffies. Must only be able to afford ugly hookers. What the hell,” I said as I swallowed the pill more suited for a horse by its size. I put my head down to wait for the fall of my siege, my head looking straight at the Valtrex bottle. “Cocksucker, herpes is a virus.” I reached, or so I thought for the bottle, neither arm was under my command. Three inches from help and I was powerless. I willed, begged, cajoled, and threatened them to move. Nothing, not so much as a stir, although Hugh hadn’t completely gained power either. Snot was pooling on the side of my face as it poured from my nose.
“More than one way to skin a cat…and I should know,” I said as I lifted my head as far as I could.
I brought my mouth down on the bottle and began to chew, plastic mixed in with the utter bitterness of the pills as I devoured the entire container and its contents in four large swallows. There was a momentary pang of panic as a piece of the cap lodged in my throat. Of all I’d been through, death by choking seemed the most ironic way to go out. Well maybe not considering some of the things I’d been eating as of late.
I was able to move my torso but I had lost all feeling in my lower extremities and arms. I got as close to a sitting position as I could and then let myself topple over into the side of the toilet. I hooked my chin on the rim of the bowl and pulled myself in. I greedily started lapping water like a desert raised dog. When my mouth was full, I snorted in a large dose of mucous, the two combined were more than enough lubrication to get the obstruction moving in the appropriate direction. The water tasted like shit – go figure – but the air was sweet as I pulled it in. I didn’t know if I had enough time left for the pills to do anything or if they would even help at all. I was running out of fight and Hugh seemed like he could do this forever.
Like a field marshal I surveyed the battle scene and I wasn’t liking what I saw at all. The white blood cells weren’t retreating. Like an ill-trained militia, they were just being overrun at every impasse. Hugh was gaining momentum as he steamrolled over what I was throwing at him. I would not be allowed to be a prisoner of war in this engagement, had he no honor?
Minutes flew by as my end rushed to meet me, then something happened. It’s tough to relate, because I’m not entirely sure myself, but Hugh began to hesitate as something, some as yet unseen force, began to attack his flank. He turned to face this new threat and the white blood cells, which seemed to be bolstered with confidence or a shot of whiskey, attacked with a renewed vigor. “YEAH!” I would have shouted if I had the strength to do more than watch.
Hugh was in trouble. He had completely given up on attacking me and was entirely on the defensive, but the antibiotics and white blood cells were offering no quarter as they attacked relentlessly. I was getting weaker by the moment. As the battle waged on, my internal temperature began to spike. It had to be cruising past 107, because I felt my brain beginning to liquefy. Hugh might not be a danger to me anymore, but the liquid fire approaching like magma sure as shit was. I passed out in pain as the fire lapped against my feet.
I couldn’t even begin to assess how much time had elapsed when I awoke. I hadn’t moved much from my perch against the toilet. My head was splitting, I was thinking due to the severe dehydration I was suffering if the burning in my throat was any indication.
“Hugh…help,” I said, seeking out my longtime ally.
No response. It was then I remembered our epic battle. Was he even now sulking in a corner plotting his next maneuver, licking his wounds like I was?
“Oh fuck, Hugh, I’ll forgive you if you fix this damn leg,” I moaned, grabbing my still-throbbing appendage. I noticed a bullet half lodged in my skin. “What the hell?” I asked as I gripped it with my thumb and forefinger. I yanked back, red emblazoned my world as pain lanced every fiber of my being. I rocked back, smacking my head against the wall. The clatter of lead on tile kept me coherent. I had staved off unconsciousness. Blood plopped from my new wound. “Hugh, what are you doing, man?”
I felt under my shirt. There was a bump a few layers deep under a puckering wound. The bullet had been pushed up, but nowhere near the surface.
“Come on, man, we can figure this out,” I begged. I was pissed at myself for it, but the pain was so great, prostrating before him seemed prudent. “Listen, I’ll get you all the food you can eat, man. I’ll raid a damn orphanage if that helps, just fix these wounds, man.”
Nothing, not even a contemptuous sneer.
“Fuck you then, we’ll sit here and starve!” I yelled.
Hugh’s a lot of things, patient isn’t one of them. If I’m hungry…he would be starving. I went and sought him out. I mustered what I could in terms of white blood cells in case he was playing possum and was luring me out for a surprise attack. The forces I garnered were so pathetically low, I’d be lucky to fight off a pollen attack. I swept my entire being; there was no sign.
“Hugh?” I questioned.
A thick green-yellow puddle mixed in with some mud browns of spent mucous coated the bathroom floor where my head had been. “Hugh?” I asked looking at the refuse.
I pulled myself to a sitting position, and then to something akin to standing. I started to walk, although with a noticeable limp. I went to the end of the hallway and into the master bedroom. I had a momentary f
right when I realized there was someone on the bed. In this weakened state, I wouldn’t be much of a match for a toddler with an attitude. The thing on the bed didn’t move. I wondered if it was alive. I could only hope that it was holding on just like me, and then I could eat him or her and gain some sustenance. I moved slowly, not for stealth purposes, but because I didn’t have any other gear.
I pulled the covers away, and then I started to laugh. Unless I was into latex and plastic this wasn’t going to be much of a meal. An anatomically correct sex doll stared blankly at me.
“Oh, this guy was a winner,” I said sitting next to Suck Me Susie. “Probably spent five grand on this thing…should have used it on a higher class escort service.”
I waited until I built up enough steam to attempt another go at a horizontal slant. “So far so good,” I said as I teetered towards the master bathroom. I opened the shade to the window, the bathroom looked out over their backyard and the Speights. Enough light came in for me to see my reflection in the mirror. I looked ten times worse than I felt. Muddy brown-crusted fluids had solidified on my face. It looked like I had been crying shit. Thankfully the water turned on as I turned the faucet. A holey towel was on the rack. I chose not to think where it had been as I dunked it in the overflowing sink.
I scrubbed my face raw with a pat of soap I had found. Even with all the aftermath of war removed from me, I didn’t look or feel good. “What now?” I asked my reflection.
I was convinced now that I had vanquished Hugh, what should have been a celebration of epic proportions was reduced to how I was going to deal with the rubble of my destroyed existence. I started to lie out a rebuilding plan; somewhere there had to be a dentist that could cap my teeth, but unless he was blind, my two-faced countenance was never going to gain me entry into his sanctuary.
“First things first,” I said as I grabbed a crappy disposable razor. I broke it open, cutting my finger as I did so. When I had the sliver of metal free I gingerly dragged it across my hastily sewn stitches on the top of my forehead. “I cannot believe I have to spend the rest of my days looking like Clarence with his doughy face,” I said with chagrin. When I had completely cut through the top stitches, I lightly pulled to see how hard it was going to be to rid myself of my slack-faced mask. What happened next I was wholly unprepared for; it didn’t fucking move, not one millimeter. My heart was thumping so hard it actually hurt.
“It’s just stuck, that’s all. Dried blood and all…there’s got to be somewhere where I can get it started.”
I cut every stitch, even going back around to make sure I hadn’t missed any. I fumbled about the entire edge, looking for a seam I could pry back. As soon as I found one, I was going to pull it like it was a giant Band-Aid.
“What’s going on?” I asked in alarm, my feet dancing about independently of each other as I had a rising tide of hysteria. “Fuck this,” I muttered as I pried the piece of blade under the skin. The pain was intense and the answer was horrifying. I almost put my head through the mirror so that I could get as close as I could to see what had happened, and even then I couldn’t and didn’t want to believe it. Hugh had knitted my old face to this new body like he would fix anything he figured to be broken.
“Oh God no!” I wailed as I smashed my fist into the glass.
I was human and I was grotesque! My leg was partially broken, my left ankle was useless, and I still had two chunks of lead free-floating within my body. I had gone from the top of the food chain to the bottom and all of this realization was brought crashing to the fore as I witnessed a zombified Scarlett emerging from the bunker stairwell. She began to come across her lawn and then her neighbor’s, staring straight at me through the window as she did so, and then went running for the back door, the same one I had slammed through. The fucking twist of this was not lost on me in the least. I heard Scarlett blaze into the living room and her running steps were coming down the hallway for me. At no point in my life had I been more terrified than when I saw her staring at me from across the bedroom.
I shut the door to the bathroom just as she jumped over the bed. The assassin had become the mark. (Or the predator had become the prey). Either way I was fucked.
Check out these other titles by Mark Tufo
Zombie Fallout
It was a flu season like no other. With the H1N1 virus running rampant through the country, people lined up in droves to try and attain one of the coveted vaccines. What was not known, was the effect this largely untested inoculation was to have on the unsuspecting throngs. Within days, feverish folk throughout the country, convulsed, collapsed and died, only to be re-born. With a taste for brains, blood and bodies, hordes of modern-day zombies began scouring the lands for their next meal.
This is the story of Michael Talbot, his family and his friends: a band of ordinary people trying to get by in extraordinary times. When disaster strikes, Mike a self-proclaimed survivalist, does his best to ensure the safety and security of those he cares for. What he encounters along the way leads him down a long dark road, always skirting on the edge of insanity. Ensconced in a seemingly safe haven called Little Turtle, Mike and his family, together with the remnants of a tattered community, must fight against a relentless, ruthless, unstoppable force. This last bastion of civilization has made its final stand. God help them all.
Zombie Fallout 2: A Plague Upon Your Family
The Talbots are evacuating their home amidst a zombie apocalypse. Mankind is on the edge of extinction as a new dominant, mindless opponent scours the landscape in search of food, which just so happens to be non-infected humans. This book follows the journey of Michael Talbot, his wife, Tracy, and their three kids - Nicole, Justin and Travis. Accompanying them are Brendon, Nicole's fiancée and Tommy, a former Wal-Mart door greeter who may be more than he seems. Together they struggle against a ruthless, relentless enemy that has singled them out above all others.
As they travel across the war-torn country side the Talbots soon learn that there are more than just zombies to be fearful of: with law and order a long-distant memory some humans have decided to take any and all matters into their own hands. It's not just brains versus brain-eaters anymore. And the stakes may be higher than merely life and death, with eternal souls on the line.
Zombie Fallout 3: The End…
As the world spirals even further down into the abyss of apocalypse, one man struggles to keep those around him safe. Michael stands side by side with his wife, their children, his friends and Henry the wonder Bulldog along with the Wal-Mart greeter Tommy who is infinitely more than he appears. Whether Tommy is leading Mike and his family to salvation or death remains to be seen...
Zombie Fallout 3.5 - Dr. Hugh Mann – Prequel
Before there were zombies there was the virus...
In this Zombie Fallout prequel, Mark Tufo tells the story of the virus that started it all.
Zombie Fallout IV: The End…Has Come and Gone
“The End…has come and gone. This is the new beginning, the new world order and it sucks. The end for humanity came the moment the U.S. government sent out the infected flu shots. My name is Michael Talbot and this is my journal. I’m writing this because no one’s tomorrow is guaranteed, and I have to leave something behind to those who may follow.” - From Mike Talbot’s Journal
So continues Mike’s journey, will he give up all that he is in a desperate bid to save his family and friends? Eliza is coming, can anyone be prepared?
Zombie Fallout V: Alive In A Dead World
Eliza turned to Tomas: “This is the end...he is no longer alive in a dead world.”
In this installment of Mark Tufo’s action-packed Zombie Fallout series, Mike Talbot and his family continue their fight for survival as Eliza plots their demise.
Zombie Fallout VI: ‘Til Death Do Us Part
Mark Tufo’s Zombie Fallout novels have their share of memorable characters. Throughout the series, we have become acquainted with Michael Talbot. We’ve gotten to know Mike’s wife, Tra
cy, their children, and several other characters, including Mrs. Deneaux, BT, and Tommy.
One character here, however, deserves special mention - that of Eliza. In Zombie Fallout 2, we discovered the queen’s origins. In particular, we learned of her transformation from human to vampire. Subsequent novels in the series, indeed, affirm this villain’s bloodthirsty nature. Eliza will not rest until she sees to the destruction of the entire Talbot clan.
Now, in the latest novel in the Zombie Fallout series, the moment has come for the final showdown. But as BT, Gary, and Mrs. Deneaux prepare to face Eliza, they have other worries. With Mike still missing, they cannot help but fear the worst.
Is Mike alive? Will the Talbot’s defeat their nemesis once and for all? Readers will learn the answers to these questions and more in the much-anticipated sixth installment of the Zombie Fallout series.
Indian Hill
This first story is about an ordinary boy growing up in relatively normal times who finds himself thrust into an extraordinary position. Growing up in suburban Boston, Mike Talbot undergoes the trials and tribulations of all teenagers, from the seemingly tyrannical mother, to girl problems to run-ins with the law. From there, he escapes to college in Colorado with his best friend, Paul, where they begin to forge new relationships. It is one girl in particular that has caught Mike’s eye, and he alternately pines for her and laments ever meeting her.
It is on their true “first” date that things go strangely askew. Mike finds himself captive aboard an alien vessel, fighting for his very survival. The aliens have devised gladiator-type games - games of twofold importance that they use both for entertainment value and to learn about human strengths and weaknesses. The aliens want to better learn how to attack and defeat humans, and the battles are to the death on varying computer-generated terrains.
