Authors: Mark Tufo
The boys had fallen asleep. Tracy was relaxing in a lounge chair, a book resting on
her stomach, just where I wished my head was at this moment. It was Tommy that kept
me away from that most desired of spots.
“You alright?” I asked him as I came up beside him and draped my arm over his shoulder.
He was intently staring out the window, not at the zombies, but rather at the sky.
“I miss her,” he said without turning to look at me.
I could have lied and told him that she was in a better place; but that would be a
lie. Even in my semi-unconscious state, I heard that deep rumbling voice, and the
malice that was interlaced within it, when
something
came to get her. Eliza deserved everything that was coming her way—and then some.
Her soul was what I bled for. It was the innocent in all of this. I contemplated asking
him if there was a way to retrieve her and then stomped the shit out of that thought.
If the boy could get to the Gates of Heaven, odds were pretty decent he could do the
same with Hell, and I’d be damned if I was going to do that. (Pretty good pun if I
do say so myself…and since it’s my journal and all).
“I’m sorry, Tommy. I’m sorry for you.”
“But not for her?” he asked.
“No,” I told him truthfully. I’d like to think he appreciated my honesty, but that’s
bullshit when most folks tell you that they want your honest opinion. That’s all great
and fine as long as your honest opinion of them is deeply flattering, otherwise, they
want you to go fuck yourself. We are strange creatures.
“I hear her cry out from time to time,” he told me.
I shuddered. Growing up a good Catholic boy I could only ponder the things she was
going through…and then some. What could I possibly say that would make any difference?
“We’re your family now, Tommy.”
“After everything I’ve helped my sister put you through?”
I nodded.
“There will come a time, Mr. T, when you’ll curse me for what I’ve done,” he said,
turning to look into my eyes.
“Maybe,” I told him honestly, “but not tonight.”
That seemed to ease his heart a little, but he didn’t move away from the window. I
did though, before he could talk me into some asinine plan I had no business being
involved in. As I was walking away, I thought for the briefest of moments that the
zombies had somehow broken through. And then I realized Henry had strategically placed
himself in my path, and let loose a heavy butt grumble.
“You know they have medication for that,” I told him as I got down to scratch behind
his ears, his massive head shifting up so I could get a better angle. “Friggin’ ham,”
I told him. “You still smell bad, though.” He didn’t care. His paw came up and smacked
my arm when he thought I might be leaving. “Oh, not quite ready for your scratching
session to end?”
“Get a room,” Tracy said from a few feet away. I had not seen her move. She was now
standing by the head librarian’s desk.
I wouldn’t swear it on a stack of Bibles, but I think I heard Travis closely echo
his mother’s words. Something to the effect of “I wish you guys had gotten a room.”
Pretty sure I turned beet red. I was exceedingly happy we were running on candlelight
at the moment so no one else could see my embarrassment.
My suspicions were confirmed when I heard BT tell him, “That was a good one.”
“I hear something!” Justin said excitedly.
He came bounding down the stairs. We were all quiet for long moments. It was getting
to the point where I figured he had merely heard one of Henry’s deep-seated gaseous
fluctuations. Then it was unmistakable.
“Engine,” Tommy said.
“More than one,” BT said, readying his rifle.
“It had better not be more rednecks.” I grabbed my rifle.
In under a minute we were all locked and loaded. God help those that stood against
us. Actually, scratch that last sentence. ‘Fuck ‘em.’ In terms of a fighting unit,
I’d never been alongside so many people that had seen so much action. On one hand,
I was happy they had the fighting experience; the flip side of that was dismay. Dismay
that they had to have that much fighting experience.
My gut twisted a little with the thought of my loved ones potentially in danger again.
Just drive on by
, I thought. At first, I thought that was the case as the engine noise first grew
louder and then began to dissipate with distance. I could literally feel the tension
in the room begin to break, and then that quickly it rose again as the engines were
once again approaching.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered.
“How is it, that during the ‘end of times’ it’s all zombies and rednecks?” I asked
BT as I clutched my weapon.
“Oh I’m sure there are some good people left,” BT stated.
“And?” I asked.
“And what?”
“Oh, I can tell by the way you left the end of that sentence that you have more to
say.”
He was smiling now.
“See? I knew it…out with it.” I prodded.
“I think you’re an asshole magnet.”
“An asshole magnet? Well that’s fucking new. Wasn’t sure assholes were magnetic.”
“Now you know.”
“Well I feel better,” I told him.
“I thought you would.”
“Oh one more thing, BT,” I said as I was going over to check the boys’ positions.
“Yeah?” His face serious now.
“You were attracted to me.” I didn’t stick around long enough to see his response.
A tossed book clipped my heel; that would have to suffice.
“No firing until we’re sure,” I told Justin.
“Do we let them in?” he asked.
“I can’t imagine they’ll want in. First off, they’d have to get through our perimeter
security.” Justin was looking at me strangely. “The zombies.”
“Oh.”
“And for what purpose? To check out some books? The risk is most definitely not worth
the reward. It’s just some folks foraging,” I said hopefully.
For a few seconds, my bleaker imagination ran wild and I had visions of Eliza arisen
from the dead to finish what she had started. I was fairly certain that wasn’t the
case, though. I’d convinced Tommy that the best send-off for his sister was cremation
by funeral pyre. Trust me when I say that I made sure that fire burned hot enough
to return her to her most basic of vestiges. What was left wouldn’t have filled a
pepper shaker. I checked that as well.
Engine noise began to echo off the small buildings that lined the road leading towards
us. And then they were upon us. Two pick-up trucks sat side by side, their headlights
illuminating the swirling mass of death and decay.
“It’s Uncle Ronny!” Justin cried.
“Some things never change,” Travis said to me, referring to his brother’s flair for
the obvious.
“And sometimes I like it like that,” I told him. “Okay, everyone, he may pull that
Gatlin gun out, so get ready to duck.” I wasn’t going to though. I loved that thing,
and I wanted to watch it spit fire! “Alright…get ready,” I said when we heard a door
open.
Zombies were beginning to move rapidly towards the two trucks. For the life of me,
I couldn’t understand the delay in sending a savage lead curtain downrange.
“Any day!” I shouted.
“Oh! Hey, Mike!” Gary yelled, looking up in approximately my direction. The night
was fairly well lit with a healthy half-moon rising, but it would have been difficult
to see me recessed in a window even if it was full. He was lit up pretty good, though.
“Gary, you know there are zombies coming your way, right?” I asked, truly concerned.
He appeared to be muscling into some sort of backpack. I could hear other voices down
there. I couldn’t make out the dialog, though.
Gary hefted the package onto his back like a rucksack and then secured a strap across
his midsection. Although, where a rucksack was made of a canvas-like material and
soft, this looked solid. Roughly the size of a spare tire if you were to stick a spare
tire in a box for shipping. Suffice it to say, it was big.
Gary took two steps towards the library then quickly went back to the truck to grab
his rifle. I smacked my forehead with my palm. Zombie apocalypse and he leaves his
rifle behind. Now my heart was hammering. Gary was holding his rifle to his chest.
“Covering fire!” I shouted. “And be fucking careful!”
We opened with a hail of lead. Zombies collapsed to the ground as we shattered skull
plates, scattering brains all over the front walkway. Yup, then I got a sick memory
of an old commercial ‘a mind is a terrible thing to waste.’ If I hadn’t been so worried
for my brother, I would have gladly enjoyed the dark humor.
“Gary, fucking shoot!” I yelled, watching in seemingly terrified slow motion as the
zombies raced towards him. We couldn’t shoot the closest ones. With our angle, any
bullet would come dangerously near to him.
When I thought all was lost, the zombies just…stopped. Gary had a nearly perfect bubble
of protection around him. It was terrifying to watch. I now knew what the box housed
on Gary’s back was, but to realize that your brother’s life rested solely on the soldering
skills of a man who had named himself Mad-Jack…that was fucking scary.
“Cease fire!” I shouted, although that already seemed to be the case once everyone
saw what I was looking at.
“Is he singing?” BT asked. “He is. What is that shit…REO Speedwagon? Why are you crackers
always bat-shit crazy? You’d never see a black man tip-toeing through the zombies
singing crappy 80’s music.”
“Hey, I like REO Speedwagon,” I told him.
“I’m sure you do.” He said it as an insult. I’m positive of it.
“And I’m not a cracker,” I said weakly.
“Uh-huh,” was his response. “Cracker ass cracker.”
“What the hell is he wearing?” Tracy asked, coming up beside me.
“Looks like a jumpsuit. Where the hell did he get a jumpsuit, and why?”