Mark Tufo - Whistlers

The tower hits with a loud crash. The vibration from hitting so hard resonates through the metal structure, instantly deadening my hands and knocking me from my perch on the ladder. My teeth clack together and it rattles my brain. I see the ground rushing up, and I am now on a path to meet it just like the tower. I suppose the silver lining is that the tower cleared the ground below.

I hit the solid earth hard, luckily missing the concrete slab the tower was bolted into. Grass and dirt are forced into my mouth and nostrils. My brain scrambles and I try to gather coherent thoughts. All that I manage to do is to lay stunned upon the surface. The feeble thought that there are the walking dead and night runners about is the only thing that gets me to my knees.

I roll over, spitting dirt from my mouth and get to my hands and knees. My brain is still reeling and I feel like I’m in a haze with my head stuffed with cotton. Confusion reigns. I stare down at the torn up ground under me, hearing faint groans. The sharp sound of metal popping enters my foggy consciousness. I rise unsteadily to my feet, checking my gear to affirm I still have everything.

Looking around, in the grays of my night vision, I see numerous zombies stumbling about unsteadily. Several night runners are attempting to shakily rise to their feet as well. The blast from the C-4 and the falling tower appears to have stunned everyone. We need to be the first to recover if we’re to have any chance of getting away.

In amongst the twisted remains of the tower legs, I see John rolling to his feet just a few feet away. He rises and dusts himself off as if we haven’t just taken a ride on a falling water tower and hit the ground like running into a brick wall. He shakes dirt out of his hair and looks in my direction. I know he can’t see in the dark, but he looks right at me.

“That was fun. Can we do it again?” he asks, digging dirt out of his ear.

“No, John, we have to get out of here and we have to do it now,” I answer. “Where is Mike?”

“Who is this John everyone keeps asking about?” Trip replies.

I shake my head and feel the anxiety of needing to get out of here before the zombies and night runners fully recover.

“Forget him, where’s Mike?” I ask.

Trip looks around in confusion as if Mike should be right there with him.

“I dunno. Maybe he’s off retrieving my skivvies that he threw to the ground,” Trip answers.

Ignoring Trip, I look quickly around for Mike but find no sign of him. Grabbing Trip by the arm, we make our way through the twisted metal structure. Mike may have been thrown from the ladder when we hit and may be lying nearby. Time is not on our side, but it would be way uncool to just depart without knowing what happened to him. After all, he did save my life.

Near where the top of the tower impacted the ground, the ground is churned like a river ran through, which, in fact, it did. The top of the tower itself broke open like an egg upon smacking into the hard ground, spilling its contents. Grass lays on its side from the tidal wave that swept over it. Following the flow, just inside the edge of the trees, I see prints with a tread similar to the pink shoes Mike was wearing in the muddy ground. The faint trail snakes farther into the woods. There is no other sign of Mike but, by the tracks, I take it he is okay. A loud shriek rises above the groans of the undead. It’s time to be off.

Trip reaches down quickly and whips out his slingshot. He pats his pocket and pulls out one of his marbles, muttering, “Oh good, I still have some of my marbles left.”

No, those left some time ago, my friend , I think, watching him place the marble in the slingshot pocket.

He pulls back on the elastic bands as he rapidly raises the weapon, pointing it at my face. I have no idea how he is doing this in the dark, but I don’t question it as he obviously is. I duck quickly as he releases. My only thought is that the fall has addled him even farther. He may think I’m one of the others in the dark and means to plant one of the steel bearings in my brain.

The elastic travels forward, propelling the steel bullet with a snap. I both feel and hear the zip of the projectile go over my head. It immediately hits something behind me with a solid thud. I feel a liquid spray against the back of my head and neck. Turning, I see a zombie fall to the side, coming to rest against a twisted metal beam carried by the flow of water. The steel marble took the zombie in the eye and it fell to the side, its arms resting over the pillar. It slowly slumps, hitting its chin on the metal before sliding to the ground.

I turn back to Trip. “Thanks, man. How did you see that in the dark?”

“I didn’t. But it’s a good thing you ducked or I might have missed,” Trip answers.

Not really knowing how to respond to that one, I just shake my head, wishing I had that kind of luck.

“Mike went this way,” I say to Trip, pulling him by the arm.

Relieved by the signs that indicate Mike made it out, Trip and I start off into the woods. We need to put some distance between us and the recovering zombies and night runners. Once they become fully alert, they’ll be after us. I’m hoping they’ll just resume their confrontation rather than chase us down, but we can’t count on that. With Trip unable to see in the dark, we’ll be substantially slowed.

“Where are we going, man? I’m not fond of night hikes. Can we just wait until morning?” Trip asks.

“We’re going anywhere that’s away from here. And no, we can’t wait a moment longer,” I reply.

“If we have to do this, I’ll just light up and then I’ll be good to go.”

I stop and round on Trip, gripping his arm tightly. “We don’t have time for that. Do you understand what’s going on?”

“Chill, dude. I was just askin’.” A single shriek echoes across the field with the fallen tower.

“Shit. That was one of those howlers,” Trip says, looking anxiously around in the dark.

“Yeah. We need to go.”

“Wait, where’s Mike?”

“He’s ahead of us. Let’s go.”

“Hmmm…I didn’t know he liked hiking,” Trip says, allowing me to guide him into the pitch black under the trees.

We begin to walk quickly through the trees. Their density prevents much undergrowth which makes our going much easier. Of course, that means it will be the same for any pursuit. Nighttime just arrived, so we have a long time until we are safe from the night runners. And we are never safe from the speeders. I’m not so worried about the slow walkers unless we happen to meet them head on. I’m guessing though, that any in the area were gathered at the tower but I can’t fully rely on that.

We aren’t very far into the trees when I lose Mike’s trail. There isn’t time to search the area to pick it up again, so we plunge on into the forest. So far, I don’t hear any indication of pursuit, but shrieks and screams echo faintly within the trees. It’s difficult to tell exactly which direction they’re coming from. Perhaps the ones we left behind are once again engaged in their struggle and may not have seen us slip away. The smell of the undead could be masking our scent, but it only takes a single night runner catching wind of us for them to break away and streak after us. With Trip’s night blindness and our inability to run, we’d be quickly caught.

We trudge onward. I guide Trip with one hand and have the other resting on the M-4 at my side. He manages with only a few stumbles on tree roots or occasional imbedded rock. I don’t have a coherent direction or destination in mind as I have no idea where anything is in this messed up world. My only goal is to get as much distance as we can from the water tower and the horde that was there.