Mark Tufo - 'Til Death Do Us Part

“Left up here,” John said, again not looking up.

“Buddy, I appreciate the directions, but are you sure?” I asked. He didn’t even question my calling him buddy. There were zombies outside the truck and apparently inside too. He didn’t answer, so I took the turn. Right, left, straight. Didn’t matter much; I had no clue where I was going.

“It’s up on the left about another mile,” John said.

“You sure you’ve never been here?”

He finally did look up this time. “I think I’d know where I’ve been or not been.”

“Just asking.”

Then there it was: a Brown Stone Hotel in downtown Philadelphia. At one time it was probably a pretty nice place. Ornate windows looked into a Victorian themed lobby adorned with marble floors and ceilings. Now, however, it looked exactly like what you would expect a building in a war zone to look like. Bullet holes pock marked the marble in a hundred different places. Furniture was burned or stained a brownish red color. ( Don’t dwell, don’t dwell —I said the little mantra over and over.) Zombies that had been milling around inside came out when we rolled up. My first impression was that nobody was alive in there. How could they be? Then it dawned on me. Zombies only hang around when food is available.

“Hey, fucktard!” Someone shouted from above. “Yeah, you, fucktard!” the guy said as I craned my neck to look up the hotel. “Why don’t you get that big zombie dinner bell outta here!”

“We’re looking for someone!” I yelled up.

“Do I look like the fucking white pages, get the fuck outta here!” he yelled back, this time he showed the muzzle of hunting rifle to move his point along.

“Give me the damn gun,” I said to John as I pulled my head back in the window. John carefully handed it over the slowly awakening Azile. “Two can play that game, ass wad!” I yelled up as I stuck the formidable machinegun up and out my window.

“Oh shit!” He pulled his head back in. “We don’t want any trouble! Loud noise brings zombies, that’s all I’m saying,” he answered, not showing himself.

“You just let us know if you have someone up there. If you don’t we’ll be on our way.” I was about to ask if John’s wife was up there, but I didn’t know her last name. I looked over to John, his eyes were closed and his fingers were crossed. I was really hoping this went well, but I wasn’t counting on it. Let’s face it everyone knew the city’s nickname about brotherly love was a misnomer. New Yorkers feared this place.

“John, what’s your last name?” I asked, embarrassed that I had either forgotten it or that I had never thought to ask. Tracy told me I had the social graces of a goat, now I believed her.

Again I was surprised when he didn’t start in on some diatribe about how last names were a way for the government to keep us in check.

“Stephenson,” he said quickly.

“Okay,” I told him as I poked my head back out. Now I had my fingers crossed. “I’m looking for Stephanie Stephenson!” I shouted up.

There was nothing for long moments. I was about to yell back up; the street was starting to get crowded and I wanted to get out of here before I opened up again with the M-240.

Had I not been sitting, I would have had to find a seat when the ass wad from above answered. “Who wants to know?” he asked.

“Do I look like a process server, you idiot?” I yelled up. “Her husband is here.”

A pause but much shorter this time. “John, John is here?” a woman asked.

I was about to respond, but that was before the wind was knocked out of me by John crawling over my lap. “Stephanie, I let the sour cream expire!” he shouted.

“John, you silly, silly man. I have missed you so much,” she said, tears were dropping from her handsome face. She was pretty in a feminine, lumber jack sort of way. Her meaty forearms hung out as if she hoped she would be able to scoop her man up. “I don’t know who you are, mister,” Stephanie said, obviously talking to me. “But thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

John didn’t quite catch the connection when he responded. “I was afraid you might not remember me, you missed you’re last scheduled visit.”

“I would never forget you, my sweetheart. I was thanking the man that brought you to me.”

“Who? Ponch? Yeah he’s a good guy. He had shoes just like yours.”

“John, man, you’re really pressing on some places that are making me uncomfortable.” He didn’t move.

“Ponch?” Stephanie asked.

“It’s actually Mike, and you’re welcome. Your husband is a...unique man he’s saved my life more than once.”

“Thank you, Mike.”

“Okay, this has got to be snap decision time. We don’t have much time until this place is flooded with zombies. Either you guys need to come down here and travel with us, or I need to know how to get John up to you.”

“Hold on,” Stephanie said, going back into the room.

“John, what do you want to do?” I asked him.

“With what?” he asked back. He was looking at me less than three inches from my face, my personal space was getting severely violated.

“The general consensus is to stay put,” Stephanie echoed down. “But I’m doing whatever John wants me to.”

“I’m not sure he gets the gravity of the situation, Stephanie, this is probably your call,” I told her.

“Hi, Steph!” John yelled up.

“Hi, baby,” she said softly, throwing him kisses.

“We have food here for months, we have guns, and we’re relatively safe. Why don’t you all come up?” Stephanie said.

I’ll admit I was pleasantly surprised when I didn’t hear a bunch of protestations from behind her.

“Make sure he brings that damn gun with him,” was the only thing I heard from behind her.

“I think John should go up with you. Nobody deserves to go where I am.”

“Mike, there’s plenty of room for you and the girl,” she said as she shielded her eyes so she could see into the cab.

“I’m coming, Stephanie!” John said as he started to climb out of the truck.

“Hold on, buddy,” I said as I pulled him back in.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you who this buddy guy is.”

“We’ll circle around to that. Just hold on for a second. Azile you back with us?” I asked as I focused my attention on the girl.

“Mostly,” she mumbled.

“They’re offering sanctuary here. My suggestion to you is to take it.”

“Will Eliza be here?”

“Not anytime soon, and never if I have any say in it,” I told her honestly.

“I’m going with you then.”

“I don’t think that’s the wisest choice you could make, but I’d love to have you because I can’t stand driving this kidney killer.”

She actually had the corner of one lip pull up in a sliver of a smile.

“It’s just going to be, John,” I told Stephanie.

“How close can you get to the side of the building?” she asked, pointing to her right. The hotel ended and abutted up to an alleyway. “Right at the edge of the alleyway is the fire escape, the truck should be just the right height.”

Except for a couple of lampposts and a mailbox, I thought I could get pretty close.

“Move,” Azile said as she watched me guesstimating how I was gonna go about getting the truck in position. I figured I could make it in about a twelve or thirteen point turn.

“Thank you,” I told her as I moved a reluctant John back to his seat, then crawled over Azile.

Surprisingly, the street poles broke away with not too much effort on the truck’s part. The mail box, on the other hand, seemed to have twenty-foot-deep pylons set into the earth’s mantle. Black smoke poured from the twin smoke stacks as the truck strained against the blue box. The truck thrummed and vibrated as the box failed to yield.