Mark Tufo - 'Til Death Do Us Part

“Might as well have some fun,” Tony said aloud as he pulled the trigger on his favorite weapon: a Remington 30-30, bolt-action hunting rifle with a Leupold 8-times scope. The bullet smashed easily through the safety glass of the windshield and hit the steel. The resulting gong could be heard over the roar of the engine. The truck swerved momentarily, nearly clipping a tree as the driver placed his hands over his ears. The steel was still vibrating when the front end of the truck began to dip down. The unsupported ‘bridge’ dropped out from under the truck, the front end smashing into the far side of the earthen embankment. The metal screeched as it took on its new form. Plastic and glass smashed, and once the truck engine seized, they could hear the driver moaning.

“Al, you alright?” someone yelled out from around a small curve in the road safely tucked away from any defender shots.

“My head, Kong, I’m bleeding…smashed myself on the plating. Get me out of here, man!” Al yelled frantically. He didn’t want to tell Kong that he had also broken his vial; the man would probably leave him where he was.

“Go hook up some tow cables to the back end of the truck,” Kong told the nearest driver. He though his name might be Scribner or Scrivener, he didn’t really care.

“Why me, man?” the guy asked.

“Because I said. Get someone to cover your ass if you need to,” Kong said

“Let’s just leave the damn truck there. It ain’t bothering anyone,” Scribner replied.

“It’s bothering me and fucking bad!” Kong yelled. “I want the damn thing removed so we can throw something over that hole and drive in if we want to. Plus, I sort of owe Al one. And if you don’t, I’ll kill you…enough reason?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Scribner walked back up the road to the staging area, which was basically just a road with trucks parked up and down the length of it. He got a tow line from his rig and grabbed two men sitting on their fender. They were the only ones with rifles on and if he was going to get cover, he at least wanted men that were armed.

“What’s going on?” the taller of the two asked. His name was Burkes, he had a moustache that made him look somewhat like a cowboy and he may have been able to pull it off, but instead of cowboy hat, he insisted on a golf visor, and instead of the signature leather boots, he wore Keds.

“The truck they sent in to bust down the fence got stuck and...” For a moment he thought about lying and telling the man that Kong had told him to get a man to hook it up, but Kong was still standing at the curve and would never let him get away with it. “...I have to hook this up to the rear end of it so we can pull it out.” He held the hook up.

“I’m not going near that house,” the shorter man replied. His name was Dobbs; he looked like a cross between an accountant and a construction worker. Small spectacles did little to re-shape his square head and jaw. Powerful arms were sheathed in a button-up shirt. Add to that the fact that he was wearing khakis and Hush Puppies, it seemed he was having great difficulty defining his cliché. “You hear all those shots? Sounds like a war up there.”

“It is a war, dip wad,” Scribner said. “And do you know what happens to soldiers that disobey orders?”

Dobbs’ eyes widened. He hadn’t really thought of it that way until just now. He checked his weapon.

“Three men heading towards the back of the truck, Pops,” Travis told his grandfather. The three men approaching the truck were bent over so far, they looked like the trio were all vying for the part of Quasimodo in The Bells of Notre Dame at the local dinner theater.

“Do they think nobody can see them?” Mrs. Deneaux asked, finally getting up from her chair.

“Looks like they’re going to try and pull the truck out,” Ron said, clenching something tightly in his left hand.

“Did the hook one of them is carrying give it away?” Deneaux asked.

“Ron?” Tony asked his oldest son.

Ron knew what he had to do, but theory was always easier than practice.

“Ron, once he lays that hook on, they’re gone,” Tony stated looking through his scope.

Ron was a devout anarchist…that was why his next words seemed to take on more meaning. “God forgive me,” he said as he pressed down on the detonator. For the briefest of moments nothing happened, and Ron was relieved. Then the earth exploded, or at least that was what it looked like as two strategically placed Claymore mines went off—one on each side of the disabled truck. Ball bearings shredded the three men like a fork pulled along a slow roasted pork loin. Meat, bones, and blood…lots and lots of blood coated the trees on either side of the roadway.

The man still in the truck opened his door and fell to the ground, the sound and possibly some shrapnel injuring him further. He began to crawl back towards the truckers’ encampment. Tony severed his spine, killing him instantly.

“It’s good to see at least one Talbot not all wrapped up in morality,” Mrs. Deneaux said as she turned to get back on her chair.

Tony let his head drop a bit, he had not wanted to kill the man, he had to.

“Well, they’ll think twice before they come that route,” Mrs. Deneaux said smiling, lighting another cigarette.

“Wish we had more of those,” Ron said, putting the detonator down on a small table, absently wiping his hand on his shirt as if he could wipe off the death his thumb had just delivered.

“It’s alright, son,” Tony said. “Mrs. Deneaux is right. No one is going to come up that way.”

***

Eliza’s head whipped around as the explosion tore through her men. “Kong,” she said to the truck driver’s leader.

“I’ll find out,” he told her.

“Seems the rest of the Talbot clan has just as many surprises as Michael,” Tomas said smiling.

“Do not start!” she said, pointing her finger at her brother.

Kong came back a moment later. “We have a truck stuck in the only approach a vehicle can make. They had it booby-trapped so when three of my men went up to hook up a tow cable it went off. They were killed instantly…plus the original driver.”

“Have my zombies made progress?” Eliza asked.

“Their fence is holding so far. Doesn’t make much sense, it’s only a chain link fence and it has extra supports, but still with as much push as the zombies should be giving it. It should have buckled by now. And what makes it weirder is the zombies up towards the front are not really doing anything, they just kind of stand there,” Kong finished.

Tomas had an idea of what might be going on. His sister looked completely befuddled and he decided to not tell her.

“We can make it more difficult on these people,” Kong stated.

“I’m listening,” Eliza told him.

“We can station men in the woods and shoot back. Maybe we kill some of them…at the very least we can keep them off that wraparound deck. We have more options if they’re not cutting down your zombies at the rate they are now. And a few of the driver’s are prior military, we could probably assemble some sort of strike team when they’re all huddled inside.”

“I would like at least some of them taken alive,” Eliza intoned.

“Of course,” Kong said, leaving to get some planning done.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Mike Journal Entry 13

According to the mile markers, we had walked ten miles and where getting pretty close to the 495 and 95 interchange. Our traveling was getting slower and slower; Azile was having great difficulty walking under such a heavy load. Every time she lagged behind, I would take more equipment from her even as she protested that she needed to do her part. By the time we hit ten miles, the only thing left to carry would have been her.