Mark Tufo - 'Til Death Do Us Part

I nodded. What I wanted to do was punch him in the head. Instead, I asked him where I could be briefed about what I had volunteered for.

Half an hour later I had an extra four magazines of ammo plus two grenades. Of the five men, I had come out of the service with the lowest rank, and now I was the oldest among them. My job was to bring up the rear, in this case, that was just fine. Someone had wrangled up a camouflage top for me which I was thankful to wear; the purple pants wouldn’t be a problem in the impenetrable light. We melted into the woods and past the loose ring of men surrounding the house. There was a small sliver of moon to guide us by. I could see the now useless spotlights, shards of glass hanging precariously from them.

I waited until the two SEALS and the Green Beret entered into the ring of zombies before I made my move. I slung my rifle so that it was on my back and closed in.

“Watch it, fucking jarhead,” the Ranger told me as I kicked the side of his boot. He turned I think to give me more shit, then, ironically, I shoved the knife he had given me into his Adam’s apple. I thought the fibrous knot would resist more, but the knife cut the neck protrusion neatly in two. He gurgled as I drove it further in severing his spinal column.

His eyes pleaded for an answer, so I gave him one. “My name is Michael Talbot and that’s my family you’re trying to kill.” He might have understood, but that wasn’t making his passing any easier. I grabbed the chain off his neck and dropped him for the zombies, hurriedly catching up to the rest of my squad .

The fucking SEAL I think was prescient; he turned just as I was coming up on him. The set in my eye may have given it away, or the fresh blood still dripping from my Army combat knife. It had a nice feel to it, not quite as deadly as my beloved Ka-Bar but it would do in a pinch. A grin spread across his lips when he let his M-4 swing on its tactical harness as he pulled out what looked like a short sword from a leg sheath.

“Looks like you brought a butter knife to a sword fight,” he said as he got down into a fighting stance, the zombies were not yielding much room. Our fighting circle wasn’t going to be much more than two strides across. “I’m going to make a Popsicle out of you,” he said, still grinning.

His smile may have faltered a little bit when he realized I wasn’t dissuaded from my present course of action, although he may have just changed it to determination.

“Never much liked you fucking Marines, bullet catchers are all you’re really good for.” He said.

I got down into a fighting stance. “Are those really the last words you want to say?” I asked him earnestly. Before he could reply, I moved in. I’ve got to admit, he was fast. Unfortunately for him I was enhanced. I brought the blade up against his wrist severing as many arteries as I could.

“How...how did you do that?” he asked as blood welled then poured from his non-knife wielding arm. “I’m a Navy SEAL, you can’t do this to me,” he said.

“If you promise me that you’ll leave now and never come back here, ever, I’ll let you leave.”

“Who the fuck are these people to you?” he asked, trying to staunch the flow. Zombies were beginning to jostle around him as fresh blood like ambrosia drew them tight.

“Does it matter?” I asked him back. “I’m giving you the opportunity to save yourself and be done with this madness. There’s a short shelf life on your answer.”

“I can’t...”

I didn’t let him finish the rest of his sentence, with his right hand desperately trying to hold his life fluid in, he was easy pickings. I cut his carotid artery and lifted the vial from his neck. The zombies were chewing flesh from him before he hit the ground.

The remaining two men were at the very edge of the compound, less than three or four zombies from the fence. They were looking back, waiting for the rest of the group to catch up, when I showed.

“Where’s Able and Jericho?” the remaining SEAL asked.

“Hell I would imagine,” I said as I leveled my rifle on them. “I wouldn’t,” I told the other Navy Seal who was trying to bring his rifle up. “Put your weapons on the ground,” I told them.

“And if we don’t?” the Ranger asked.

“I’ve killed four men tonight, do you think I’ve hit my limit?” I asked him. Slowly, with my right hand pulling the vials out of my pocket, I displayed them like trophies. I put them back in my pocket, then put my hand back up to brace the M-4.

“Why haven’t you just killed us?” the Seal asked as he put his weapon down and was standing back up.

“Zombies are one thing, but killing men, that’s completely another,” I told him.

The Navy man nodded slightly in agreement.

“You both have one chance to save yourselves, leave and never come back. That’s all you have to do.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to shoot us in the back?” the Army man asked.

“I could have already done that. Listen, I’m not going to play this game much longer, either leave or die.”

To his credit, the Army guy headed off to the left. I wasn’t sure if he planned on keeping his word or not. More than likely he was going to get out of range, then head back to Kong and tell him what happened. That was actually alright. Let the man know that I had bested four of their best and maybe he would debate the operation in its entirety.

“Knives?” the Seal asked.

“I did knives with your partner,” I told him. “I wish you’d left.”

In one fluid motion I pushed my rifle onto my back and grabbed a grenade. I pulled the pin and ran to the Seal’s location as I pulled on his waistband I deposited the grenade, then I quickly grabbed the chain around his neck. Zombies were vying for position around him as I pushed away. A mash of zombie and human parts burst under the assault of the grenade’s shrapnel. Unluckily for me, I was in the midst of the fallout zone. Hot pieces of anatomy rained down. I was covered in the remains of multiple zombies and at least one man.

Some sporadic gunfire erupted from around me after the explosion, but nothing close. It seemed to be merely a reflexive action. Now that I was paying attention, I could hear the hum of the fence as electric current ran through it. Had to be MJ , I thought, friggen brilliant . I didn’t think it was enough to kill a man if only because of the zombies’ actions as they touched it, but I wasn’t confident enough in their physiology to trust my own life to it. Who knows, maybe what only gave them a slight jolt would send me sprawling through the air like a circus clown shot from a cannon, fun to watch, sucky to live through.

The fence was six-feet high and there wasn’t a tree anywhere near it. I began to rip shirts off the zombies nearest me, they didn’t care and seemed happy to oblige. I wrapped my feet as best I could, hoping that I would have enough insulation, then I sought out a stout zombie which in this case appeared to be a woman of East German descent. She was only about five feet tall, mostly round and looked like she could bench a Beetle.

“Nice to make your acquaintance,” I told her back. She wasn’t properly couched in etiquette. “You’ll do.”

I pushed the back of her knees until she fell to them, then I climbed up. I was now getting quite possibly the first zombie piggy back ride. I wasn’t thrilled with having my knees next to her mouth, but after one failed attempt with her thick arms to wave me away she completely forgot about me as she stood back up, my added weight not hampering or hindering her in the least. I thought this could be a boon for parents everywhere, I could make millions! How many times had we as parents been ridden into the ground from the insistent wishes of our offspring to give them rides, even when their age and weight had begun to exceed our limits? Now, I could sell zombies fitted with saddles that would take the kiddies for rides indefinitely. ZTI could become a global entity (Zombie Transportation Incorporated). Our dependence on foreign oil would be over. They’d have to invent a new monetary term for how rich I’d be.