Mark Tufo - 'Til Death Do Us Part

“Gary, go upstairs and turn on the light,” I told him.

“You sure, Mike?” he asked.

“You feel like puking?” I asked him.

“Not really.”

“Then go upstairs and turn on the light.”

He again smacked into the freezer as he went passed. “Damn thing,” he said as he stopped to massage his shin.

“Do you think he’s going to need help with that light?” BT asked me.

“BT, you can go, too. I won’t think any less of you.”

“What’s that mean? That you already think so lowly of me that it can’t sink any further?”

“Relax, big man, I’m in no rush to see our handiwork either.”

“That obvious? It’s just killing men…it doesn’t sit right.”

“I know, man,” I told him as the light popped on. It didn’t take long for my eyes to adjust to the carnage on the other side of the basement.

“Mike?” Ron asked, shouting down.

“Four down, three for good,” I yelled. “At least three left, they are under the deck.”

“You need help?” he asked.

“No.” I swallowed. “I’ll take care of it.”

The wall looked like impressionistic art; red was splashed across it like an angry Jackson Pollack had flung the excess against his canvas. I had one headshot on my side, and rapidly graying pink matter was clumped on the wall. It looked like a handhold on those fake rock walls they have in some sporting goods stores. That was the thought I was planning on holding on to. BT had turned away. I cautiously approached; the man who had been knee-shot was still writhing in agony.

I kicked his gun away from him even though he was paying it absolutely no attention. He was going into shock, his eyes pleaded with me for help. I quickly checked the other three for any signs of life. I needn’t have wasted my time. I had drilled one in the eye, his one remaining blue eye gazed up at a Heaven I’m sure he would never see. The two on the left had taken primarily body shots, blood leaked out from at least five or six wounds on each.

“Please help me,” the kneed man begged.

“BT, could you maybe get some bags and cleaning material?” I asked, turning back towards him.

“You sure, man? You have a funny look on your face.”

“I’m good,” I said as I turned back to the attempted usurper. I stepped over him and threw the heavy locking bar in place

I waited until BT was up the stairs, then got down on my haunches next to him. “How many of you were there? Just so you get your math correct, three are now dead.”

“Please, I just need some help,” he asked, licking his lips.

“If the roles were reversed, would you help me? Because I seriously doubt it, especially since you came into my brother’s house and tried to kill us.”

He flinched slightly. “Please.”

“I value your life less than that of the zombies. They do what they do because they are compelled to do so. You did what you did out of self-interest. You purposely came here to murder my family. I will not so much as give you a fucking aspirin until you answer my questions.”

“Five…there were five.”

“I don’t know why I would expect a potential murderer to tell the truth.” I put my rifle down making sure the muzzle was pointing straight at his head. His eyes crossed as he stared down the bore. His hands were clamped against his shattered patella, which was fine, it wasn’t my target anyway.

“What are you doing?” he asked as his eyes got big.

I clamped one of my hands over his mouth; he started to shake his head back and forth. “Stop,” I told him through clenched teeth, “or I’m just going to blow a hole in your face and be done with it.” He must have seen something in the set of my eyes because he did stop. “You see, there are kids upstairs, and whereas I know you don’t give a shit because you were going to kill them, I care a lot. I don’t want them to be exposed to what I am about to do.” I clamped my hand harder over his face and quickly reached behind his damaged knee and started poking and prodding the wound, wiggling loose bone fragments and torn tendons around.

Tears streamed from his face as his screams were muffled in my hand. His breathing was hitching heavily he was in so much pain. His eyes started to close when, with a pop, I pulled two fingers from the back of his leg. I removed my mouth clamp and slapped him hard across the face.

“Don’t pass out on me, champ,” I told him.

“Please,” he begged quietly.

“How many?”

“Ten…there were ten of us.”

“How many truck drivers total?”

“I’m not sure...wait!” he said as I began to move my hand back in place over his mouth. “Over eighty…maybe a hundred.”

“How many zombies?”

“Fifteen, sixteen thousand. I think I heard Kong tell the lady running all of this. She’s...she’s the one you need to watch out for.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware of that.”

“I told you everything, please can I get some help now.”

I stood up and stepped over his body, I rapped on the steel reinforced door. “Hey, shitheads!” I yelled. “I know there’s still six of you out there, want to know how I know.” No response. “Because one is still alive, mostly. Not for long, though, I imagine. Shock alone will probably take him in the next twenty minutes or so.”

Another long wait, I did not think they would respond. “Who is it?” one of the men asked.

“What’s your name?” I asked the guy on the ground, I had to nudge him with my foot. It looked like he was going into pass out mode again.

“Adam,” he rasped.

“Adam,” I repeated.

“If you kill my brother, I’ll gut you like a fish!” the man yelled through the door.

“Empty threat. First off, you were already going to kill me. And I’m the one in here with your rapidly dying brother. Funny you should say ‘gutting’ since I just happen to be holding a fillet knife,” I lied.

I heard hammering blows on the door. “I’ll fucking kill you!” Adam’s brother screamed. His fist blows kept raining down. They eventually began to subside and were replaced by a quiet sobbing. “He’s all I’ve got left.”

I can’t lie, I did have enough humanity in me to have that tug at me a bit. I just had to keep reminding myself of what they had initially come here for: the destruction of my family.

“You willing to trade?” I asked him.

“What do you want?” came his cautious reply.

“I want all of your weapons, then you can take his bleeding ass out of my basement.”

“Fine,” I heard him say quickly.

“Fuck no, Chaz, I’m not giving up my gun. Not here, not now,” one of the attackers shouted. “That bitch will cut our throats if we go back with our tails between our—”

A shot rang out. I waited for the echo of it to die down before I spoke. “Chaz, you still there?”

“Anyone else got a problem with us giving up our weapons?”

I didn’t hear any other dissention.

“Now what?” Chaz asked.

“After you’ve put down all your weapons, with your hands raised I want you to step back from the house so that someone on the deck will be able to see you,” I told him.

“How do we know you’re not going to kill us?” he asked.

“Simple, I’m not you. Better hurry up, Adam is looking mighty pale.”

BT was at the bottom of the stairs with everything I had asked for. I looked over to him.

“Man, I just got down here,” he told me.

“The exercise will do you good, it looks like you’ve been hitting the MRE oatmeal cookies a little hard lately.”

“Fuck you, Mike.” He turned and went back upstairs to check on the status of the gunmen.

“I love you too, man.” I told him. “And stay low, the damn snipers are still out there.”