Mark Tufo - 'Til Death Do Us Part

“Cave trolls!” Gary yelled. “Where did they get cave trolls?” he asked, looking at his older brother who had just stood up.

“They’re zombies, Gary,” Ron told him.

“They have cave zombies?” he asked.

“There’s no part of cave in it, I think,” Ron said, doubt creeping into his voice.

“So we’ve got shufflers, speeders, headers, and now bulkers,” Travis said, looking through the scope at the approaching horror.

“Headers?” Ron asked.

“The ones with the thicker foreheads. We didn’t really prove it, though,” Gary told him.

“They’re running over the smaller zombies,” Travis told them.

The smaller zombies that could not move out of the way in time found themselves melding into the ground as they were trampled underfoot.

***

The giant zombies had passed us by when I chanced another sneak peek. “They’re just mowing the others down. It looks like a pro football team playing a pee wee team.” BT and Tracy joined me.

“It does look like the other zombies are trying to get out of the way, though, doesn’t it,” Tracy asked as more of a statement.

“That’s strange behavior in and of itself,” BT said.

“Not entirely. I think they have a rudimentary self-preservation mode. It’s pretty under-developed, but it’s there. Come on, this doesn’t change our mission. If anything, it means we need to move faster.

***

The bulkers were at the edge of the trench. They traversed over the broken bodies of those that had gone before them, never once slowing their stride.

“Off the deck!” Ron yelled. “Everyone off the deck now!” he yelled louder.

He had just stepped into the living room when the first of the bulkers slammed into one of the support beams for the deck. The house shook from the contact—the unmistakable crack of pressure-treated wood cracking came next.

“That’s a four by four support post,” Gary said. “I should know, I’m the one that set it there.”

“What the hell is that?” Tony asked coming across the room, he had been stationed on the other side of the house.

“Giant zombies.” Ron told him.

“Will the basement door hold?” Travis asked, a hint of fear in his voice.

“It’s a solid oak door with a two-inch thick piece of steel laid across it and the mounts are set with four inch concrete screws,” Ron informed him. He seemed to be doing the math in his head, with the strength of the doorway with the force being applied. Although it was difficult to concentrate with the house shaking like the foundation was set on liquefied lard, and the deafening sound of splintering wood as the deck began to sag as its support posts were destroyed.

Planking rained down as it was torn free from the moorings to the house. The heavy decking crushed a few of the bulkers, but not enough to celebrate a victory.

“Holy shit,” Cindy said as she gripped the couch. Dust hung thickly in the air as it poured in the open windows and doorways.

The bulkers surged back in following the brief lull, after the collapse, the house once again began to shake as they kept ramming into it apparently looking for the weak spot.

“We need to get everyone that isn’t making the last stand into the bunker,” Ron said.

“You don’t think the door will hold up?” Cindy asked.

“It will for a little while,” Ron said, looking a little lost in his thoughts. The zombies would destroy his house and that wasn’t sitting well with him.

“Last stand?” Gary asked. “Is that literally or figuratively?”

“Figuratively,” Ron clarified. “I’m not just going to give them the house…plus, we have got to give Mike, Tracy, BT, and Azile a chance to get back here. If we close up shop, they’ll have nowhere to come back to.”

“I’m in,” Gary said.

“Me too,” Tony said.

“So are we,” Justin said putting his arm around his brother.

Everyone who was upstairs at that point volunteered. Ron pared it down to the Talbots; “his house…his rules” he had told them, and it seemed fitting anyway that they should be the ones to defend the homestead.

“Well at least let me figure out if there’s a way to keep the door shut for a longer amount of time,” Mad Jack said.

Ron waved him to go, Gary went with him.

“Alright, everyone else, grab what’s important to you and get going, consider anything left out to be gone forever,” Ron said having a hard time believing his own words.

“Better get moving, little brother,” Ron said to the departed Mike as he walked around his house one last time.

***

“She’s in that truck right over there,” I said, pointing. We were a good ten or so feet within the trees.

“Oh, you mean the one on the other side of the road with all the men near it?” BT asked.

“Did you really think it was going to work out any differently?” I asked him.

“A boy can dream,” BT said in seriousness.

“Hey at least they’re not congregating around it.” I told him.

“Is that her?” Tracy asked.

“Where?” I asked, looking up and down the road.

“She’s looking out the window, it looks like she’s going to try and make a run for it,” Tracy said.

“I told her to stay put,” I said.

“Talbot, how much luck have you had with telling any woman to do something?” BT said.

“Good point, BT.”

“She can’t see the one leaning up against the back of her truck.”

“She’s going to get caught. I do not want to get into a firefight right now,” I told my band of travelers. I started waving frantically hoping she would see me, but all of her attention was to the front of the truck. The driver’s side door started to ease open.

“Why doesn’t she go out the passenger door and into the woods on that side?” Tracy asked.

***

“Shit,” Azile said, peeking through the windshield. There was a man going down the line of trucks and looking in the cabs, she was far enough over on the shoulder that she’d been able to watch him go into the last five trucks. He didn’t appear to be on alert, like he was looking for somebody, more likely something. But her cab was not big enough that she would be able to hide.

“Come on, find what you’re looking for,” she said through gritted teeth. She watched raptly as he stepped up on to the truck two spots ahead of her. He was in for about a minute, then jumped down, heading to the one right before hers.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Azile couldn’t take the chance that he actually found what he needed in that next truck. The view ahead and behind, from what she could tell, seemed mostly unobstructed, there were men about but they were mostly distracted talking with each other. She figured she could slip out the driver’s side, cross the street and hide in the woods until that night when she would either get back in her cab and wait one more night for Mike or hunt down Eliza herself. Within moments, she was about to get to find both, although not on her terms and not even remotely how she would have planned it.

She opened the door as quietly as possible and climbed down, her left foot touching the pavement when she heard, “Well, well, what do we have here? A stowaway?”

She turned to see the trucker heading her way, his face split with a lascivious grin.

“Damn blind spot,” she said softly. “I’m not a stowaway, this is my rig.” She held herself high, trying to sound convincing over her fear.

The man faltered for a moment, but recovered. “There’s no women on this haul.”

“I was a last second addition, Kong needed someone to haul more zombies,” Azile, said, sounding convincing even to herself.

“I’m still not convinced, there would have been talk of a woman…especially one that looked like you.”