Mark Tufo - 'Til Death Do Us Part

“Nothing, just wasn’t ready for cheesy 80’s songs,” Ron replied.

“Cheesy 80’s song!” Gary said aghast. “That’s a classic!” He began anew. “You’ve seen the difference and it’s getting better all the time.”

“ Getting better all the time, ” Travis mumbled. The second lag bolt on the support bracket tore free. The door was groaning—the two-by-fours were creaking.

“This might be important, but Mad Jack said that once the boards start to crack, you have thirty seconds to evacuate and get back to the shelter,” Gary told the group.

“You?” Ron asked.

Gary shrugged, the two-by-fours were beginning to bend under the strain, and light was spilling all around the door as the seal was broken.

“For honor, for freedom, and most importantly…for family,” Tony said as he rested the barrel of his rifle on the back of the couch.

The two-by-fours blew apart, the heavy cellar door slammed against the wall. A bulker that seemed surprised it had made it through took a step towards the rifles and came face to face with oblivion, the heavy metal helmet proving incompetent as the bullets entered its face and went into the brain cavity destroying the nerve center of the beast. He was pushed to the side; even as he thudded to the ground another took his place. Travis’ next shot pushed the zombie’s head back as the bullet struck the metal plating, it locked eye contact on the one that dared shoot at him and began its fifteen foot traversal, Tony’s shot caught the zombie on the bridge of the nose, the cartilage erupted; white, wet, soft material sprayed against the far wall.

The light was blotted out every time a bulker entered the basement, as effectual as an eclipse. They grunted and groaned as they pushed through each almost wedging its enormous size in the doorframe. Rifle smoke filled the room quickly that and the blotted out light made finding targets difficult.

“Dad, we need to pull back!” Ron shouted.

“There is no ‘pull back’ its retreat from here, and we can’t leave them out there,” Tony said calmly to his son. “Get my grandsons to safety,” Tony added with a resigned sigh. The bulkers had halved the distance to the couch.

“Dad?” Ron asked.

“Do it!” Tony uncharacteristically yelled. He said it as he fumbled in his jacket pocket, pulling out two grenades that Mike had brought back.

“What are you going to do with those?” Ron asked.

“What do you think? Get your brother and my grandsons to safety.”

Rifle shots were now a continuous volley as aiming was not necessary. The cement rumbled from the weight of the bulkers as they pushed ever forward.

Even Ron had to admit the basement was lost, the next line of fallen bulkers would hit the couch and drive them into the wall where they would be pinned and helpless.

“Let’s go!” Ron shouted, tapping Travis, Justin, and Gary.

“Pops?” Travis asked after they had traveled a few feet away and he realized his grandfather wasn’t with them.

“Holding the line!” Ron told him as he urged his nephew on. A tear fell onto the floor.

The four had just rounded the corner and where within a few feet of Mad Jack who was urging them on when they lost their footing. The floor jumped up to meet them and all went silent as a giant explosion ripped through the house bringing some of it down upon itself.

***

Mike stood no more than a foot from Eliza, no more able to control his movements than he had been that fateful night so many months before when she had given him the kiss of death. For that is what it had truly been, everything else that had happened had merely been in preparation for this moment. Tracy was held back by one of the truckers as she tried to get to his side. BT had a small arsenal of weaponry pointed at him, no one dared leave him to his own devices.

“I do not know why this moment has eluded me. You are not supernatural…there is nothing extraordinary about you. You are merely flesh and bone, weak like all men. I do not see your God rushing in to help you. You are abandoned, and alone.”

“Fuck you,” Mike spat out, struggling to have at least that small victory as she held him tight within her mental grasp.

Kong watched fascinated, he knew that he would have been begging for her mercy were he in Michael’s shoes, yet the man still fought. He hoped Mike’s demise would be swift, but did not hold much stock on that assumption, Eliza held no ability for compassion.

“Would you rather I kill your pretty little wife before I dispose of you?” Eliza asked.

Mike was shaking with impotent rage. Eliza had his jaw clamped shut so that even a cutting remark could not be issued.

Kong almost made the fatal mistake of helping. The moment was beyond tense as three lives hung in the balance. Mike, with his arms pinned against his sides and his fists balled up, was still somehow able to unfurl his middle finger. It was pointing downwards, but the message was not lost on Eliza.

“Is that for me? Let me get a closer look.” Eliza said as she wrapped a small hand around Mike’s neck. She picked him up as if he were no more than doll. Mike’s legs began to buck as she cut off his air flow.

“Stop!” Tracy screamed, trying desperately to get through the guards.

“Your turn is coming, do not be in such a rush,” Eliza said, turning a cruel smile Tracy’s way. “Although I may allow my men a little fun first.”

BT punched the guard nearest him in the temple. The man fell to his knees, BT pushed past the other two that had been watching Eliza between leers at Tracy. BT rushed at Eliza, she saw him coming and gripped tighter on Michael’s neck in preparation for the attack. As BT came at her, Eliza let loose a back hand that sent the man sprawling, his legs lifted off the ground from the force of the blow. He struck the ground in a non-moving heap.

Michael’s vision was tunneling, his legs twitching violently in their death throes, his knee struck against Eliza’s chest a small tinkle as if a wine glass shattered could be heard over the din. Two spirits seemed to pull away from Eliza as she shrieked in horror.

One was her twin in looks only, not countenance; the other was a Native America Shaman. He gained stature as he stood tall. Eliza backed up, still holding Michael by the throat using him as a shield to keep the doppelganger away. The shaman took in the scene around him, his eyes finally resting on the surprised face of Azile, who was still on the ground. He took his old gnarled hands and meshed them together. At first Azile did not understand his message, then it dawned on her.

The truck drivers had moved back as the event unfolded.

Azile stood. “I bind you, lost soul, to the one that has forsaken you.”

Eliza’s head whipped around. “NO!” she screamed. “Kill her!”

Azile looked around and quickly repeated her words. “I bind you, lost soul, to the one that has forsaken you.”

“Kong, kill her!” Eliza yelled, even as her soul began to merge within her.

One of Kong’s men raced towards Azile, a club raised high, Kong who had been momentarily stunned by the events came out of his daze and shot the man in the chest, the club clattered to the ground as he shouted.

“Anyone else approaches and I’ll kill them too!”

The shaman repeated the hand clasping gesture to Azile.

“I bind you, lost soul, to the one that has forsaken you!” Azile screamed.

Mike fell to the ground as the force and shock of the spell took hold within Eliza.

“She’s mortal?” Tracy asked, never looking around to gather an answer.

She pulled free from the man that had been holding her and was now moving away. Mike’s body was still and seemed devoid of life as she touched his face, he was so cold. In direct contrast, the anger within her was white hot. She reached down across his body and took his knife from the sheath attached to his leg; with one fluid movement she stood, spun and buried the Ka-Bar hilt deep into Eliza’s breast.