Mark Tufo - 'Til Death Do Us Part

“Okay I’ve got an idea,” I said.

BT and Tracy groaned in unison.

“Mike, I need to see my babies,” Tracy pleaded.

“I’m going to get on the deck.” I started. “I’ll get the zombies that are still here to follow me, then you guys just come up the other side of the house.”

“That’s not half bad,” BT said, nodding his head.

“You going to be able to climb, big man?” I asked him, looking at his sling.

“More pain than damage, probably only a sprain,” BT answered.

“No time for bravado, my friend. If you can’t climb, we’ll do something else, because nobody is going to be able to lift your ass that high,” I told him.

I looked at him for a few moments, trying to see how good my ‘bullshit detector’ was calibrated. I didn’t detect any deception. “Fine, Tommy, can you control the zombies?”

“No, I lost a lot with my sister’s death. And there’s more that I need to tell you,” he replied.

“Can it wait?” I asked.

“It can, but not for long.”

That sounded much more ominous than I was ready for. “Alright, give me a few minutes, I’m going to try to find a gun and make as much noise as possible to pull them my way. When you have an opening, go for it, because I’m sure any zombies that are in the woods will come back. I would imagine we’ll be under siege again.

“Will it ever stop, Mike?” Tracy asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “One minute at a time, my love, one minute at a time.” I kissed her forehead, went about another twenty feet down the tree line in case there were any eagle-eyed zombies that saw my point of origin and my group. I made it to the fence before I was spotted. Fuck they were fast. I nearly lost my footing as I jumped over the nearly filled-in trench. The zombies were closing in fast, I was down to milliseconds with whether to stand and fight or drop the weapons and jump. If I miscalculated and slipped, it would be over before I hit the ground. Breath was coming out of me in great plumes as I fought for more speed, I felt a zombie’s hand brush up against me as I launched forward and up, my right hand wrapped around a banister. I semi-missed with my left hand, ripping the fingernail of my middle finger clean off; the pain was significant but not a hindrance, not at that moment anyway. I’d had the good fortune to be alive for over four decades without ever losing a fingernail, now I’d lost two in less than a week, life is funny like that. I was just praying it didn’t come in threes. I quickly pulled my legs up and onto the lip of the deck. Zombies began to pool under me. I had the strange urge to piss on their heads. Hey! I said it was strange, don’t judge me.

I felt much better as I climbed over the railing and onto the relative safety of the structure. I entered the house quickly and quietly not sure what to expect. The house was as quiet as the woods had been, but this was worse because there should have been sound.

“Hello?” I asked expectantly. I felt mighty exposed at that moment with nothing in my hands. I approached the darkened kitchen and grabbed the first thing I came into contact with, a large cast iron frying pan, I felt like I was in the UK, no firearms and all. I grabbed a small pot when I realized that noting was up here with me, I would search for everyone else when I was sure, that Tracy, BT, Azile, and Tommy were safe.

I went out onto the deck and raised my pan laden hand high to the area in the trees where they were. I wanted to let them know I was alright, then I went to the far side of the house and banged the living shit out of them.

“Dinner assholes!” I shouted, oh and they came, in droves. My plan was working a little better than I had intended. I moved further back down the deck away from Tracy’s approach.

I was torn between keeping the zombies attention on me, checking on Tracy’s progress, and finding out the fate of the rest of my family. And still I banged pots over my head like a fucking loon. Then the real fun began as shots rang out. I tossed the pan and pot at the zombies and ducked back into the house (Nancy would later yell at me for tossing her cookware), and back out the French doors on the other side.

Ron, Gary, Travis, and Justin were giving cover fire for their running mother or sister-in-law as the case may be.

“Mom needs longer legs,” Travis said as he chambered another round.

“Here!” Ron said, tossing me a Mossberg.

“How?” I asked.

“Closed-circuit TV. Shut up and start shooting,” he said.

Tommy was following behind, the zombies had closed in behind him and unlike me he swung his swords like a ninja, a deadly assassin ninja. The death he was dealing was artistic in its fury and form. Our job on the deck was to keep the zombies from the sides and the front; our shots were getting closer and closer to Azile, Tracy, and BT. Soon we would be firing on their position.

“They’re not going to make it,” Ron said as he feverishly shoved new rounds in his magazine.

“Trav, trade me!” I yelled to him. He was putting a new magazine in the Armalite MP-4. There was no hesitation as he handed me the thirty round assault rifle for the five rounds of slugs the shotgun held. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I said—or maybe thought—as I jumped down off the deck.

They were twenty feet away as I started to fire. I advanced a step or two, firing repeatedly.

“Dad!” Travis yelled. “Magazine!” he yelled down as I heard it thud behind me. I silently thanked him as I continued to mow the zombies down trying to give my loved ones some running room. It was working but partly due to the fact that I was now on the menu and they were coming my way.

“…twenty-nine, thirty,” I said as my breech stayed open, I quickly ejected the spent magazine and twirled to find the new one. I banged it against my leg to lose any dirty, and once I pulled and released the charging handle I was back in business. Good thing, too, because they were close enough to read the serial number on the barrel.

“Ron…gonna need some help!” I yelled as I started to back up. Getting onto the deck was not going to happen; we were going to be underneath it soon.

“Far side of the house! There’s a barred window I can open up to get you in!” he shouted.

I quickly motioned for Tracy to come under the deck and towards the house. She looked longingly at the safety above her and ran to the house like it was a safe zone in a particularly rough game of Tag. Azile was next and a fighting retreating BT pulled up next to her. Tommy was still a one man Cuisinart but his setting was rapidly going from puree to chop.

“Around the house!” I shouted loudly, punctuating my words with rifle fire. I had lost count of my rounds, but I was at least halfway through my magazine and we now had no further support from above.

We were a moving bubble of death. Tommy was now to our side, holding the horde at bay. The swords looked like they were getting heavier by the second as his neck severing swipes were now becoming belly gutting strokes and soon would become soprano makers if you catch my meaning. BT was pushing ahead in front, hacking zombies as if they were wheat and he was a harvester. I was selectively shooting zombies as I brought up the rear. Occasionally, a glint of metal would fly by my face as Tracy felt the need to hack at a zombie.

“I like my nose where it is, woman,” I told her.

Then my backpedaling feet walked into her. I stole a quick glance up ahead. We were stalled.

“BT?” I yelled.

“Stuck, man.”

I heard splintering wood over my head. Travis and Justin were ripping up floorboards.

“Dad, you need ammo?” Justin asked.

“Like a fat kid needs a Twinkie. Tommy…need a little cover while I get this.”