Mark Tufo - Alive in a Dead World

I started laughing. “Wasn’t he in the league for like seventeen years?”

“Something like that,” Gary answered.

“I think he had about seven yards rushing total for all those years. We probably should make getting a car a priority.”

“I like it much better when I’m not the object of ridicule. Should we talk about Mike’s first girlfriend?”

“Don’t you dare!” I said, spinning on my heel to face him.

Paul threw his hands up in mock surprise.

“Let’s just find a car,” I said, trying to change the subject.

We had walked about a hundred yards before anyone spoke again.

“So what about her?” BT asked.

“Paul, there’re lines in the sand and once they’re crossed, you can’t come back.” He didn’t seem fazed. “Should I bring up…”

Paul cut me off. “Mike, you swore on your word that you wouldn’t ever bring that up again.”

“We have an understanding then?” I asked him. Paul nodded eagerly.

“Damn! Just when this was getting interesting,” BT said, smiling, happy that he had just stirred the hornets’ nest.

There were plenty of cars abandoned on the street, most with the keys still in them, but the tanks were drained dry. These people had left in a hurry, not even bothering to shut their cars off. Some unlucky few had been eaten where they sat. Sometimes their bodies were half dragged out, snagged by their seatbelts as they were devoured alive. Some had telltale bullet holes in them and had been wholly left alone from the main predator that now prowled the earth; but the lesser scavengers still had to eat. Birds invariably went for the softer-tissued eyes; just one more reason to hate the flying vermin. Rats, I guessed from the droppings, were mostly concerned with chewing through whatever footwear the people had been wearing so they could get to the feet. The meat-stripped feet and eyeless dead, for some reason, were more disturbing than those that had been stripped clean by the zombies.

Gary was right behind me. He had one hand on my shoulder so that I could guide him as he kept his head pointed heavenward. His gagging had been non-stop since we had come across this snarl of dead in the center of town. The worst of the smell had long since passed and the bodies began to resemble something more along the lines of human jerky. But it was still no Yankee Candle store out here.

“What the hell happened here?” Paul asked.

“It looks like zombies came and whoever was shooting didn’t care where their bullets landed,” I said.

Gary took this moment to throw up on my back. “Are you kidding me?” I asked as I immediately handed my rifle to BT so I could take my light jacket off. I swear I could still feel the runny liquid rolling down between my shoulder blades.

“I…I can wipe it off,” Gary offered as he bent over to get the jacket I had just dropped.

“Leave it,” I told him. And that was right before he heaved all over it again.

“Sorry,” he said with a green-tinged smile.

“Is there anything on my shirt?” I asked BT.

“Aw, man,” BT said turning me around.

“Don’t fuck with me, man. I’m barely functioning right now thinking about this.”

“You’re fine,” BT said, laughing as he gently slid his hand down my back and mirrored the feeling of warm stomach bile.

I jumped away. “Paul?”

“You’re fine, man,” Paul said, smiling.

“I’ll tell them,” I said desperately.

“You’re fine!” Paul reiterated.

“You sure you don’t want this?” Gary said, picking it up by the right sleeve, just about the only part that wasn’t coated in his stomach lining.

“You bring that over here and you’ll be walking home.”

It was a few minutes and maybe a quarter mile later when we came across our first promising mode of transportation. It was an old Chevy Cavalier right at the outskirts of town. Both curbside doors were open and there were some personal belongings stowed in the backseat. A small house with the front door ajar was only a few short feet from the car.

“Looks like they never made it out in time,” Paul said with some sadness and regret.

“The keys in the ignition?” I asked Gary, keeping an eye on the doorway like I expected the occupants to come rushing out, demanding to know what was going on.

“No but there’s a box of ammo on the dash.”

“That’s promising, what caliber?”

“30-30.”

“Good hunting round,” I said. The door was intimidating. It was a black, gaping wound into a world I didn’t feel that I wanted to enter. It was a normal setting, overlaid with the surreal. “Something’s not right.”

BT did a quick three-sixty. “Nothing around, Mike,” he said in all seriousness.

“No it’s in there,” I said.

“Forget it then, let’s move on,” he said.

“There’s a car, which probably has gas because they were packing it to get the hell out of here and at least one rifle. We need both badly.”

“Gary, you’re going to stay out here and watch our backs.” It felt strange protecting my big brother, but that was exactly what I was doing.

“I’ll go in first.” I took a big breath and gulped down my fear. “We ready?” I asked BT and Paul.

BT nodded tersely; Paul didn’t even acknowledge my question, but he was right on BT’s heels as we entered. First, we were in the living room, which was stacked with suitcases and multiple bags that would have never fit into that car, even if there were no passengers. But I could tell by the toys strewn around the house, that would not be the case.

“Who cares about things when you’re trying to save your life?” BT asked softly. “They probably would have got out of here if they weren’t trying to save this,” BT said disgustedly as he pushed over a George Foreman grill stacked on a couple of the boxes that looked like they were getting ready to take with them.

To be fair, it looked like one of the top-of-the-line models, but I’m not sure when they thought they were going to get a chance to cook a hamburger, or worry about the fat they would end up eating because it wasn’t draining down into the little drip pan. Don’t get me wrong, there were possessions that I absolutely cherished when the world was still spinning somewhat on a normal axis. But life and the preservation of it top the list. I have yet to come across a Star Wars Astromech figurine that could ever replace the love I have for my kids, my wife or my Henry. But since they were all safe, I did have a pang of remorse that I had not been able to save at least one of the little R2 units I had.

“I see legs,” Paul said, moving over to the far side of the room. He was looking down a narrow hallway. “They’re not moving,” he added as we rushed to his side, rifles at the ready.

“Is that blood?” BT asked, looking over my head.

The hallway was in the shadows and the rug that was down may at one time have been taupe-colored, but years of use had left it something closer to brown and now something stained it even darker by the doorway where the legs were jutting out.

“My guess is yes,” I said. A cloying stench clung to the walls of this house; a blinding dose of claustrophobia struck quickly, lingered for long seconds and then began to diminish. “Wow, that sucked,” I said. Paul and BT, who had suffered no such attack, looked at me questioningly.

“I’ll go,” Paul said, trying to bolster his nerve.

“I’ll do it, this was my stupid idea.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” BT said.

The five steps it was going to take me to get down the hallway were worse than at Fitzy’s house. At least, this time there wasn’t any techno music. But maybe that would have helped drown out the sound of my heart trying to blow through my rib cage.