Mark Tufo - Alive in a Dead World

“Well, at least I know where he gets his humor from. They’ll be back, Tony.”

“You’re that sure?” Tony asked, looking her in the eyes.

“I am,” she answered. “Do you want me to get you some more coffee?” Tracy asked, getting up so as not to give away her illusion of holding it together.

“I would,” Tony said, handing her his cup.

As Tracy was leaving the room, she turned to answer her father-in-law. “In spite of every flaw that man possesses, and there are more than I care to count, he is a wonderful father and husband with whom I cannot imagine spending the rest of my time here on earth without. That is why I have put up with him and why I know he will be back.”

Tears welled up in Tony’s eyes.

“I’ll be right back with the coffee,” Tracy said, giving Tony some time to collect himself.

Chapter Twelve – Mike Journal Entry 8

“Oh fuck!” Was the first thing out of my mouth. In retrospect, I wish I had thought of something better. My best friend had just been dealt a death sentence and the most profound thing I could think to say was an expletive. My English teacher was going to slap me upside the head if she ever found out. And then I followed that initial bad opening statement with one almost equally as lame. “Are you sure?”

BT rolled up his sleeve. A neat half moon wound on his forearm wept blood. “And before you go asking if what bit me was a zombie, you can match the wound up to that one’s mouth,” BT said, pointing to a zombie that laid close to his legs.

I wanted to tell him that most likely wasn’t going to happen. The zombie in question appeared to have every skeletal feature in its face and skull crushed, but even still, it was easy to see that it was indeed a zombie and not some random urbanite, gone cannibal. I sat down heavily next to BT. “How long ago?”

BT looked over at me. “Couple of hours, I think, lost track of time after I pulled that trigger for the thousandth time. I was really hoping to avoid the part where you blow my head off.”

“Wait…what? I can’t do that, BT!” I exclaimed, getting back on my feet.

“Listen, pencil-neck, you are not going to let me become a zombie. I will purposefully hunt you and you alone until I eat your skinny ass.”

“Great, you can join Eliza.” I meant it as a jest, but as the reality of that statement hit, we both became silent for a moment. I tightened my grip on my rifle.

“You have to, Mike. I won’t hold it against you. I’ll talk to you when you get upstairs.”

We both stopped talking.

“This really is going to be an awkward conversation,” I said to BT, referring to his statement about running into me on the streets of Heaven.

“He has to let you in, doesn’t he?” BT asked. “I mean you’ve done so much good.”

“That’s just it, BT, there’s nothing for him to let in. Whatever corporeal part of me I housed is gone, and that, my friend, was my golden ticket. Without it, I’m just another bag of bones.”

“I would have brought more beer if I’d known we were going to have a party,” BT said.

‘What?’ my stare asked.

“You know, the whole pity party thing.”

“Not hilarious. Come on, get up,” I said, extending my hand.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier if you shot me where I sit?” BT asked.

“Come on, man, let’s just see if there’s anything we can do. Maybe the wound wasn’t deep enough to transfer the parasite. The house I just left, the lady living there is a nurse.”

“Mike, you’re stalling.”

“No shit!” I yelled at him. “How much of a rush do you think I’m in to put a bullet in my friend?”

“Okay, fair enough,” BT said as he got up. “You think a nurse in North Carolina is going to have any kind of answer for me?”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t think the Dalai Lama himself had an answer, but it bought me some time. Within a few minutes, we were within sight of Mary’s home. Some of her dinner guests had departed, but not enough of them. I’d say a good fifteen to twenty were still hanging around for some leftovers or maybe a doggie bag.

“How we going to get by them? I’ve got ten rounds,” I told BT.

“I’m fully loaded,” BT answered.

“You’re holding a bat.”

“Yup. It hasn’t ran out of ammo yet.”

“Where’s your sword?”

“It got stuck,” he answered.

I had no desire to know how it had become so imbedded in its victim that not even BT could dislodge it.

“No way, BT, we’ll figure out something else.”

“By the time you think of something else, I’ll be nibbling on your innards. Yo zombies, I’ve got something for you!” BT yelled, standing up from our hiding spot behind a small bush.

“I hate close combat, BT.”

“Don’t get anywhere near my swing; homie don’t play that,” BT said with a wild glare in his eyes.

***

“Mom! Mom! I see the big man again and Mike!” Josh shouted from his mother’s bedroom window. He had been keeping a watch out ever since his play partner had left.

Mary and Gary came running in from the kitchen.

“My God, he’s huge!” Mary exclaimed.

“What the hell is he doing?” Gary asked, watching as BT roared and brought his bat up. Gary turned slightly to his left and saw zombies running straight for BT. “They’ll kill him.” And then Gary watched in alarm as Mike stepped up next to BT. Gary ran out of the room into the living room to grab his rifle.

Mary was too enthralled in the scene before her to notice the departure.

“Mom, what are they doing?” Josh turned to look up at his mother.

“You should stop watching,” she said robotically, but she made no move to shield him from the view.

***

The first zombie reached BT and met a blissful exit from this world, courtesy of a Louisville Slugger, the preferred choice of zombie slayers nationwide. The zombie’s skull conformed to wrap itself around the bat. Crushed bone giving way to hard wood. I don’t know how I saw it, but the force of the contact was so hard, I watched the zombie’s dental fillings fly from its mouth. There were seven of them, apparently somebody liked their sweets.

BT had pulled the bat back and was swinging again before the first zombie could find its final resting place. It was those damn twitching legs that I think about a lot when I wake up in the middle of the night. BT’s next swing caught zombie number two square in the mouth; and the shattering of its teeth made me cringe. The third zombie that made it to BT was a young woman, and BT didn’t hesitate a beat as he brought the meat of the bat down on the top of her skull. The sheer force of the contact brought her to her knees, and her brain ruptured around the intrusive object.

“Any time you want to join in is fine with me,” BT growled through heavy breaths.

“Right,” I said, bringing my gun up. There was just something so visceral, so raw, so fluid in BT’s motions as he killed the zombies. It was like he was doing a Tai Chi demonstration.

“Mike, my bat cracked. You should probably start doing something,” BT’s arms rippled as he cracked another head like an eggshell.

He had taken out six zombies before I fired my first shot. I wasn’t thinking about it then, but on some level, I realized that I had about a five-foot, zombie-free bubble around me. I just wasn’t under attack. I started picking off zombies, four out of five fell from my cartridge. Now the fun would really begin as I had to reload the magazine. The barrel of BT’s bat whistled past my head.