Mark Tufo - Alive in a Dead World

But what of Nicole’s baby? I would have to stay alive long enough to make sure he or she was able to find their way through this world. And then if he/she had kids, what then? When would I stop? Would I follow them through millennia, much like Tommy had followed his sister? Each passing day would push me that much further away from the inevitable death I was so seeking. Banned from the Garden, the alternative was excruciatingly painful, if only because I had glimpsed the beauty of it all.

“Talbot, we’re leaving,” Tracy said, stroking my cheek, and wiping away a tear. “You alright, husband?” she asked tenderly. “You haven’t changed your mind on this, right? No Rambo stuff?”

“What?” Gary asked from the entrance to the Big 5.

“Rambo!” Tracy yelled. “Not Gambo!”

“Gotcha,” Gary repeated with the tongue clicking and finger pointing gesture.

“I’ll be glad if just to get away from his new mannerism,” Tracy said, smiling.

“I’ll miss you, wife, but I promise this will be only for a couple of days, max.”

“She’s that close?” she asked. “She’s relentless.”

“That’s one word. Mine would be much more colorful and would end up being all those funny symbols you see in the Sunday comics when Al Capp swears.”

“Al Capp? Nobody reads Al Capp anymore, Talbot. What’s wrong with you?”

“You’d think you would have figured it out after all these years,” I retorted.

“You know you’re nuts, right?” she asked me.

“That may be, but what does that say about you for staying with me this long?” I asked her snidely.

“Oh, I plan on publishing a thesis about you when this ride is over,” she told me seriously. “I’ll be famous, I’ll be up for Sainthood.”

“Tell God I said hi when you get there,” I said in jest, but its meaning had so much more depth than the way I had originally intended it. Tracy’s smile evaporated.

“Oh Talbot,” Tracy said, falling welcomingly into my arms. “What are we going to do with you?” she said, burying her face into my shoulder.

“There’s always the rodeo,” I told her. It was the first thing that came to my mind.

She wiped a tear from her eye and looked up at me. “You rarely think before you speak, don’t you?”

“What? I think I’d be great, those guys that get in the barrel and everything.”

“You know those are rodeo clowns, right?” she was telling me.

“Clowns? I hate clowns. They are the root of all evil in this world,” I answered.

“You honestly believe that, don’t you?” Tracy said. “There are zombies and vampires roaming this world, but clowns rule as the supreme evil being in your world.”

“That’s rich,” BT said. “You never cease to make me wonder what the hell is wrong with you.”

“I thought the phrase was never cease to amaze?” I asked him.

“Nope,” he replied dryly.

“Hey, Mike,” Paul said, walking away from a very angry spouse. Why the hell he was exposing his flank to a pissed-off wife was beyond me and they called me the crazy one.

“Hey, buddy. Hey, Erin!” I yelled over his shoulder.

She semi-waved, but it looked more like she was flashing me the finger as she turned away.

“I take it you’re staying for the extracurricular fun and activities?” I asked him. He nodded in return. “And you told Erin to leave with the advance party?”

“Right on both counts.”

“She’ll get over it when she sees your smiling face in a couple of days.”

“You think?” Paul asked, looking over his shoulder at his wife’s back.

“I’m an old pro at this; you’ll be fine.”

“I haven’t gone yet, Talbot,” Tracy said from her car door as she loaded an extra clip of ammo. “I can still kick your ass before I go.”

I was going to comment on how good someone, who only a few short months ago hated firearms, was now loading a clip. But then, the reason of why she was so proficient at this new skill struck. I would rather she remained inept than have to deal with this walking abortion we’re calling life. I reverted to, “Yes, dear.”

Chapter Three – Mike Journal Entry 2

I actually did not feel bad when Tracy, the boys and the rest left because I knew what we were doing was right and it felt good. We would finally make a stand, sort of. No more retreating and firing blindly over our shoulders as we ran for our lives. We were taking the fight to her and it gave me goose bumps just thinking about it.

“This is a great set-up,” Brian said, coming up to me as I surveyed the highway below us. “Plenty of clear firing lines and ample opportunity for escape.”

“You ever killed a human?” I asked without turning.

“I’ve killed dozens of zombies,” he responded.

“I didn’t say zombies,” I told him, now turning to look him in the eyes.

“What are you talking about Mike?” he asked with a “what the hell?” expression.

“I’m asking have you ever killed an air-breathing human with thoughts, feelings and a hope for the future before? In the Army?”

“More times than I’d like to count,” he told me solemnly. “Why?” he asked cautiously.

“Well, not that I consider the stupid bastards that hooked up with Eliza to be much above the zombies, but she has at least a hundred or so human sympathizers that help move her horde around and give her nourishment when she runs a little low on fresh stock.”

“Are you shitting me, Mike?” Brian said, looking like he was getting a little green around the gills.

“Not at all, and those are the ones I want to target.”

“I wasn’t sure what to expect with this, but I guess this wasn’t it. I was really kind of expecting a giant mob of zombies to be coming down the highway and we would just let gobs of lead fly.”

“Oh, we’re still going to let gobs of lead fly, just a different target than you were expecting.”

Brian walked away, maybe now regretting his decision to stay behind, but I was glad he was here.

“How much time do we have?” BT asked, sitting on the rear hatch of one of the new trucks Ron had given us. New in years, not in looks.

Ron was going to be pissed. The one he had given me had been blemish-free; this one looked like we took it through an industrial flaying machine, whatever that would entail. Bowling ball-sized divots creased the hood, the moose damage nearly lost. Well, that was one positive.

“Are you putting on new socks?” I asked him, shielding the sun from my eyes.

“Yeah, Brian gave them to me. They’re real nice.”

“They make socks in your size? I just figured you used old canoe covers.”

“Have I told you lately how funny I think you are, Talbot?” BT said, muscling his left sock over his foot, stretching it well beyond its capacity.

“You’ve got those things stretched so wide, they look like fishnet,” Gary said as he walked by to set up a tripod with a spotting scope.

“Two Talbots, half the fun,” BT roared.

To answer your question, we’ve got maybe two days,” I told him, turning back to the roadway. I was almost able to see the leading edge of the evil that was coming.

“You know, I love me some good plinking, but don’t you think we should maybe up our arsenal a little?” BT asked as he put his shoes on. The image of BT wearing fishnet stockings gave me a smile that I made sure to hide before I turned to talk to him.

“Yeah, the Big 5 didn’t pan out quite like I had hoped. If this one is dry, it’s a good chance that everything in this vicinity is pretty much tanked.”