Mark Tufo - Alive in a Dead World

“Which way to the universe?” (I could relate) “Is that a barracuda?” Even I couldn’t piece that one together.

A few homeowners turned their lights on to make sure no one decided to make their front lawns a resting spot. I saw more men and women openly pissing in the street than I will ever care to admit. I might have seen a couple having sex, or it was a lawnmower--I can’t be sure. More than once, Paul’s hand would reach out and prevent me from toppling over as I tried to scale the massive curb when the occasional car ventured forth.

Now I’m not so dramatic that I felt I was Bilbo Baggins on a quest for the ring that ruled them all, but by the time we got to our condo, I felt like it. Relief flooded through me as I took in my now favorite, intensely red couch and butcher block kitchen table.

“MEAT!” Dennis shouted, heading for the fridge. He started slapping packet after packet of various deli delight-ables on the counter top. Dagwood had nothing on us after we piled different animals onto our Kaiser rolls. It wasn’t twenty minutes later that I found myself deep in the throes of a food coma. Somehow, I had passed out and slept on the table. The next morning did not bode well for my back as I cantilevered off. Sometime during the night, my head had been cleaved in two. I could not focus on anything. I felt threadbare, like I had wrung my soul through a cheese grater. My cohorts weren’t in much better shape, although Dennis got to sleep his happy-ass in the back seat the entire seven-hour ride back home.

Paul was up intermittently to keep me company, but he just couldn’t stave off the effects of the night before and none of us was having anything to do with his secret elixir. Paul said that he didn’t even think that he could handle the smell of the ingredients anyway.

I relate this story because although it happened nearly eight years ago, it was truly one of the last times that the three of us as best friends, that had shared so many life experiences, journeys, quests and adventures got together. Dennis, just two years later, would die from a series of strokes and heart attacks. Unbeknownst to us, he had been diagnosed with type two diabetes. I guess he figured that if he ignored it, the disease would go away. It didn’t.

And like so many friendships as we grow older, there just isn’t the time available to devote to them. This Telluride trip would be, for the most part, mine and Paul’s swan song. Sure, we saw each other a few times over the remaining years, most notably Dennis’ funeral, but nothing like the days of yore. I don’t want to count our days of running from zombies. That is not a chapter I wish to include in our long and storied past. I will miss you, Paul, those days we played football, our experimentation with beer, and bongs. Our voyages to Indian Hill, to our college days and beyond. You were the best friend, damn near brother, that any man could ask for in life. I feel honored and privileged to have known you. A piece of my heart will always be missing with your passing. Rest in Peace, Paul 1966-2011.

So ends Journal Number Five. I did not get as much accomplished as I had hoped, yet I paid dearly for it. The world yet spins, but it has become a measurably darker place. Eliza stands on the threshold of victory and I fear that nothing stands in her path to stop her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“ My cat’s paws are always cold, I’ve believe it’s due to her walking upon the souls of the dead.” Book of Talbotisms #76

“So you’re telling me that you and BT both felt Paul?” Gary asked as they walked away from Mary’s house. Josh watched them from his bedroom upstairs, eagerly awaiting their return. Deneaux was watching them from the living room window, with what appeared to be the exact opposite expression.

“Paul’s passing,” Mike said. It sounded a lot stranger in daylight like maybe he had imagined it, but it was a pretty powerful feeling this morning.

“I hope you’re wrong,” Gary said.

“Me too,” Mike said in earnest, but his words rang hollow. He might have some doubts about what he felt, but not enough to overcome them.

They walked in silence for a little while longer. Gary, for some reason, just couldn’t seem to let the quietness of the day hold. Maybe he also did not want to dwell on the fact that they were more likely heading out on a body recovery than a rescue.

“Sure aren’t many zombies for a zombie apocalypse,” he said, looking around.

“And that’s a problem for you?” Mike asked sarcastically.

“I’m just saying, that you’d think they’d be everywhere. And here we are, just strolling down the middle of the road, like we own the place.”

“I, for one, am not complaining, brother. I would much rather be strolling than running for my life. You should be thankful too, because we both know I can run laps around you.”

“Not if I tripped you.”

“Nice, you tell Tracy when you get back what happened.”

“Forget it, I’d rather get eaten.” He laughed for a sec.

They had been criss-crossing streets with no real objective. They were just looking for something, anything. Mike thought about calling out or maybe even shooting a round into the air and then he thought a little harder about sounding the dinner bell. Just because there were no zombies here right now, in no way meant that they weren’t around in big bunches.

“I don’t know about this, Gary.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know how long we should just keep walking around, aimlessly looking for him.”

“Aimlessly?” he asked questioningly. “You mean you’re not using your Spidey-sense or something?”

“Spidey-sense?”

“Yeah, don’t you have some special powers or something?”

“I wish, maybe we should just get some wheels.”

“The noise will attract them.”

“I know, but we’ll be able to cover more ground, and maybe Paul will hear us.”

“I thought you said...”

“I know what I said, I’m trying not to believe what my Spidey-sense is telling me.”

“Spidey-sense sucks.”

“I agree.”

“Whoa! What do we have here?” Gary said, his attention focused ahead of us.

A lone zombie was standing on a small stoop. It did not, at first, pay them any attention as its gaze was fixated on something small in the side light window to its left.

“That a cat?” Gary asked softly as they got closer. The zombie still not privy to their existence.

“Looks like a small dog. Nope, that’s a cat. I can tell by that funky tail-twitching thing they do.”

“Someone must be in there,” Gary said as we stopped about twenty-five feet from the house. “No way that cat could have survived so long without some help; and it looks pretty fat.”

Another cat came up next to the large gray cat; they both seemed to be staring at the men. But this wasn’t with imploring, “help us” eyes; this was more like something predatory. “Do they look like they want to eat us?” Mike asked Gary. Their zombie friend finally turned around. Mike would swear its eyes got big as it noticed them.

“I don’t know about them, but he sure looks hungry.”

“You want the honors?” Mike asked Gary, as the zombie headed towards their location.

“I’ll shoot it, but you have to go into the cat house first.” Gary blew a hole through the back of the zombie’s head before Mike could even utter his response. It wasn’t like they had a choice anyway. Zombies would come running. They, however, would not stay out long if they could not find anything worth their while.

The zombie was still twitching as Mike made his way up to the porch. A third cat joined the other two who disturbingly had not moved even after Gary took his shot.