Mark Tufo - The End Has Come and Gone

"Dizz, Sty, get in the car," Tracy said. They didn’t need much encouragement. Dizz immediately turned to follow the progress of the zombie that he now realized was only the diversionary tactic.

Fifteen or so zombies had made their way up the embankment on the far side of the highway, but none of them made it past the median. The one that had staged the diversion actually made it the closest only to have his goal wiped out from under him as he met a chunk of high speed lead with his head. It really was never much of a contest as his skin split first, met immediately by the eighth of an inch of tissue that did little more than lubricate the projectile with blood as it passed through this small layer. Next came the fragmenting of the much thicker skull. Bone shattered like a hollowed out Easter egg under the foot of a petulant child who had not received a Nintendo 3DS for the rising of Christ's day. The bullet, much flattened from its impact with the brain casing, still slid easily through the black-gray diseased matter that had once entertained thoughts of becoming a restaurant owner and asking Alicia Barker to marry him. As the projectile came into contact with the rear of the zombie's head, it significantly slowed from its initial impact and gathered some inertia as it sought to fight its way out of the dark enclosure and back into the sunlight. The mushroomed bullet broke through the back of his skull leaving a hole roughly the size of a baseball. Any thought he might have still harbored of leading anything resembling life crashed to the ground in shattered bits of past memories, pains and joys.

"Well that was gross," BT said, shouldering his rifle. Ryan agreed adamantly.

"And a little disturbing," Ron added. "They are showing the ability to deceive and to employ tactics. Does this somehow tie back to Eliza, or is it just a natural progression of the zombies?" Ron asked the group. Nobody answered. There was no answer anyone could conclusively give.

"Just what the world needs, smart zombies," Tracy said. "Hell, we've already got men, that seems like overkill."

Ron arched an eyebrow. Meredith went over and high-fived her aunt.

"Cute, real cute," BT said. "Can we get the hell out of here now?"

"Yeah, I agree. Let's get home," Ron said

"BT, what do you want to do?" Tracy asked.

"What? NO!" Ron said. "We are heading home."

"Ron, I'm not," Tracy said softly. "My boys, all of my boys are still out there. I can’t go sit this out."

"We got unbelievably lucky here," Ron sputtered.

"Well, I wouldn't call it luck," Tony said as he rubbed his fingernails on his chest. "Skill is what I'd call it," he added, trying to throw some levity into the next few difficult minutes he knew were coming.

"Tracy, you don’t even need to ask," BT answered her original question, "By your crazy ass husband's side is where I want to live or die."

Tracy nodded her thanks.

Henry was looking for some assistance down from the truck seat. Meredith helped him down. "Dad," Meredith started.

"Not a chance!" he said vehemently.

"I started out to do something," Meredith said.

"Yeah, and it damn near got you killed!" he shouted. Meredith flinched, but didn’t back down.

"I have to do this," Meredith told her father.

Tracy wanted to try to convince Meredith to stay with her father. Enough people were already in harm's way, one less would be better. But she could also see the determination that Meredith held. This war was going to be won by the ones that took it 'to' the enemy and not 'from' the enemy.

"I don't think I can handle another good bye," Ron said, turning away from his daughter if only in a vain attempt to hide his tears.

"Dad, I'll be back," Meredith croaked out past her own eye leakage.

"You'd better be," he said. Meredith came over to hug him fiercely. She then circled the truck to give her grandfather a kiss on the cheek and a hug. Water flowed freely from all involved.

"Wow, Talbot men sure do cry a lot," BT said as he got into the car. It was not lost on Tracy as he discreetly pulled his sleeve up to wipe his face.

"BT, you hold to our original deal," Ron said, pointing a finger at the big man.

"Always," BT answered, quickly putting on his sunglasses.

"Missed a spot," Tracy said with a smile as she wiped a tear away on his cheek.

"Damn you woman," BT said.

"I won’t tell anyone," Tracy told him.

"I saw it too and I'm not promising anything," Meredith said smugly.

"Wonderful, what could I have possibly done in a past life that I deserved to be in a car for a cross country trip with TWO Talbot women? Did I shoot the Dalai Lama or something?" He asked the heavens.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – Alex and Paul

Marta was shivering uncontrollably even under the small mountain of blankets that Alex, Paul and Erin had gathered for her. Alex was pacing around the bed as Erin administered a cool damp paper towel to Marta’s forehead.

Erin directed her statement more to Paul but it was meant for Alex also. "She's burning up."

"What did she mean 'worse' Tommy?" Paul asked Alex. "Tommy's on our side, right?"

Alex looked over to Paul, his eyes tortured with pain.

"Is she being used like Justin was?" Paul asked hesitantly.

"The creepy kid?" April asked as she brought more wet towels for Erin .

"That can’t be it," Alex pleaded. "We know Tommy. The kid is always smiling.”

"My husband used to say 'Never trust anybody who smiles all the time, they’re up to something,'" Mrs. Deneaux said, throwing her two and half cents into the fray.

"Guess your husband never had to worry about you then," Paul said meanly.

"Paul!" Erin said.

"No, he's quite right," Mrs. Deneaux said, nodding towards Paul. "I always thought of smiling as frivolous behavior and my husband appreciated that right up until he decided to sleep with his secretary."

"Alright, way too much information," Joann finished. "I think we need to start figuring out what to do. I can feel the heat coming off of Marta from here. We should probably get her some antibiotics or something. And if Tommy is in her head and if, I'm stressing IF, he is on the other team now, are we in danger?"

"Well, I think we're always in danger," Mad Jack said.

"No existential crap please," Joann moaned.

"Sorry," MJ said, "I just thought it was worth saying."

"You know what I meant, all of you," Joann said. "How much more danger are we in now than we were twenty minutes ago?" That question hung somberly over their heads. Alex and Paul both had family that they were trying to get home to. The rest had thrown their lot in with them thinking they would be safer being away from a zombie homing beacon. Now that fundamental premise was being questioned.

"Go then!" Alex shouted. "It's what you’re all thinking, we've already done it once, what's another time? Your soul can only get stained so many times before one transgression becomes indistinguishable from the next!"

"Nobody said that," Paul said, trying to diffuse the situation.

"No one needed to say it Paul," Alex answered, his earlier anger ratcheted down a notch.

"I was thinking it," Mrs. Deneaux said. Paul shot her a fierce glance. She didn’t so much as flinch. "Oh, you can't be that naïve Mr. Ginner. Altruism is a wonderful trait, it truly is, but it is for the misguided. Why should one risk their own life for that of another with no promise of significant gain for the action?"

"Real humanitarian you are," MJ spoke up.

"Pah," Mrs. Deneaux spat, waving her arm at him.

"How much time do we have?" April asked as she looked towards the front door.