Mark Tufo - The End Has Come and Gone

"Yeah, but in a live way,” he reiterated. “So a bunch of people start heading home. I mean, what the hell else could they do? But Sully was in my department and for some misaligned sense of duty I figured I should stay with him. My girlfriend here Cindy, Cindy Martell and my buddy Jack O'Donnell and his girlfriend Perla Tirado, we all stayed behind with most of the bosses. Me and Jack were sharing a smoke a few feet away when Cindy came up the large entryway to the playing field, she and Perla were leading the ambulance in. I threw my cigarette down and started walking over to where Sully was and by now it was dusk. The red and blue lights of the ambulance were making everything dance. I looked down to the cigarette wondering if Jack had laced it with anything because Sully was up and the fat bastard was eating, he was eating Lipstein. I mean literally gnawing through his neck.” I don’t know why he thought I needed extra explaining. It wasn't like I was going on the faith of his words alone.

"I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, but all I had on me was my paint ball marker. I started running towards the scene, pelting Sully with yellow and green balls. He didn’t even look up as blood spewed out of the side of Lip's neck. The other higher ups had just taken off, left their own to die. Jack comes running up beside me, asking me what the hell I'm doing,” "Thought I was going to puke,” Jack said succinctly.

"Yeah, that's the usual state of affairs when you first come across them,” I said to him, sharing in his pain.

"I guess I finally pissed Sully off when I nailed him in the eye. He dropped Lip and started heading my way. I kept pulling the trigger but what was the use. Jack pulled me out of there.” "We were in Fallujah together,” was all Jack said, and that really summed it up. Looking out for your buddies was the main thing you did in combat.

"I don’t know what happened to Sully,” our 'host' said. Cindy wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, remembering the events of that night. “So that's about it, the four of us have been on the run ever since. Oh yeah, and my name is Brian, Brian Wamsley.” "Dude, I don’t need last names,” I told him.

"Is it because you don’t know us well enough and if we die you can keep yourself emotionally distanced from us that way?" Perla asked.

"Perla,” Jack said. “We don’t know them at all, I'm sure he has his reasons.”

"It's pretty basic reasoning actually,” I told them. “I'll just never remember them.”

Cindy laughed. “Yeah, the 80's were a great time. So what's your story?"

I gave her the super stripped down version that did not contain Eliza or Tommy, and even that was a pretty far-fetched scary tale. Friggen’ hate when I give myself the shivers.

"So now you’re going to try and get to your friends?" Perla asked.

"That's the idea, we think they might be in trouble,” Gary said.

"How would you know any of this?" Brian asked suspiciously.

My story had gaping wounds that you could drive a Mini-Cooper through. I had watched knowing exchanges passed between Jack and Brian. I didn’t have time to appease their suspicions.

"Listen, I've… we've got someplace we need to be,” I told the foursome. “I will be more than happy to drive you somewhere until you get a set of your own wheels and then we've got to go,” I told Brian directly, basically telling him that I was done answering his queries. We owed each other nothing and I was holding good to that.

"What if we went with you to this rescue?" Jack asked, “And then you helped us find some wheels.” "Listen, everyone here knows that I didn’t tell you half of the truth.” Gary nodded, I smacked him in the arm. “What's going on with the zombies is horrible, but being around us is not something most would want to do willingly.” "Yeah, we're sort of trouble magnets,” Gary said.

"That's one way of saying it,” I added, agreeing with Gary .

"We're in,” Brian said with conviction.

"You speak for everyone?" I asked him.

"We're thrill junkies,” Cindy said as she hopped into the back of the truck.

"I don’t think you’re getting it,” I said.

"Ooooh, zombies ,” Perla added, throwing her hands up in the air. “Dammit, I think I chipped a nail,” she fake whined as she climbed into the truck bed.

"Jack,” I said grabbing his arm. “This is no joke.”

He looked me straight in the eye. “Nothing better to do. Can we go now?"

I let his arm go. “I thought I was nuts,” I muttered as I climbed into the driver's seat.

"Oh you are,” Gary said wisely. "But apparently you’re not alone.” "Comforting,” I said as I was about to put the idling truck back into gear. “Gary , we're just about the same height but I've got to adjust the damn seat every time. Why do you like to drive with your knees in your face?"

Gary shrugged.

"DAD!" Justin yelled.

I jumped. “Boy, you almost made me crap myself. What's the matter?"

"Spike strips!" he yelled.

"That would have sucked,” I said as I got out of the truck to remove the pointy bars.

"Whoa, that would have sucked,” Brian said as he looked over the edge of the truck bed.

"You want these things?" I asked him, holding them up.

"Not so much.”

I tossed them as far from the road as I could so that some other unsuspecting traveler would not find their forward progress hampered by them. It wasn't nearly as far as I would have hoped, and leave it to Travis to let me know.

"Nice toss Curt,” he mocked from the back of the cab, referring to the great Red Sox pitcher Curt Schilling.

Tracy would kill me if she had seen this, but I flipped him off. He laughed as I went to make sure the strips were off the roadway.

"Zombies!" came the shout.

"Well, forget the strips,” I said as I got back into the truck and got going, “Speeders,” I said looking into the rear view mirror. “I hate speeders.” "We would have been screwed if I hadn't remembered about the strips,” Justin said boastfully.

"Yeah, you definitely deserve a pat on the back for that one,” I told him. We would have been FAR better off dealing with the twenty or so that were following than the hundreds that were in the process of surrounding the furniture store, but then again I hadn’t a clue what we were driving into so I forged ahead.

Brian tapped on the glass window that separated the crew cab from the truck bed. Travis slid it open.

"So how far to the rendezvous point?" Brian shouted to be heard over the sound of the wind and the road.

Gary pulled out the Atlas and tried to get a bearing from our surroundings. “Damn,” was the only thing he said.

"Did we pass the exit?" I asked him.

"Not yet, but if Brian hadn’t of asked we would have.”

"You’re the navigator, you’re supposed to be watching out for this stuff.”

"Well, technically, I'm still supposed to be driving.”

"Yeah, well, that was before having your knees all up in your face nearly hindered your view of the roadway and you almost gave us four flats.” "That’s one way of looking at it I guess. About an hour,” he turned to Brian to answer the original question.

My stomach began its internal churning, bile mixed with acid. Oh boy, yum! I didn’t get flashes of images for my prescience, no, nothing quite so noble. I got to feel like I was going to either throw up or crap myself when I felt like we were getting into some trouble.

"Brian!" I yelled. He stuck his head through the small window. “You sure about this?"

"About what, Mike?" He asked. “Listen, you guys are the first folks we've run across in a long while that I feel even remotely comfortable around. That you guys are risking your lives for your friends says a lot about your character. We're in for a while Mike, and unless you prove me wrong, who knows man, maybe you'll be stuck with us for the long haul too.” He pulled his head back through, satisfied that he had spoken his peace.