Mark Tufo - The End Has Come and Gone

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She is coming for you....
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"Mark Tufo is one of those writers whose stories are elevated beyond the usual." ---John Ramsey Miller, author of The Last Family

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"No, but Jack's got an idea,” he told me vaguely.

Jack walked up to the doors of the boot store and when they didn’t open he gave them a .223 caliber reason to do so. The shattering glass rivaled the percussions of the bullets.

"Army men!" BT said exasperatedly. “Do they remove the brain stem BEFORE or AFTER boot camp?” "During,” Brian replied.

Jack's boots crunched over the smashed glass. “Hostiles!" he yelled. He motioned with his free hand first five and then another three.

Within seconds Travis, Justin, myself, BT, Brian, Cindy and Perla had him completely flanked. He backed up to be within our firing line as opposed to being in front. We stayed about fifteen feet from the front of the store and then they came, a worse looking lot of zombies we would have had a difficult time finding. Flesh was sloughing off their faces; the putrid smell of feces and decomposition wafted from the store. Perla took a moment to put her stomach into check, but everyone else stood firm.

The first zombie out was a girl maybe in her early twenties. Her green tinged skin made age identification an impossibly difficult feat, it had more to do with her clothing. She had on a sun dress, a leather jacket and boots. I think it was Cindy who took the first shot, drilled her right in the head, most likely more for the fashion infringement than for being a zombie.

Two or three employees came out next. This was easy to tell from their Smacker's Boots and Belts smocks. Two cowboys came out, big brass belt buckles and all, how the hell they still had their ten gallon hats on amazed me. Listen, I know I have issues and if the world is ever once again dominated by humans I promise I will be the first to get in line to get checked. But all I could think when those two came through the door was Brokeback Mountain and how damn disgusting would it be for two zombies to be getting it on. Would maggots make good lubrication? Would the friction cause the skin to peel off? Would 'love bites' take on a whole new meaning? Would the other zombies frown on a male on male relationship? I know brains are just a mixture of chemicals and connections, but apparently I'm missing a synapses or two.

"What are you smiling at?" Cindy asked me as she placed another magazine into her Israeli made Uzi.

"It would be best if I kept it to myself,” I told her, never easing up on my grin.

"Cease fire,” Brian said, holding up his fist.

Would be easy enough for me, I don’t think I ever fired a shot.

Jack walked over and started checking the bodies for keys. Eight dead bodies and five sets of keys, pretty good plan I thought.

The blue Mini-Cooper would have been my first choice in a perfect world. A 78ish Datsun that looked like it was barely able to hold off the effects of gravity was also dismissed. The best out of the lot available was a late year Chevy, it wasn't pretty but it ran, had close to a full tank and would fit them all comfortably enough.

"Alright, this looks like the one,” Jack decided.

"Ready to saddle up Mike?" Brian asked me.

"Alright, so now you've got your own wheels and you're not in as much dire straits that you need to forcibly take my traveling direction . I think we need to take a minute so I can fill in a few holes to the story I told you. Then you can make an informed decision about whether you want to join us or head as far away in the opposite direction as possible.” "Lay it on us,” Brian said, truly not believing that I could offer anything too far off the beaten path as to dissuade them from their present course of action.

I went back to Day One and our first introduction to Tommy, who even then seemed more than he portrayed. To our first encounter with Eliza in the field and to my biggest mistake for not letting Justin blow her demented skull clear from her tainted body.

'It's all right Dad,' he interjected.

I gave them a recap of everything we had been through. It still wasn't the in-depth exposé they deserved, but the clouds that had been threatening all day finally began to release their loads and I still had a sneaking suspicion that Paul and Alex needed our help and soon.

"Wait,” Perla asked. “So you’re saying that not only are there zombies, there is a Vampire Princess who rules them all?” "I'm pretty sure I never said the word ‘princess’ but yeah, she holds sway over them. I don’t know if it's every zombie or if she has to be within a certain proximity, but that she can control some of them is without doubt.” "So I'm confused,” Cindy started. “The kid from the Wal-Mart roof was, I mean 'is' her brother, and now he's with her? Couldn't you tell?"

"It's not like he hung a sign on his neck that said he was a 500-year-old half vampire,” I told her.

"I'm having a real hard time believing this,” Jack said.

"Yup, you nailed me, the zombie invasion wasn't a big enough challenge for me and my family. We figured we'd drum up a few more nightmares and see if that could hold our interest.” "That's not what I meant,” Jack said placating me. “I'm wondering if you're trying to get rid of us.” "Truth is, guys, I would never turn away any help, least of all experienced ones, but you need to know what you’re getting into.” "Cindy?" Brian asked, she nodded. “Cindy and I are in.”

Perla nodded without any prompt. “So are we,” Jack said.

"Well see, this is where you guys, not thinking before you act actually worked out in our favor,” BT said.

Three exits later and we were pulling off the highway again. I had no sooner hit the off ramp when I brought the truck to a skittering halt. Tracy, her usually attentive driving self, almost slammed into us.

"You didn’t tell me you were going to stop!" she shouted irately as she got out of the car.

"Hon, those red shiny things in the back let you know what I'm doing,” I told her calmly.

"Mike, any chance I could ride with you?" an ashy faced BT asked.

"Traitor!" Tracy yelled at him.

"There is nothing wrong with being a self-preservationist,” he said loftily.

Brian came to a stop and our small caravan idled by the side of the road. “What gives?" he asked.

I walked over to the guardrail. Because of our elevation from the outlying areas it afforded us a decent view of the shops below, one of which was a furniture store.

"Oh my God!" Perla gasped, placing her hand over her mouth.

"That would obviously be where we need to go?" Jack asked me.

I nodded once. The warehouse parking lot was entombed by the living dead. I hadn’t seen this great an assembly since the fall of Little Turtle.

"What the hell Mike?" Tracy asked in disbelief.

"They're already dead,” Brian said absently.

"Alex risked his entire world to save my family, I owe him the same chance. He did no such thing for you. You don’t know him and you barely know me, you’re not under an y obligation to stay here.” "Relax friend,” Brian said. “I wasn't saying it as an out. It just was kind of a voiced thought.” “Oh,” I nodded. “I could relate to those.”

I blasted off a couple of rounds, not sure if the sound would break through the distance or the dampening effects of the rain, but maybe it would give them a small measure of hope that help, no matter how little of it there was, had arrived.

"Alright, it's almost dark and it's raining like hell. Why don’t we find some shelter and see if we can come up with some sort of plan,” Gary said, momentarily taking charge. I appreciated it because the scene laid out before me looked like something from Dante's circles of hell and I had yet to assimilate it all.

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