Mark Tufo - A Plague Upon Your Family

“Oh don’t be a bother Talbot we just stopped.” Mrs. Deneaux said as she puffed on a cigarette. “These idiots,” She said as she swept her hand to encompass pretty much everyone. “Won’t let me smoke in the back of the truck, something or other about second hand smoke.”

“Fuck, stay, I don’t give a shit! Finish your cigarette. Finish a carton. Hell, go pull some grass, dry it out and smoke it. I’m leaving.” I answered in a yell. Mrs. Deneaux looked like she wanted to add fuel to the fire, but this wasn’t a scene at Wal-Mart where she could bitch someone out and basically get whatever her cold shriveled little heart wanted. Something in the look of my eyes must have told her that I truly would leave her there without a second thought. She ground the remainder of her smoke under her shoe.

BT came up to the rear of the truck. “Who made you boss?” His voice boomed.

“You know what BT?” I said as I tried to make myself as tall and intimidating as possible. Not an easy trick to pull off when I was pretty much looking him in the sternum.

“No, what?” He asked.

“Rhetorical BT, rhetorical. Nobody made me boss. In fact I don’t want to be boss at all. That would actually make this entire fuck fest a lot easier if I didn’t have to worry about any of my decisions getting people killed. I would like nothing more than to lie in the back of that truck and help Igor polish off whatever liquor he has stowed away. So my giant friend, feel free to take the reins of this carnival ride and do with it what you may. I’m just too tired to deal with it.”

“Aw I’m just busting your balls, Talbot.” He said as he basically just stepped up into the back of the truck. “You’re just crazy enough to get us out of this.” And then he laughed. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or petrified.

Alex had just finished up with his wife Marta, changing the baby’s diaper. “Hey Mike, what’s up? Not to be a pain in the ass, but driving this truck is a bitch. I wouldn’t mind taking a few minutes for the blood in my kidneys to start circulating again.”

I didn’t even need to turn around when I pointed behind me. Alex’s face fell. “What is it Alex?” I asked.

He tore his gaze from over my left shoulder and back to me. “What do you mean Mike? You just pointed it out to me.”

“Is it bad?”

“Are you messing with me Mike?” I shook my head in the negative. “It’s a speeder.”

“How far away?” I asked although I could almost approximate its distance as the minute tickle in my brain began to expand.

Alex looked back over my shoulder. “Maybe a quarter of a mile. What’s going on cuate? How could that thing possibly know that we’re here, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“I’m not sure Alex, but look at Justin.”

Alex slowly pivoted his head, reluctant to look, the day was almost already a total disaster and it wasn’t half completed. “He’s just standing there. he looks pale but no worse than he was earlier.”

“Look closer Alex.”

“What’s he looking at? Is that a fly on his nose? So?”

“What’s a fly doing out here Alex? In the dead of winter.”

“It could have been in the truck, Mike.” He said, but the words didn’t even ring true in his own head. Alex made the sign of the Holy Trinity on his chest. “Marta finish up, we’re leaving.”

The zombie crossing the snow-covered field wasn’t going to get to us any time soon, but it was disconcerting to be the prey as a predator closed in. I’m sure there isn’t a gazelle in the world that feels comfortable with a lion in the general vicinity. The fly finally alit from Justin’s face as he turned to look at our approaching company. Color rose in his cheeks, but because he was scared or enraptured was difficult to say. Tracy helped Justin back in to Brendan’s car and then looked over to me. She was worried, as was I, but for differing reasons. She was concerned with his physical well-being. I was more concerned with what was going on inside his head. I was beginning to wonder if Justin was a zombie GPS. Our own portable ‘Harmin’ or better yet how about a Zom-Zom. Wonderful, death all around and I’m making plays on product names. By the time we pulled away I was able to make out facial features on our would-be assailant. He looked none too pleased we were making a hasty retreat. In the distance I could see more of his kind begin the fruitless journey across the frozen tundra, in search of a meal. For one minute second I thought if Justin were to stay here would they stop pursuing? I said, I thought about it, this isn’t the bible I can’t get in trouble for contemplating. Eventually we were going to have to stop and fight but the middle of a highway didn’t seem like the wisest place to make our last stand.

CHAPTER 9

The next two hours of driving did little to abate my feelings of dread in fact it did more to intensify it. I was trying to go over the events of the day to find some sort of alternate explanation for what was going on. First off, sprinting zombies were not on my agenda. Our survivability odds had just been greatly reduced. Any mode of transportation that didn’t include wheels was tantamount to suicide. These new zombies could run full tilt probably forever. In my hey day I could sprint for a max of maybe a quarter mile, now, hell maybe 100 yards before some significant body part failed. I shivered thinking back to our escape from Wal-Mart, if we had encountered speeders then…well I guess it would be over and I could stop fixating on the damn issue at hand. The main problem right now was the sun, well the sun and its gradual decline. We were going to have to stop, sooner rather than later, and with our own shining lighthouse transmitting our whereabouts I couldn’t fathom where we would find sanctuary. I’m not above sleeping in a car but with three other people it was not going to be a comfortable affair. We could all sleep in the truck bed but if something happened we would have to abandon the Jeep and the Explorer, which was not an option. We could find a defensible house, but images of the old Dawn of the Dead movie flickered through my brain plate. Hands coming through windows and all that stuff. Come to think of it that didn’t turn out to be such a good idea either.

This was not looking good for the home team. Let’s see, we were outnumbered probably thousands to one, they don’t need sleep and they have just harnessed a second gear. Yep, not good at all. I was thinking about the myriad ways of our demise when I nearly finished the job myself. Alex had been slowing down for near on a half mile trying to gain my attention to pull along side. My thoughts were elsewhere when I almost slammed into his tailgate. His brake lights as large as saucers in my field of vision.

“Two other cars on the road and you almost crash with one of them.” My wife stated. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you drive my Jeep.”

I was pissed and had to bite back a sardonic reply, mostly because she was right. Not about smashing up her Jeep but the part about almost making us road kill. I had read once in one of those bathroom readers’, ok don’t go getting all high brow on me, one of my past life’s small pleasures was to sit on the throne and while passing time (and other things) was to gain some useless knowledge. And one of those little nuggets (get the pun?) was the fact that back in 1899 Oklahoma, there were two cars in the whole state and they had an accident with each other. They say history repeats itself, well there’s proof positive, almost.

“Talbot!” My wife said with some force. “Alex wants something.”

I pulled my hand across my face hoping to pull off the growing fog in my head. It didn’t work. I got up alongside the semi, a low throbbing apprehension coursing through my body.