Mark Tufo - A Plague Upon Your Family

“What do you know?!” I screamed at him. Tracy ran up to shield Justin from me.

“What are you doing Mike?” She yelled back.

“He knows something!” I shouted “And I want to know what it is.” The rest of the occupants looked at me like I had finally lost my marbles. I attempted to push past Tracy to get to Justin. BT was having none of it.

“Have you lost your damn mind?” BT asked as he grabbed my arm. I would have shrugged him off but I would have had an easier time taking a tire lug nut off with my fingers. You get the point, right?

“Fuck!” I shouted as I turned away. BT let go as he realized that my offensive had petered out.

“You done lost your mind Talbot. The fight’s outside.” BT reiterated. As if in response to BT’s words, the zombies were realizing their opportunity at an ambush had come to an end. They were now launching an all out offensive on the small sheriff’s office. Shards of glass splashed inside as cut and bleeding arms shot through attempting to ensnare anything that might venture close enough to them. No matter how close or far we were to the windows we all backed up a step. It was clear the zombies couldn’t get in. It was also clear we couldn’t get out. But just because they couldn’t get in, didn’t mean we could stay. We had left the majority of our supplies, including food, in the trucks and they were outside. The thought being that if we had to evacuate in a hurry we wouldn’t be hampered with the added weight. Add in the fact that we now had central air conditioning installed via the broken windows, we had a multitude of ways in which we could face our demise, none of them seemed that appealing. Let’s see, we could start with starvation, but that could take up to 10 days. There was always exposure, that would be quicker. Probably take in the neighborhood of three days. Or the least savory of the trio, death by consumption, and not the kind that killed good Ol’ Doc Holliday.

I went back to my cell, calling it that seemed more apt at the moment. Paul came over to see how I was doing.

“You alright bud. You seemed to have flipped there for a minute.” He said.

If I had installed laser beams in my eyes he would have been severed in two. The damn zombies had upgraded, why couldn’t I?

“You know we’re screwed right?” I asked him. He nodded in ascension.

“Mike I never thought it would end like this.” Paul said solemnly.

I let my sarcastic side out. “Like what Paul? In a jail cell, in a fly speck of a town surrounded by zombies?” His head bowed even lower. Now I felt like a shit. “I’m sorry man, it just came out.”

He looked up at me. “Dude, no you’re right. Even with all that’s been going on I still haven’t completely wrapped my head around the idea that what is happening is ‘real’. Do you know what I mean?”

I nodded because I did know what he meant. In horror book after horror book they talk about how it just seemed like a nightmare and eventually you will wake up and that werewolf chewing your leg off isn’t real. The boogeyman that comes out of your closet in the middle of the night to steal your soul is merely fiction. We’re just innately not built with the capacity to wrap our heads around things with this much magnitude. We push it aside or underneath or we choose to completely ignore rather than accept what is directly in our face.

I knew this guy in high school, Jeff, he was a senior when I was a junior he was going out with this girl, Hillary, who was arguably the hottest chick in the school. But that’s neither here nor there. They were the epitome of the traditional high school sweethearts. They had known each other in grade school and as they matured, their relationship developed. They dated the entire four years of their high school experience. Upon graduating they went off to the same college so they could stay together and during their sophomore year at college they decided to tie the knot. They wanted it to be a large elaborate traditional wedding. They came back home during the Thanksgiving break to tell everyone of their momentous decision, although it would have been to no one’s amazement. But this isn’t Oz, some douche bag decided to wash his car during a cold spell in the Northeast, the runoff from his car rinsing, froze out in the street that night. Jeff lost control of his car and hit a UPS truck head on. When they finally extracted his 302 hp engine from Hillary’s lap, her inner light had long expired. For the two weeks Jeff spent in the hospital he had to be constantly sedated because he would wander from room to room looking for her. I even heard that years later he would periodically call Hillary’s parents and ask if she was home. How would any of us react to that set of circumstances?

The zombies were like that for us. It was a difficult concept to accept as reality. I even found myself sometimes thinking when I could go home and play with the Wii again, or mow the lawn or just sit and watch a baseball game. But that was all over, whether I wanted to believe it or not. Our new reality involved monsters of mythical proportion. Every day was to be a struggle to survive. That was truth. Living was now a burden to be hefted onto one’s shoulders until the accumulated weight of despair broke our backs.

Paul leaned in for a man hug, as I did my best to console him, my gaze was driven skyward because of his head.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed as I nearly kneed Paul in the nose as I jumped up. I ran up to the cell bars trying my best to suppress my enthusiasm until I could make sure that the idea forming in my head could hold any water whatsoever.

“What is it Mike?” Paul asked, doing his best to wipe away the tears that had built up under his eyes before I could notice. MAN CODE Alert. Dudes don’t cry in front of other dudes. They just merely ‘Sit on their keys’ bringing a tear to one’s eye.

Alex and BT had come over to watch and to see why I was so interested in the bars.

“What’s up Talbot? You already going stir crazy?” BT asked. He laughed as he said it probably thinking it was exactly what was happening.

Alex however was taking more notice of what I was doing. “Hex heads Mike?”

I nodded. “All the way around Alex.” I answered enthusiastically.

“Who’s a hex head?” BT said angrily, thinking that he might be the butt of a joke he didn’t understand. Personally, that was like poking a bear with a beehive. Why would you even want to go there?

“No BT.” Alex said diffusing BT. “The bars are mounted into the ceiling and walls with hex head screws.”

“Who gives a shit?” BT asked “Hex heads, screws, nails, magnets, fucking bubble gum, what’s the difference?”

“This means we can take them down.” I answered with excitement in my voice, more people were taking notice, but I think only to witness the completion of my mental breakdown. “We’re going to need tools Alex.”

“I’ll look Mike, but I’m still not sure what taking those down is going to accomplish.” Alex said.

“Alex how far away do you think the cab to the truck is?”

“Maybe five, six feet, seven at the most. Why?”

“How long across do you think these bars are?” I asked him.

“Eight…oh I see where you’re going.” Alex answered happiness and hope spreading across his face.

“What?” BT asked. “I don’t get it.”

“Don’t worry big man. You’re going to play an integral part in all this, that is, if we can find some tools.” I told him.

BT didn’t ask any more questions, but he did have a concerned look.

Alex came back a few minutes later. “Man, all I could find was a pair of channel locks under the sink.”

“Shit, not exactly what I was looking for, but it’ll have to do. You sure there wasn’t a ratchet set there too.” I asked, only half kidding.