Mark Tufo - A Plague Upon Your Family

“Yeah, Mike I’m holding out on you.”

“See, you’ll get this sarcasm thing down eventually.”

“Let’s hope.”

That dampened the mood a bit, but it didn’t extinguish the flame completely. It was slow, finger cramping work, but an hour and a half later we had removed two cell bar assemblies. Of course it was the very last screw that threatened to sideline the whole plan, repeated attempts at trying to remove the stubborn nut had turned the hex head into a near cylindrical fastener, only BT’s unbelievably strong vise-like grip was able to find purchase on the head, he didn’t actually unscrew the nut, he had sheered it off. Didn’t matter to me how it came off as long as it did.

CHAPTER 11

“Alright I’m going to need some help standing these things up.” I told everybody. BT grabbed one set by himself. Travis Brendan and Alex grabbed the other. “BT you want some help with that one? I need it over here, I want to lean the two sections together so they form an ‘A’.”

BT strained, the cords in his neck stuck out like thick ropes as he manhandled the five hundred pound bars into place. “Holy shit, BT what do you bench? Chevies?” The floor shook as he dropped the bars into place. I grabbed two sets of handcuffs and pulled a desk over to the bars so that I could reach the top, I fastened the bars together with the cuffs about a foot in on each side. On the bottom of the bars I had attached the two utility belts, so that the bottom didn’t flare out like a cheerleader doing the splits. It was Alex that came up with the idea to duct tape the police batons to the bottom. In theory this would keep the assembly from collapsing under the impending assault.

“What are you planning on doing with this thing Talbot?” BT asked, he knew the answer I just think he wanted it spoken out loud.

“Have you ever been to the aquarium?” I asked him.

“Do I look like I’ve been to the aquarium?”

I didn’t know how to answer the question, I wasn’t sure what the right answer was and I had seen his kung-fu grip in action and didn’t want any of it near my neck. I did what any good self-preservationist would do…I ignored it. “Okay at some of the bigger aquariums they have underwater walkways so that people can sort of view the fish and sharks in their own habitat. So basically we’re making a zombie walkway.”

“Is there a gift shop?” Brendon asked. After a few seconds of some good humored laughter I resumed.

“That was a good one, Brendon.” I said wiping a tear away from my eye. MAN CODE note, it is acceptable to shed a tear in front of others if it is due to excessive laughter or one’s sporting team wins a major event, i.e. the Red Sox in the 2004 World Series.

“Dad.” Travis said pointing to the windows. “Do you think they know what’s going on?” The zombies were not completely standing idle, their arms still futily waved about trying to grasp anything that might be foolish enough to wander close, and there was still that soft high pitched mewling that would probably make me insane long before I ever froze to death. But the arms weren’t waving around quite as frantically and the mewling had softened noticeably. And the look in some of their eyes was almost questioning, like they were trying to puzzle out this new factor.

“Let’s thin this herd a little bit, give them something else to think about.” I answered. If this failed there was no contingency plan.

“We don’t have a shit load of ammo in here Mike.” Brendon said. Needlessly I might add. I had struggled with this decision last night with how much ammo to bring in, and I had come up wanting.

“I don’t want a sustained fire fight. I just want them to remember that we’re still in charge. And watch out for the bars, I don’t want any ricochets.” I furthered. Travis, BT and Brendon lined up for the firing squad. Everyone else had pretty much gone as far back to the rear as was physically possible. “Hey Trav, you should probably get back there too, that buck shot will bounce right off the bars.” That in part was why I wanted him off the line, the other more significant issue was he looked entirely too eager to be a part of the killing. I was afraid for him. The look of bloodlust can overwhelm even the strongest of men and my son had just barely joined the rank of manhood. I had seen it enough in Iraq, once the sickness got in you it was damn near impossible to eradicate it. Squads would go into remote villages in the mountains and just slaughter everything, men, women, children, goats, it made no difference, if it spilled blood and could die it was fair game. The higher echelons almost always covered these transgressions, usually with a rocket attack to wipe out any evidence.

“No sweat Dad, I switched over to slugs.” Travis answered with a smile.

“Fuck.” I muttered. What good was surviving if we had to drag our souls through the mud? I might not be a holy man, but I was still afraid of what God would think when I showed up at the pearly gates dragging the dilapidated leftovers of my shredded soul.

“So Michael Talbot, what have you done in your life that warrants your entrance into this the most Holy of Sanctuaries?” God, Saint Peter or Buddha, might ask.

“I survived.” Would be my meek reply. Might as well have said. “Blue! No, No, Yellow!!” Right before I was launched into the abyss. (You would have to be a fan of Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail to catch the reference. If you have by some chance gone this far in your life and have not witnessed one of the greatest comedies created then odds are you’re not going to find a DVD player that works now, sorry.)

My meager portion of breakfast was not sitting well and I did not want to sour it any further. I went back to the cell where Nicole and Tracy were sitting. Justin was facing away from the windows, presumably sleeping but I don’t know how with all the noise we had been making. Tommy was sitting in the corner, holding an unopened bag of pop-tarts. That more than the expression of woe on his face told me that he was extremely upset. I was about to ask him what was the matter when the first volley of shots exploded within. I covered my ears, as did most everyone else. Within a minute the shooting had stopped. It would be another fifteen before the choking smoke cleared.

I walked over to Tommy and put my hand on his shoulder. “You all right Tommy?”

Tommy looked up. “He’s close Mr. T.” He stammered out.

“Is Ryan back?” I asked. That would be the best thing I had heard today.

“No it’s someone else.” He answered somberly.

My ass clamped tight. I don’t know why, it was an involuntary reaction to Tommy’s words. Apparently my body thought it was the right thing to do, who’s to say. I turned back to face the windows and it was a sight to behold, not a zombie in view. With renewed hope and an unclenching sphincter I asked. “Did you get them all?”

“Naw Mike they left.” Brendon answered.

“Son of a bitch, that’s something new. They usually hang around for their punishment.” We had all witnessed hundreds of zombies walking into sheets of lead without so much as a pause as their comrades in mouths fell. That these zombies were smart enough to realize the pointlessness of staying at the windows was foreboding.

“We killed a good ten or fifteen of them Dad.” Travis said beaming.

BT cautiously walked up to the window to better survey the damage done and to try and assess our odds of success.

“What’s going on BT? Can you see anything?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, damnedest thing. They pulled back about hundred feet or so, and they are just sitting there looking at me.”