Mark Tufo - Zombie Fallout

“Holy shit!”

“I said no swearing!” I heard from a million miles away.

I awoke about ten minutes later, according to Nicole.

“Brendon set your shoulder back,” Nicole said. Concern crisscrossed her face.

I sat up waiting for an explosion of pain to rip through me; I was grateful for the moderate throbbing that met me instead.

“Travis?” was all I could manage as I tried to break through the cobwebs that spidered through my thoughts.

“I’m fine, Dad,” I heard from the other side of the kitchen counter.

Tommy had taken up nearly my entire field of view. “You alright, Mr. T? You know you still smell bad right?” Tommy said as he tried his best to put on a brave face.

"Help me up big guy.” As I extended my hand out, he almost pulled that one out to match the left as he launched me to my feet. I swayed for a moment as my blood did its best to catch up with my movement.

Tracy was at the kitchen table, head in her hands, fresh tears staining the tablecloth.

“You alright Hon?” I asked as I stayed close to Tommy, using him as a balance beam.

“Just relieved.” She looked up, I knew it was more than that, of course it was, but what was the point of pushing it.

“What are the chances that anybody grabbed the garage remote out of the car?” I looked at everybody, including Nicole and Brendon. I was that desperate. Everyone slowly shook their heads in negation.

I’ll be right back,” I said as I headed to the front door. “I just want to tell Jed to expect some noise.”

I could hear shuffling in the garage but it was damn near impossible to ascertain their location. Who’s to say that one of them wasn’t right up at the door waiting for some unsuspecting person to stick their arm through. It would take me less than two seconds to open the door, grope wildly for the garage door wall switch, and then pull the door shut. But how long would it take a zombie in waiting to bite on my arm? I put on three sweaters, a heavy parka and a set of work gloves, so unless these zombies had fangs I should be able to do what needed to be done without becoming infected. My hope was the added bulk wouldn’t burden me too much. I did not want to sacrifice speed.

“Dad, do you want me to go with you?” Nicole asked as I headed out the back door. “I could cover you with…with a gun,” she added.

I looked down at her trembling hands. A palsy victim would have been appalled. “Um no, I think I might be safer if you stayed in the house.”

She looked both hurt and relieved.

“I love you sweetie,” I said as I pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

Justin came with me, standing right outside the closed back door, rifle not aimed yet but at the ready. Travis, Brendon and two guards from the bus gate who came to help finish off this mission, waited about ten feet to the side of the garage in the alleyway. I walked over to the garage entrance and took a couple of heavy breaths in preparation, listening one last time to see if I could make out the zombies’ respective locations in the garage. I glanced over to the kitchen window. Tracy and Nicole were looking out, watching. Tommy’s bulk in the background was unmistakable. The tension of this moment was lost on him, as I watched him playing with one of Travis’ old toys. I looked again, and crossed the yard, passing Justin. Before he could ask the question that was on his mind, I walked back in the house. Nicole and Tracy both stared at me in confusion. I walked over to Tommy. “Hey buddy, whatcha got there?” I asked.

“A spaceship!” he said with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Where’d you get that spaceship?” I asked.

He seemed to like this new game. “It was on the floor of Mrs. T’s car,” he answered.

It must have been flung off the visor with all the impacts the car had been through.

“Do you think I can borrow your ‘spaceship’ for a minute?” I asked.

“Yeah no problem, I figure it’s yours anyway, I found it in your car,” he answered.

“Thanks buddy.” I grabbed the garage remote and headed out the back gate to get rid of our unwanted guests.

The six of us were lined up in a row. We knew they weren’t going to come out sprinting, but we were all poised as if that was exactly what was going to happen. This didn’t ‘feel’ right. All the zombies we had killed so far had been a kill or be killed scenario and we hadn’t known any of them. This just seemed like cold-blooded murder. I don’t think a court in the land would convict me of killing a dead person though. This was much more personal, Jo(e), was, had been my neighbor. I had drank beers with her and talked sports and yeah, even women. (It had been a little strange to talk to a woman about what they found attractive in another woman.) I was staring down the gun sights of my M-16 about to kill someone that I considered more than an acquaintance. Goddamn it, I considered her a friend! That inconvenient truth wasn’t going to make it any easier.

“Now remember,” I said to everyone. “We wait until they come out of the garage before we start shooting.” (I didn’t want anyone putting a hole in my Jeep.)

Everyone nodded in agreement. Killing in the heat of battle was one thing, lying in wait and calculating death was a whole different story. The garage door rumbled up. We didn’t have long to wait, both of the zombies had been lurking by the door. Whether they had heard us, or more than likely smelled me, it didn’t matter. They walked out the door and into a hailstorm of fire and lead. The scene was a staccato burst of fire and shadow. The strobe light effect disoriented me. It made everything appear as if it was happening in slow motion. Jo(e)’s right arm was literally blown off. I watched in fascinated horror as the bits of bone and tendons flew in an arc, the wild flashing light highlighting their ascent and then rapid descent. And yet she still came forward. Merl, as I was to later learn his name, didn’t make it a foot out of the garage before Justin had put a 30-06 round through his belfry. Merl’s head swelled to twice its normal size trying to make accommodations for the bullet. When his noggin blew, it looked like someone had placed an M-80 in a watermelon. That was the simile I held onto, it allowed me to sleep at night.

And still Jo(e) kept coming. Travis seemed to have the stomach for this killing; his shotgun was slowly dissecting her, but the final blow hadn’t landed yet. I hadn’t even turned my safety off yet and still she came. I flinched every time the shotgun roared. Brendon walked up to Jo(e), a mere arm’s length away, and shot her dead-on (no pun intended). The .380 round thankfully wasn’t as blisteringly strong as Justin’s round so we were all spared the sight of Jo(e)’s brain bucket scattering across the alley. Her head lashed back violently and her neck snapped loud enough to rival the Mossberg. She crumbled to a heap no more than five feet away from me.

“I’m sorry Jo(e),” I said to her collapsed form.

The two men from the gate produced some body bags and made short work of disposing of the bodies, I didn’t stick around to compliment their efficiency. I walked into the garage solemnly, too distressed to even comment on the bird shot that peppered my passenger side quarter panel. This night just wouldn’t end. It was 10:30 p.m. and I still hadn’t had a shower.

CHAPTER 7 - December 9th 6:45am

Journal Entry - 7

I woke up with a start. I had to pry myself off the bed. It wasn’t just that I was still bone-weary, which I was. I was stuck to the comforter I had plopped down onto the previous night, where I had immediately fallen asleep. I didn’t even want to linger on what was keeping me so affixed to the quilt. I was trying to convince myself that I had fallen into a vat of cotton candy. That illusion, however tenuous, was broken when a bit of bone fell out of my hair. My eyes were adjusting to the vestiges of light that were seeping in from and around the drawn shades. Tracy was not here. I sat up with a start. ‘What was going on?’ Then it hit me! The putrid stink of death! They had made it past Jed’s barriers and were now in the house! My gun was right next to me. I jumped up and out of the bed, anxious to see who, if anybody, could be saved. Fear gripped my chest in a vise. I could let air escape but I didn’t have the capacity to let any in. I was on the verge of panicking. All that I held sacred in this world was in trouble, and my worthless ass had been sleeping. I could hear no sounds of disarray, but that did little to stem the rising tide of trepidation that threatened to dash me against the rocks of sanity. The living dead don’t make much noise. I heard crunching! Bile involuntarily rose in my throat. I would choke on vomit long before I was able to help anyone. I flew down the stairs, turning the corner of the landing in one deft move. Henry greeted my heaving body, bone in his grinning mouth, short stubby tail wagging a mile a minute.