Mark Tufo - Zombie Fallout

“That wasn’t much of a plan,” Travis said to Tommy. Tommy nodded in agreement.

Justin looked through the hole and noted that although it wasn’t much of a plan, it had worked to near perfection. Travis and Justin could count on both their hands the remaining zombies. Of those that were left, Erin was doing her best to dispatch most of them. But unless the zombie’s brains had somehow migrated to their feet, she wasn’t doing much good. Most of the zombies that were left would now have a pronounceable limp, but they wouldn’t be able to collect disability insurance any time soon. Travis, Justin and Tommy walked through the front gate, the Mossberg and the Winchester blazing hellfire. If the zombies were capable of any other thoughts besides ‘meat,’ they would have known to leave this place of re-death so they could salvage what remained of their ravaged bodies in order to attack at another time. The last zombie had fallen long before Travis and Justin stopped firing. It took Tommy’s gentle hands on their shoulders and a couple of words to get their attention; they had been deep in the grip of battle fever.

“I found another Pop-Tart,” Tommy said as he flashed the foil bag in front of Travis’ eyes.

Justin turned to Tommy. “Were you whistling?”

Tommy grinned. “Yeah, it was the theme from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.”

Justin laughed. But the killing fog had not cleared from Travis’ eyes. It took a giant bear hug from his godfather that threatened to cut off his oxygen supply to do the trick. Erin came out next; she was busy reloading her pistol.

“Holy shit boys, it’s great to see you!” As Paul pulled Justin into the growing mass hug, Tommy stood to the side with his hands clasped behind his back, casually kicking his left foot into the ground. He looked like a puppy in a pet store window.

“I don’t know who you are, kid, but get your ass over here,” Paul said with a beaming smile, doing his best to stretch his arms across the three of them. Erin completed the circle on the far side.

“My name’s Tommy,” Tommy said happily with his face buried in Justin’s back.

“Boys, I’d love to stay like this a while longer but I want to get the hell out of here,” Paul said as he disentangled himself from the conglomeration. “So what’s the plan?”

Justin and Travis merely looked at one another. Paul sensed their uneasiness.

Travis spoke first. “Well, you… um, kinda know as much of the plan as we do.”

“Oh crap, we’ve got to get back in the house then,” Paul said apprehensively.

“Paul, we can’t. We’ve only got enough supplies for a day or two at most,” Erin reminded him.

Paul’s stress level was as stretched as high as it could be. Justin spoke before it snapped.

“Our truck is at the end of the street. Brendon should be back in a couple of minutes. As soon as he gets here we’ll head back home.”

Paul and Erin looked longingly back at their home, confident in the fact they would never see it again. “All right, let’s get going,” Paul said as he wrapped his arm around his wife.

A few moments later everyone was huddled around the car. Tommy was the sole occupant. The rest stayed outside in an uneasy silence. It seemed more prudent to be able to leave in a moment’s notice rather than be imprisoned in the SUV. Only Tommy felt otherwise.

“Maybe we should get your car, Uncle Paul,” Justin said. The waiting was plainly beginning to unnerve him.

“Not such a good idea,” Paul answered. “I coasted home on fumes the night before this all happened, I would have gone to your place before we got surrounded if I had thought to fill the damn tank. I just figured I’d have all the time in the world to do it.” Just as Paul was done rebuking himself, a single shot rang out. It sounded distant. Everyone swung in the general direction of the sound.

“That was Brendon,” Justin surged toward the noise.

“The captain is back!” Tommy yelled from the backseat.

Paul looked questioningly before Justin answered sheepishly. “Captain Obvious, you get it?”

“Oh,” Paul forced a strained smile. He appreciated the humor, just not under the present circumstances.

Another solo shot rang out. This one was definitely closer, but still no sign of Brendon. Justin was about to speak but Paul saved him the trouble. “Yeah it does sound closer.”

Time slowed to match the shuffle of a zombie. The group fervently waited for something, anything to happen. They were rewarded a few moments later with the compensation of a rapid three round burst.

“Shit, that was close,” Travis said as he jumped a bit.

“ You swear?” was all Paul could think to ask.

Travis grinned like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Not in front of Dad.”

“When we get to your place, I’ll make sure I leave that part out,” Paul said.

Brendon came sprinting around from the main street, still about two hundred yards away, but even from this distance they could tell he was drenched in sweat and laboring hard to keep up the pace. Three seconds later they could see the reason. Zombies were within spitting distance of his back. If he turned to shoot he’d never get the shot off. The boys flipped off their safeties, but at this distance there wasn’t much they could do. Brendon was slowly pulling ahead of those closest to him, but zombies began spilling out of the yards along his path, facing him; they were trying to encircle him.

“Paul I’d like to get out of here now ,” Erin said stridently as the whites of her eyes began to expand in terror.

Travis and Justin didn’t want to shoot the zombies between them and Brendon for fear they might hit Brendon. There was still room for Brendon to maneuver around but it was getting marginally narrower by the second. When Brendon was within a hundred yards the circle noosed shut; the time for inactivity was over. Tommy began to whistle his favorite Clint Eastwood theme again. Travis and Justin concentrated their fire to the left. Their theory was that they could open a hole without hitting their sister’s fiancé. It was working, but more due to the fact that the forward-facing zombies had now taken notice of the new piles of warm meat directly behind them. The circle in front of Brendon broke down as those closest began to come towards their new prize. It was going to be a mad dash for who got to the car first. The cloudy day was lit up by the expended rounds. The smell of gunpowder would linger long after the battle was over. Brendon was now zigzagging around zombies; some were still interested in him and once or twice they got a hand on him. Most were disregarding him and were now focused on the main course instead of the entrée.

Paul opened the back door, weighing the myriad of possibilities laid out in front of him.

“Hey Tommy, you might want to get out of there,” Paul said, feeling the possibility of escape was rapidly diminishing.

“I’m good,” Tommy said matter-of-factly, blithely ignorant of what was going on around him.

Travis looked over his shoulder as he began to reload for the fourth time and saw Paul talking to Tommy. “What’d he say Uncle Paul?!” Travis screamed over the roar of Justin’s shots.

Paul pulled his head from the inside the car door. “He says he’s good,” Paul answered although he looked thoroughly perplexed.

Travis knew Tommy’s abilities and didn’t doubt him in the least as he yelled back to Paul, “Get Erin and get into the car!” Travis shouted as he drove his bolt home.

Paul slowly shook his head in response. “I think we should get back to the house.”

Erin began turning in that direction, she wasn’t going to need to be told twice.

Travis put the rifle up to his shoulder and fired a shot at a zombie ten feet away. “GET!” he fired again. “IN!” he fired again. “THE!” he fired again. “FUCKING!” he fired his last shot. “CAR!” he screamed as he fished more slugs out of his pants.