Mark Tufo - Zombie Fallout

Paul was in shock but had the wherewithal to grab his wife and usher her into the car. “You sound more and more like your dad,” Paul said dismayed as he pulled the door shut.

“Want a Snickers?” Tommy asked.

The car jumped. A zombie had run into the rear in an attempt to get to the boys. Brendon had dropped his pistol as he covered the last few yards, desperately trying to get his keys out of his pocket without slowing down. It was going to be close but the destructive fire of Justin and Travis had cleared a rapidly shrinking gap.

“Get in, brother,” Justin told Travis.

Travis usually was not one to do as his brother told, but this seemed like a foolish time to keep up that tradition. He hopped in and scooted over to the middle of the front bench seat. Seconds later Justin slid in, pulling the door closed as the closest of the zombies smeared his decomposing hand on the passenger window.

Erin screamed in terror.

“Ah, just like old times,” Travis said sarcastically.

Justin sometimes wondered how deep the depths of resolve went in his younger brother.

Brendon crossed in front of the car, for one heart-stopping beat all of his attention was on the set of keys that he fumbled in his hands. At one point he lost control of them. Everyone held their breaths as Brendon made a desperate bid to swipe them out of midair, and in a play worthy of a top ten mention on ESPN’s Sports Center, he made contact and snatched life from the jaws of death. A moment later, Brendon plowed into the driver’s seat, nearly snapping the key in the ignition with the brute force with which he drove it home. His chest heaving for air, Brendon turned the key but nothing happened.

“Told you about that,” Tommy said from the backseat.

Brendon had some choice expletives but kept them to himself. The energy to issue them forth was more than he had right now. His heart was a trip-hammer as he began to fumble with the shift selector.

More to himself than anyone else in the car he said, “Sometimes the shifter doesn’t go into park and the car won’t start.”

“Probably a good time to put it in park, don’t you think?” Travis asked.

Brendon glared in his direction, but his girlfriend’s little brother for once wasn’t being sarcastic. Travis was looking out the windshield at the growing number of zombies. Fear creased his face. The sound of Justin’s window exploding inwards masked the sound of the engine catching, so much so that Brendon was in danger of stripping out the starter as he held the key too far over for too long. A zombie reached in and clawed at Justin’s face. Travis having realized what Brendon hadn’t, slammed the car into gear. Brendon turned from the invading zombie as the car shot forward and threatened to stall. Brendon quickly realized what was happening and tried to put his foot through the floor. The car sagged at the over rush of gas, hesitated, sputtered and then shot out of the crush of zombies like a cat in a tub. A few unlucky zombies found out firsthand what it felt like to have three tons of Detroit steel run over your body, although they didn’t seem to mind that, only that the ‘meat’ was getting away.

The zombie in Justin’s window had its arm wrapped around the seat belt. It tried for a few feet to keep up but then it allowed itself to be dragged, its concentration fully fixated on the food within reach. Its arms swung wildly within the car as it tried to pull its body up and closer so its gnashing teeth could do their job, the fetor of its moldering breath rivaled even that of its undead flesh. Justin screamed in surprise as a hand closed around his cheek, trying to seek purchase or perhaps just trying to pull a bit off for a snack. Paul, reaching over Tommy, was desperately attempting to unravel the seatbelt from the zombie. Justin was flailing around like a drowning victim. Erin moved into Paul’s vacated spot and placed one hand on Justin trying to calm him down. He didn’t, at least until her other hand passed in front of his eyes, the one with the gun. Paul pulled back as Erin lined up her shot. Everyone in the car was a little hesitant after her not so successful display of shooting skills earlier. This bullet, though, hit home, dead center in the zombie’s forehead. Its head whipped back and then forward from the backlash but it looked more like he was questioning ‘Why?’ as his slumped body fell from the car like a discarded McDonald’s bag.

The zombies retreated quickly from view. It took a few moments for Justin’s overloaded senses to regain equilibrium from the deafening shot and the acrid blast of smoke that had inundated his nose. But when his senses did clear the outcome was less than satisfactory.

As the ringing began to subside within his ears, Justin bowed his head to try to regain the precious breaths he had lost. At first he was uncertain what he was looking at as large crimson droplets splashed on his blue jean covered thigh. It was when he attempted to wipe his cheek clean that true terror infiltrated his heart. His fingers were covered in blood, his own.

“Oh, Jesus, no!” Justin wailed.

Paul looked out the back window thinking the zombies were somehow keeping up with the speeding get-away car. Justin buried his head in his hands. Travis made an attempt to discover what was the matter with his brother, but was shrugged off. Brendon slowed and then finally let the truck come to a rest (with the engine idling) to discover the problem. Justin was too far lost in his own thoughts to do more than show the offending blood to the rest of the occupants.

“Were you bitten?” Travis asked.

Justin shook his head ‘no.’

“That’s good then, right?” Travis asked, hoping someone would answer in the affirmative. “In most zombie movies you have to be bitten to be infected.”

Nobody knew the answer. How could they? This wasn’t a movie, and zombies weren’t supposed to be real, right? Even Tommy looked concerned. Travis hoped it was because he was out of Snicker’s bars. Nobody said anything. As Brendon accelerated the truck, nobody knew what to say anyway. Travis put his arm around Justin. It was a rare display of brotherly love. Justin was at first inclined to shrug it off but when he realized Travis was not going to relinquish his spot, Justin acquiesced.

As Brendon was racing closer to Little Turtle, he voiced his thoughts. “They’re not going to let Justin in through the gate with that wound.”

Travis instantly got upset. “We can’t leave him outside!”

Justin didn’t say anything. He had already resigned himself to his fate.

“I’m not saying we should leave him outside, Travis,” Brendon said with a bit of attitude in his voice.

Justin and Brendon had become friends since Brendon had started dating his sister. He was offended that Travis would think he would abandon his friend this quickly.

“We could say he cut himself on the broken glass,” Travis said hesitantly.

“Justin,” Brendon said softly. Justin didn’t respond. “Justin!” he said with a little more force. Brendon pulled over again. “Justin, look at me.”

Justin reluctantly turned his head to face him. Brendon inwardly winced when he saw the wound. A three-inch long slab of flesh had been raggedly pulled from Justin’s cheek, and blood flowed freely from the laceration. If Brendon hadn’t firsthand witnessed the attack, he would have assumed the wound to be caused by a bite. The notched pieces of sinew looked angry with swelling; Justin’s eyes appeared to be sunken from the rapidly expanding swell from the damage. What was worse was the look of defeat in those same eyes. Brendon couldn’t help but think that his friend was already turning. Better to leave him out here than take the possibility of him injuring someone else. Brendon definitely did not want to be the person that had to put a bullet between his eyes. All these thoughts raced through Brendon’s mind, each one trying their best to gain a foothold and sway a decision in their favor. His lack of ability to think clearly under the circumstances may just have saved Justin’s life.