Mark Tufo - Zombie Fallout

“Good riddance Talbot, we don’t need your kind here anyway,” Wilbur snorted. Tinkle nodded, agreeing.

Alex looked away. “I’d like to come, Mike, but it feels safe here.”

“I understand Alex, you have to look out for your family. Good luck my friend,” I said honestly.

“Now hold on,” Carl said, standing up. I didn’t know what his relationship to Wilbur was, but Wilbur immediately deferred to the older man. It was later that I learned Wilbur was Carl’s son-in-law and Carl couldn’t stand him. Wish I had known that then. “Now I’m not in total agreement with Talbot.”

‘Great,’ I thought. ‘Jump on the ‘beat Talbot’ bandwagon.’

“But those zombies were acting peculiar, and I’ve also been thinking a bit on what I witnessed. I won’t stand here and pretend to know what’s going on but if those things are coming and in the vast numbers that showed at the armory, we’re in a world of hurt. Now I have no intention of leaving and I don’t think Talbot should either.” Wilbur was not pleased. “But I do think we should roust the populace, such as it is, and begin to buttress up some of our weaker points.”

“Thanks Carl,” I said earnestly.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Carl answered.

“I still love you man,” I said smiling.

Jed finally spoke up. “You better be careful Carl, he seems to like older men.”

Wilbur did not like being thwarted this close to the goal line but he respectfully kept quiet the remainder of the meeting.

With a newfound vigor and hope I pushed on. “Alex, you’re the engineer, how much stress can those walls take?”

Alex looked confused. “I don’t think I’m understanding the question Mike. More than likely the wall would stop a regular sized car traveling no more than 30 or 40 miles per hour. A full tractor trailer however would probably punch right through.”

“No, no I’m talking much smaller, like zombie-sized,” I said.

“I don’t think the zombies possess super human strength, if that’s what you mean,” Alex said.

“I’m sorry Alex, I need to be clearer. I have a hundred things running around in my head and they’re all fighting to come out at the same time. I’m talking about thousands of zombies all pressing up against the wall, could it hold?”

“Oh crap, I hadn’t thought about that. I mean it’s only cinder block and cement. There isn’t any rebar in it at all. There are stanchions every twenty feet, those would hold because they’re anchored but no, if you put it that way, the walls are extremely vulnerable, the zombies could push over entire sections with that much force.”

Wilbur’s fat face recoiled; it shouldn’t have made me happy but it did.

Jed spoke. “Well, if the walls are not safe then none of the gates are either. I reckon they could push that RV out of the way a whole helluva lot easier than taking out the wall.’

“Now you’re seeing my point,” I said triumphantly.

I could almost see the gears in Alex’s head churning. He quickly started reciting his grocery list of desired items to begin the fortification.

Jed wanted to talk a little more after the meeting broke up. I so wanted to. The thought of idly chitchatting small talk about zombies seemed unbelievably more desirable that returning to the horrendous reality that awaited me at home. But a father’s responsibility is to his family in times of need, and I would not break that cycle. The cold air did little to invigorate me as I slowly marched home.

Justin was out of the tub and laid out on the futon in my office. Again it was a crowded venue. He looked worse huddled under the blankets. The best word I could use to describe him was diminished. Tracy was still diligently at his side.

“Everyone out,” I choked.

Everyone seemed to be lost a little too deep in their own thoughts to even recognize that someone had spoke aloud.

I spoke a little louder. “Everyone out, NOW!” I punctuated my command by slamming my hand against the wall. That got their attention. Paul placed his hands on Erin’s shoulders and helped her up. They were immediately followed out by Brendon, Travis and Tommy. Only Tracy and Nicole remained. Nicole was wrapped up in her mother’s arms.

“I’m not leaving him,” Tracy said matter-of-factly, never looking up at me. “You just want to shoot him,” she said again in that assured tone.

I shook inside.

“Tracy,” I said as I tried to wrap my arms around her, but she angrily shrugged me away.

“You can’t shoot him,” she pleaded, this time looking me directly in the eyes. MY heart crashed to the floor and was immediately stepped on by a hippo. I couldn’t answer her. What words could possibly justify my actions in the next few minutes?

“Nicole, please get your mother to bed,” I asked.

And for the first time in Nicole’s life she did something I asked of her without putting up an argument. This was not when I wanted this new trend to start. I needed something or somebody to help me off this insane tilt-a-whirl. I could hear Tracy’s sobs retreating in the hallway as I shut and locked the door to my office. Justin was blissfully ignorant of all the mad happenings going on around him. I pulled my Glock 9mm out of my shoulder harness. Tears immediately welled up in my eyes. I wanted to get this over in the worst way, even more so than when I was 11 and had to do an oral book report in front of my class. In those days I had crippling stage fright and would dread for weeks the coming of the fated day. That was nothing in comparison.

What could a few moments more with my son harm, as I sat down in my office chair five feet away. I sat and stared at his puffed face the entire night and into early dawn. I was playing back in my head all the fun and not so fun times we as the Talbot family had enjoyed and endured through the years. As the sun began its slow fateful journey across the horizon I was no closer to the final judgment than I had been when I kicked everyone out. I had long ago put the Glock on my desk, fearing I might accidentally shoot myself in the leg if I were to fall asleep and then jerk awake. As tired as I was though, sleep had eluded me.

Justin opened his eyes and looked over at me. Did he see his father or a tasty early morning treat? His face looked less swollen but his eyes appeared to be even further sunken. How was that possible? His mouth opened, long lines of filament thin spittle spread from roof to floor of his mouth. Without taking my eyes off him I reached out blindly to the Glock I had laid down hours earlier. Oh God, why hadn’t I done this when his eyes were closed. He still so much looked like the son I had taught to throw a baseball so many years previous. Tears filled my eyes as my hand closed around the cold indifferent composite material of my Glock 26. His features became distorted in my glistened visage. That was for the best, I thought. I could tell he was sitting up. My hands shook. Some sort of noise emanated from him. It was more something I would expect to hear from a frog on a marshy wetland, on a hot summer night. Nothing human could make that sound. My heart caught in my throat. I was fearful of passing out from lack of oxygen. I wanted to turn the gun on myself rather than ever take the life of one of my own, and I would have deserved it. I had fundamentally failed. A father’s primary mission after procreation, is protection. I HAD FAILED! The price for failure should be death, but if I killed myself I left this task to someone else while also putting everyone else at risk. I would only be compounding my errors on top of my cowardice. I was still in the midst of berating myself when Justin managed to croak out some words.

“I’m so hungry I could eat….”

My mind went into overdrive as I begged the gods that he wouldn’t finish that sentence with ‘brains.’