Mark Tufo - Zombie Fallout

When the zombie pointed at us my breath caught in my lungs. I felt as if a frozen ice pick had been thrust into my chest. Cold blood radiated out from that phantom piercing. I had the distinct feeling she was pointing at me, but wouldn’t all humans look the same to a zombie? I mean, I don’t think I could tell one cow from another. They all taste delicious to me. I’m not saying that we were cattle, but to a zombie we are, right? I found myself slowly moving back and to the right, almost subconsciously. Sure, I had a history with that thing but that didn’t mean I wanted a future. I mean at least with her, it, whatever. Even from this distance her outstretched arm with her straight as an arrow index finger followed my slow retreat. Un-fucking-fortunately this did not go unnoticed. The damn guard, who should have immediately shot that abomination, visually followed the line of sight of the zombie’s finger.

“Talbot?” he turned and looked at me. “She’s pointing at you, I think.”

I stopped, frozen for a moment, hoping that she would drop that accusatory pointer. She didn’t. The guard grabbed my arm and pulled me back to the fore. I was sweating and shivering at the same time. It was not a pleasant sensation.

“That’s a zombie, isn’t it?” he asked. I hadn’t found my voice yet, it was locked away somewhere in shock and awe. “But how could it be, for chrissakes she’s pointing, ain’t no zombie can point. Right? But I can smell her from here. And the way she moves, she ain’t human.”

I don’t know who he was talking to. I hadn’t even acknowledged his existence yet. My concentration was centered on her, it. My attention became so focused, I don’t know if it was a trick of the light or she was magic, to this day I still haven’t figured it out. The only way I can describe what happened next was as if my consciousness was pulled to within a few feet of her. Her pointing became a gesture of ‘come here,’ something which I could tell was a difficult maneuver for her considering the rigor that had to have set in. That finger being able to curl and unfurl made her grimace in concentration. She mouthed the word ‘come.’ I was thankful that this was only my consciousness and not my true presence. I could see her breath and it had nothing to do with the cold. Every impulse screamed at me to flee, but I was even more compelled to go.

“Open the gate,” I told the guard. The voice didn’t sound like my own, it was distant and small, so much so he looked at me to see if I had even spoken. Or maybe he had heard me but thought I was out of my gourd.

“Open the gate,” I said with a little more force, but still this wasn’t much above a whisper. At least I knew he had heard me because he responded.

“No way, man.”

Awesome, I thought. I guess I don’t have to go and meet my waking nightmare. I wanted to kiss the guard, even though he wasn’t my type.

“Dad, where are you going?” Travis asked in alarm.

I could no more respond to him than I could control my motor skills. Why was I climbing over the fence? What is wrong with me? Two decades of smoking pot did this to me. I should have listened more carefully to those reefer madness movies. They seemed much more relevant at this moment. Why wasn’t this asshole guard trying to pull me off the fence? Dick wad! Fortuitously, or unfortuitously, the razor wire had not been in enough supply to cover the fenced gates, this was made up for with more armed personnel but that fact was not going to stop my ascent. I literally sat on the fence for a moment, semi-safe haven of normalcy on one side, crazy disastrous immoral face of all that is unholy on the other.

“I’m going to get mom!” Travis yelled, hoping that this inherent threat would awaken me from this possession. It didn’t.

If it wasn’t for the cold protrusions of the top threatening to pierce my favorite unmentionables I might have stayed there for a significant amount of time. I climbed down. As I began to walk away the guard thrust a small Smith and Wesson .38 caliber pistol through the gate.

“Take this,” he pleaded.

“I don’t think it would do any good,” I answered him. My eyes locked on to his, still hoping that he would find a way to stop me.

Damn legs of betrayal, I had never been so let down by a body part, except for that one time in college (whole different story). I slowly trudged my way to her. She had finally dropped her arm. The smile that formed on her face made every hair on my body stand on end. I looked like I had been struck by lightning. Fear didn’t creep up on me. It ran rampant through my soul. She was not of this earth, at least not from aboveground.

My limbs did not move of their own volition, how could they? What would MAKE me go willingly toward a zombie? My mind raced in circles while my legs plodded on. To the non-discerning eye I most likely had the gait of a zombie. ‘Zombies in the night, exchanging eyeballs…’Zombies in the Night, sung to the tune of Frank Sinatra’s Strangers in the Night. I mean no disrespect to Frankie, it was just what was going through my mind. The ravages of the disease had not been good to her. As I approached, I could see all sorts of parasites had taken up residency. There was a caravan of maggots that trailed from her ripped open left cheek to the top of her semi-scalped head. The cold did little to prevent the waft of her presence. Her dark eyes were almost invisible, sunken into the black flesh that surrounded them. What I could see did not bode well for mercy. The depths in those eyes only led to one place, and it was a lot colder than where I was now. This was insane. Why was I doing this? Was I hypnotized? Was I curious? Did I have a death wish? I used every fiber of my being to make my steps stop their imminent treachery. It was not any easy process. The zombie girl’s smile faltered. That more than anything made my sphincter slam shut. Hey listen, I’m about as proud to write that as you are happy to read it. What had previously seemed just the cold reptilian stare of predator to prey turned sinister. The fathoms of hell peered into my spirit. It was a good thing my ass puckered up because I might have rivaled her stink. Again I’m not proud of this.

I could stop my forward progress. The ability to turn around, however, was still being an elusive SOB. The zombie girl watched intently as I tried to impose my will on my own body. Her arm came back up. The pointing finger was back, but it was not directed at me. This time it was pointed towards the mountains. What the hell does that mean? Her arm slowly tracked over to me and then back towards the mountains.

“What, me?” I asked, being the brilliant conversationalist that I am. “You want me to go to the mountains?”

And then it happened, the soulless sound of the dead, a ghostly whispered keening issued forth from the fissure in her face. “Go.” It hissed out, it was more an exhalation of air escaping from a tightly sealed crypt than anything resembling speech.

“You want me to go? Go where? Away?” I asked in rapid succession. I think I asked so many questions because I didn’t want to hear the rasp of her response. The pulling of dry fingernails down a new chalkboard was infinitely more appealing than to hear one more utterance from this abomination.

“Can I get my family?” And still her arm pointed westward. “Can I get my friends?” Come on, even I knew this wasn’t going to fly. She wasn’t here for prime real estate. She was here for prime beef. For some reason I couldn’t even begin to fathom, I was being given a free pass. Who knows, maybe she thought I’d be too stringy, no, more like gamey. Without a shadow of a doubt I knew this was a one-time offer and it was for me only. If I turned and walked back to the complex all deals were off.