Mark Tufo - Zombie Fallout

“Glad you could make it,” Alex said as he clapped my shoulder.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I replied.

Alex looked at me, trying to decide if I were serious or not. I let him keep wondering as I shouldered my rifle.

Four hours later, my shoulder throbbed, my back ached, my trigger finger was having muscles spasms and still they plodded on. This wasn’t a battle in the traditional sense. We shot firearms, they caught lead. There was no battle cry, no call to arms, no rallying, no retreating, no strategy. Just onward, relentless, implacable, obdurate, pitiless forward momentum. Those that fell weren’t heroically pulled up and treated in the rear echelons. They didn’t cry out in vain. They didn’t scream for their mothers or a nonpartisan god, Buddha or Hare fucken Krishna. They fell like cordwood, hundreds upon hundreds of men, women and children. I couldn’t convince myself, no matter how much I tried, to shoot a child. I knew instinctually that they weren’t human and if given the chance they would eat me alive, but I could not bring myself to shoot anything under four feet tall. I made sure to always keep my aiming point higher than that. My nightmares were going to have nightmares already. I was not going to compound it any further.

So far the merciless gunfire had kept the zombies from reaching the walls, but that was going to change real soon. It had been a stalemate so far, our lead for their bodies. It had been light out, we had been well rested and still stocked with plenty of ammunition. All the pros in our corner were as rapidly retreating as the sun over the Rockies. Every able-bodied person with a gun had been manning these walls and we had done little more than delay the inevitable. With darkness came fatigue and hunger and hell, probably even shock and trauma. As people peeled away from their posts the zombies gained precious inches.

I had finally been able to stretch out my trigger finger although I was now suspecting it might always include a perceptible hook. Travis was leaning against the far side of the railing his head drooping ever so slightly and his eyes following suit. Brendon wasn’t faring much better. When I had first been exposed to combat in Afghanistan I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep for a week. The rampaging fear and adrenaline rush commingled into one hell of a toxic stimulant, but it came at an extreme price to your system. The crash was a near catatonic state. I could sleep for almost forty-eight hours straight after a firefight. I knew what was coming. The boys would have to learn the hard way.

“Brendon, take Travis and head back to the house,” I told him. He may have wanted to argue but he was already riding down the other side of the adrenalin slope. He clapped Travis on the shoulder and motioned towards the house. Travis looked back at me and I nodded my approval. “I’ll be there soon,” I assured him.

The fifteen or so people that had started the day on this platform were now whittled down to three. Myself, Alex and a third guy I didn’t remember ever seeing before.

“Some day, huh?” Alex said as he slid down to sit next to me.

“I’ve had better,” I answered in a serious tone.

Again Alex just looked at me trying to ascertain my true meaning.

“I’m sorry,” I laughed. “It’s my New England sarcasm coming out in full force.” Folks that don’t come from that region have a difficult time truly understanding what is being said to them. Many will find it an abrasive form of communication. It is, without a doubt, an acquired mode of information dissemination.

Alex appreciated my honesty. “So how do you think it went?” he asked.

“About how I expected,” I told him. He kept looking for more so I elaborated. It was much easier talking now that most of the gunfire had fell off to some sporadic shots. “You can do the math as well as I can, Alex. This is a lesson in futility. We’ll be out of ammo in a few days, a week at most. Then, I don’t know, the food might hold out for a month and then what, we can’t go anywhere.”

“What about the truck? Couldn’t we fill it with as many people as possible and just run the smelly bastards over?” Alex asked with a glimmer of hope.

“You gonna pick who stays and who goes?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“We could do a lottery or something.”

“Yeah that’ll go over well, you better hope all the ammo is gone before you make that little proposition. Besides it won’t work.”

Alex looked to me to question the validity of my statement.

I obliged. “The truck will make it through the first few waves and then the bodies will start to mount. You’ll end up high centering on them, and that’s if the radiator isn’t damaged from the excessive hits.”

He wasn’t done letting go of his idea. What was the harm, we only had time on our hands now. “What if we fixed it with a plow?” He was piquing my interest. “I could attach a grill that would protect the engine housing and we could put a skirt around the entire thing so no bodies would fit under it.”

The more he talked the more convinced I became that his idea had some merit. The problem was that we had close to three hundred residents here and this wasn’t going to be an alternative for about two hundred and fifty of them. But some was better than none. I started to head down the ladder.

“Where you going?” Alex asked.

“I’m going to talk to Jed and let him figure out how to choose who stays and who goes and then I’m going home to get my finger massaged.”

Alex laughed, “Yeah, your ‘finger.’” he said with air quotes. “Is that more of your New England sarcasm?”

I don’t know if we were going to have enough time together for him to realize when I was kidding or not, but I honestly meant ‘my finger.’ Eh, let him think what he wants. Sex might not be the furthest thing from my mind but I could almost guarantee it wasn’t even on Tracy’s radar screen.

Finding Jed was not all that difficult. He had pretty much set up residence in the clubhouse since the beginning. He was sipping some hot coffee over by the fireplace. He had the look of a man who wasn’t going to warm up anytime soon. He was a tough old bird, he probably only beat me here by a few minutes. He smiled a little when he saw me enter. He winced a bit as he raised his arm up to motion me over.

“Your shoulder hurting too?” I asked him.

“Why the hell I thought buying a twelve gauge shotgun was a good idea I’ll never know. My arm’s stiffer than a sailor’s dick at a Village People reunion tour,” he guffawed.

“What is it with all the sexual references?” I asked. Jed ignored me.

“So what do you want, Talbot?” Jed asked.

“Am I that easy to read?” I asked in surprise on my face.

“Just don’t ever cheat on your wife. She’d be able to tell before you got out of your car.”

“Yeah I don’t play cards either just for that reason.”

Jed arched an eyebrow at me, furiously rubbing his hands together for the meager generation of heat it created.

“Okay, Alex has an idea that I think might work.”

“So at this point is it ‘and’ or ‘but’?” he asked.

“Wow, it is a good thing I didn’t mess around with Allison,” I said with introspect. “But...”

“Wonderful, I was hoping for some ‘but’”

“This isn’t another sexual reference is it?”

“Look at me Talbot. When do you think is the last time I had sex, damn, even a hard on for that matter?”

There was another visual I was now going to be laden with until my dying days. “Thanks,” I muttered.

‘Go on’ he signaled with his hands, clearly getting a little irritated.

“But,” I said hastily, trying my best to erase an unabolishable image, “it’ll work for about fifty or so people.”