The Fortress

by Michael Scattergood

  ‘We’ll see.’ He said, as the three of them left the room. And pay for that they would.

  The dumbass sacrificing idiots forgot to take the knife away from me, I noticed it halfway through talking to them.

  My legs weren’t tied to to anything, and my arms were tied individually to the posts of the back of the chair, so they were kind of far apart from each other. My sheath was around my lower thigh. I really wish it was an ankle sheath, would have been much easier to get to my hand. I’m not that flexible, so getting the sheath to my hand was by far the hardest part of the week.”

  “Stop.” Tommy said,

  “What?”

  “With everything that has happened to you this week, the HARDEST part… was stretching?”

  “Dude I think I pulled something in my hip.”

  “You fell out of a tree, froze, ran for your life several times, got lost, umm what else, oh yeah got ambushed by a giant group of zombies, and tied to a chair to be sacrificed, and the hardest part was stretching?”

  “...Yes.”

  “I hate you so much.”

  “So I was trying to flail my leg around to my right hand, the hardest part of the week, I swear I pulled a hip muscle. Quietly, I propped my foot on my hand and tried to slide it backwards. It hurt like hell, But I finally felt the handle of the blade in my hand, and grabbed it, and carefully slid my leg down so I wouldn’t drop it.

  The knife was just long enough that the tip barely reached the tape on my left hand. I was holding the very end of the handle, praying that I wouldn’t drop it. I could feel it poking the tape, but I couldn’t quite get enough force to cut. Finally I heard, and felt it poke through the tape, and into my wrist. I almost yelped but held it in. I pulled it back an inch, and sliced through the rest of the tape. I reached around the front of my body with my left hand and cut the right hand free.

  I was careful not to make any noise as I got up. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I saw my backpack and pistol in the corner. I slowly put the backpack on, then holstered the pistol. I slowly opened the front door, and was out of there.

  But I wasn’t about to let them do this to more people. I’m a noble man. So I left them a little present. I took out another flare, lit it, and placed it on their doorstep. Then I took out my pistol, and shot three times at the window next to the door. The third shot shattered the glass, leaving a nice door for the zombies. I saw the husband run into the room, saluted him, and bolted down the street.

  Was all that the smartest move for me? No I had to hide in bushes for a couple minutes while zombies rushed toward the flare. But I sacrificed those three to the zombie overlords of whatever, so according to their logic the zombies liked me now and wouldn’t bother me.

  I ran a few blocks down, careful to stay out of eyesight of any zombies or weird people or any other entities that may want me dead. There was a house on the street that looked abandoned enough, and its window was unlocked. I checked every room of the two story house to make sure it was empty. It was, for both people and food or drinks. I was still a little weary from whatever they drugged me with, so I immediately went and passed out on the couch.

  Day 4

  It was bright out when I finally woke up. The first time I saw the sun these last few days. I think I slept in pretty late because the sun was already high up in the sky. Across the street, the house looked familiar. As soon as I placed it I knew exactly where I was. Ben Hudson’s house. One of my good friends from high school. I’d been there a bunch of times.

  I was only three miles from home.

  I was so excited that I almost forgot the bookbag. I ran across the street and knocked on Ben’s door a few times, but no answer. So I started running home.

  I knew I’d be home before it got dark out, even if I walked. My legs probably would have appreciated me taking it slow. But I was so damn excited to get home, to see you guys, to let you know I was ok. It killed me this whole time knowing you were grieving when I was fine. Well, fine compared to death I guess. There was just no way I could reach you. No cell phone, obviously, no land lines would still be working, and I don’t know the ins and outs of carrier pigeons. I could finally see the finish line so I ran like hell to get home. And… here we are.” Bobby raised his glass of whiskey in the air, and then slugged the rest of it down.

  “I don’t buy it.” Tommy said.

  “What? Which part?”

  “All of it. Too much. You probably just hid in a house a few days.”

  “You little f-” Bobby sighed, “All the crap I went through and you’re just going to shrug and say ‘nope didn’t happen.’ I should kick your ass.”

  “I mean you’re not Rambo, man. It was just… it was a little much.”

  “There’s a better explanation.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I am Rambo.” Everyone but Tommy laughed, Tommy simply smiled.

  “Good to have you back, Rambo.” Jordyn said, kissing his dirty cheek.

  “Good to be back.” He said, staring into her eyes “So, what have you guys been up to?” The room was silent.

  “...Grieving.” Melanie finally said.

  “Right, that makes sense. Well anyway, I could really use a shower. And maybe a nap. I’ll be back down in a bit.” Bobby stood up to leave, Jordyn stood with him. “What are you doing?”

  “I haven’t been through quite as much as you, but I too could use a shower if you would like some company.” She said with a sly smile. He grabbed her hand and the two scurried upstairs.

  A few hours later, Bobby and Jordyn came down the stairs to the excitement of the rest of the Fortress. Bobby looked like a new man. He was clean, shaven, had fresh clothes, and looked only slightly more rested. The mood had shifted drastically from the gloomy funeral morning. Even Crazy Uncle Ned, who had been silent on a chair for days, got up and took a shower. Maybe he was starting to come back around. Tommy and Bobby hugged.

  “I can’t believe you’re alive. I was just starting to, kind of accept it or something.”

  “Woah woah,” Bobby said, “Accept it? Isn’t acceptance like the last stage of grief?”

  “Yeah, number 5.” Nick said.

  “What the hell are you doing accepting my death so soon? When I die for real you better grieve longer than 4 days.”

  “No way, I’ve been through it already, next time will be even quicker!” Tommy shot back. Bobby tackled him onto the couch, crushing Melanie and nudging Anthony off the other side. Bobby cried out in pain and grabbed his shoulder. Tommy grabbed his knee and winced.

  “Dammit Tommy why did you let me tackle you with my hurt shoulder?” Bobby grunted.

  “My fault, how about I get us some drinks to make up for it.”

  “Sounds good,” Bobby said.

  “Who else wants one?” Everybody raised their hands. “Not you Casey.”

  “Fair.” She said, disappointed.

  Tommy came back moments later with a tray filled with glasses. The drinks were a light brown color, off-putting to the group.

  “What are these?” Nick scowled.

  “I have no idea I just threw a bunch of stuff together.”

  “What stuff?”

  “Vodka, tequila, water, iced tea packets, that explains the color, a little seltzer, concentrated lime juice I found in the back of the fridge, and a splash of orange juice.”

  “‘A splash,’ what are you a bartender?” Melanie jibbed.

  “I don’t know, try them and let me know. Maybe it’s a potential career path.” Tommy squeezed in on the couch next to Melanie and Bobby. Everyone hesitantly took a sip. There were a lot of nods and smiles.

  “That’s actually amazing!” Jordyn said.

  “Really good wow, but I’m a little worried you used everything we have just to make a round of drinks.” Anthony said.

  “If we run out we’ll just go grocery shopping again, right Tracey?”

  “Piece of cake.” Tracey sighed.

  Tommy held up his gl
ass, “To Bobby, thank God you’re ok. And to everyone here, we’ve survived a freaking zombie apocalypse so far. That’s more than a lot of people can say. Hopefully this will all be over soon. But if it isn’t, there’s nobody I’d rather be facing it with. Cheers.”

  “Cheers!” Everyone shouted.

  “This drink really is delicious.” Bobby said.

  “Yours isn’t quite as good.” Tommy whispered.

  “Huh?”

  “I spit in yours.”

  “What? Why?”

  “For fake dying!”

  Chapter 39

  The car pulled into the driveway of a modest two story suburban home, with white brick and charcoal gray shutters. A woman and her two sons got out and walked towards the door. They were drastically tired, but they had survived, and found a way home. The woman used her key to get in, and opened the door. They were disappointed to find an empty house.

  “I’ll go see if there’s any food for you guys.” The woman said, making her way to the kitchen, the two boys followed. A large collection of empty wine bottles were in the corner of the kitchen, but looked as if they had been there a while. She began going through the cabinets, seeing what non-perishables were there, but they were mostly empty.

  The younger of the two sons found a note on the kitchen table.

  Dear beloved family,

  Tommy and Bobby showed up today to take us back to their house, which is now the Fortress and the safest place around. If you do come back here, I recommend you go straight to the Nagel house, where we could reunite and be safe. I love you all so much.

  God Bless,

  Dad

  Ben began to weep, and he handed the note to Ryan, who read it and gasped.

  “What is it?” Julia asked.

  “It’s Dad, he’s at Tommy and Bobby’s!” Ryan said, handing the note to his mom. Her eyes teared up as she read it.

  “Well, let’s go!”

  Chapter 40

  “Secretary Shellenberger, I have Chief Master of the Air Force Hubbard here to see you.” Jane Wilson, SecDef Shellenberger assistant said to her boss. He was seated behind a large desk, wearing a white button down with the sleeves rolled up. His tie was on his desk, as it was any day he didn’t have a camera pointed at him.

  SecDef Shellenberger was the Secretary of Defense, and brother of the late General Shellenberger. SecDef Shellenberger possessed all of the strategical mastery that his brother did, but with far more charm and far less alcohol dependency. His instructors at West Point knew right away that he was going to climb the ranks of any organization lucky enough to get him. He landed a spot in the president’s cabinet by being one of the sharpest military minds in the world, and by being unafraid to play politics while still keeping his hands clean, mostly.

  When the zombie outbreak started, a brief yet intense power struggle emerged between SecDef Shellenberger and Secretary Jane Ferrara of Homeland Security. Since a zombie outbreak didn’t exactly have set protocols in place, both Secretaries wanted the president to give them the reigns to oversee it. But everybody involved knew the job would go to SecDef Shellenberger, because of his expertise, and because the president was a bit of a sexist.

  “Send him in.” The SecDef said, he turned to his second in command, Deputy SecDef Bob Powers, “Pray for good news.”

  Chief Master Hubbard entered in a navy blue military uniform, the left side of which was covered in military badges signifying his vast experience. He entered with a young man, also wearing a navy blue uniform, lacking the badges.

  “Mr. Secretary.” Hubbard said, extending his hand.

  “Chief, always a pleasure, what news do you bring?”

  “I’ll let my Lieutenant give you the brief,” he turned to the young Lieutenant, “go ahead.”

  The Lieutenant cleared his throat, “Sir! The drone mission-”

  “Jesus kid, why are you yelling?” SecDef Shellenberger said, wincing.

  “Sorry, sir! My apologies, sir!” His volume didn’t change, “The dro-”

  “We’re five feet away from you,” Deputy SecDef Powers interrupted, “This isn’t a drill lineup.”

  “I’ll handle this, Bob. We’re five feet away from you. This isn’t a drill lineup.” SecDef Shellenberger added.

  “Yes, Sir!” His voice echoed the room even louder. Everybody winced.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Chief Master Hubbard interrupted, “I’ll take the brief from here.”

  “Thank God.” Deputy Powers said.

  “I thought I’d give him the chance to brief seeing as he did a hell of a lot to influence our success.”

  “I genuinely don’t care.” Powers sighed.

  “Bob, stop,” Shellenberger snapped, turning to the Lieutenant, “I’m sure you did a great job, son. But please for the love of God, never speak in my office again.”

  The Lieutenant opened his mouth to say thank you, but thought better of it and closed it.

  “Shall I continue?” Hubbard asked.

  “I think start would be more accurate.” Powers snickered.

  “As you predicted, Mr. Secretary, the drone mission has shown great success. The artillery drones have had great accuracy in dropping small payloads on to larger groups of zombies. Surveillance has shown that we have cut off their path to New York, and they’ve split up into smaller, more manageable groups.”

  “I told you we should’ve went with drones from the beginning.” Powers said to Shellenberger.

  “Hindsight is 20-20,” Shellenberger said, “we had no idea how powerful a force the zombies would prove to be. My brother was right. We couldn’t drop bombs on the civilians of Philadelphia without giving the troops in the area a chance to stop them first. The casualties from the zombie attacks are devastating, but I will not have casualties from our own goddamn drone strikes on our own civilians. Please continue, Chief.”

  This had been a huge debate the night of the outbreak. Fear made people in the meeting room want to just bomb the hell out of Philadelphia to nip the outbreak in the bud. But doing so would have unquestionably led to a large amount of civilian casualties. Had they known those civilians would either die anyway or add to the zombie army, maybe they would have more seriously considered this option. But SecDef Shellenberger was not going to go down as the man who pulled the trigger and murdered millions of his own citizens. Now that the area was mostly evacuated, or worse, the bombings could proceed with minimal collateral damage.

  “Mr. Secretary, the drone surveillance and artillery will continue. But most large groups have already been taken care of. The army and national guard are now working together to have teams clear the area of any small groups and stragglers. Should take some time, but our estimates show that within two weeks the zombies will be gone. That is, barring a few stragglers that may have slipped through the cracks.”

  SecDef sighed and leaned back in his chair, this was the best news he could’ve hoped for.

  “Well,” SecDef Shellenberger finally said, “I guess that’s it then.”