by Mark Tufo
as I hit what looked like the rear axle of some large truck, lying in the road. The
impact had either shifted the tire off the rim or blown it out completely; didn’t
matter which really. We now had a disabled wheel to go with the rest of the problems.
Coolant was blowing all over the windshield, smearing the glass, making it that much
more difficult. I felt rather than saw when we touched down onto pavement. Smoke and
fluids were pouring from the hood; the truck was hobbling along like we had square
tires.
“I’m not hearing anything. Is everyone alright?” Ron asked.
We took our turns letting him and each other know we had made it through to the other
side nearly unscathed.
“How about the truck?” he asked.
“Umm…it’s salvageable,” I told him as the poor thing creaked and groaned its final
death throes.
“He means it is salvage,” Tracy clarified.
I glared at her.
“Son of a bitch. Find somewhere to stay I’ll start getting things rounded up. This
is on tape, so just let me know where you go and we’ll find you. Mike…” He paused.
“You might want to hurry,” I told him as I looked back. The speeders were doing what
speeders do, haul ass. “Okay, baby, you’re not quite dead yet, get us out of here,”
I begged the truck, caressing the dashboard.
“I heard that,” Ron said.
“You’re supposed to be hurrying,” I snapped as the front fender sparked along the
roadway. We were on the outskirts of Kittery, I guess, not that I really knew. The
houses were much too close to the roadway and didn’t look too particularly stalwartly
to withstand any sustained zombie attack. By the time I hit the main drag, the engine
was beginning to cough and sputter, the businesses here looked like they catered to
tourists and the large front-facing picture windows looked like a large invitation
to the zombies about to visit. This way they could see the food inside before they
sampled the wares.
“Take a right,” Tracy said as she slapped my arm. I don’t think it was intentionally
so hard, but one never knows what past transgression she was just now remembering.
“Shoe store?” I asked stupidly, rubbing my arm. “Oh,” I said appreciatively when I
saw the building up ahead. It was the town library, made from brick and mortar; from
this distance it looked somewhat like a castle. I could only hope its defenses were
as formidable. The building was huge, and two stories high. The windows…the blessed
first story windows were at least seven or eight feet off the ground. No zombies would
be coming through those. There was, however, the wide staircase that led to the front
double doors. That of course was a problem. But right now those doors were shut, and
I hoped they stayed that way.
“Ron, you still there?” I asked. I waited for a moment before I remembered he said
this was recording. “Okay we’re going to the library…(I looked around)…on Wentworth.
Big brick behemoth. Didn’t think this many people read in Maine. See you soon, big
brother.” The last part he may or may not heard as the engine began to throw a rod,
the loud metallic thumping making it difficult to think, much less talk. Time was
running short; I pushed my foot heavily down and was rewarded with a spurt of speed
followed immediately by the seizing of the engine. I was now coasting towards the
library; thankfully, it was downhill.
“Talbot, the library,” BT said.
“Yup.” I told him.
“It’s coming up.”
“Yup,” I replied.
“Fuck.” He said resignedly, once again bracing himself.
The truck jolted as I jumped the curb, we crossed over the cement walkway and were
now riding the brick pathway to the front. A handrail bisected the wide stairway,
a fair amount of the truck’s momentum was taken as I hit that rail, shearing it from
its moorings. I had at least one of the gods on my side that day as the front end
of the truck kissed the front doors and stopped with hardly a tap on the brakes on
my part.
“Can I look yet?” BT asked.
“Um…sure,” I told him, “but don’t look back. Everyone out.” More superfluous words
had never been spoken; even Henry was halfway out by the time my words ceased.
Tracy looked at me questioningly. “The windows,” I told her, pointing.
Travis, Justin, and Tommy were busy gathering all our supplies. I grabbed the shotgun,
went down the stairwell and off to the left, blowing a hole in the closest window.
“BT!” I shouted. I was going to have him toss me in, and then I realized I could do
it on my own. I may have lost my soul, but at least now I could play in the NBA. I
got onto the ledge of the window and cleaned the broken glass with the butt of the
gun. I hopped inside the building, taking a real quick glance around, making sure
we weren’t jumping into a mess worse than the one we were leaving.
I was pretty certain all was well when I turned back to the window. What I saw, I
did not like. The truck had been losing speed for a long way, but I didn’t think it
was enough to allow the zombies to catch up. They were streaming onto the roadway.
“Tracy, get over here!” I shouted.
She must have seen them, because she didn’t so much as tell me to ‘hold one horse’.
With her hand outstretched I pulled her up easily.
“Grab my gun and make sure nothing bites me in the ass, please,” I told her as I put
her down.
BT handed up Henry who apparently thought playing Superman was the coolest thing ever.
His stubby tail was wagging rapidly. The boys were now tossing me up the ammo and
food and whatever else was in the truck. Most of my attention was on the zombies coming
our way.
“How much more shit is there?” I asked as I deposited another box on the floor.
“Last one.” Travis jumped up to grab the ledge. I reached down under his arms and
yanked him in.
Justin stuck his hand out, I was somewhat alarmed at how light he felt; it was as
if the disease were eating him from the inside out. “Travis, Justin, carefully check
out this building, make sure there’s no zombies and no way for them to get in.”
Travis nodded and then they were gone.
“Go,” BT urged Tommy. I stepped aside as Tommy effortlessly jumped up and through
the window.
“Show off,” I told him. He smiled and turned back to help me with BT.
“Any time,” I told BT who was watching the zombies. The fastest of them were now on
the walkway.
“You going to be able to pull me up?” He was looking pretty scared, and who could
blame him.
“Don’t worry, fat is lighter than muscle,” I told him. He glared at me as he stuck
his hand out. Even with my added strength, he was heavy. Luckily, Tommy shouldered
his way into the window frame and helped me—okay, more like did it himself. It got
a little awkward when we had to turn him sideways to fit through the frame, but other
than that, we were all in and at least safe for the moment.
“Couldn’t you have just checked to see if the window was unlocked?” BT asked when
the waft of zombies drifted through the opening. Even Henry seemed repulsed as he
&n
bsp; walked away to investigate his new digs.
I was still looking at the broken window when Travis came back. “There’s a basement
door and a fire escape on the second floor. Both open outwards, are steel, and definitely
locked.”
With the front doors blocked by the truck, we were in pretty good shape. I mean other
than being surrounded by a thousand zombies. Yeah all was grand.
“Could be worse,” I told Tracy. “We could have got stuck in the shoe store.”
She laughed. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?” I asked.
“Make me laugh in these situations.” She squeezed my hand.
I didn’t ask her what the alternative was. “Want to go play librarian?” I asked huskily
as I playfully swatted her butt.
“What does that even mean?” she asked.
“Who cares?” I told her.
“Wait, I really need to get all the facts in a row here. Okay, first we’re in a library
with two of our children, three including Tommy. We’re surrounded by zombies waiting
for your brother to rescue us somehow, and yet you have time to think about sex?”
“Well, duh,” I told her. “The day I stop thinking about having sex with you, I hope
I’m dead.”
“Let’s go see if we can find a quiet area.”
“That worked?” I asked as she led the way.
BT was griping as he tried to find things to cover the broken window. He looked over
as he watched us leaving.
“Umm, we’re going to check to make sure the books are stacked properly,” I told him.
“Holy crap, Talbot, you finally started shitting gold coins.” He was smiling as he
pulled the Maine state flag down and pinned it up over the opening.
Chapter 3 – Mrs. Deneaux
“What the hell is this?” Mrs. Deneaux asked the empty cab of her eighteen-wheeler.
She had decided to forgo the main highway leading out of the state, preferring to
drive the coastal Route 1. It was slower going, but she felt like she would be less
likely to encounter trouble. And that had been the case right up until she saw the
obvious trap set-up. A small SUV was parked perpendicular to the roadway straddling
the median line and most of the two lanes. The driver’s side door was open, and a
man was on the roadway lying on his stomach with his face pointed towards her.
She had stopped the truck a good fifty yards from the ploy, the engine was idling
as she surveyed the scene. She cackled, the truck hitched as she placed it into first
gear. She was about to pop it into third when she blatted the horn loudly. The man
in the roadway’s eyes got large as he saw the huge truck barreling down on him.
“Feeling better?” she asked his retreating form as he ran to the side of the road.
She was laughing as she sent shards of the SUV hurtling into space. The truck barely
slowed.
“Crazy bitch!” the man yelled at her.
She heard a shot ring out from the other side of her, and then nothing, as if whoever
had shot had thought better about wasting bullets.
“Idiots.”
She continued down the road. She was unsure of her future when she’d left Michael’s
brother’s home. And she’d certainly never foreseen Eliza falling to that idiot; well,
technically the idiot’s wife. She would have never thrown her lot in with the vampire
if she’d known that.
“Can’t know everything, Vivian. Otherwise you would have cut your husband’s balls
off before he cheated and shut off the money.” She cackled again. “It wouldn’t have been too
hard, they were just dried up little nuggets anyway, looked like prunes. That would
have been so much more satisfying than killing him. I don’t know what it is about
men and their precious little packages. Looks like a worm carrying worn leather luggage.”
She was thoroughly enjoying her wit when she saw her second human encounter of the
day. Her shriveled heart accelerated a bit as the person had a slight resemblance
to Paul, Mike’s friend who she had pretty much killed by proxy, sending him away with
no shoes and no weapon.
The momentary heart hiccup evened out when she realized the hitchhiking stranger was
not him. Same color hair, but it was receding slightly, and this stranger had a thick
beard with some reddish undertones. She looked around to see if this was again some
sort of trap. She stopped the truck well ahead of the man, he started to run towards
her. She beeped her horn, he looked up and she motioned for him to come over to her
side.
“Thank you, thank you,” he was saying over and over again.
“Don’t go getting all excited just yet,” she said down to him. “Turn around.”
When he didn’t immediately do as she requested she aimed her seven-inch barrel Colt
.45 at him. A small hatchet was in the small of his back, held in place by his belt.
“You planning on burying that in my skull?” she asked.
“There’s zombies, did you expect me to be unarmed?”
“What else you have on you?”
“That’s it.”
“Strip,” she told him.
“I’ll do no such thing.”
“Bye,” Mrs. Deneaux told him as the truck slid effortlessly into first gear.
“Wait, wait!” He started to unbutton his shirt. She brought the truck to a halt.
“Hurry up, I don’t have all day,” she told him as he sat on the pavement to pull his
shoes off.
“Shit there’s zombies!” he said in a panic. A small group was coming up on them. “Let
me in,” he pleaded grabbing his things.
“Not until I see everything.”
“The zombies.”
“Better get moving then, either with the clothes…or with your feet.”
“Never heard of trust?” He scrambled to undo his belt.
“Oh, I’ve heard of it, never understood it much. The more people say ‘trust me’ the
more likely they are to screw you over.”
“Cynical bastard,” she heard him mutter. “Here are you happy?” he asked in his briefs,
doing a quick three-sixty to show he wasn’t hiding anything more.
“Them too.” She motioned with her gun.
“There’s no time!” he shouted.
“I’ve got plenty.”
“Listen! I do not have a shotgun shoved up my ass!”
“That would be a neat trick. Off with the underwear or I’ll be on my merry little
way.”
He looked to the zombies and then his potential savior, trying to decide who was the
biggest threat. “Fucking fine!” He whipped his underwear down.
“Definitely no weapon there,” she cackled as she looked down upon his manhood. “I’ve
seen Ken dolls packing more heat.”
“Can I get in now?” he asked angrily.
“Oh, I suppose so.”
The man quickly picked up his belongings and ran around the front of the truck. Mrs.
Deneaux hit the lock and let him in. She leveled her gun upon him. “Hand over the
axe,” she said evenly as he stood on the running board.
“You going to shoot me?”