by Mark Tufo
Okay, calm down Talbot. I’ll start from the beginning. Ever been in the car with three small children? If so, enough said. If not, just wait your turn, it’s coming. So the ride from Montreal to the border is somewhere in the hour and a half range and the kids in the backseat are going at it like there’s a championship trophy on the line. We’re still a couple of hours drive away from this awesome little bed and breakfast in Vermont where I had made reservations. We were on a family vacation that included stops in North Dakota (don’t ask, relatives on her side. I wouldn’t have stopped there if the car was on fire), Montreal, Vermont and then on to New Orleans before heading home. Tracy and I thought it would be a great experience to have the kids see the country by car ride, dumb asses that we were. So we were approaching the Canadian Border and there is a line easily a quarter mile long. The CRMP weren’t ‘randomly’ checking cars like their illustrious Captain said. They were checking every last one of them. I swear to this day it was a ploy for us to spend our money at their crappy little gift store before we hit the good old US of A. Yeah, couldn’t wait to buy a stupid stuffed moose that cost $22 and is made in China to put on my knick-knack shelf. So we’re sitting in the car for another hour and a half, easy. The kids have ratcheted up their squabbling to new and unusual heights. I’m a half-inch, or if you use the Canadian conversion, 1.25 centimeters away from blowing my stack. I had turned over my right shoulder to tell the kids for the four hundredth and seventy sixth time to SHUT UP. Okay, ‘be quiet’ for you non-capital punishment types. Suddenly Captain Custard comes knocking on my window with a flashlight. It was 10:00 in the morning. The sun was out for Fuck’s sake.
“What!” I yelled at him as I rolled the window down.
“Farkin Yankees, think they own the world! Step out of the car!” he shouted back.
Being from Boston I take serious offense to anyone accusing me of being a Yankee. Now deep down I know he didn’t mean it in the sports sense, but I was already irked to my limit and I let my mouth slip.
“Go Fark yourself!” I said back, borrowing his accent. He wasn’t amused. He motioned over to two deputies who came over and pulled me out through the window. They mashed my shoulder and then more importantly my ‘junk’ into the car door, and then unceremoniously deposited me on the ground. They laughed as they saw the damage the frozen dirty slush water did to my expensive jacket. I was indignant. Without even thinking I grabbed two handfuls of this dirty slush water and heaved it into the face of the unsuspecting deputy on the left; he also was not amused. I scrambled to get up as I saw him reaching for his Taser. I had been hit with one of those once, on a dare in college, and I was not going to let it happen again. I had regained my feet and was heading for the only cover I could think of, the crappy little gift store.
I could hear the deputy behind me wrestling with his Taser and ordering me to halt. I had just passed some man who, I was able to notice even in this awkward moment, had on a more expensive jacket than I did. I would have liked to ask him where he had gotten it but it didn’t seem prudent, given the circumstances. I had no sooner passed by this man, when out of the corner of my eye he started to collapse. I could see the two Taser leads hanging out from the front of his jacket. Maybe just a little higher than his stomach. I knew that shot was meant for me and felt guilty this man had ‘taken one’ for me. I stopped and got behind him, holding him up before he had fully dropped. His body was spasming from the current being forced into him from the bad aiming, forgetful deputy. The idiot was still holding down the discharge button even though he had the wrong person. By the time he had finally registered his error, the man in my arms was near to passing out.
In the meantime his partner, Deputy Dumber, had let fly his Taser prongs. They caught the man I would later learn was the prime minister in the cheek, and not the round curvy kind but the one on the side of his face. His teeth chattered from the shock. Before he fully slipped out of my arms and onto the ground, I smelled the telltale sign of a man who had unwillingly lost consciousness. His bowels released like a torrent. I almost threw up over his expensive cashmere jacket. As I gently laid the man down, realizing there was nothing more I could do for him, I stumbled over a small child exiting the bathroom and fell over. Deputy Dipshit and his partner were on me in a heartbeat. Even while I was being wrestled into handcuffs, I noticed the leggy blond administering to the man on the ground. I would have had to be in his condition not to notice her. She was smoking hot and half his age. As for the ‘trailer full of beer,’ well that would have been some neat trick considering I didn’t have a trailer; it was three cases of Molson Canadian. So you’re saying to yourself, why bother, you can get that in the States. Well, the answer to that is yes and no. You can get Molson Canadian, but number one it’s not as fresh, and number two, Canada brews its beers under different regulations. It has a stronger alcohol content and it just tastes better. If you’ve never had beer in Canada then that is something you should put on your ‘bucket list,’ that is if they are still making beer since the zombpocalypse. As for the ‘bag of weed,’ their version of CSI or The Anal Retentive Squad as I like to call them, had to use tweezers and a magnifying glass to pull out this minuscule piece of a roach embedded in my carpet from who knows when. If there were two shreds of marijuana leaf in that thing I would have been amazed. So the deputies couldn’t back down; the idiots had twice tased their leader and that wasn’t going to look good on their permanent records. Better to fry an innocent than lose your pension. I sat in jail for over forty-eight hours before all charges against me were dropped. The reason? Well you know how I had been telling you that my kids were fighting? Well it seems they were fighting over using the video camera. Who knew? Justin caught the whole thing on tape: First the cops overreacting and pulling me out of the car, the whole taser fiasco and the coup de grace, the leggy blonde (who by the way was not the Prime Minister’s wife). Everyone felt it was in everyone else’s best interest if the whole case was dismissed. I, however, was still pissed about losing the three cases of beer. The trip was over when I got released from jail. Tracy was furious that I had put on that kind of display in front of the kids. They, on the other hand, thought it was cool. The ride back to Colorado was monotonous. The kids didn’t even fight. They were too scared. Tracy was melting the car seats with the anger that exuded from her. I broke a ton of land speed records getting back home, the quicker to be out of arms length and harm’s way. It all worked out in the end, and Tracy eventually forgave me, but she never did forget. I bought Justin a Nintendo GameCube for his excellent film work.
“Eliza’s coming and death trembles in her wake!” As recorded by Mike Talbot’s wife as he lay tossing and turning in a semi-state of sleep.
Check out these other titles by Mark Tufo
Zombie Fallout 2: A Plague Upon Your Family
Zombies have destroyed Little Turtle, the Talbot’s find themselves on the run from a ruthless enemy that will stop at nothing to end their lineage. Here are the journal entries of Michael Talbot, his wife Tracy, their three kids Nicole, Justin and Travis. With them are Brendon, Nicole's fiancée and Tommy previously a Wal-Mart door greeter who may be more than he seems. Together they struggle against a relentless enemy that has singled them out above all others. As they travel across the war-torn country side they soon learn that there are more than just zombies to be fearful of, with law and order a long distant memory some humans have decided to take any and all matters into their own hands. Can the Talbots come through unscathed or will they suffer the fate of so many countless millions before them. It's not just brains versus brain-eaters anymore. And the stakes may be higher than merely life and death with eternal souls on the line.
Zombie Fallout 3: The End…
Continues Michael Talbot's quest to be rid of the evil named Eliza that hunts him and his family across the country. As the world spirals even further down into the abyss of apocalypse one man struggles to keep those around him safe. Side by side Michael stands with his wife, their c
hildren, his friends and the wonder Bulldog Henry along with the Wal-Mart greeter Tommy who is infinitely more than he appears and whether he is leading them to salvation or death is only a measure of degrees.
As Justin continues to slip further into the abyss he receives help from an unexpected ally all of which leads up to the biggest battle thus far.
Dr. Hugh Mann – A Zombie Fallout Prequel 3.5
Dr Hugh Mann delves deeper into what caused the zombie invasion. Early in the 1900’s Dr. Mann discovers a parasite that brings man to the brink of an early extinction. Come along on the journey with Jonathan Talbot is bride to be Marissa and the occasional visitations from the boy with the incredible baklava. Could there be a cure somewhere here and what part does the blood locket play?
Zombie Fallout IV: The End…Has Come and Gone
The End…has come and gone. This is the new beginning, the new world order and it sucks. The end for humanity came the moment the U.S. government sent out the infected flu shots. My name is Michael Talbot and this is my journal. I’m writing this because no one’s tomorrow is guaranteed, and I have to leave something behind to those who may follow.
So continues Mike’s journey, will he give up all that he is in a desperate bid to save his family and friends? Eliza is coming, can anyone be prepared?
Indian Hill
This first story is about an ordinary boy, who grows up in relatively normal times to find himself thrust into an extra-ordinary position. Growing up in suburban Boston he enjoys the trials and tribulations that all adolescents go through. From the seemingly tyrannical mother, to girl problems to run-ins with the law. From there he escapes to college out in Colorado with his best friend, Paul, where they begin to forge new relationships with those around them. It is one girl in particular that has caught the eye of Michael and he alternately pines for her and then laments ever meeting her.
It is on their true ‘first’ date that things go strangely askew. Mike soon finds himself captive aboard an alien vessel, fighting for his very survival. The aliens have devised gladiator type games. The games are of two-fold importance for the aliens. One reason, being for the entertainment value, the other reason being that they want to see how combative humans are, what our weaknesses and strengths are.
Follow Mike as he battles for his life and Paul as he battles to try and keep main stream US safe.
Timothy was not a good man in life being undead did little to improve his disposition. Find out what a man trapped in his own mind will do to survive when he wakes up to find himself a zombie controlled by a self-aware virus.
Please look also for:
the story ‘My Name is Riley’ published in the Undead Tales Anthology by Rymfire books!
Follow Riley an American Bulldog as she struggles to keep what remains of her pack/family safe from a zombie invasion.