by Mark Tufo
I stood, waved over to him, but kept my rifle by my hip, ready to pull up and start firing again.
“Mike?” Someone called out. It was Erin. I instinctively looked for Paul. Where there was one, the other was close by. It hurt more than I cared to remember when I realized he would not ever be by her side, at least not on this plane. She ran toward me.
“Thank you.” She gave me a fierce hug and then pushed back.
“Why?” Was all I could think to ask.
Her eyes became downcast. “You reminded me of him too much. I couldn’t take it.”
“What were you trying to do when you left?”
“I think you know.”
“You did a horrible job!” BT said brusquely.
“I missed you too, BT.” Erin slid into an easy hug with him.
“Damn fool,” he told her, though he gripped her tighter.
“What’s going on here?” I asked, referring to the eleven with her and their locale.
“We were staying in a safe house in Andover, and we were overrun.”
“Doesn’t sound all that safe,” I said dryly, not trying to be sarcastic, just making an observation.
She laughed. “It wasn’t. We’ve been looking for places to stay for a few weeks now. Ended up here. Thought we’d be fine, at least until we got surrounded. What are you guys doing here?”
“Huh?” I asked. “You called us on the radio.”
“Radio? We don’t have a radio.”
“This a joke?” BT asked.
I might have asked the same question if I didn’t have a spike of iciness traveling along the base of my skull.
“What’s to joke about BT?”
“We … we got a call from you, Erin. Said you were in trouble at the Quabbin. We’re not out here by coincidence.”
“I can assure you it was not me or anyone I’m here with.”
“What the fuck is going on, Mike?” BT looked about as white as his skin tone was going to allow for.
“I think we had a spectral visitor, and he was looking out for someone near and dear.”
“Paul, Paul did this?” Erin put her hand to her throat.
“Erin dear, are you all right?” An older woman flanked by two men approached.
“I’m … I’m fine, I think.” She had tears in the corners of her eyes threatening to fall. “Mike, BT, this is Fannie, Brad, and Shemp.”
I shook all their hands. “Shemp, as in The Three Stooges?”
He shrugged and gave a half-cocked smile. “Favorite show growing up. I figured I had nobody left in this world who knew my name and I could give myself one that gave me comfort.”
“Shemp though? Why not Curly?”
“Too much hair.” He bent over to show his thick brown moppish topping.
I liked him already.
“Do you guys have transportation?”
Fannie responded. “We do, we just couldn’t get to it. Thank you for aiding us.”
“Aiding” was a strange word for what had just happened, but since they had saved our lives as well, I was willing to let it slip. I couldn’t even blame her for getting us into this situation, as it seemed that Paul had tampered with the boundaries between the living and dead to get something of great importance to him rescued. I had no answers for what had happened and most likely never would. All I could do was move forward.
“Happy to help. Good thing you have wheels. I don’t think we’d all fit in the bug.”
A couple of people were helping Ron move the VW. He’d put the thing atop a rock.
“Why ever would we do that?” Fannie asked.
“I just figured you’d come with us.”
“Oh, heavens no, not unless you’re going to Florida.”
I swear I was a millimeter away from asking her if she was planning on retiring. At least I kept my mouth shut on that one. “Florida? Why?”
“Fannie, you’ve already said too much,” said Brad, the other man with her.
“This one is always suspicious.” She pointed to him.
“It’s a good thing to be these days, well probably all days, but especially now,” I told her.
He nodded.
“Relax, Brad. These are obviously friends of Erin’s, and they went to great lengths to save her and us. I think they at least should know. What they do with the information is their choice.”
Brad’s look gave me the distinct impression he didn’t hold the same sentiment. She knew it too and continued anyway. I liked her as well. Two people in one day, almost a record for me.
“When we get to Florida, we are going to attempt to get a boat and go to Cuba.”
I could think of no reason to go to the tiny nation other than to see if some of the cigar tobacco had made it. She must have seen it on my face.
“We’ve heard rumors that Cuba is zombie free.”
Brad walked away, pissed.
“Don’t worry about him. If he had his way, it would just be the two of us. I’m his mother.”
Now that she said it, I did see the family resemblance, although, where she seemed to always wear a smile, he had a frown.
“Zombie free, is there such a thing?” BT scoffed.
I could see the natural isolation of an island helping to keep the virus away. Was it possible? “Did they ever have zombies?”
“Sadly, yes. They were as bad, if not worse off, than everyone else.”
“What changed?”
“The zombies died, from what we’ve heard.”
“Zombies died? How?”
“They’re just gone. No more food; they starved.”
“Oh, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but they’re still there.”
Fannie’s disposition changed so fast I thought I was misinterpreting it.
“I said they are not!” Her face turned a color of red usually reserved for a crayon, and not one of those multi sixty-four crayon packs, but the traditional eight, where red is damn red and not burnt sienna. “And that is where we are going!”
“Whoa.” I now knew where Brad got his sour disposition, little miss polar swing was in full force. “I’m just saying we’ve never seen zombies die. They do this thing called stasis, basically hibernation until there’s more food.”
“YOU LIE!” She was shouting so violently that angry spittle flew from her mouth as she screamed. “GOD HAS TOLD ME THAT CUBA IS FREE FROM THE DEMONS!”
Religious nut. I kept that to myself. I saw no sense in antagonizing her. Her group was concerned, and was beginning to head our way. I guess I’d pulled the trigger a little too quickly on the liking part. I was back down to one, and even that was abnormally high.
“We are his twelve apostles, and we will begin our own Garden of Eden!” I guess she was done as well, because she walked away.
BT looked over to me with the “What the fuck?” look. I shrugged. What the hell else could I add?
“Erin?”
“These are the people I’m with now.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“It’s where I want to be. Fannie saved me. I’d taken a half bottle of pills. Between that and the cold my heart had stopped. I’d killed myself, Michael. You don’t go to a good place when you do that.” She shuddered as if in remembrance. “She pulled me from there, I can’t imagine not going with her. She knows things. She knew where to find me, said she was looking for me. I consider that alone to be a miracle.”
I wasn’t convinced, although what the hell Fannie and her troupe were doing there I can’t honestly say.
“Are you coming!” Fannie shouted. It was not an order, though it sounded a lot like one. And it certainly was not a question.
Erin hugged me again. “I cannot thank you enough for helping us.”
“Yes you can. Come back with us.” If I had seen any hint in her eyes that she was being held against her will, I would have fought for her freedom, but I wasn’t going to risk our lives then kidnap her. That made no sense, plus she seemed a happy, active participant t
o the group. “You know I’m not lying about the zombies, right?”
“I know that, but do you know for certain that Cuba isn’t free of them?”
“How could I?”
“Fannie says God sends her messages.”
“Erin, please listen to me. Come back with us; you’ll be safe there.”
“Are there zombies in Maine?”
“You know that answer.”
“I’ll take my chances on the unknown and have faith.” She hugged us both again and walked away, turning once to wave. Fannie wrapped her arm around Erin’s shoulder, and they kept moving. I waited until they were out of sight, one last desperate attempt to catch a glimmer of Erin’s desire to be away from them. She never turned back around.
“What just happened, Mike?” BT had been watching as well. Ron had joined us.
“She’s torched.”
“Fannie?” BT asked.
“Fannie is scorched earth. Erin has snapped. Paul’s death broke something inside of her. She’s not the first person to turn to religion in times of great need.”
“There’s nothing wrong with turning to religion, but not with a blind eye.” BT said with a fair degree of wisdom.
“Now what?” Ron asked.
“Now we go the fuck home, I suppose.”
“Don’t seem so depressed about it, little brother.”
“I’m not, just trying to wrap my head around what just happened. Of all the scenarios that played out in my head, this wasn’t one of them. And that’s not even taking into account the phantom phone call.”
“What?”
BT filled him in. I was still trying to come to terms with just letting my best friend’s wife go with a religious cult to the God-friendly, zombie-free country of Cuba.
“Phantom, my ass.” Ron had gone to the shed after we watched Fannie and her flock leave. An entire wall was devoted to electronic equipment. Must have been some sort of way to communicate with other parks or something.
“Why lie about it?” I asked, turning the power knob just to make sure it worked. It crackled to life like only a piece of equipment with tubes can.
“Come in Talbot household, or I will use the force on you.” I used my best Darth Vader impression, which left a lot to be desired. Should have went with Rambo; at least that is passable.
“Uncle Mike?” It was Melissa, Ron’s daughter. She was apparently tending the radio.
“Melissa, I am your uncle.” I kept continuing with my charade.
“You all right? You sound like you got a bad cold. Maybe you should gargle with some salt water.”
“Forget it. Everything all right up there?”
“Yeah, everything is good, although Meredith called me a be-otch, so I was just about to smack her arm, and then my mother came in and she shouted at us to behave like young women….”
I’d forgotten Melissa’s proclivity to talk at ninety words a second and for stretches of ten minutes or more at a time. If I didn’t sneak in our status soon, I could be here for the remainder of the day looking for an opening.
“Everything’s fine. Heading home now!” I shouted and put the microphone down and backed away quickly.
Ron grabbed the microphone. “Love you!” he said real fast and did the same as I did.
We could still hear her talking. “…and then there was the cat. She went….” I walked out of the hut.
7
Mike Journal Entry 7
For all the crap we’d gone through just to get to Erin and then semi-rescue her, we’d somehow been given a pass to get back home. The only part that was relatively disturbing was the large bloodstain and discarded bones of the man I’d previously set free. I could only hope I hadn’t sent Erin off to the same fate. It was late by the time we got back to Ron’s. I’d say after midnight, if I had to guess. We were halted by a spot light that I’m sure was baking my face and that authoritative voice of Arnold Schwarzenegger telling us to halt.
“It’s Gary, right? It has to be Gary,” I said.
“It’s us!” I said, getting out of the car, making sure my hands were high over my head, although Gary was more inclined to ask a bunch of questions before he shot, so I was somewhat safe.
“Where’s the truck?” It was that same Arnold, halting, accented language, and it was amplified to ear shredding decibels.
“Don’t ask.” Ron had got out as well.
“I did not say move.”
“You’d better shut off whatever the hell thing Mad Jack gave you. And that light, feel like I’m getting a sunburn.”
“You are no fun.” He said into the Arnold translator before we heard the squelch of the electronic equipment being switched off. His spotlight dimmed but had not completely shut down. I shielded my eyes when I saw lights had come on over at the house, so I could see. I noticed a figure on the deck peering our way. Looked about the size and shape of Tracy. I waved and got one in return.
“Where’s Erin?” The words drifted over to us.
“I’m fine honey, thanks for asking!”
“Does a person normally wave when something is wrong?”
“Valid point.” BT headed toward the house.
“Don’t agree with her; she’s already always right.” I was about to follow him.
“How’s it going, brother?” I looked up into the tree stand. Pretty much Gary’s favorite hangout. He usually did some guarding up there. I think mostly he went so he could listen to his walkman and sing without anyone hassling him about it. He’d added on to the stand so it was more like a tree house. It had a roof and a small chair inside, a locked cabinet so he could put some food safely away from squirrels and enough batteries to last him the rest of the year. I’d been up there a couple of times. Told him he should expand it so it wasn’t so cramped for two. That was when I realized he wanted to be alone. We all dealt in our own ways.
The entire house was awake and wanted to hear what had happened. I let Ron do it. I was happy to just sit back and relish in the moment. We were back and safe. Safe, yeah, what a fucked-up word, full of lies and deceit. If I knew then what I know now, I would have grabbed everyone and headed to Cuba with the church of Fannie-atics.
“You actually kept your word,” Tracy intoned as we laid in bed.
“I must be growing up.”
“Something is definitely growing.” she laughed. If this was a movie, this is where it would fade to black and you may or may not hear a sensual moan before cutting to another scene. Since I am not in the business of writing erotica, suffice to say it was a very tender night.
8
Payne stepped off the ship. It was raining hard enough that small floods were forming along the sides of the road, the sewer system not able to keep up with the torrent of water. Although by looking at her, you would have thought it was a bright spring day, her long, red hair blowing back behind her. The rain not daring to touch her as it cascaded down. Charity and Sophia trailed behind as Payne walked upon the pier.
What started as a small spark soon turned the SS Crossbearer into a torch that sizzled hotly as rainwater hit it. The deck had been bathed in blood and discarded bodies. The vampires had eaten well; the crew having served their purpose of getting them across the ocean was given their just rewards for helping evil.
“So this is the New World?” Payne outstretched her arms. “It rains in this New England much like it did in the old.”
Charity wiped the corner of her mouth where a small pool of blood had collected. She sucked her coated finger deeply and sighed. “It has been a long time since we drank so deeply.”
Sophia was doing pirouettes fast enough that she was beginning to blur. She laughed wildly. “We will kill them all!” she said merrily.
“Yes, we will kill them all.” Payne said, much more levelly. “But there are things I wish to find out first.”
Charity grabbed Payne’s hand and rested her head on the other woman’s shoulder.
“What a glorious day!” Sophia had stopped spinnin
g and was breathing heavily.
9
Mike Journal Entry 8
It was two days after we got back from Massachusetts. I’d come downstairs, sort of oblivious to my surroundings. I know, shocker, right? I was in the midst of a fabulous morning ball-scratching session. Women won’t understand that, but men get it. I bet it’s sort of equivalent to a woman taking off a bra at the end of the day. There’s a satisfaction that is difficult to explain, yet it is one of life’s small to midsize pleasures. I stopped what I was doing immediately when I realized I wasn’t alone. Although Tommy seemed to be completely unaware enough to my presence, I could have continued unhindered.
“Hey,” I said, trying not to look guilty of having my hand firmly entrenched in my crotch. See, this is why I didn’t like to shake people’s hands. There is no one that ever existed, poet, laureate, model, pilot, author, doesn’t matter; within the last hour of you meeting them they have put their hand somewhere gross. I can just about guarantee it, and then they used to thrust that thing out and expect someone else to grasp hold. I can barely handle the disgusting things I do. What makes anyone think I want to add their list of stuff to that? If we ever do revert back to that old custom, just give that thought a go before you blindly reach out and grab that hand. Just imagine where it may have been very recently, and I bet you’re right more times than you’re wrong. I noticed that I had gone through my entire inner monologue, and Tommy had still not acknowledged my presence. I did think about resuming my unfinished nether region shake down but decided in the interest of civility to let it pass for now.
“You all right?” I asked, getting closer. Gotta admit I proceeded with caution. He seemed to be in another realm right now, and you know how the saying goes: “Don’t wake a sleepwalker.” Who the hell knows what happens when you wake a territory traveler?
“They’re here,” he said in a voice I don’t think I’d ever heard come from him before.
“Who’s here?” I had to ask, but I already knew.
“I thought we’d have more time.” He turned to look at me. There was a panic in his eyes. If a five-hundred-year-old vampire is concerned, then it’s safe to say there’s something to be worried about.