by Mark Tufo
“Oh for goodness sake,” Carol said exasperatedly as she pushed past Jen’s and my wide-eyed expressions. “This isn’t very neighborly behavior, you two,” she berated us as she went to the front door.
I reached out to stop her but could not gain enough traction to do so. Once the door was open the assault would begin and Carol would be directly in our line of fire. Valuable seconds would be lost getting her out of the way, neutralizing the threat, and getting the door secured again. The door opened. A purplish faced man stood there dancing around on his toes. His similarly toned companion, probably his wife, was huddled behind him.
CHAPTER 24 Journal Entry Twenty-Two
“Fred, Esther? What are you two doing out here? Come in, come in,” Carol motioned.
Fred took one look down the hallway at the arsenal confronting him.
“You sure?” he turned to Carol.
“Oh, that’s my son-in-law and his friends,” she answered as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
“Carol?” I asked.
“It’s fine, Mike. These are my neighbors from up the road, Fred and Esther Spretzens,” she answered me. “Where are the kids?” Carol asked with concern.
‘Jack and Jill’ as I was to later learn their names had gained entry through the back door. Travis had let them in at almost the same time as Carol had opened the front door. His explanation was that zombies didn’t seem much phased about the weather and the two kids were huddling together for warmth. As for the Jack and Jill thing, don’t ask me. Some parents have a weird sense of humor when it comes to naming their kids. Just ask the poor bastard whose name was Orangejello. He’ll tell you it’s no bargain being named after your mom’s favorite food. Well at least it wasn’t Meatloaf, although that had been done before too.
Carol ushered Fred and Esther into the living room and as close to the fire as was humanly possible before becoming a S’more. It was humorous watching Fred’s reaction as he tried to give BT as big a berth as was possible in that confined space. Odds were that Fred wasn’t much exposed to men of BT’s color much less that imposing of a size. Travis brought in the two kids, twins by the look and size of them. They couldn’t have been much more than 8 years old. I didn’t envy them the world they were about to inherit. Henry followed closely behind having learned that children of this age tend to drop more food than they eat.
The vacancy in their eyes was not lost on me as they sat by the fire, finally realizing that they were for the moment at least, safe. Fred was the first to break the silence.
“I… I went out to see what had the horses all in an uproar.” He choked on a sob as Esther rubbed his back. “They were kicking and whinnying something fierce. The last time they had been that upset a pack of coyotes had circled the barn and were digging around the frame looking for a way in.”
“No coyotes out in this weather though,” Carol finished for him.
He looked up at her with his red-rimmed eyes. “No, not coyotes. The barn door was broken open. I had my scattergun ready to shoot and when I got to the first stall it was full of them. They had dragged my plow horse down and were devouring him. He was still alive!” his voice rising. “The look of terror in his eyes is something I’ll never forget. He was frothing blood and kicking. I couldn’t do anything but stare at him.” He sobbed a bit. Esther kept up her calming ministrations on his back. “And then one of them must have noticed me because it got up. I mean it got up fast. Faster than I’d seen any of them move. If it wasn’t for pieces of my horse Hank hanging out of his mouth I might have thought he was human. Damn, he still might have been, never thought to ask. But he killed my Hank so I figured I had every right to do the same to him. No matter how hungry he was.”
“It’s alright Fred,” Carol told him calmingly. “You did the right thing.”
He looked grateful. “I was gonna run for it but he was on me so fast I barely had enough time to pull the trigger. Caught him in the side, I watched as pieces of his mid-section blew against the wall. He didn’t even care. He kept coming. I must have lowered the gun a bit cause my next shot caught him square in the knee. I don’t think he cared much about that shot neither but it brought him to the floor. His friends never even looked up. Hank had finally quit kicking. I was out of bullets and I had three more horses. Even if I got more ammo I’d never be able to load it fast enough to kill them all ‘fore they got to me. Now I love them horses like only a farmer can, but after God my family comes next.”
Esther placed her head on Fred’s shoulder.
“There was so many of them, I knew I’d never be able to keep them out of the house. So I loaded up the truck and was planning on heading down to my cousin’s in Bismarck.”
That was the first thing he’d said that I hadn’t agreed with. A city even of the relatively small size of Bismarck was the last place you wanted to be.
“We got eight miles from the house when I realized I had drained all the gas out to keep the generator running.”
Carol gasped. “You walked for five miles in this cold! Oh heavens!”
“Thirteen miles away and they’re your neighbors?” I asked incredulously.
“Exactly how many of them were there Fred?” Jen asked.
Fred was busy staring vacantly into the fire. Slow seconds passed before he answered. “Must of been seven or eight crammed in there.” He shuddered.
BT had at some point slumped back down onto his couch. He looked like he was fighting a losing battle with consciousness. Logistically the Spretzens had just fucked me. We had no room for four more people no matter how you sliced it. Even if I could somehow convince myself that MY family’s survival was more important than theirs, Tracy would never let me.
“Here we stand,” I said. “Or here we fall.”
Now that Carol’s options were reduced to one, she didn’t seem so enamored with it.
Jen knew immediately what was going on. “How much time you think we have to get ready?” she asked me.
“I’d say until tomorrow night,” I replied, looking at Justin. He nodded sadly in confirmation.
“Any ideas?” she asked.
“One to start with.” I pointed my gun at Justin. “Give me your weapon.”
“Dad?” Nicole yelled.
“Talbot!” Tracy joined in.
“Heavens to Betsy,” came from Esther. Can’t remember the last time I heard that expletive.
“I can help, Dad,” Justin said earnestly.
“I wish I could believe that son, I really do. But for now I don’t, give me the gun or I will shoot you.” I said it without malice or menace but no truer intent to my words had Justin ever encountered. Sure, there were the thousand times I had told him while he was growing up that if he ever did THAT again he would get a whipping. Empty threats those had been, this was not one of them.
I could see the workings of his mind as he tried to play out how this encounter could go down. I wasn’t going to give him the chance to reason himself into an early grave.
“You’ll lose,” I told him matter of factly.
“Talbot, what are you doing? What are you talking about?” Tracy said, approaching from the far side of the room.
I didn’t take the chance to look over at her. “Do not come any closer Tracy! If you try to get in the way I will drop him where he stands!”
“Now see here!” Fred said standing up.
“Listen Fred! I don’t know who the fuck you are and I really don’t give a shit. Your showing up here has already put my family in jeopardy. Because I have these stupid fucking qualities called morality and honor. These WORDS are more than likely going to get everything I care about in this shitty little world destroyed. NOW SIT YOUR ASS DOWN before you give me a reason to get rid of you and all the troubles you entail!”
Fred complied. Tracy was inching closer but still not a threat to thwart me yet. Justin’s eyes shifted rapidly from my eyes, to the barrel of the AR, to my trigger finger which was beginning to whiten at the knuckle. I
think Justin was getting messages of ‘Go for it.’ He was sweating at the brow and his eye movements were becoming more frenetic.
“Justin, stop,” I said calmly. “You’ll lose.”
“But so will you, Michael Talbot.” The sound came from Justin but the words did not. “How long can you live with the guilt of killing your son?” He croaked out a harsh laugh. “What will your honor and morality do to you?” He/she laughed again.
“Dad, help me!” Justin cried, as he struggled to keep his wayward hand from gripping the pistol out of its holster.
“Give me Tommy,” Justin’s voice said. “And I will give you this back,” Justin said as he beat his fist against his chest. “At least for a while.” That grating laugh erupted again.
“Give you Tommy, huh? And then what? Will you leave us alone? Can we get some paperwork signed to that effect? I’ve never been big on verbal agreements.”
Justin’s smile faded. “How funny will you be when your de...”
Justin folded in on himself under the assault of BT’s ham sized fist. “God I was sick of listening to her drone on.” He fell back on the couch and was almost instantly asleep.
Tracy rushed over to Justin’s side. I went over and grabbed his gun. Tracy looked up at me. Hurt and anger were running through her but she didn’t know where to direct it. What I had done was not palatable but it was a necessary evil.
“Jen, Trav, tie him up and put him in the basement.”
Tracy stood up. It looked like Vesuvius was about to erupt all over again. But she had witnessed what we all had witnessed. Justin was a known threat that could not be swept under the rug any more.
“I just want him out of the way while we set up some sort of defense, Tracy.” She nodded in agreement. “He’s a direct pipeline to the enemy. What he sees they see.”
“He’s my baby,” she sobbed.
Jen and Travis looked to me for direction. I nodded. “Bring him down some blankets. One more thing.” Jen stopped. “I want him blindfolded.”
“Why Mike?” Tracy asked, but the fight was out of her.
“The less he knows Mom, the less she knows.” Travis filled in for me. Tracy walked away, face in hands.
“Carol, we need to talk.” I waited until Justin was secured in the basement and Jen and Travis returned. I had the beginnings of a plan and it was pretty much a do or die scenario. Getting Carol on board was surprisingly easier than I had expected. We all talked there for a few hours going over the finer points and how we would deal with what could go wrong as opposed to what needed to go right. The list of ‘wrong’ was growing at a near geometric rate.
“This is suicide, Mike,” Jen said after we had gone over the plan for the twenty-third time.
“Not really, I give it a solid five or six percent chance of success.” I smiled.
“Bullshit.” BT threw in. “It’s three or four at best.”
Carol, Fred and Esther’s faces drained of all color at our macabre humor.
“There’s a major flaw in your plan, Mike,” Jen said.
I laughed, what else could I do. “Only one?”
“You know what I mean, ass,” she finished.
“It is a big one I’ll admit that, not much I can do about it though.”
Jen sighed in agreement.
Finally we had finished formulating our idea, I hate to say plan, that implies that you think it might actually work. Idea gives it more of an abstract feel.
Tracy started to speak. “I... ”
I cut her off. “Abso-fucking-lutely not.” She, as expected, started to protest. “This is not open for discussion.” I didn’t raise my voice but the force I laid on those words would have given pause to most Marines. Tracy plowed on.
“Mike,” she began again.
“No.” I said as I held up my hand. “Listen, for the twenty-three years we’ve been married I’ve known all along that I’m more of a figurehead, I know it and the kids know it. Shit, even Henry knows it.”
“Yeah he does,” Tommy said.
“Thank you,” I said to Tommy.
“No problem.” He smiled.
“There have only been a handful of times in our long marriage where I have finally exerted an authority that is only implied.” Tracy nodded in agreement. “And this is going to be another one of them. We do this my way, Tracy. There are no other options.”
“Mike,” she said solemnly. “What makes you think that I could ever let you stand alone? All of our married lives we have met every challenge together. No matter the menace. I could no sooner leave you than I could the kids.”
“But don’t you get it?” I told her as I cupped her face. “You stand with me, you are walking away from the kids.” She pulled away.
“You can’t make me choose!” she cried.
“I’m not letting you choose, Tracy. The decision has been made. Besides, you heard BT, there’s a good four or five percent chance this’ll work.”
“I said three or four,” BT chimed in.
“Thanks big man,” I said sarcastically.
“Whatever I can do to help. Oh, and by the way, I’m staying.”
“Fuck.” I turned from Tracy to him. “BT, that’s not what we discussed.”
“You gonna tell me otherwise?” he asked threateningly.
“Fine BT, your funeral.”
“Mike, you said this could work,” Tracy said with desperation in her voice.
“It was just a figure of speech, Hon.”
“Poor choice of words, Dad,” Travis chimed in.
“What is wrong with the peanut gallery tonight?” I asked the heavens. (There was no answer... go figure.)
“Dad, an extra gun could be useful,” Travis said.
“NO!” Tracy and I yelled in unison, at least we agreed on this one thing.
CHAPTER 25 Journal Entry Twenty-Three
The next morning was industrious. Fred was becoming more of a stalwart ally than I would have been willing to give him credit for. His knowledge of how to shore up a house for an incoming storm was invaluable. This wasn’t your proto-typical storm so to speak but the theory was the same. We wanted to keep the outside elements from coming in. Travis, Jen and I prepared more than a few surprises. Nothing that would stop them, alas I didn’t have a nuke, this was more of a giving the finger gesture. It was right up my alley. Had I known what surprises Eliza had for me, I might not have been so inclined.
Tracy and Nicole made preparations for our hopefully hasty retreat once the time came. She questioned me once on the room in the cars. “If there’s no room now Mike, then how will there be when we leave?” I just stared at her until she understood and walked away.
To be fair, if this worked, it could be all over for all of us, not just some of us. Carol walked around her house in a daze, crying as she randomly picked up objects and set them carefully back down in the same location. She was mourning a loss she hadn’t suffered yet, but I wouldn’t begrudge her that.
Esther, Jack and Jill killed six chickens for lunch. We had fried chicken fit for a king.
“Reminds me of home,” BT said longingly as he rubbed his belly. He had only awakened long enough to consume two of the chickens all by himself.
After lunch Carol and I headed out to the barn that housed the animals.
“Oh, Mike.” She buried her head in my shoulder.
“It’s for the best, Carol. You heard Fred, apparently they’ve expanded their diets.”
I could feel the revulsion convulse through her.
We had earlier taken care of the chickens. I burped quietly, my belly content in the greasy soaking. I opened the pigpen. The giant five hundred pound sow named Charlotte looked expectantly at me like it was feeding time. Her suckling saw daylight and went, I would imagine, whee, whee, whee all the way home.
Charlotte was having none of it. She had spent her entire life in this fifteen by fifteen foot stall while the human caregivers had constantly brought her food and water. Her rudimentary mind had c
ome to the conclusion that she must be some sort of revered being, which in all actuality isn’t too far from the truth. Problem being though, when her end came it wasn’t going to be on a burning Viking ship. More like a burning barbecue pit with some spice rub and a keg of cold beer. Maybe the Super Bowl on T.V.
“Mike?” Carol asked. “You alright?”
“Sorry, thinking about something infinitely better.”
“Aren’t we all,” she responded.
I could only nod in agreement.
Bessie saw me coming, her eyes widened in fear. Couldn’t say I blamed her. How long would it take to field dress a t-bone out of her? The chicken grumbled in my belly.
“You’re lucky, old girl.”
“Lucky?” Carol asked. “She’s most likely going to freeze to death.”
“Oh, that,” I answered guiltily.
Carol opened the door to Bessie’s pen. Bessie looked around in confusion. Sure she was a cow but she had to know on some level that when animals left this barn they didn’t come back. Had her time finally come? She looked directly at me. I must have had one of those huge cartoon clouds over my head with a hamburger in it because she took off for the door.
“Good luck, girl.” I said to Bessie’s retreating back. “I wish we could have spent more time together,” as I rubbed my belly.
“Mike, don’t make me take back all those good things I said about you.”
I put my arm around her shoulder as her tears flowed freely.
“It’s really over isn’t it?” she asked as she sniffed her nose.
“Pretty much.” I had come to terms with my fate. I’m not saying I enjoyed it or was looking forward to it, but there was a breath of freedom in it all the same.
Carol and I walked up to the old house. The departing cold winter sun was slowly being replaced by an even colder full moon. It looked as large as a plate as it hung low on the horizon.
“At least we’ll be able to see them,” I said.
“And that’s good how?” Jen asked rhetorically as Carol and I approached up the stairs.
I don’t think the zombies much cared about the psychological effect of attacking at night. This was going to be more of a timing issue for them. When they got here they would attack, pure, plain and simple. As soon as Jen had helped Carol get back into the house, I reattached the rope alarm. No sense in getting caught with our pants down. Then I thought of Cash, and all of a sudden my analogy didn’t seem quite so humorous. The sun setting in the west and the moon rising in the east were near equidistant to the horizon when I implemented the most crucial element of the plan.