by Mark Tufo
Chapter 20
The slaughter begins
Journal Entry – 17
* * *
Eventually I will tell you what happened while I traveled the netherworlds, but that all hinges on what happens in the foreseeable future. I had come out from under my unnatural hibernation in remarkably good shape. There were no ill effects that I knew about; they would manifest later. I had lost weight and I was as thirsty as I had ever been, but after downing three huge glasses of water, I felt right as rain, even more so. Now I know this sounds weird, but power is the word that comes foremost in my mind. Maybe healthy would be a better descriptive, but not as accurate or as powerful. I just don’t know and I really don’t have the time to dwell on it.
As I dressed, I peered out the window, appalled at what my vision took in. That alone should have frozen my bowels. Thousands upon thousands of zombies were shuffling their way to our haven. Gunshots that had moments before been sporadic and spread out were now continuous and unrelenting. Hundreds of zombies fell. It didn’t matter. It was like burning ants with a magnifying glass, kill one there’s a thousand more to take its place. It seemed more a waste of bullets. Most of the shot zombies were still moving. Headshots were for trained marksmen, and most of these folks were anything but. If they were used to shooting at all, it was at center mass on a five hundred pound elk, a much easier shot than the twenty pound melon of a human head. Even if they were zombies, it was still unimaginably tough for these people to get over the aversion of shooting a human form. At least if they made a shot to the body it would be less noticeable and therefore more palatable.
The only thing we had going for us was that once the shot zombie hit the deck he was likely to become ground beef from the hordes that would pass over the unlucky soul. I had made my decision. I would stay and fight until it was a lost cause. Regarding the outcome to Little Turtle, I already knew the answer. What remained to be seen was if I could get my loved ones out of this mess intact. I was duty bound, and worse, honor bound to help the residents as best I could. I would not desert them. Justin had managed to get out of his bed, although it had cost him nearly his entire reservoir of energy. I caught him as he was putting on his socks.
“Where are you planning on going?” I asked him sternly.
He looked up. I involuntarily stepped back. His features were starkly outlined from the darkness that rimmed his eyes. His skin was pulled tight in some places and slack in others. The effect was disconcerting.
“To help,” he answered, taking a break after putting his right sock on.
“The only thing you’d be able to help with is getting us in trouble.” I didn’t mean to be so callous it just came out. If it came down to a footrace with a zombie and Justin, smart money went on the undead.
Justin’s eyes welled up with hurt and rejection. “I just want to help, Dad. I want to make sure Mom and Nicole are going to be all right.”
“That’s what I want, too, Justin. But I’m also concerned about you, Travis, Brendon, Tommy, and everyone else. You get the point, right? I’m not sure you could shoot a gun without falling over.” I hadn’t appeased him at all. He still appeared dejected. “Justin, if you can carry this ammo can,” which I was holding, “I’ll think about letting you come.” I wasn’t going to anyway, but I figured I’d give him a chance.
He eyed the can speculatively. Full of ammo, they can top fifty pounds. He was having difficulty with an eight ounce sock.
“Dad?” he said with true remorse.
I felt his pain. “Justin, you need to stay here with Paul and defend the fort.”
His eyes closed in defeat. I crossed the room and grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes to mine. “You’ve seen Paul shoot, right?” I asked him. He perked a little at that. “If everything goes to hell, Justin, I’m going to need you here with all of your strength, for your Mom, for Nicole.”
He knew he was being manipulated, but he didn’t feel useless any more, he had a purpose.
“Okay, Dad,” he said as he laid his body back down. “I’ll go defend the house as soon as I get up.”
“Good idea,” I told him with a small laugh as I tousled his hair. His head still felt warm, not the dizzyingly burning heat it was before, but I didn’t think he was out of the woods completely.
Paul was waiting in the hallway as I quietly exited the room and shut the door.
“How’s he doing?” Paul asked.
“I wish we had more medicine and a highly skilled doctor,” I said to him.
Paul’s features furrowed in shame.
“Dude, I only have so much energy to pick people up. Listen, I don’t think he’s going to turn into a zombie, but he’s got an infection of some sort. Who knows what kind of germs the undead carry, I’m sure they don’t respond to Purell. Listen, bud, I told you before, I’m not blaming you for what happened, so get over it.”
Paul looked even more hurt at those words.
“But now it’s time for payback,” I told him.
He looked at me, trying to ascertain my meaning.
“If something happens to me, whether today, tomorrow or any other day for that matter, you (and I emphasized ‘you’) are to take control of this family, because that’s what we are now. It’s not just you and Erin anymore.”
He looked at me, absorbing all that I was telling him. I could tell from the time it took him to process this information that he hadn’t thought of it like this yet. Paul had always had an unnaturally high fear of commitment. I still sometimes wondered how Erin was able to get him to marry her. She’d probably had to resort to blackmail.
“Paul,” I said trying to shake him out of whatever thought loop he was in. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
He nodded ever so slightly. I wasn’t overly thrilled with his response.
“Paul, YOU are the last line of defense here,” I told him. Paul weakly motioned towards Justin’s door. “Dude, I’m not sure he has enough strength to get out of bed if he needs to piss. If push comes to shove though, he will get up and do what he can when the time comes.” What I left unsaid was that I didn’t have that same faith in Paul. I think he got the underlying current of my meaning.
He looked hurt when he spoke. “You know I’d do anything for you Mike, and the kids… and Tracy,” he added hastily.
I eased up. “That’s all I needed to know, Paul. We’ll be back.”
Travis and Brendon were waiting impatiently by the door, rifles and ammunition cans by their sides. Tommy was on the couch doing a crossword puzzle. Not a lick of concern creased his features.
“Hey, Mr. T,” Tommy said from his seated position, looking up at me with a big smile across his face.
God I loved that kid, he knew what was going on and was in a great mood despite it. It was infectious. I smiled back. “Yeah, what’s up, Tommy?”
“What’s a four-letter word for ‘seven days?’”
At first I didn’t grasp the question, and then I noticed the puzzle book in his lap. My dim-watted bulb finally flickered on. “Week, Tommy, it’s a week,” I answered, happy to be able to help him.
His expression changed dramatically; he became extremely solemn when he replied. I would have almost thought he was a different person as he intoned, “Exactly.”
I know my face ashened. I could feel the blood running out of it. Tommy had just told us how long we had. I opened the door and headed out before anyone could see my betraying visage. We had enough to be worried about. I was hoping that nobody else hearing Tommy’s words had come to the same realization. If they did, nobody said anything. Brendon, Travis and I went to find the best vantage point to begin our beleaguered defense.
Before we climbed the guard tower, I got them into a small group huddle. “Listen to me, boys.” It was difficult to be heard over the cacophony of battle. I shouted again. “Boys! We do not separate. Do you understand?” I looked at each one in turn to get my confirmation nod. “If you need to take a piss or get something to eat
or just take a rest, you go home and you go with each other, do you understand?” Again I looked for and received the confirmation nod. My words were having the desired effect. I wasn’t sure that they were getting the seriousness of the situation we were about to become engaged in. Fear rimmed their eyes as much as their male bravado tried to suppress it. Scared was good though. Scared kept people, soldiers, alive. It was fuckin’ heroics that got good people killed. I made it abundantly clear I didn’t want any heroes.
“Once these walls are breached…” I started.
Brendon’s eyes snapped to mine. “Breached?” he asked incredulously.
“Dad?” Travis asked.
My heart dropped, his fear was palpable.
They both looked like they wanted to bolt for home right now. Trust me, I wanted to join them.
“Holy shit, Mike,” Brendon said. He looked back towards the house. I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to get Nicole and get the hell out of Dodge while the getting was good.
I grabbed his arm to focus his attention back on me. “Brendon, you’ve seen what’s on the other side of that wall, right?” He nodded. “How far do you think you’d get?” He still wasn’t convinced. “There’s nowhere to go, yet.” He looked back at me, all of his hope fixated on that one small word, ‘yet.’
“Now listen,” I said to them both, “I have a plan for when...” And I stressed ‘when.’ “…this wall is breached, but it depends on all of us making it back to the house. Once the zombies are in the compound it’s going to be everyone for themselves. As hard as it might be, I don’t give a shit what else is happening, when I tell you to get your asses back to the house, you’ll do just that. Don’t stop for anything or anybody. You two are my responsibility. If one of you decides to take matters into his own hands, I will have to go and find you. Now if something happens to one of you and to me, all of my plans go down the shitter.” This is when I drove my point home. “Now if I’m gone, you’ve sealed Mom’s, Nicole’s, Justin’s, and Tommy’s fate…not to mention Henry. When I say home, we ALL go!”
For the moment, the boys crowded so close to me that we looked like some humanoid form of octopi. That was just fine with me. We climbed up the nearest tower. It was forty yards from the house. Even at a slow trot we should be able to make it home in under ten seconds. That was little solace as I turned my gaze away from my home and into the crevice of psychosis.
“Glad you could make it,” Alex said as he clasped my shoulder.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I replied.
Alex looked at me, trying to decide if I were serious or not. I let him keep wondering as I shouldered my rifle.
Four hours later, my shoulder throbbed, my back ached, my trigger finger was having muscles spasms, and still they plodded on. This wasn’t a battle in the traditional sense. We shot firearms, they caught lead. There was no battle cry, no call to arms, no rallying, no retreating, no strategy. Just onward, relentless, implacable, obdurate, pitiless forward momentum. Those that fell weren’t heroically pulled up and treated in the rear echelons. They didn’t cry out in vain. They didn’t scream for their mothers or a nonpartisan god, Buddha or Hare-fuckin’-Krishna. They fell like cordwood: hundreds upon hundreds of men, women, and children. I couldn’t convince myself—no matter how much I tried—to shoot a child. I knew instinctually that they weren’t human, and given the chance, they would eat me alive, but I could not bring myself to shoot anything under four feet tall. I made sure to always keep my aiming point higher than that. My nightmares were going to have nightmares already. I was not going to compound it further.
So far, the merciless gunfire had kept the zombies from reaching the walls, but that was going to change real soon. It had been a stalemate to this point, our lead for their bodies. It had been light out; we had been well rested and still stocked with plenty of ammunition. All the pros in our corner were as rapidly retreating as the sun over the Rockies. Every able-bodied person with a gun had been manning these walls, and we had done little more than delay the inevitable. With darkness came fatigue and hunger and hell, probably even shock and trauma. As people peeled away from their posts, the zombies gained precious inches.
I had finally been able to stretch out my trigger finger, although I was now suspecting it might always include a perceptible hook. Travis was leaning against the far side of the railing his head drooping ever so slightly and his eyes following suit. Brendon wasn’t faring much better. When I had first been exposed to combat in Afghanistan I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep for a week. The rampaging fear and adrenaline rush commingled into one hell of a toxic stimulant, but it came at an extreme price to your system. The crash was a near catatonic state. I could sleep for almost forty-eight hours straight after a firefight. I knew what was coming. The boys would have to learn the hard way.
“Brendon, take Travis and head back to the house,” I told him. He may have wanted to argue but he was already riding down the other side of the adrenalin slope. He clapped Travis on the shoulder and motioned towards the house. Travis looked back at me and I nodded my approval. “I’ll be there soon,” I assured him.
The fifteen or so people that had started the day on this platform were now whittled down to three. Myself, Alex and a third guy I didn’t remember ever seeing before.
“Some day, huh?” Alex said as he slid down to sit next to me.
“I’ve had better,” I answered in a serious tone.
Again Alex just looked at me trying to ascertain my true meaning.
“I’m sorry,” I laughed. “It’s my New England sarcasm coming out in full force.” Folks that don’t come from that region have a difficult time truly understanding what is being said to them. Many will find it an abrasive form of communication. It is, without a doubt, an acquired mode of information dissemination.
Alex appreciated my honesty. “So how do you think it went?” he asked.
“About how I expected,” I told him. He kept looking for more so I elaborated. It was much easier talking now that most of the gunfire had fell off to some sporadic shots. “You can do the math as well as I can, Alex. This is a lesson in futility. We’ll be out of ammo in a few days…a week at most. Then, I don’t know, the food might hold out for a month and then what, we can’t go anywhere.”
“What about the truck? Couldn’t we fill it with as many people as possible and just run the smelly bastards over?” Alex asked with a glimmer of hope.
“You gonna pick who stays and who goes?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“We could do a lottery or something.”
“Yeah that’ll go over well. You better hope all the ammo is gone before you make that little proposition. Besides it won’t work.”
Alex looked to me to question the validity of my statement.
I obliged. “The truck will make it through the first few waves, and then the bodies will start to mount. You’ll end up high centering on them, and that’s if the radiator isn’t damaged from the excessive hits.”
He wasn’t done letting go of his idea. What was the harm, we only had time on our hands now. “What if we fixed it with a plow?” He was piquing my interest. “I could attach a grill that would protect the engine housing and we could put a skirt around the entire thing so no bodies would fit under it.”
The more he talked the more convinced I became that his idea had some merit. The problem was that we had close to three hundred residents here and this wasn’t going to be an alternative for about two hundred and fifty of them. But some was better than none. I started to head down the ladder.
“Where you going?” Alex asked.
“I’m going to talk to Jed and let him figure out how to choose who stays and who goes, and then I’m going home to get my finger massaged.”
Alex laughed, “Yeah, your finger,” he said with air quotes. “Is that more of your New England sarcasm?”
I don’t know if we were going to have enough time together for him to realize when I was kidding or n
ot, but I honestly meant ‘my finger.’ Eh, let him think what he wants. Sex might not be the furthest thing from my mind, but I could almost guarantee it wasn’t even on Tracy’s radar screen.
Finding Jed was not all that difficult. He had pretty much set up residence in the clubhouse since the beginning. He was sipping some hot coffee over by the fireplace. He had the look of a man who wasn’t going to warm up anytime soon. He was a tough old bird, he probably only beat me here by a few minutes. He smiled a little when he saw me enter. He winced a bit as he raised his arm up to motion me over.
“Your shoulder hurting, too?” I asked him.
“Why the hell I thought buying a twelve gauge shotgun was a good idea I’ll never know. My arm’s stiffer than a sailor’s dick at a Village People reunion tour,” he guffawed.
“What is it with all the sexual references?” I asked. Jed ignored me.
“So what do you want, Talbot?” Jed asked.
“Am I that easy to read?” I asked, the surprise clear on my face.
“Just don’t ever cheat on your wife. She’d be able to tell before you got out of your car.”
“Yeah I don’t play cards either just for that reason.”
Jed arched an eyebrow at me, furiously rubbing his hands together for the meager generation of heat it created.
“Okay, Alex has an idea that I think might work.”
“So at this point is it ‘and’ or ‘but’?” he asked.
“Wow, it is a good thing I didn’t mess around with Allison,” I said with introspect. “But...”
“Wonderful, I was hoping for some ‘but’.”
“This isn’t another sexual reference is it?”
“Look at me, Talbot. When do you think is the last time I had sex, damn, even a hard on for that matter?”
There was another visual I was now going to be laden with until my dying days. “Thanks,” I muttered.