by Mark Tufo
But these new things in this place. They were different; they thought, they strategized, and they were also on the zombie diet. That, above everything, proved my point. Zombies, the most disgustingly wretched plague to ever walk my planet or this one, weren’t cannibalistic, go figure.
I started to hear some morning birds chattering early. It was then that I thought we might make it through the night; that was the first inkling of true hope I’d had in hours. An hour or so later, without any signs of an attack, the finger rays of sunlight were peeking over the tree line, and I realized we’d lived to see another day. To what end, I don’t know. Even this high up, I could smell the stench of zombies, so they didn’t really care about my new outlook.
“Gonna let go now, Ponch, you alright?” John asked.
“I’m good, man.” I felt his hand unhook from my belt, he stood and stretched. Now that I could actually see where I was, I really wished I could weld myself to the roof.
“I’m going to get some water, want to come with me?” John asked. He was heading back up to the very top.
I stayed low and turned my head to watch. He looked like a mountain goat on a cliff’s ledge without a care in the world. I really wanted to go back down to the relative safety of the parapet in all honesty, but I would wait up on the top to make sure John was safe.
I carefully turned myself around so that I was oriented towards him and mostly crab-walked up to the top. What greeted me was a sight that should greet no one. John was standing there naked, a pool of his discarded clothes at his feet.
“A warning would have been nice,” I told him when I got to him.
Where he stood there was about a seven foot diameter circle that was completely flat. A small hatch with a spinning wheel handle like you see in subs was standing open. An even skinnier ladder led down into the murky blackness of the water holding tank.
“You’re going down there?” I asked, trying to peer down.
“Hell yeah! Even going to take a bath.”
“I’m sure the residents of Amissus will be super appreciative of that, probably going to be giving out contact highs for the next week as they drink and bathe in that water.”
John laughed. “What can I say? I like to spread my joy around!”
He grabbed the ladder and began his descent.
“You sure about this?” I asked as he began to disappear.
His echoed voice rang out in response, “Water’s cold!”
He splashed down there for half an hour at least. I sat down, even thought about dozing. My head kept bobbing off to the side and would jolt me awake. I was awoken to have John standing in front of me, soaking wet, the only small miracle I was thankful for was that the sun was shining brightly between his legs and blotted out his nether region.
“Want some?” John asked, handing me a Phrito bag overflowing with water.
I drank it down greedily. I even have to admit that the slightly salty taste mixed in with the water was heavenly. He handed me another one when I finished. I thought better of asking him how he carried them up, some things were best left unsaid. John grabbed his clothes and began to stroll back down the roof.
“See you down there,” he told me.
I basked a little longer in the sun, thought momentarily about going down into the tank and then decided against it when I would have had to get by at least three phobia’s. By the time I had meandered back down onto the ledge, John had his clothes under him and was sun bathing.
“Again with the nude thing?” I asked him.
He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.
I did a once around the perimeter, expecting a howler to pull out from the shadows at almost every turn. But they were gone, both living and dead, they were gone. They’d be back if we stayed, and I wasn’t prepared for another night up here, both mentally or physically. It was with that thought I headed back to John and was about to tell him that we needed to come up with a plan to get past the zombies below.
Then we heard shots.
John sat up. I looked over the railing searching for the source. I hadn’t heard any other humans since the first couple, and that hadn’t ended so well for them.
“I see something,” John said, standing next to me, his wet thigh up against mine.
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all, man.”
“Good to know,” I told him, but he was right. Where he was pointing a man was running in our general direction.
“What’s the fool doing?” I asked. He was heading right into a trap. “Oh,” I said a moment later when I spotted what he was running from. “Son of bitch, we’re going to have a lot more zombies soon.”
He was closing fast, almost unnaturally so, and still he was losing ground. He wasn’t going to make it, not if he had to fight his way through our modest horde. I had a great distrust of humans: living, undead, dead, living dead, they were all assholes in my book. But this guy needed help, and I at least had to give him the benefit of the doubt.
I yelled to him and started shooting zombies that were beginning to coalesce on him. He looked up quickly to where the shots were coming from and kept advancing. The guy could shoot, that was for sure.
“Nice gun,” I said aloud.
“What?” Trip asked.
“That guy has a nice gun,” I elaborated as I kept aerating zombies.
“Is it a size thing?” Trip asked.
“I didn’t say his gun was bigger, I said it was nicer. Put some damn clothes on or you’re going to scare him away, and if my eyes aren’t lying I think he has grenades.”
“Wonderful! I love grenades!” John said as he went over to his pile of clothing.
Meeting
Jack looked up as he scaled the ladder and saw two faces peering down on him. One of the men looked pale, as if he could throw up at any moment. The thought of being covered in vomit almost made him begin climbing down to take his chances with those below. The other man was a heavily-bearded fellow wearing a shit-eating grin, and looked like he enjoyed the Sixties a little too much.
He had no idea what to make of the two as he continued upward. They had saved him, but what exactly was he climbing into? That really didn’t matter at the moment. The reek and moans of the zombies below didn’t provide for too many options. Although, he hoped the one man could hold onto his lunch until he was off the ladder. As he approached the top, one of the men pulled back out of view. Jack didn’t know what to expect, all he could hope for was that his descent was not down the express lane.
“That’s far enough,” Mike said to Jack, leveling his rifle on Jack’s forehead. “I’d appreciate if you’d put your safety on and keep your hands away from those shiny grenades.”
“I would really love a grenadine,” Trip said, hopping back and forth from foot to foot.
“Easy, man. No worries,” Jack replied, reaching down to the M-4 that was hanging from the sling at his side. “There…better? And I’d appreciate it if you’d aim your weapon somewhere else. I’m not overly fond of a barrel in my face.”
“Sorry, man. It’s been a tough road, and friends and people you can trust have been hard to come by.” Mike lowered his weapon. Jack couldn’t help but notice that the man didn’t shoulder it or throw the safety on. “Who are you?”
“I can certainly understand that. I’m Jack. I don’t blame you for being cautious, but do you mind if I climb the rest of the way up? As much as I’m enjoying hanging out on the ladder, I’d feel better if I could get off it. Oh, and just so you know, I left my last two grenades on the ground below,” Jack answered.
“Can you tell my friend that you don’t have any grenadines?” Mike reached down and helped Jack up onto the parapet. “My name is Mike, and this bearded fellow here goes by John the Tripper or Trip, you’ll figure out why soon enough. Okay, next question. Are you from around here?”
“Grenadines? I’m not sure I even know what those are, and I can therefore assure you that I don’t have any. Nor do I have any pocket gnomes
if that helps any. Nice to meet you, Mike,” Jack said, sticking his hand out. “From around here? Um, no. I don’t even know where the fuck here is, other than some mention of ‘Amissus’ or some fuck or the other.”
“Lost.” Trip stated, fumbling for something in his pocket.
“According to my learned friend, Amissus means Lost in Latin. Rich right? We found ourselves deposited in this shit hole two days ago and have been dealing with zombies and howlers ever since,” Mike stated.
Jack edged his hand closer to his M-4 as the man going by John dove into his pockets. He didn’t seem overly stable.
“Want a toke?” Trip asked Mike and Jack, producing a perfectly spun marijuana cigarette.
“I thought I smelled that above the reek of those fuckers below. By the way, thanks and nice shooting,” Jack said, relaxing. Answering John, he said, “No thanks, but it is nice meeting you, John.”
“Glad you’re not the shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later type,” Mike said as he released his empty magazine from its well. “And I could say the same about you, some amazing moves, man.”
“It depends on the situation, I guess. But it wouldn’t be overly friendly to shoot someone who just saved my butt. And thanks, I get lucky sometimes. By the way, I have to say it...nice shoes. Do they go with the poncho as part of some outfit?” Jack asked.
“Long story, and I doubt you’d believe a third of it, let’s just say I had some wardrobe help from my friend here.” Mike reached out and squeezed Trip’s shoulder.
“You mentioned howlers. What are those? Zombies I’ve already had the misfortune to become acquainted with,” Jack stated.
“Well, where I’m from, zombies rule the roost. The rest of us are just trying to survive. Then, my buddy and I find ourselves here, and it appears that zombies have made the journey with us. And there’s this super zombie, but not really because my zombies like to eat these new ones. We call them ‘howlers’ because of the noise they make. I’ll tell you what, they scare the hell out me. They made it up this tower like it was a sand castle…that’s another thing zombies can’t do,” Mike said with a shudder.
“Well, isn’t that just fucking peachy? I was hoping you were from here, and I could figure this place out. I’m just looking to get back home to my kids and girlfriend, but I’ll be damned if I know how. Shit, I don’t even know how I got here. I’ll admit that I’m not overly fond of zombies that can run. Fuck that nonsense. So…question. Do these howlers, as you call them, come out during the day, or have you only seen them at night?” Jack asked, trying to get a handle on a situation that seemed to be only getting worse.
“Only at night, and they fry like an egg left on an Arizona sidewalk during the day,” Mike answered. “You know about them?”
“I was going to tell you about some night runners I ran into last night. I’m guessing they’re one and same as your ‘howlers’. That’s the world I come from. They have night vision capabilities, can hear like a wolf, run around in packs, and can detect scent like nothing else. Oh yeah, and they’re stronger and faster. Fucking great, eh?” Jack replied. “What about these zombie things? Are there a lot that can run like that?”
“Shit, man. I thought we had it bad. When the outbreak happened, it was the slow ones that started the whole train. Thing was, they had to die and reanimate so, at first, they were slow. Then, as the virus, or whatever the hell it was, mutated, the human host didn’t die first, so the body was kept intact. So, we have zombie version two-point-oh, and your traditional slow shuffler. More of either of them than is worth counting. Are you guys overrun with these night runners? That’s a more apt (and scarier) name. How are any of you surviving?” Mike asked.
Jack chuckled at the mention of “zombie version two-point-oh” and realized that these two men he had run into weren’t that bad and, if he were to be honest, he rather enjoyed their company; or was at least comfortable with them, even if John did seem a little out there. I guess that’s why he was named ‘John the Tripper.’
“We survive one day at a time. We’ve built a sanctuary against them and we have the day to do what we need. It looks like we have time as we’re not going anywhere soon,” Jack said, looking over the railing. “Where I’m from, most of humanity was wiped out from a flu virus and subsequent vaccine. Seventy percent just died. Less than one percent lived through it; a lot less now. The rest turned into these night runners.”
“We’re from different worlds, but the similarities are too striking to be completely coincidental. Our world got screwed over by a tainted flu vaccine. Nearly all who received it died, most of those turned into zombies. I’ve got to figure ninety percent of the world’s population has become flesh eaters. Of the ten percent of humanity left, we’ve been culled pretty good. We’re holding on by a fingernail, and I’d still take that place over this one. At least I’d be with my family.”
Mike wasn’t sure why he was opening up to the man, but he seemed an honorable warrior, much like he considered himself. Just mentioning his girlfriend and kids had made Mike feel for him.
“My wife once made me watch a movie that had aliens in it. They took men and women from all different worlds and made them into prey for the predators. I can’t remember the name of the movie though,” Trip said as he took a big influx of smoke.
Mike and Jack both looked over at Trip, each deciding how much validity they wanted to put into Trip’s words.
“Yeah. I’m with you. This world sucks, although I’m not overly envious of the one you come from. At least I have my kids in my world. Look, it seems like we aren’t going to shoot each other. You’re going to need these if we’re dealing with night runners,” Jack said, removing his NVGs and handing them to Mike. Replying to Trip, “I’ve seen that movie. I can’t remember the name either.”
“Thank you,” Mike said, looking over his new toy. “Please tell me we’re not in someone’s experiment. Listen, I’ve got a fair amount of ammo, but I’m telling you that staying up here tonight is no bargain. The night runners know we’re here, and the zombies are somewhat of a deterrent. It didn’t stop them last night, and I can’t imagine it will stop them tonight. Me and Trip went through a military blockade a couple of miles away. We could go back and check the rest of the stuff. My last visit was cut short.”
“I hope we aren’t as well. I was really hoping you knew a way out of this place. I have a little ammo as well, and the last place I want to be is out in the open at night. Fuck that. I wish I had more grenades so we could carve a hole through our friends downstairs. Do you have anything that makes noise? We could make a distraction,” Jack asked.
Mike looked over the railing at the zombies that had coalesced around the ladder entrance.
“Want some more water, Ponch. I’m going to get some.” Trip asked, oblivious to the entire conversation going on around him.
“You going back up to the top?” Mike asked his friend.
Trip walked away.
“Excuse me for a sec, Jack,” Mike said as he followed Trip around the parapet.
Trip opened up a small utility access panel, a normal looking garden spigot was recessed inside.
“Jack!” Mike shouted, “I think you’re going to want to see this!”
Jack walked to where Mike and Trip were gathered around an opened hatch. “Well, that’s handy. It will be nice to fill up, but, honestly, I’m not all that keen on staying up here for long, although I haven’t the foggiest idea how to get through the horde below.”
“I wonder if running water would be enough of a distraction. It’s not all that far from we’re we’ll be leaving the ladder, but it’s something. Maybe we take a few pot shots at some of the faster ones and then make a break for it,” Mike said as he watched Trip place his entire mouth over the spigot. “You know other people would like to drink from that, right?” Mike asked.
“Dude chill-lax. There’s plenty of water in there,” Trip answered, tapping the tank.
“Speaking of which, you were swimmi
ng in it. I don’t feel so thirsty anymore,” Mike said queasily.
“Seriously? You were swimming in it? How in the hell were you swimming in it?” Taking the pack from his shoulder, Jack removed one of the water bottles from inside and handed it to Mike. “Here, you might like this a little better. It’s fresh from the Arcadia Mountains. Wherever the fuck that is. I’m just curious, how many were in the pack of night runners?”
“Thanks, man.” Mike took the bottle, making as little a show as possible of seeing if the safety cap was still sealed.
He’d only known Jack for a short amount of time and was unsure how many of his psychoses he was willing to share just yet.
“The pack, man. I bet there had to be at least thirty that I saw, maybe as many as fifty total. They fought the zombies tooth and nail just to get to the structure and the ladder. They used tactics as well. I wasn’t expecting that. We knew we weren’t going to be able to defend this position, and Trip found a way onto the top of the structure. There is only one way up there, and I killed them as they came. It got close a few times.”
“Yeah, they’re wily like that. You never know how they’re going to come at you. Looks like you got a few. How many do you think are left?” Jack asked, looking at the blood splashes on the parapet and against the side of the tower.
“I got ten-ish, the zombies…maybe half that. So I’d say this particular pack has roughly thirty really pissed off members left. Is that about a normal pack size? Will they merge with other groups?” Mike asked.