Stronghold

by Ron Tufo

  Once they got going, Rte.7 came into view. Andrew was just easing into the turn south when he noticed a pick-up truck blocking the road with a guy next to it, waving his arms. Well, two things happened simultaneously. First, Andrew considered why on earth a truck would be down sideways across the road. He started to slow the car as Jerome asked, “Why do the two men behind us have guns?”

  Mrs. Mitchell didn’t raise no fool. He jammed on the brakes hard enough to force the kids to bounce off the front seat. Then he geared into reverse as fast as any Nascar driver ever shifted. Tires were screaming as he gunned it straight back without even looking. Big thump and then thump again. He had just snapped the leg of the closest bad guy and threw the other one for a spin, resulting in some major roadrash. These jerks were no doubt the tail end of an ambush. Melissa once again gave Andrew the I had no idea you had this stuff in you and I am impressed! look, beaming at him.

  Andrew tried to smile at the compliment but couldn’t manage any facial contortions other than terror. The man at the truck pointed his rifle at the car. Jerome and Louis ducked and covered quickly, pulling Iza down with them, as she was rubbernecking, trying to see what was going on.

  A single rifle shot rang out, caught the headlight and sent shards of glass flying every which way, some of which hit the now one-legged man in the face. Talk about silver linings.

  One Leg yelped as the glass shredded some skin and started to swear at the shooter. “Christ man! Can’t you even hit a car windshield?” Those few precious seconds were all Andrew needed to back around the corner and take off in another direction–any other direction. The kids were terrified and screaming. Melissa was terrified and screaming. Andrew was just terrified. The limbic part of his brain that controlled the fight or flight impulse had pegged the meter in the flight column. All he could think about was taking enough turns so the bad guys couldn’t follow. Good news, he was able to lose them right away. One Leg was not going to be in any car chases any time soon and his buddies were not inclined to go anywhere without him. Bad news, though, was with all the slick maneuvering, now they had absolutely no freakin’ idea where they were.

  Thank goodness the dashboard compass was pretty much idiot proof. You want to go east, just keep on roads where the compass is displaying eastbound. Fortunately, the compass was digital. I guarantee if it was a traditional round compass with a needle, our intrepid travelers would still be circling the globe. None of them were boy or girl scouts and it never ceases to surprise me about the most basic survival skills that today’s kids lack.

  Melissa kind of nailed it with her next witty comment. “Let’s just keep going east until we see the ocean. If we get wet, we have gone too far! It will eventually take us to Rte.1, then I will be able to tell if we have to go north or south to get home.” She was already beginning to think of getting to Searsport as the same as getting home.

  The kids were, thankfully, calming down a bit. They were all holding each other for support. Would have been kind of cute if the circumstances encouraging a little human contact had been different.

  From the last time they’d known exactly where they were, there had been only about an hour left to drive before they got to the Talbot compound. Andrew let the kids know that. Maybe they would get some emotional benefit from knowing they were almost to their new home. What he didn’t figure was that they would all start crying. Melissa whacked him hard on the arm. “You big dummy! You have just reminded them what they have left behind. Family and friends they know, deep down, they will never see again.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew she had chosen them wrong. Now Andrew started to get teary also. He had just come to grips with the fact that his folks, his friends, his family, were also probably no longer amongst the living. Melissa reached for his hand and gripped it tightly. “Oh, Dew, I am so sorry.”

  The next long minutes of the drive were uncomfortably filled with the heartrending moans and sobs of exhausted, bereft young people.

  “Ron, if we set some claymores here, we can channel any attack into a killing zone right over there where the tower has a clean shot over the whole area.” Tony was doing his best to distract his eldest son from the growing misery that his daughter was not here yet. Truth be known, dad was every bit as miserable as I was. He too would be greatly relieved when they finally showed up. He was, however, not going to broach the subject again. I would never even consider snapping at my dad, I just had too much love and respect for him, and still I had verbally pile-driven my words through the older man’s chest the last time he asked me how I was holding up.

  I could repeat my response for you here, but explicitly imagine a long sentence perforated throughout with a liberal sprinkling of “Fucks.”

  When I stopped to breathe and to help my father close his mouth, I hugged him harder than I did after we lost my last Little League baseball game. He had been up in the stands to cheer me on and I had struck out with the tying run on third. God, did I feel lousy. He made it better then, and he made it better now.

  “Son, we are all worried sick, but there is not a damn thing we can do except be here for them. Best to keep your mind on other things. You and I are going to walk the perimeter. We will need to concentrate on our surroundings and how to strengthen the edges. You can do this.”

  Yes, dad, with you here I can.

  Moans and sobs, unfortunately, were not the only thing filling the car. That all-too-telltale aroma of heated misty antifreeze on rubber had begun to permeate the cabin. Andrew turned to Melissa again and sought a time check. “About three minutes less than the last time you asked me.” It seemed Melissa, too, is capable of biting retorts. Can’t pull back the words, so she gave Andrew an I’m sorry expression.

  Louis sniffed the air loudly and was the first to verbalize the worst thought. “Dude, the engine is going to seize up before we can go much farther.”

  Everyone, but everyone, looked at him with a You know this because…? look.

  He replied back: “I used to spend a lot of time with my dad fixing old cars in the backyard. There is no mistaking an antifreeze leak. I’ll bet you that when that pickup truck guy shot out the headlight he also took out a radiator hose. If it’s not too bad I can maybe fix it, temporarily.”

  Andrew was astounded. He may be a terrific musician, but he had no idea how to do a field repair on a car.

  Louis remarked, “I will need some duct tape, of course. I read somewhere that duct tape works on anything and everything besides an actual duct…and all the liquid we have. I don’t care what it is, soda, water, milk, whatever. All this won’t last all that long, but it will get us farther than we would have.”

  Andrew’s dad, Ed Mitchell, became Saint Ed on this day. When they dug into the trunk under the hatchback it was like they had found the gemstone from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Sitting there was a brand new roll of Gorilla tape and a gallon of water, like he’d been prepping for just this sort of thing. They waited and watched for some time while the car cooled down, then Louis had the fix done in no time. Besides the water, Melissa and Iza had to donate their last swigs of Coca-Cola…oh the things we do for the cause, poor babies. For once, no one and nothing approached them and they were able to get on the way yet again.

  They came onto Rte. 1 just south of Bucksport in the town of Stockton Springs. As they entered onto the coastal route, they could see a crowd of people a little way behind them.

  Iza shouted, “People! I see people. A whole bunch of them. Let’s stop and say hi.” Louis and Jerome thought it would be cool also, and besides, it would give the car a rest and Louis could check on the repair. That sealed the deal.

  Andrew agreed, but told them, “We can’t stop for long. It’s already getting dark and I really want to be done with this madness.”

  They all got out of the car to stretch. Louis opened the hood and started to futz around inside, a technical term Andrew himself used. The others waited for the people to get close enough to say hello. Th
ey smiled; no one smiled back. They waved; no one waved back. Still too far away to make out any details, but Melissa was getting concerned that no one had acknowledged their presence. Yes, it was dusk; maybe they just hadn’t seen them yet.

  Iza and the boys were excited and started to walk toward the crowd. Andrew and Melissa were a bit more laid back; they were just lounging against the car.

  Suddenly, our fanatical friend, old Abner Littlejerk, let’s out with: “Sinners! Sinners! You must repent your misbegotten ways and become one of the chosen faithful!” How he’d gotten so far down the road from home we never found out, but he stopped the kids in their tracks. If you think Andrew shifted gears back in Waterville quickly, he had nothing on the kids’ change of direction.

  As they started to back up, Abner and his sidekick googly-eyed wife, Ida Maeve, started to pick up speed also. Seems they didn’t want their “sinners” to get away. Andrew and Melissa stared in shock at the zombie republic marching behind Abner, who shifted too, from a pokey shuffle to a brisk shamble. The kids moved into full retreat. Andrew and Melissa couldn’t quite make out the words from Abner Littledick but it sure didn’t sound like an invitation to dinner, or, if it was, it wasn’t one they’d gladly accept.

  Andrew slammed the hood down and everyone flew into the car.

  “Andrew, how can those two people be leading a mess of zombies and not get bit?”

  “Good question, Melissa, but I will give you the same answer as before. How the fuck do I know? I mean, if you really want to know, I can stop and you can go ask them!” Melissa’s eyes were like phasers set to kill. Even a die-hard Star Trek fan would have backed down.

  “Look, sweetheart, I’m sorry…I am scared, hungry, dirty and tired; all I want to do is get to your father’s house and go hide under a bed. I am done!”

  All three kids were looking out the back window. All of them had a terrified look on their faces as the herd of zombies faded into the foggy background. This was not an adventure any longer. It was just plain terrifying to them.

  The right turn heading up the mountain to the compound took forever to reach. There is a twenty-five mph speed limit on the side road while you are near the center of town. To his credit, Andrew kept all four wheels on the pavement while only doubling the speed limit. The usual speed trap that the local police held for unwary tourists was no longer a worry. A couple of miles away was paradise!

  Gary had decided to join Dad and me on the perimeter tour. To Gary’s correct reckoning, it was one more pair of eyes to make sure there no surprises. Tony was happy; he always like to see his sons doing something together. The whole plan of protecting the compound was still a work in progress. There were some excellent ideas that were, regrettably, pushed to the back burner until some suitable materials could be located to implement them. In the short run, it was going be a defense based on where they thought the enemy would most likely try to breech the property. We all know how that usually works out.

  Gary, who was standing a few yards closer to the road, did a classic double take. “Uh, Ron, are you expecting a couple of superheroes from DC and Marvel to join us for dinner?”

  Without looking up, I snarked to dad, “I think he is having another flashback. That’s the third one this year. I told you he did some stuff when he was a teenager that he can’t even spell.”

  “I heard that!” I’m telling you, man, Ironman and the Flash just drove by and they are heading down the road toward the house.”

  “Gary, I will walk naked through the middle of the compound on a clear sunny day singing a Janis Joplin song, and I will give you a month to draw a crowd if there are any superheroes in the driveway when we get back.”

  Dad got a huge kick out of that promise, but I think he was laughing more at the visual of me if I had to pay off. We were just about done with our stump of the perimeter and were coming full circle on my dad’s house when we hear the calls from Squeak and Nancy.

  “Ron! Gary! Tony! They’re here! They’re here! Ron, they’re here!!”

  In his football days, dad was the fastest thing on two feet. I was damned fast in my football days, too. Dad, however, had those Marine Corp reactions. He had two steps on Gary and me before we got it into gear. The race was on.

  I saw the car before I saw the passengers. Andrew was just getting out and smiling so wide I thought he would split a lip. “Hey, Mr. Talbot! We made it! Hope you weren’t too worried. We kept trying to call or text but nothing was working at all.”

  I was trying to listen to him, I really was, but I couldn’t get the passenger door opened quickly enough. Then I realized it was locked. I looked inside quizzically. Melissa’s long overdue meltdown was in full swing. She was crying so hard she couldn’t manage to unlock the door.

  Andrew came over with the key and unlocked it for her. She tumbled into my arms and buried her head in my chest.

  “Oh, dad…daddy! It has been horrible. I saw things I never want to see again. People were killed right in front of me! That little girl! Daddy, her mom got eaten by a little boy! Zombies, dad! Parts of their bodies just came unglued. A priest…he helped us! He was killed by his own parishioners. I have been chased, and I have been shot at.”

  I couldn’t hug my daughter any harder. I couldn’t hold her any tighter. She was home with us. No matter how they got here, they were here. I had honestly given up just about all hope.

  “You are home, sweetie. You are home.” I looked over her head at Andrew and whispered a sobbing “Thank you” to him.

  As Melissa slowly became coherent again, she turned to look in the backseat of the car. My eyes followed hers. “Oh no…oh shit. Oh double shit. This can’t be right!” Then I saw Gary smiling like the cat with the biggest fucking canary ever! Son of a Bitch! Oh, this was gonna suck!

  Andrew introduced his passengers. “Everyone, this is Jerome and Louis. They lost their foster parents and ended up with us. This young lady is Iza with a short i. She’ll be staying with us, too. Andrew won a million bonus points in Melissa’s eyes for not mentioning at all how Iza came to be with them. That was story for adult ears only, later on.

  Gary could not contain himself any longer. “Cool. So you guys are Flash and Ironman! Flash, you are my favorite by the way!” Jerome thrust his chest out so far I thought he was going to burst. Figures, that Gary would be a Flash fan.

  Nancy rounded them all up and got them inside for some hot food and a shower. Beds were prepared, so as soon as they ate and washed up, they could get some badly overdue rest.

  We got a quick breakdown on the perils of the journey to Searsport and why it took them as long as it did. Then Nancy and Lyn told us all to shut up and stop asking questions and got Andrew and Melissa to eat, wash up, and get some rest, also.

  We would pow-wow over coffee in the morning. I was giving five-to-one odds that the news would not be good. I wasn’t getting any takers.

  The Great Truck Liberation

  Well, if crime fighters fight crime and fire fighters fight fire, what do freedom fighters fight? They never mention that part to us, do they? - George Carlin, comedian and philosopher

  How to keep our access road passable and yet defendable was going to be a problem. Gary can get a little carried away sometimes, as he was today at the defense staff meeting comprised of Gary, dad, Wink, and myself. Wink being the only one with any real experience. The man was an Army Ranger Staff Officer. His job, when not killing bad guys, was to present options to his senior officer and to guide, rather firmly, sometimes, said officer into making the right decision, no matter what else the not-so-qualified officer may have wanted to do. Wink was really, really good at that part. More than once he would “suggest” to me what a logical flow of action might be and then sit back and wait until I saw the light and forwarded it into reality. He would then congratulate me on formulating and implementing such a great solution. Left unsaid by him was that it was exactly the solution he had postulated a few minutes ago under different words. Well, I may have an
overly large ego, but I have always kidded him about the fact that he should stop wasting time and just tell me what to do. His answer was always the same: “You’re the boss man, here, Ron. It’s important you be the problem solver.” Could never break him of that. When I would ask him to take the role, his answer was always the same then, too: “Nope. Don’t want to lead. Don’t want the attention. Besides, you guys get shot at first.”

  Gary wanted to mine the road. We all looked at him funny but no one bothered to answer. I know he said under his breath: “But it will work.”

  Well, dumbass ideas do sometimes spawn good ones. “We could make mines, all right, we even know what best to load them with and how to make them more directional. We might be able to use them close to the road and as a passive perimeter defense. If–and this is important–we can make sure we have a way to keep the good guys from setting them off inadvertently.”

  Once again Gary shined. “Well, duh. We can put signs on every freaking tree. I don’t think zombies can still read!” Again, I reminded myself that Gary is excellent at tactics. I, on the other hand, often take a while to catch up.

  Mines it would be.

  Armed to the teeth and then some, dad, Squeak, and I decided we needed a short factfinding tour of the town. Mostly, we hoped that things wouldn’t be too bad downtown, but more realistically, our expectations were pretty low, and we weren’t disappointed. We piled into the crew cab Ranger and slowly headed out into the world again, such as it was.