by Mark Tufo
"Yes," Eliza answered, reflecting back in reflection to a time long past. "Isn’t it wonderful?"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Talbot Journal Entry 8
Gary had been driving for the last fifty miles or so and was reveling in it. He had lost his license about two years prior to the zombpocalypse, something about trying to run over a judge's flower bed. I never got the full story and to be honest, I really didn’t want to know. I’ve had enough close brushes with the law that I didn’t want to know any information that could possibly get me in trouble as an accessory to the fact or some other bullshit. Suffice it to say, Gary was enjoying the end of the world in ways many of us couldn’t understand. His whistling had at some point become less of an annoyance and more of a regular rhythm of the road. My startling awakening had nothing to do with him breaking into song in full on a cappella mode.
I sat bolt upright as a fairly strong shock was sent through my body. I almost jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Dad," Justin started.
I turned back. He looked like I felt. "You felt it too?" It was phrased as a question but it just as easily could have been a statement.
"It wasn't Eliza," Justin said, bowing his head.
"No, it was Tomas." I don’t know why I went back to his old name, but whatever had reached out and made contact was not the Tommy I had known. It felt like a malevolent presence and it was searching for us. I don't think I can explain it any better, but it was as if Tomas had cast a wide net but the holes within it were big enough for us to wriggle through. It would only be a matter of time before he sealed the holes up and we would be trapped like dolphins in a tuna net.
"It didn't feel right, Dad," Justin said, still clutching the sides of his head.
"I agree."
"He was looking for somebody, but I don’t think it was us," Justin finished as he rubbed his temples.
"You got all that?" I asked him. All I had felt were the greasy fingers of evil as they had brushed over my scalp.
"I think it was his aunt, I'm thinking he was maybe even calling to her."
"Like a summoning?" My heart started to freeze. Alex and his family were in extreme danger. Eliza and Tomas, like twin vipers, had turned their deadly gazes towards them and we were powerless to help before they struck. We had a general idea of where to go, but my actual hope had been that Eliza would track us down, not the other way around. I already know that was a horrible plan, you don’t need to remind me. I can't imagine a buck waiting for, or even wanting , the hunter to find him. That is not how the deadly game is played.
I could only hope that Paul and Erin were finally home. Would thanking God for small favors for only having half of your loved and cherished friends destroyed be a bad thing? I couldn't even begin to think about how many transgressions I had with the Big Man, what's one more? And then the stupid straw that broke the camel's back analogy decided to rear its ugly damn self.
Gary had still been doing his best 98 Degrees or Back Street Boys impression. I can honestly and thankfully say that I did not know which one it was. Although I figured I lost a few man points just by knowing the names of those bands.
"Right now you feel like you could never love again, now all I ask is for a chance
to prove that I love you …" Gary 's voice had risen as he sang. Cats in heat would have been preferable.
"Gary!" I shouted. I had awoken Travis, although the fact that he slept through that caterwauling was impressive.
“… from the..." Gary trailed off as I shook his shoulder. "Hey Mike," he said with a large grin.
"Having some fun there brother?" I asked him.
"Who doesn’t love a good love song?" he asked in response.
"Depends on who is singing it," I barbed back.
"I guess that's true," he answered, thinking about it. I could tell though that not once did he question the validity of his rendition, "What's up?"
I started flipping through the atlas and alternating between road signs trying to find out exactly where we were. After a few moments of quietude, I could tell Gary was getting antsy to start up his song. I had to stop him before he got going, at all costs.
"All right, in about another fifty miles we'll be coming up on Route 77. I want you to take that heading south. It looks like eventually in South Carolina it will hook up with 95 and then we can take that into Florida ."
"Mike," Gary said in all seriousness. "We could have saved a lot of time if we had just taken 95 all the way out from Maine ."
He was right and I regretted my poor decision, because in all likelihood people I loved would suffer because of it.
Travis stretched and groaned. "Wouldn't have found the kids then," he said, rubbing his eyes.
Out of the mouths of babes, although who was I kidding? At 17 years old, he was bigger and faster than me. "Good point," I told him. If all else completely went to hell , which was a more likely scenario, we had at least saved those kids and I could go to my beratement from God knowing Tracy was safe.
Gary nodded his head once and went straight back into his song like he had never missed a beat.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN – Alex and Paul
The furniture store proved to be worth its weight in gold after Paul and Erin had tried to go home , Asheville , North Carolina was a vast wasteland. It looked like the entire region’s National Guard had decided to make their final stand here. The only thing that stood taller than ten feet was the church in the center of town. Like a stalk of corn in the eye of a tornado it stood, righteous and untouched. At least it looked that way. The small caravan pulled up to the stairs that led to the massive oak doors to search for signs of life.
"Are you sure about this, Paul?" Erin asked her spouse as he started to ascend the stairs.
"I was until you asked," he responded back.
Mad Jack was following behind, struggling to hold up a box that was roughly the same shape and size of a 25 inch old school television and looked twice as heavy.
"What is that thing and do you want some help with it?" Paul turned to ask.
"I'm good," MJ puffed out. "Is she watching?" he asked in between heavy breathes.
"April?" Erin asked. "You know giving yourself a hernia to show off in front of a woman is not appealing," she told him.
He shrugged with a grimace.
"Are you sure you don’t want any help with that thing?" Paul asked, smiling.
"This thing you refer to..." MJ took a breath, "is a prototype."
"A prototype? It's not going to blow up is it?" Paul asked, grabbing Erin 's arm and pulling her a few steps away.
"Blow up? Why, do you know something I don't?" MJ asked in alarm. He looked like he was about to place his burden down and make a run for it.
"Is it a bomb?" Eddy asked, following the trio.
"He wanted to come with you guys!" Joann yelled from the cab.
"Shhh, Auntie Jo!" Eddy yelled back. "They don’t know I'm here!" he yelled.
"It is most certainly not a bomb," MJ said, addressing Eddy. "And all indications are that it most likely will not blow up," he finished, looking at Paul and Erin.
"Comforting," Paul said sarcastically as he headed back up the stairs.
The huge door swung open effortlessly as Paul pulled on it, the all too prevalent waft of death his only reward. "Does it suck that I've smelled worse?" he asked a rapidly greening Erin . She did not respond as she moved off to the side in pursuit of more breathable air.
"That wouldn't happen to have a fan?" Paul asked as he stepped away and tried to help MJ carry the box up the last few stairs.
"Is she watching?" MJ asked.
Paul wanted to tell him that he was pretty much a shoe-in with April considering that he was the only available male in their party, but it seemed important to the kid so he played along. "Yeah, she sure is," Paul said with a wicked smile.
"I've got it then," he said as he marshaled his reserves and hefted the box the rest of the way.
"Good, ‘cause that thing looks heavy,"
Paul said under his breath, while also giving his balls a necessary adjustment from the mere thought of carrying whatever the hell was in that thing. Add to that fact that he would have to holster his pistol to help out and he couldn't find any plusses.
Paul held the door as MJ got one foot in. He went immediately to the right and out of eyeshot of the semi and damn near smashed the container in his haste to get it out of his overtaxed arms.
"Heavy?" Paul asked sardonically as he placed a handkerchief over his face. MJ could only manage a weak one fingered response as he leaned over to catch his breath. "Gotcha," Paul laughed.
Erin had secured a scarf around her mouth and nose and now was at the entry way to the church. Paul admonished himself again for his lack of caution. ‘One of these times this is going to bite me in the ass, literally.’ He quickly did a visual sweep of their immediate surroundings as MJ fiddled with some switches and dials. Paul just figured it was all for show as MJ caught his second wind. Eddy slammed into Erin 's legs in his rush to get in and check out something new. Joann was right behind him and scooped him up in her arms, all too aware of the danger that could be behind that door.
Eddy stopped squirming when the stench invaded his nostrils. He now looked more eager to remain with the rest of the troupe in the truck.
"Paul, is this worth it?" Erin asked, watching as Eddy and Joann descended the steps much more rapidly than they had ascended them.
Paul had stopped listening the moment he spotted the altar. It wasn't that he was ignoring his wife; it was that his senses could only handle so much input at any one time. A high pitched squawk from MJ's box brought him out of his self-induced trance. "MJ you s cared the hell out of me!" Paul said, rubbing his ears.
"Sorry, just calibrating," MJ said, not really sorry. He was used to apologizing for experiments gone awry and had learned long ago that appeasement was sometimes the bastard brother of technological advancement.
Erin gave a deep scowl to MJ who did not even look up to acknowledge the slight, which made Erin even madder until she followed her husband's line of sight. "What is that?" she asked, trying to catch up to Paul.
"It's people," he answered, never breaking stride.
"You sure?" she asked, her own steps faltering.
"I mean, it has to be, doesn't it?"
"Why are they all piled up like that? Paul we should go, there's nothing we can do for them now," Erin said, reaching out to grab his sleeve.
"Maybe it's religious. Some sort of sacrifice?" Paul answered more to himself than to Erin ’s query.
"MJ, maybe we should go," Erin begged, looking back towards the door. An even louder box squawk was her only response from that direction. She was halfway through the large church and Paul was halfway again that much closer to the alt a r. “Paul, please!” she near silently screamed.
He turned to her and pressed his index finger to his mouth to quiet her.
"They're dead Paul, aren't they?" she whispered. That they were dead was preferable to them being in that ungodly clothed pile on the altar, alive.
Paul slunk another five feet closer, every fiber in his flight reflex telling him to get the hell out. He ignored it like most people ignore a yellow light, confident in the fact that yellow is more of a 'travel advisory' than an actual warning to pay heed to.
Another footfall forward and Paul had unwittingly tripped a silent alarm. Well, more like a dinner bell but the result was the same. First one set of brown green goop encrusted eyes opened to be followed by another and then a third. It was the fourth set belonging to the priest of the church that caught Paul's attention. The priest's piercing blue eyes snapped open, did one complete revolution into the back of his head and then solidly met Paul's gaze. There was no hesitation on either side as Paul turned and ran and the priest disentangled himself from his congregation in hot pursuit.
Verbal commands were unnecessary for Erin as she watched the entire event unfold. But Paul's shout of “GO!” spurred her on even faster.
"MJ, gotta go!" Paul shouted as he passed the halfway mark in God's house.
"Just a couple of more adjustments," MJ answered merrily, unaware of the danger sweeping down the aisle.
"MJ NOW!" Erin screamed as she passed his position and ran out into the daylight.
Alex had seen that look of terror on enough folks’ faces lately to realize it was time to hit the road.
Mrs. Deneaux climbed up into the bed of the truck by herself, not willing to wait for somebody to offer a hand, her cigarette still lit and shaking wildly in her hand.
MJ stood up to look at Paul as he approached. A throng of flesh worshippers followed closely, led by the leader of the congregation. Paul stumbled a bit as he did the familiar horror movie faux pas of looking behind him. His foot caught on the edge of a pew and nearly dropped him on his face. MJ moved forward to help.
Paul stuck his hand out. "Forget it man, I'm good, let's go!" Zombies filled the center aisle and both sides of the pews. Some were the traditional shufflers, most however were not, and the distance between Paul, the door, and death was closing rapidly.
"I can't leave the box!" MJ yelled.
"It's not worth getting eaten." Paul said as he got to the main door.
MJ paid no heed and turned around to get the device; thick cords on his neck bulged as he strained to pick the device up. Paul took a millisecond to scan the events. He would JUST make it if he opened the church door and pushed it shut. "Dammit!" he said as he ran to MJ's position. "This stupid heavy thing better be worth it!" he shouted as they lifted it into the air. MJ's side dipped as he struggled with his grip. "How did you carry this thing alone?" Paul struggled to get out through clenched teeth. He shifted the load so that he could get his hand on the door handle and open it. His mind had been doing rapid calculations and he figured by now the priest at least should be on them. He was too scared to even look back. Just then sunlight streamed into the church. Alex was at the front door, rifle in hand. "Come on you crazy gringos! What is it with white boys always trying to play the hero?" he shouted. Alex had the rifle raised, poised to shoot at anything moving that wasn't alive.
"Get over here!" Marta yelled from the truck cab.
Paul could not understand why Alex' rifle was not firing as they quickly moved off to the side to give him a better vantage point.
"O mi Dios," Alex softly breathed out.
Paul almost dropped the box, expecting some new horror to come bounding out of the doors a la Resident Evil. He hoped there were no zombie Doberman Pinschers. "What is it Alex?" Paul said as he struggled with himself whether to drop the stupid box and run or stand his ground with Alex.
"They're just standing there," Alex said, not daring to put his rifle down.
Paul craned his neck. Alex was right, about fifteen feet from the door the zombies were crowded around as if they had hit a force field. MJ lowered his corner a bit so that he could peer past Paul.
"I'll be damned! It works!"
"What works?" Paul asked. "This thing?"
"Yeah, it's a frequency modulator. It…" MJ started.
"Fascinating, really," Paul said, "but I'd rather you told me all about it later when we're safe."
"We're quite safe now," MJ said in rebuttal.
"You know what I mean," Paul answered.
"Guys, let's get out of here. This is not how I wanted to spend my afternoon, in a Mexican standoff with zombies," Alex said.
"That's funnier because it's true," Paul said.
"Hilarious. Let's go," Alex motioned with his rifle.
As MJ and Paul descended the stairs, the zombies moved that much closer.
"Paul, we need to put this thing down. My shoulder is killing me and I have a bad grip."
"You're lucky you don’t have a hernia," Paul answered as he put his corner down on the stairs.
With the box on the ground MJ wiped his brow. Paul kept an eye on the zombies.
"Really guys? This is where you want to have a siesta?" Alex asked nervo
usly.
"Relax Alex, it's fine," MJ said, resting against the side of the box. The zombies at the top of the stairs were not moving. The sunlight was not kind in its exposure of the monsters. Shredded gray skin gave way to gray-green ropy muscle, which in turn showed in some extreme cases yellowing bone. Then the unthinkable happened. The priest moved but the box hadn't, from fifteen feet away to twelve. His followers did what followers do, they followed.
"What's happening?" Paul asked as their circle of safety diminished.
"Huh, must be the batteries," MJ answered absently.
"Couldn't think to put in fresh batteries?" Paul asked.
"Can't expect me to think of everything," MJ answered him, a little miffed.
Zombies began to spill off of the stairway as the overcrowding became too great. The ones that had not damaged any parts vital to locomotion began to encircle the trio.
Within seconds before the trio could react, a twelve foot wide bubble of zombies encircled them. Then it was ten feet.
"This isn't fun anymore. I'm thinking we should leave," Paul said as he grabbed the edge of the box.
"In agreement," Alex said. Sweat alternated between running in rivulets down his back and freezing in place.
The circle had become eight feet in diameter by the time MJ got his side up.
"This is going to be a little closer than I thought," MJ said as a red LED light began to flicker on the top of the box.
"Let me guess," Paul said. "Low battery indicator."
MJ could only offer a weak smile in reply. Alex' rifle now went off as the circle became six feet around. The damage the bullet did to the human form from this distance was devastating. Pink gray, brackish brain matter exploded onto their brethren as Alex started to weed out the non-believers in the Power of the Bullet.
And still they pressed on. Paul and MJ kept shuffling backwards. They were careful to make sure that the zombies behind them were given enough time to react to the repelling effects of MJ's box. By the time the three were in front of the truck, a yard stick could have been held to the priest's forehead to measure the space. Black gore stained teeth gnashed wildly as saliva flowed from both sides of his mouth like a rabid dog. Alex had his back pressed up against the side of the box now as the three moved to the cab.