'Til Death Do Us Part

by Mark Tufo

  “My name is Kong.” I stuck my hand out to shake, he looked at it and then at my face. I got the hint. “You take care of this…then I’ll shake your hand.”

  I nodded. What I wanted to do was punch him in the head. Instead, I asked him where I could be briefed about what I had volunteered for.

  Half an hour later I had an extra four magazines of ammo plus two grenades. Of the five men, I had come out of the service with the lowest rank, and now I was the oldest among them. My job was to bring up the rear, in this case, that was just fine. Someone had wrangled up a camouflage top for me which I was thankful to wear; the purple pants wouldn’t be a problem in the impenetrable light. We melted into the woods and past the loose ring of men surrounding the house. There was a small sliver of moon to guide us by. I could see the now useless spotlights, shards of glass hanging precariously from them.

  I waited until the two SEALS and the Green Beret entered into the ring of zombies before I made my move. I slung my rifle so that it was on my back and closed in.

  “Watch it, fucking jarhead,” the Ranger told me as I kicked the side of his boot. He turned I think to give me more shit, then, ironically, I shoved the knife he had given me into his Adam’s apple. I thought the fibrous knot would resist more, but the knife cut the neck protrusion neatly in two. He gurgled as I drove it further in severing his spinal column.

  His eyes pleaded for an answer, so I gave him one. “My name is Michael Talbot and that’s my family you’re trying to kill.” He might have understood, but that wasn’t making his passing any easier. I grabbed the chain off his neck and dropped him for the zombies, hurriedly catching up to the rest of my squad.

  The fucking SEAL I think was prescient; he turned just as I was coming up on him. The set in my eye may have given it away, or the fresh blood still dripping from my Army combat knife. It had a nice feel to it, not quite as deadly as my beloved Ka-Bar but it would do in a pinch. A grin spread across his lips when he let his M-4 swing on its tactical harness as he pulled out what looked like a short sword from a leg sheath.

  “Looks like you brought a butter knife to a sword fight,” he said as he got down into a fighting stance, the zombies were not yielding much room. Our fighting circle wasn’t going to be much more than two strides across. “I’m going to make a Popsicle out of you,” he said, still grinning.

  His smile may have faltered a little bit when he realized I wasn’t dissuaded from my present course of action, although he may have just changed it to determination.

  “Never much liked you fucking Marines, bullet catchers are all you’re really good for.” He said.

  I got down into a fighting stance. “Are those really the last words you want to say?” I asked him earnestly. Before he could reply, I moved in. I’ve got to admit, he was fast. Unfortunately for him I was enhanced. I brought the blade up against his wrist severing as many arteries as I could.

  “How...how did you do that?” he asked as blood welled then poured from his non-knife wielding arm. “I’m a Navy SEAL, you can’t do this to me,” he said.

  “If you promise me that you’ll leave now and never come back here, ever, I’ll let you leave.”

  “Who the fuck are these people to you?” he asked, trying to staunch the flow. Zombies were beginning to jostle around him as fresh blood like ambrosia drew them tight.

  “Does it matter?” I asked him back. “I’m giving you the opportunity to save yourself and be done with this madness. There’s a short shelf life on your answer.”

  “I can’t...”

  I didn’t let him finish the rest of his sentence, with his right hand desperately trying to hold his life fluid in, he was easy pickings. I cut his carotid artery and lifted the vial from his neck. The zombies were chewing flesh from him before he hit the ground.

  The remaining two men were at the very edge of the compound, less than three or four zombies from the fence. They were looking back, waiting for the rest of the group to catch up, when I showed.

  “Where’s Able and Jericho?” the remaining SEAL asked.

  “Hell I would imagine,” I said as I leveled my rifle on them. “I wouldn’t,” I told the other Navy Seal who was trying to bring his rifle up. “Put your weapons on the ground,” I told them.

  “And if we don’t?” the Ranger asked.

  “I’ve killed four men tonight, do you think I’ve hit my limit?” I asked him. Slowly, with my right hand pulling the vials out of my pocket, I displayed them like trophies. I put them back in my pocket, then put my hand back up to brace the M-4.

  “Why haven’t you just killed us?” the Seal asked as he put his weapon down and was standing back up.

  “Zombies are one thing, but killing men, that’s completely another,” I told him.

  The Navy man nodded slightly in agreement.

  “You both have one chance to save yourselves, leave and never come back. That’s all you have to do.”

  “That’s it? You’re not going to shoot us in the back?” the Army man asked.

  “I could have already done that. Listen, I’m not going to play this game much longer, either leave or die.”

  To his credit, the Army guy headed off to the left. I wasn’t sure if he planned on keeping his word or not. More than likely he was going to get out of range, then head back to Kong and tell him what happened. That was actually alright. Let the man know that I had bested four of their best and maybe he would debate the operation in its entirety.

  “Knives?” the Seal asked.

  “I did knives with your partner,” I told him. “I wish you’d left.”

  In one fluid motion I pushed my rifle onto my back and grabbed a grenade. I pulled the pin and ran to the Seal’s location as I pulled on his waistband I deposited the grenade, then I quickly grabbed the chain around his neck. Zombies were vying for position around him as I pushed away. A mash of zombie and human parts burst under the assault of the grenade’s shrapnel. Unluckily for me, I was in the midst of the fallout zone. Hot pieces of anatomy rained down. I was covered in the remains of multiple zombies and at least one man.

  Some sporadic gunfire erupted from around me after the explosion, but nothing close. It seemed to be merely a reflexive action. Now that I was paying attention, I could hear the hum of the fence as electric current ran through it. Had to be MJ, I thought, friggen brilliant. I didn’t think it was enough to kill a man if only because of the zombies’ actions as they touched it, but I wasn’t confident enough in their physiology to trust my own life to it. Who knows, maybe what only gave them a slight jolt would send me sprawling through the air like a circus clown shot from a cannon, fun to watch, sucky to live through.

  The fence was six-feet high and there wasn’t a tree anywhere near it. I began to rip shirts off the zombies nearest me, they didn’t care and seemed happy to oblige. I wrapped my feet as best I could, hoping that I would have enough insulation, then I sought out a stout zombie which in this case appeared to be a woman of East German descent. She was only about five feet tall, mostly round and looked like she could bench a Beetle.

  “Nice to make your acquaintance,” I told her back. She wasn’t properly couched in etiquette. “You’ll do.”

  I pushed the back of her knees until she fell to them, then I climbed up. I was now getting quite possibly the first zombie piggy back ride. I wasn’t thrilled with having my knees next to her mouth, but after one failed attempt with her thick arms to wave me away she completely forgot about me as she stood back up, my added weight not hampering or hindering her in the least. I thought this could be a boon for parents everywhere, I could make millions! How many times had we as parents been ridden into the ground from the insistent wishes of our offspring to give them rides, even when their age and weight had begun to exceed our limits? Now, I could sell zombies fitted with saddles that would take the kiddies for rides indefinitely. ZTI could become a global entity (Zombie Transportation Incorporated). Our dependence on foreign oil would be over. They’d have to invent a n
ew monetary term for how rich I’d be.

  I would have kept thinking along those lines if I wasn’t receiving a tingling across my thighs and ass. Greta (that’s what I was calling her) was now about two zombies away from the fence, her body was slowly taking on the rigidity of her peers in front of her. I placed my hand on the top of her dirt and oil laden head and balanced my weight so that I could stand. I was thankful the night was still mostly dark, dawn was approaching but still it would be difficult to pick me out of the rest of the crowd, the longer I stayed standing on her shoulders, the better my odds of getting shot at by either side though.

  I didn’t feel any electricity as I stood tall on her shoulders—only wavering once, luckily she seemed fairly rooted to the ground at this point. I stepped on the man in front of her—at this point I had a slight tingling—and then, as I stepped on the zombie actually touching the fence, I felt what seemed like pins and needles traversing up my calves. It was uncomfortable at the moment, but I could see it becoming debilitating if I stayed there long enough. My first thought was to place a foot on the fence and jump, but if the current increased and I lost motor function chances were I’d fall back into the zombie stew. The man’s head was at most a foot away from the fence and my feet were less than six inches below the top of it. Even if I were drunk, the jump shouldn’t be a problem.

  I think the pressure as I pushed off broke the zombie’s collar bone. He didn’t yell in protest, so I took that as a good sign. I was happy the ground on the other side had been moved recently as it was softer than normal because I had hit it pretty hard. My knees were already suspect at best, and I was happy not to give them any more reason to fail me now. I was a couple of feet away from a ditch that was at least six feet across and peppered with all manner of spikes protruding from the ground; the stink of kerosene was heavy from where I stood. I won’t lie, I was dismayed that my approach was going unnoticed.

  The unit that I had dispatched of would have easily made it into my brother’s home and then what? I decided not to dwell on it, nothing fruitful could be gained from it. Twenty years ago, I wouldn’t have even paused at the gap I had to bridge, right now it may as well have been double its width. Eventually I was going to figure out I was far from an ordinary human…but that moment wasn’t one of them.

  “What are the odds there’s a minefield?” I asked. “Probably pretty damned good.” Super deluxe model or not, I was confident that a bomb would send me on my way.

  ***

  “Wait, you’re saying this, what the hell was his name? Buker? Buker fellow took out the entire team?” Kong was asking the out-of-breath Army Ranger, Hank O’Reilly.

  “He said he had dusted the other two, then told me and John that we could leave and never come back or die.”

  “So was the explosion this Buker guy or John?” Kong asked.

  “Oh, I can assure you it was your Navy Seal,” Tommy said, seemingly peering through the trees to the Talbot household.

  “How can you be so sure?” Kong asked him.

  “Because it was Michael Talbot,” Eliza said, striding up to the circle. “And apparently nothing short of the Rapture is going to take him off this earth. It makes no difference, now at least I know where he is and the whole lot of them can die simultaneously.”

  “I just lost three well-trained men, some of my best,” Kong said turning to Eliza, anger flushing his cheeks.

  “Perhaps you should have had a better screening technique,” Tomas said smiling. “Maybe asked each of them what side they were on. Michael most likely would have told you the truth.”

  Eliza nodded in agreement. “I imagine he would have…right before he killed you.”

  Kong didn’t seem so convinced that the man that had called himself Buker would have been able to take him out, but he had just killed three Special Forces men and was still at large. What did I get myself into? “Eliza, I do not think you were forthcoming in our agreement.”

  “If you had doubts you should have voiced them before we left,” Eliza told him. “Now organize another team.”

  I had my doubts when you ripped Randy’s dick off, Kong thought as he clenched his fists.

  “Ten this time…that should be sufficient,” she said.

  “Sufficient for what?” Kong asked, trying valiantly to keep his cool. He knew Eliza would have no qualms about eliminating him and putting someone else at the top. He didn’t even consider himself a pawn; he was the board upon which the actual game was being played.

  Hank hadn’t left Kong’s side since he got back and already he knew that legend of Buker or Talbot would be spreading across his men like wildfire. He had yet to figure out quite how that phenomenon worked, and something inside him told him he didn’t have the time left to figure it out either.

  ***

  “Can’t stay here, sun is going to be up soon and I’ll be stuck in dead man’s land. And me being covered in gore like this, someone in that house is going to think I’m a zombie and that I somehow got past the fence.”

  Minefield or not, I had to leave the spot I was becoming rooted to. I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me how easily I traversed the gap, but it did. Now I was just hoping I wasn’t smack dab in the middle of a minefield and everything would be A-Okay. I was within fifteen feet of the deck which was a good ten feet off the ground. I was happy and slightly dismayed to see that the stairs had been removed. I did a once over around the bottom part of the house. There was no way in, it was completely shuttered off with steel plating. I looked up at the decking overhead.

  “I should have brought Greta,” I said. “Okay let’s do the math, I’m almost six feet, give or take, mostly give…but whatever. Then if I outstretch my arms, add another three-ish feet, I really need to only jump up about a foot and I can grab the edge of the deck. Subtract from that, I’m a fortyish white guy and I’m still fucked. Wait…half-vamp trumps white. Let’s give it a go.”

  I backed up a few feet, still not convinced that I had somehow miraculously crossed a minefield and I didn’t want to throw that to chance again. I ran and jumped not taking into account my added abilities; I almost planted my face where I thought my hands were going to touch. That would have been awesome, me knocked out under the deck after smashing into it.

  I grunted as I pulled myself up and over, but only because it felt like the right thing to do. “Why no guard?” The house appeared to be blacked out, but I could see some light spilling from around the blackout curtains. I walked to the back door and turned the unlocked knob. My heart lurched at how easy it could have been for the assassination team and then I entered.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Mike Journal Entry 15

  “Miss me?” I asked a shocked room full of the people I loved the most in the whole world. Blood, gore, sinew and a fair amount of entrails hung from every exposed part of me. Henry was the first to react. I hadn’t seen him leap since he was six months old and there was a particularly tasty shoe of Tracy’s that he had enjoyed rending into bite-sized chunks. I had put it up on a coffee table thinking his little stubby legs would never allow him to regain his ill-gotten booty. He had proved me wrong and cost me two hundred bucks in the process (replacement fee of said shoes).

  I stooped down a bit as he jumped into my outstretched arms, his stumped tail was going as fast as a hummingbird’s wings after a Starbuck’s double shot cappuccino. But even he had his standards; he would not lick my face.

  “Talbot?” Tracy cried, barely able to contain her surprise or shock. “Is that really you?” She took a half step towards me.

  “Of course it is!” BT said, barreling towards me. “Who the fuck else would wear a tin foil hat!” He swept me and Henry both up in his massive arms and twirled us around like we were in the Nutcracker ballet.

  Apparently the explosion had ripped my knit cap off.

  My father’s legs gave out. “I...I couldn’t stand to lose another child,” he sobbed.

  Nicole, who was visibly showing her pregnancy
now, ran to me with a huge box of sani-wipes. “Oh, Dad, I missed you so much, but I don’t know if I can hug you!” She sobbed and laughed at the same time.

  Gary came running into the room. I would learn later that he had been pretty despondent about coming home without me. A massive case of survivor’s guilt, compound that with the fact he had to tell our father he had lost his youngest son. And it wasn’t such a great combination.

  “I saw you die, Mike,” Gary said, not quite yet ready to let go of the extra baggage he had been carrying around.

  “Word of my death has been greatly exaggerated,” I managed as I was twirled around like a record. “Any chance you could put me down now, BT? People are going to start to talk.”

  “Let them.” He crushed me tighter to his chest. The added pressure pushing a little too much on Henry’s midsection, we were rewarded with an air fouling mass of stench.

  BT shuffled away from the stink as best he could, me and Henry still held captive.

  “I missed you, too,” I told him, “but I’d like to kiss my wife.” BT finally put me down, but looked like he’d scoop me up in a moment’s notice.

  “You look like shit, Talbot,” Tracy said stroking my cheek.

  I grabbed the wipe proffered from my daughter and vigorously scrubbed my face. It burned and smelled like bleach—it was bliss. Tracy leaned in, we kissed, and the world around us dissolved, there was nothing but her tender lips upon mine. When we finally felt the accumulated gazes of all of those around us, we pulled away.

  “I never thought I’d taste you again,” she cried, dipping her head down.

  “It’s gonna take more than fire, rogue cats, vampires and zombies to kill me.”

  “Apparently.” She kissed me quicker this time. “You will never leave without me again,” she said with a force that made me know that this was no idle threat-slash-request; it was merely the truth. Where had I heard those words before?