A Plague Upon Your Family zf-2

by Mark Tufo

  Brendon nearly slammed into my rear end as I screeched to a stop.

  “What if we stay, Tommy?” I asked of him.

  He shook his head. “They’ll die quicker.”

  “FUCK!” I yelled as I slammed my hands on the steering wheel. Brendon had a hard time keeping up as I slammed my gas pedal to the floor.

  CHAPTER 20

  We had been cruising down the highway for a couple of hours, distance doing little to help me forget about the Gustovs (Denmark’s family name). How many times I wanted to turn back around, only to have Tommy’s words bubble to the surface. I could only pray that our visit to him was not what hastened the Gustov’s demise. The ride was passing in a moody silence. Nobody in the car was talking and I don’t think anyone would have listened. So when Tracy offered to drive because she knew the rest of the way, I relented. She’d be hard pressed to find anything worth hitting in this desolate white-blanketed landscape.

  A few minutes later I found myself drifting in and out of sleep. Only occasionally being awakened as Tracy would jerk the wheel as if she were just remembering that she was driving and might want to keep the ton and a half van between the painted lines. Sleep grabbed hold and even Tracy’s quick wheel movements could not shake the veil of it from me.

  The one good thing about being alive during the age of the zombies was that nightmares no longer had any power. What’s so scary about the boogeyman coming to get you and your legs feeling like lead? That sensation of not being able to run, the fear that pumped through your veins, the monster coming! And then blissful awareness, your mother scooping you up in her arms kissing your sweat-pocked forehead. ‘It was all a dream, everything’s fine.’ She would coo. Not my mother mind you, but someone’s mother would. My mother was too narcissistic to care why I had the nerve to wake her up in the middle of the night when I was child.

  No, these days I tended to dream in the idyllic, where a gentle breeze or a beautiful sunset would be punctuated by the appearance of a unicorn or maybe Bambi, only then to awaken in hell. Where monsters were real and no matter how fast and how far I ran they were always right behind me. That was far scarier than any nightmare my mind could have ever imagined. And come to think of it, no matter how many times my legs got mired in deep grass or heavy mud or ultra shag carpeting, the boogeyman never caught me. Not once. Would I be that lucky in real life?

  I was coming to alertness in degrees, between the incessant beeping of some asshole’s horn and a not so gentle nudging. I was grudgingly letting go of my tentative grip on being figuratively dead to the world. Tracy’s hand slipped off my shoulder and into my jaw. That concluded what little of my subconscious remained in dreamland.

  “Mike." Tracy shook me again even though I was obviously awake. “Brendon is flashing his lights and beeping his horn.”

  “Got the horn part.” I said as I gripped my jaw. “Maybe it’s your driving.”

  “Ha, ha. No I think he needs something.”

  “Then pull over.” Well that seemed simple enough, problem solved.

  “No I started slowing down and he started flashing his lights faster, I think Coley was pointing to something behind us.”

  I sat up fast. No way the zombies could be that close. I dreaded what I would see when I turned around. BT opened his eyes as soon as I had turned around. He looked up at me. He could see my anxiety. “What is it Talbot?” BT asked without turning to look himself.

  “Don’t know, don’t see anything yet.” We both let out a sigh of relief.

  “Good grief. My two big badasses.” Tracy said.

  I puffed out some indignation. And then I saw it. It was far away but it was distinct. “It’s a truck, no its two of…wait no its three of them.” A coldness swept across me. I don’t know why, maybe some of Tommy’s prescience had rubbed off on me, more than likely it was just my heightened awareness of paranoia.

  “Aw Talbot, you got that look on you.” BT lamented.

  “What look, BT?” Tracy asked, looking in vain in the rear view mirror to see what had my panties all up in a roar.

  “Oh that look that says troubles coming.”

  “Yeah and its driving three white Ford pickup trucks, probably F-350’s by the size of them. Travis?” I shook him awake. He came to full consciousness in under a handful of heartbeats.

  “Yeah dad?”

  “Start handing out guns.” I told him without ever taking my eyes off of the rapidly approaching trucks. He didn’t question me. He didn’t hesitate. Within thirty seconds we were all outfitted with our favorite projectile lobber. I motioned to Brendon through the rear windshield that he should do the same as I pointed vigorously to my rifle. He held his up in response. He was of the same ilk that I was.

  “Do you want to drive Mike?” Tracy asked.

  There were pros and cons to that question. The pros being that I could have her hide under the dashboard and into some semblance of safety. The cons were my shooting would be seriously hampered and we would have to pull over to make the change. Our pursuers, if that was what they were, would make up some valuable time.

  “Mike?” She asked looking for a response to her earlier query. I was still in the midst of weighing options. “Should I speed up?”

  “God no!” BT shouted.

  I inwardly laughed. Tracy’s driving was suspect to begin with. Tracy driving with speed was tantamount to suicide by light pole.

  Tracy turned all the way around to fix her steely eyed gaze full bore on BT.

  “The road.” He said meekly. “Eyes on the road.” He pointed at his own as if to illustrate the point. “You gonna help me here Talbot?”

  “You’re on your own man.”

  After what seemed like an indeterminable amount of time she finally relented, feeling that she had made her point, she turned back to the highway.

  “Holy fuck.” BT mumbled.

  “You say something BT?” Tracy asked angrily as she adjusted the rear view mirror to look at him. “I didn’t think so.” She said. When he didn’t answer immediately.

  We waited, not as long as we wanted, but longer still than it seemed due to the tension. Tracy was traveling at a steady 65, our chasers must have been doing a pavement chewing 100 or so with the way they were gaining on us.

  BT and I were now completely turned around, fixated on the chasers.

  “Any chance they’re military?” BT asked hopefully.

  “Doubt it.” I answered.

  “Fellow survivors?” He queried.

  “Well they’re survivors alright, but I don’t think they are of the fellowship type.” I knew BT was going to keep piecemealing questions together until he got to the heart of my unease. I didn’t give him the chance. “It’s those damn white trucks, like they all had to get the same damn thing, like a gang. Normal folks just trying to get through the day wouldn’t give a shit about what they were driving, so long as they were driving away from a shit storm. And the way they’re driving.”

  “Maybe they just need some help.” Tracy interjected.

  “Don’t squash my neurotic obsessions, Hon, they tend to keep us alive.”

  The lead truck had made its way to Brendon’s wake. There was no waving, no horn beeping, no headlights flashing, no daisy throwing, no American flags.

  “So much for needing help.” I said sourly.

  “It was just a suggestion.” Tracy said peevishly, thinking that I was belittling her comment.

  I was about to foolishly reply. It was my innate ability to get into trouble when no such thing existed, when I was saved by BT.

  “Talbot.” He said getting my attention back.

  The lead truck was pulling up alongside Brendon’s minivan, the trailing two Ford’s filled in the vacant gap, one on each side of the roadway. I saw a yellow gap toothed, mullet donning man, ironically wearing a Chevy hat lean out of the passenger side door. He was looking straight down and into the smaller vehicle. His lascivious grin was evident even from this distance. I watched as he ducked ba
ck into the truck, he held up two fingers and laughed. I was sort of impressed that he had the ability to count.

  “What’s he doing?” Tracy asked nervously looking through her rear view mirrors.

  “Counting.” BT filled in.

  “Counting what?” Tracy asked.

  “Women.” I said coldly.

  “Dad.” Travis said alarmed. “There are guys in the back of the truck.”

  I had been so fixated on the cab I hadn’t looked. How the fuck I had missed them was beyond me. Three armed men were standing attached to some sort of harness device to a roll bar in the back.”

  “What the fuck are they doing?” BT asked.

  “They’re strapped in to the truck so they don’t fall out when they try to take us over.”

  “Take us over? What are you talking about Mike?” Tracy asked, her fear almost ended the confrontation right there and then. She had let her foot come off the accelerator and our minivan was slowing at an alarming rate while Brendon was intent on keeping an eye on the truck next to him was inadvertently pressing down on the accelerator in a vain attempt to get out from the situation. He actually tapped our bumper before Tracy realized what was happening. Redneck number one thought it was the funniest thing he had ever seen. He motioned to the driver to speed up.

  Within seconds our newfound guests were along our broadside. Redneck #1 was even uglier up close, his pock marked face must have made him a true charmer in high school. If not for rape, farm animals or his sister I was sure he would have never been laid. He leaned back in. My heart stilled as I watched him mouth the words ‘Only one’, and then he laughed. Before they sped up to get in front of us he leaned back out and made a ‘V’ sign with his fingers, his long tobacco stained tongue flicked back and forth in the base of the sign.

  “Fuck you!” I yelled leaning over Tracy’s lap.

  He laughed and spit out some chew, he motioned for the driver to pull ahead.

  “Fuck. Tracy you can’t let him pull ahead.”

  “Why not, maybe they’ll just keep going.” She said.

  “Remember that talk we had a few years back about the Easter bunny and how he isn’t real.”

  “Fuck you Talbot.”

  “That’s the Tracy, I’m looking for. Do not let him pull ahead of us, once he does those three gunmen in the back have us.”

  Tracy’s foot turned to molten lead. The Terrible Teal machine for all its ugliness, gave us all she had. Redneck number one was motioning for his driver to go faster. His expression, a cross between wonder and anger.

  He was never going to hear me but I said it anyway. It was more of uplifting to us in the car anyway. “You picked the wrong caravan to waylay, dipshit. We’re not your typical sheep.”

  He might not have heard me but my crazy grin, I could tell, had unsettled him some. He was yelling at the driver. The truck was inching forward, the cab of their truck was now even with our front grill.

  “Tracy.”

  “I’m trying damnit!” She screamed. The minivan whined under the strain. Brendon and the two chaser trucks fell behind. The tachometer was buried in the red. I could hear the hamsters in the engine caterwauling for their lives. The Ford fell back a couple of inches or the minivan surged, tough to tell at 120. The three men in the back were even with us but seemed much more intent on holding on for dear life than firing off any rounds. We were creeping even. Tracy was sweating bullets. Oh, nope that was me. I was dripping all over her while I leaned over to get a better vantage point.

  “Talbot, get the fuck off my lap.” She said in a strained voice.

  “Oh right, sorry. It’s going to get loud in here real soon, you ready.”

  She spared a split second to look over at me. The strain of the event was beginning to wear on her. “They still haven’t done anything Mike.”

  “Yeah and I’m not going to give them chance.”

  Tommy picked this most inopportune time to talk. “I watched a special on the History Channel the night before the deaders came.”

  BT turned to look at him, even Tracy hazarded a glance. When Tommy spoke and it wasn’t in regards to Pop-Tarts, you definitely wanted to listen.

  “It was about Pearl Harbor and how the Japanese had struck before they had declared war. It was something that they still regret having done. It wasn’t honorable.”

  FUCK Honor, this was our lives!!! My decision was now not sitting well with the rest of the occupants of the car. We were all 99% sure of the intentions of the truck but there was still that one fucking percent chance they were just creeps, nothing worse. Tracy had pulled up completely even. The engine was in danger of throwing a rod. Redneck number one opened up the back window to the truck bed. The ugly fuck erased all doubts of their purpose. Even over the howling wind, it was impossible to not hear his words. I believe in my heart it was divine intervention we heard him at all. The physics of the speed we were traveling at and the whipping of the wind through the windows made thinking a difficult prospect. But we all heard him as clear as if we were having tea in a library.

  “Don’t shoot the woman, kill the rest.”

  I turned to Tommy, relatively sure he was the one that controlled the divine intervention.

  He nodded to me, an intense glare shown through his eyes, pain, rage and sorrow warred for his attention.

  “They’re readying their weapons Talbot!” BT yelled, rivaling the explosions that were about to be issued forth.

  “Tracy this is gonna suck.” I said as I half crawled over her, stickin the barrel of my AR out the window.

  “Just get it done.” She said through clenched teeth.

  Travis hopped into the rear of the minivan. I jumped when he smashed out the large side glass window.

  Our furtive movements did not go unnoticed. One of the gunmen had got so nervous he dropped the magazine to his rifle. Like two warships of old we broadsided each other.

  “FIRE!” I yelled.

  Bullets screamed! Lead struck. Metal, plastic, rubber and wood shattered under the assault. The noise was deafening and the clouds of smoke were blinding. Screams of savagery and pain were muffled by the explosions. The gunman closest to us was fatally struck. He leaned forward and pitched out of the truck bed. His crudely fashioned harness had not saved him from the disgrace of being unceremoniously dragged along the side of the truck. Redneck number one watched as his friend bounced and skipped along on the ground. A smear of blood and bone trailed for miles. Talk about chumming for zombies. BT roared in pain as a bullet struck. I didn’t have the time to look how bad. I was fumbling with a new magazine. My thinking was that if he had enough life in him to scream, then he was still breathing. Travis’ shotgun ripped through the rear quarter panel of the truck, fuel was leaking from their truck like a sieve. Our front windshield exploded outwards, Tracy yelled and swerved and she smashed sideways into the truck. The impact loosened the body of the hijacker. He tumbled backwards, seemingly gaining new heights as he bounced like a super ball. His springiness landed him onto the windshield of one of the trailing trucks. Our luck wasn’t strong enough to hope he would take them out. They swerved sharply but recovered quickly.

  We had all been watching the macabre accident. As I turned back around I caught the gaze of redneck number one. We locked onto each other for a heartbeat. I could feel his malice.

  “Kill them all!” He screeched so loud, Tommy’s special skills weren’t needed.

  A renewed vigor of bullets whined through our shell-pocked car. The cars were going so fast, the slightest imperfection in the roadway made anything less than a pure luck shot damn near impossible. But that didn’t keep Travis from pumping round after round into the shredded gas tank. I kept waiting for the Hollywood explosion but apparently they only know how to do that in Hollywood. It never happened.

  Wisps of smoke emanated from our chase minivan. Brendon and Jen had joined into the fray. Sometime during our sea battle they had pulled in behind the leading Ford and were now adding their two cent
ed lead. The two gunmen in the rear swung their attention to the new threat.

  “Wrong move motherfuckers.” I took a calming breath and unloaded a full magazine into them. They danced like marionettes on springs as round after round of high-powered steel jacketed rounds burst through their bodies. Blood arced, teeth shattered. Their paid out bodies dropped faster than my spent bullet casings. My reverie was short lived as redneck number one had at some point pulled out a Desert Eagle 45 and was busy trying to place a hole in my forehead. The top of our steering wheel exploded into fragments of ragged materials. It was long moments after that thunderous concussion that I noticed there were no more shots being fired. The odds were beyond hope that the spectacular weapon had jammed or the idiot was too dim to keep it fully loaded. No Travis’s fuel tank shredding tactic had come to fruition. I watched as redneck number one slammed his fists in frustration against his dashboard. I would have loved to hear his expletives. By the way he was going I was convinced I would learn some new and interesting words and colorful phrases.

  “Talbot, I’m hit.” BT said through a clamped mouth.

  Fucken reality. “Shit where BT?”

  He moved his hand slightly on his thigh, blood pulsed through his fingers.

  “Is it bad?” He asked without looking down.

  ‘Fuck if I know?’ “Naw it’s only a flesh wound.”

  “Yeah but it’s my flesh.” He said trying to joke.

  Tracy had completely turned around and over her shoulder to look at the wound. Sure we weren’t going the earth shattering speed of 120, but at 70 we could still get into a lot of trouble real quickly. “Do you want me to stop?” She asked.

  “Can’t.”

  “What?” She asked incredulously.

  “Do you think our friends back there are going to stop? They’re just transferring their stuff over and will be following us in a minute or two.”

  Tracy looked over to BT. “He’s right.” BT answered.