by Mark Tufo
“Wait, let’s reason this out,” MJ said coming up to the edge of the roof. “You’re pretty sure he doesn’t know Morse code and he would be fairly confident that you don’t either. Now considering that it is a pretty archaic form of communication, we’ve got to think that he doesn’t believe anybody up here would know it. But yet he keeps repeating the same signal.” “Well, what is it brain boy?” Mrs. Deneaux sniffed disdainfully, sitting in her chaise lounge chair as if it were a throne, smoking another cigarette. Joann looked like she wanted to throttle the old lady if only to get a hold of one of those coffin nails.
“What if the long dash equates to a five and the short dashes equal a one,” MJ said, basically talking out loud as he tried to figure the logic puzzle out.
“Eight and ten?” Joann asked, “What the hell does that mean?”
“What if they represent letters in the alphabet?” Alex asked.
Erin started counting the letters off her fingers. “H and J? Still doesn’t make much sense.” “More like old school Risk board game pieces,” Paul added, completely from left field.
“Any chance you could elaborate?” MJ asked.
“The long is a ten and the short is a one,” Paul said excitedly.
“Thirteen and twenty, so what?” Joann asked.
“M and T,” MJ said.
“Mike motherfucking Talbot!” Alex said, high-fiving Paul.
“I think your message got through, Dad,” Justin said. “Paul and Alex are both fist pumping the air.” “‘Bout time, let’s go find a ladder truck,” I said to everyone, motioning that we should get going.
“They’re leaving!” Joann said with dejection.
“They just wanted to let us know they are here. Now we wait to see what kind of plan they’ve come up with,” Paul said.
“Well, I do hope they hurry up. I’m down to my last five or six packs,” Mrs. Deneaux said loudly, making sure Joann would catch it.
“I’d throw you over the edge, you old crow, if I thought the zombies would actually eat you. They’d probably just think that you were already one of them,” Joann said as she stalked off.
Mrs. Deneaux cackled wildly.
Eliza and Tomas - Interlude
“I told you they would come, Sister,” Tomas said from the doorway of the furniture store.
Eliza said nothing as she watched the ‘rescue party’ depart.
“Mistress please, allow me to go now and finish him off,” Durgan said from Eliza’s left.
“I do not believe that you possess what is necessary to defeat him,” Eliza replied, never turning to address Durgan personally.
Durgan’s body shook with rage and impotence. “Yes Mistress,” he said mildly, nearly choking on his hatred of Talbot. Tomas turned and smiled at him which enraged him more. He knew Tomas was kin to Eliza but his allegiance was in question. He would keep an eye on the demon, but the power the boy exuded rivaled that of his sister and therefore he needed to proceed with caution.
“Please, at least allow me to go onto the roof and dispatch of them. They mean nothing to you,” Durgan pleaded “Do not presume to know what is and what is not of consequence to me,” Eliza said coldly.
“Yes, Mistress,” Durgan, said bowing his head.
“Although it could be an entertaining distraction,” Eliza mused coquettishly.
Durgan’s head shot up, a glimmer of anticipation on his face, partly because he might get to kill someone but mostly because he loved to please his master. Durgan had always been a leader but he found himself relishing the role of follower, although slave was closer to his title. To be this near to her and her power was intoxicating. Why she wasted so much time and energy on the pissant Talbot he could not begin to fathom. In this world she was without limits, she had command of vast armies, countries would bow to her and he would be by her side. Now that Tommy’s blood had cured her she was once again immortal. Talbot would fall eventually, if only to the greatest enemy of mankind: Time. ‘FUCK HIM!’ he screamed in his head, his missing leg still aching.
“There is the chance, Sister, that Michael will not come to the rescue if no one is left alive,” Tomas counseled her.
‘I’m going to kill you the first chance I get,’ Durgan thought to himself. He froze when Tomas looked directly at him as if in response to his thought.
“You wouldn’t be trying to protect your friends now, would you Brother?” Eliza asked as she caressed his face.
“I have no friends,” he answered in an even tone.
“And what of me, Brother?” Eliza asked smiling.
“Least of all you, Sister.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN – Talbot Journal Entry 13
It was Perla who came up with the idea to break into a Best Buy and grab a Garmin. Within a few minutes it had located a satellite and after a query for Fire Stations we soon had five pulled up within a twenty mile radius. The closest was devoid of all equipment, they had definitely been out on a call when their fate befell them.
“I think we’re going to have problems,” Brian said dejectedly as he kicked a helmet across the empty fire station floor.
“First responders were doing what they were supposed to be doing,” I said.
“Hey!” BT yelled from the truck. “This shows which stations are volunteer based.”
“So what?” Jack said a little perturbed, this roadblock souring his mood.
“Real bright,” I said as an aside to Jack. “You’ve seen how big he is right? You always go around poking bears, dumb ass?” “I’ll ‘so what’ right upside your head you dumb cracker,” BT said, struggling to get his bulk out of the truck.
“He knows not what he says my friend,” I said coming over to keep BT from ripping Jack in half. “Although this is kind of cool. It’s much better that he’s the object of your hostility as opposed to me.” BT barely even heard me as he kept trying to get by me. I danced around him, trying to block his path, “Talbot, I swear if you get in my way again, I will beat him to death with your body!” he thundered at me.
I wisely stepped aside. “On your own, Jack.”
“Wait, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Jack said, putting his hands up.
“That’s kind of the same pose you use with BT,” Tracy said as she came up beside me.
“Am I that pathetic?” I asked as I watched the drama.
“Oh even worse I think,” she smiled.
“I used to have dignity,” I told her.
She put her hand up and rocked it back and forth. “Debatable.”
“BT, could you please not kill him, he knows how to operate the ladder truck,” I asked BT’s back.
BT had Jack backed all the way up against a wall, “Listen, you little twit!” BT said, pressing his finger on the top of Jack’s head. “A volunteer fire department means that they weren’t necessarily at the station when the end went down and more than likely never had the chance to get there.” “I get it!” Jack said. Although I think he would have said that even if BT was teaching him quantum physics and he didn’t have a clue.
“You wouldn’t have thought God would have been able to squeeze a brain in around all that muscle,” I said with a smirk.
“Holy shit Dad! He’s going to kill you!” Travis said.
“No swearing!” Tracy and I echoed each other.
“Did he hear me?” I asked Travis softly.
“I heard you Talbot!” BT shouted from across the room. “So many crackers, so little time,” BT said to the heavens.
The Cherryfield Station Fire House was a disaster. I don’t know what happened but the LEAST unsettling thing was the Dalmatian pinned to the wall with a hatchet. What could have possibly necessitated that? Perla waited outside after her third volley of puke left her virtually empty. Dried blood coated the floor. It was at least a quarter inch thick, we kept cracking through the top hardened layer into the thicker still wet and sticky portion. I pretended it was the top surface of frozen snow. The illusion was difficult to hold onto because it
was close to fifty out and this snow was a red, black hybrid, oh yeah, that and the metallic smell that human blood tends to give off.
If you’ve only ever given yourself a paper cut then you most likely have never experienced this phenomenon. I learned of the smell in a much more difficult manner. My unit was on a two hour alert, which basically meant that we could not be anywhere further than two hours away from base should we need to muster. I was boogie boarding on a private Marine Corps beach at the Marine Corps Air Station in Kaneohe Bay , Hawaii when the base siren went off.
I was a lance corporal, pretty wet behind the ears and had no real clue what the hell the siren meant. I saw a few Marines on the beach waving at everybody to come ashore. Now I was concerned, sharks were always a present danger in the warm tropical waters. I grabbed my gear and hightailed it. The idea of being food scared the hell out of me. Who knew that was going to be the state of the world in a few more years?
“Sharks?” I asked the Sergeant as I turned to look at the few remaining folks in the water making their way ashore.
“Have you always been a dumb ass, Marine?” the sergeant asked me.
“Nope, saved it especially for you, Sergeant,” I told him.
Two hundred and twenty five push-ups later he kindly informed me that the siren was the muster call. The North Koreans were threatening our allies to the South and we were heading there as a show of force and solidarity.
It was well known in the Corps that the Koreans were fierce determined warriors that might be a suit or two shy of a full deck. I did not look forward to the deployment. Two and a half hours later, I and ninety other Marines were flying across the Pacific Ocean in a C-130 Hercules. It was a quiet flight. No one spoke, more so because it was damn near impossible to hear anything else over the noise in the uninsulated body of the aircraft.
The monster plane landed some five or six hours later. I’m not sure, I slept the majority of the ride, there wasn’t a whole bunch else to do. We waited on the tarmac as at least another twenty to twenty-five planes touched down, and there were already a bunch of jarheads on the ground when we arrived. A convoy of troop trucks, ‘deuces’ we called them, picked us up. We were shoved in like cattle. I felt like I had paid my 500 pesos and was now trying to sneak across the border with the other forty slobs I was packed in with. It was so tight we couldn’t even sit. Where were the cops when you really needed them?
We were generally doing what all Marines do, grousing and complaining. That was, of course, until we began to hear the chatter of small arms fire. The heavy staccato bursts of the AK’s were unmistakable. This was no drill, the North Koreans were firing. The trucks came to an abrupt halt and the tail gate was slammed down by the corporal that was at the rear of the truck.
“OUT!” came the cry from Sergeant who had moments before been in the shotgun seat. “Keep your heads down or I’ll write your mothers and tell them you died a coward!” “Nice guy,” the Marine behind me said.
I laughed if only to still the screaming terrified kid in my head.
The exodus was semi-organized right up until rounds began to ping off the front of the truck, then it became a free-for-all. I almost met my demise as I was pushed from behind just as I approached the exit, almost landing on my head. The only thing that saved my ass was the Marine that had spoken up earlier.
“Thanks man,” I told him in earnest.
“You’d do the same.” Those were the last words Corporal Meera said as his chest puffed out. The high velocity 7.62 round broke through his back and out his sternum, passing between my arm and my chest. I was able to catch and break his fall as I twisted out of the truck, landing on the soft dirt below.
“Medic!” I shouted as a blossom of blood spread and soaked his entire torso. Blood spewed from his mouth as his ruptured lungs drowned in the viscous fluid. A haunted look came over his eyes as he looked at me. He tried to say something, but between the lack of air in his lungs and the blood in his throat, it wasn’t going to happen. It was the smell that stuck with me all these years. It was a rich earthy smell, the iron of his blood burned into my olfactory senses. I will forever associate that smell with death, the wounded do not bleed like that. The medic came just as Meera took his final tortured breath. Thankfully he closed those eyes that I thought might have held a hint of an accusatory stare. Was my stumble enough to delay him? I would dwell upon it at times, but I have come to learn that there is no great manifest destiny, there is no universal order. Chaos will always reign supreme. There is no more order to the world than the falling of a leaf in a stiff fall breeze. That it will fall eventually is a truth, but which route it will take and where it will fall are the great mysteries that evade us all.
This almost forgotten buried memory broke free from the shackled recess it had hidden in for many a years as the earthy smell once again assailed my nostrils.
“You alright Talbot? You’re looking a little frothy,” BT asked, coming up beside me.
“Old memory my friend that I really wish had stayed where it was hidden.”
“There’s nothing here to worry about Mike. Why don’t you go see how Perla is doing?” he said, placing his hand on my back.
I found Perla in the back seat of Tracy’s car. She had Henry on her lap and tears were streaming down her face.
“Who would do that?” she asked me. Well actually she never did look up at me as I approached. She could have just as easily been asking Henry.
“Hey Perla,” I said.
She looked up and stared for a moment. “I think you look as bad as I do,” she smiled softly.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I’m pretty sure I look way worse,” I told her.
She smiled again, “Thank you for that,” as she buried her face again in Henry’s neck. “You know, this just might be the best dog ever,” she said as she squeezed him tight. Henry turned and licked her forearm.
“You’re probably right,” I told her as I stroked Henry’s huge head. We all turned as the large diesel engine of the ladder truck roared to life. The front of the truck poked its head from the fire station, splatters of a much darker red staining the majority of the vehicle. My mind was working furiously to find an alternate reason to explain away the blotches and was failing miserably.
Brian was driving the truck and Jack was sitting up on the ladder apparatus smiling like a kid who had just received his favorite toy for Christmas. “All aboard!” he shouted.
With a grim determination I walked back into the station. I just couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the dog pinned up against the wall. I had no sooner walked in when Meredith came sliding down the brass fire pole. I was happy that she could at least find a moment’s relief and enjoy the short thrill ride down, but the look on her face did not speak of any joy.
“Nest…” she barely eked out. I didn’t actually hear the words spoken, the blare of the ladder truck’s horn almost deafened my already battered ears.
“NEST!” she screamed just as the echoed reverberations of the blast were finished.
Zombies began to fall through the hole just as Meredith vacated the area, more followed down the stairs at the far corner.
Travis’ sixth sense was in high gear that day. He came around the corner, the Mossberg in his arms jumping as twelve gauge deer slugs ripped through the barrel. Zombies were launched off their feet; most would never regain a vertical position. Justin was next, quick to drop the cigarette he was smoking and chamber a round in his rifle. The three of us stood abreast, the rapid rate of fire tearing through our enemy but still we were losing ground.
Jack turned from his lofty perch, the smile literally running from his face. “Too many!” he screamed. “Coming around the other side!” Perla had moved Henry aside and was running towards us. I could hear the blasts of her rifle and was none too pleased. I never did much like having someone shoot past me from the rear. Way too many chances for an errant shot. And Lord knows I’d pissed off enough people in my life that ‘friendly fi
re’ was always a personal concern of mine. I turned to look and possibly shout a few choice expletives at her, but she wouldn’t have seen me. She was shooting over to our left. I followed her line of sight. Zombies were coming at us at full tilt.
“Back!” I shouted, putting my forearm on Justin’s chest.
Brian was honking the horn on the truck and waving frenetically at us to get on. Cindy had climbed up by Jack and they were both concentrating their fire at the targets Perla was shooting at. My firing line was still oblivious to the danger on our side. Travis was jamming rounds into the Mossberg’s port with a speed I could barely register. I tapped him on the shoulder just as he shouldered his weapon. His eyes grew twice as wide as he looked over my shoulder at the approaching nightmare. His rifle swung over as he began to acquire new targets.
I shook my head in the negative, “Let’s go!” Meredith dropped the magazine she was loading into her rifle as I almost lifted her and Justin off their feet to get them in motion. Perla swung over to cover our retreat. I was now infinitely grateful that she was shooting over our heads. Funny how that change happened, I guess it’s just a matter of perspective. The zombies were close. I was waiting for the drag of a nail down my shirt, or a bite in my back, the green slimed teeth sinking deep into my flesh, or the black encrusted broken jagged nails scraping through the fragile layers of my skin. Always knew I should have used more moisturizer as I was growing older. It would have given my skin more elasticity and less chance of splitting when a zombie tried to scrape the life out of me. Yup, random thought as I fled for my life. At least it didn’t involve sex, maybe I was finally maturing. And then I began to think of the other uses that lotion could be used for and realized that maybe I was not as far along as I had originally thought.