by Mark Tufo
The truck swung to the left just as the wheels dropped off the side of the road and on to the soft shoulder, nearly ripping the steering wheel from Gary’s grip.
“Shit,” he echoed Tracy.
The hard rubber dug deeply into the gravel and dirt, making it impossible for Gary to regain control. The rear wheels dropped off the roadway as well, brush scraping along the side of the vehicle with larger and larger branches thwacking the front end and windshield.
“Brace for impact!” Gary hadn’t finished the word “impact” when they struck something solid enough to crumple the front end. Tracy’s body lurched forward. She was pretty sure she was going to be sore for days if they survived. That was a problem she would have to deal with later…if she got the chance.
“Everyone alright?” Tracy yelled out over the groans of the engine. In truth, it was a low-velocity impact, punishing to the body to be sure, but not deadly—at least the initial part of it. What happened after was very much up in the air.
“We’re good! What happened?” BT yelled from the back.
“Gary had a Mike moment!”
“Can we get out of here?” Travis asked.
Tracy looked to Gary who shook his head. He was too embarrassed or disappointed with himself to answer with words.
“Engine is dying.” And as if Gary was the second coming of Nostradamus, the truck shuddered and lay still. The hissing of zombies overtook the popping protests of the heated cylinder block.
“Everyone up top!” Tracy shouted as rifles began to fire behind her.
“Up top?” Justin was looking at the canvas covering the truck bed. The canvas was plenty strong to hold their accumulated weight…the thin metal supports holding the canvas up…well, that was potentially a different story.
“You heard the lady, let’s go!” BT was crouched over and had shoved a blade through the canvas, opening a hole wide enough for a person to fit through. “You okay?” He looked to Travis and Justin who were holding the encroaching horde at bay for the moment.
“We got this, get them up,” Travis told him.
“I feel like I’m being born again!” Trip said as he was pushed up through the breach.
BT could only shake his head. They all looked up for a moment as they saw Trip’s outline on top of them.
“That going to hold?” Travis asked.
“Sure,” Justin told him.
“Is that like a Dad “sure”, where he’s really trying to figure it out himself, or do you know for real?”
“Sure,” Justin repeated.
“Thought so. Five more shots and I need to reload.”
“Do it now, I have ten.”
“Boys, one of you needs to come up,” BT said after he got Stephanie up and handed Henry to her.
“Trip, NO! This is not still the bouncy house!” Stephanie shrieked. Justin looked up and could clearly see Trip’s feet outlined above his head as the man had stood and was preparing to jump.
“Justin, I’ve got a full mag, go,” Travis said hastily as he shoved the last bullet in.
Justin would have argued but they didn’t have the time as zombies were at the edge of the truck with some even pulling themselves in. “Hurry up.” And with that Justin let BT propel him into the air.
“Your turn.”
Travis turned when BT spoke. A vise-like hand wrapped around his ankle and pulled him to the ground. His gun went skittering away as he landed on his hands.
“Travis!” BT roared, moving to grab the boy’s outstretched hand even as he was being pulled toward the rear of the truck and out.
Justin poked his head through the hole, and without a moment’s hesitation, dropped back down. BT dove and wrapped his hands around Travis.
“Please don’t let me go,” Travis said as he looked at BT.
“You go, I go, I promise,” BT told him as he reached out and grabbed onto the seats.
“No one’s going anywhere, especially without inviting me,” Justin said as he reached down, grabbed a magazine from the bed of the truck, and shoved it into his magazine well. He quickly pulled the charging handle back and roared rounds through it, the first ones coming dangerously close to Travis’s ankle.
Justin was nearly leaning outside of the truck, placing the barrel of his weapon directly against the skulls of the zombies. He kept pulling the trigger until he heard BT tell him Travis was free.
“Come on, boy!” BT was yelling, it could have been at him or his brother.
“FUCK YOU!” Justin was shouting to the zombies as bits of brain and blood splattered up and on to him. “NOT NOW, NOT EVER!” His bolt slammed open as he fired his last round. The trigger was impotently frozen. “AHHHHHH!” he yelled as he flipped the rifle around and started pounding on the zombies’ skulls, who seemed to clamor for more and more of the damage he doled out as if they were masochists thriving on the punishment.
“Just got you back, boy, not going to go through this again.” BT physically removed him from his spot and ran to the front of the truck.
Trip was poking his head through. “You two coming? It’s such a beautiful day!”
“Trip, move!” BT was already sending Justin up. Dennis grabbed the boy and moved him to the side in preparation for BT’s ascent.
Gary’s side had thankfully been clear as he opened his door. He wrenched his sister-in-law over and somehow got her through his door before he actually exited. She stepped onto the roof of the truck and then onto the canvas, Gary quickly following her.
The truck swayed as zombies and bulkers ran into it. Gary, Stephanie, Dennis, Justin, Travis, Tracy, and BT, who was holding Henry, sat precariously on the thin cover supports. They all held on for dear life as the truck moved. Trip had been walking on the canvas, wondering why he wasn’t getting the bouncing sensation he desired until BT’s glare made Stephanie reach out and pull him down. Zombies had now entered the cab and the open bay, fingers and hands attempting to push through the thick, green fabric. At first they’d moved their feet every time a zombie had touched them through the canvas, but now it happened so often that they would have had to keep their feet constantly in their air. That would have been fairly impractical given the width of the area they were perched on.
Zombies still flooded past to the front and rear of the truck, going to an as yet unknown destination, but at least a few hundred had stopped for an afternoon snack.
“Maybe they’ll move and try to catch up with the other zombies,” Justin said hopefully.
Nobody answered. It was what they all desired, but there was no way to tell if it would happen or not. Once zombies got fixated on food, they were rarely persuaded to leave it. BT was closest to the hole in the canvas, far enough that the hands poking through couldn’t reach him, but close enough to feel a certain level of anxiety as those plague-filled extremities sought purchase. He wasn’t too concerned initially, as the zombies’ fingers had been sticking straight out. Then, something subtly changed as those same fingers began to curl, and not only curl, but do so with a purpose as they gripped the lip of the fabric.
“We’ve got to go,” BT said. He’d thought about standing, but the bulkers were still ramming the truck and he was afraid he’d pitch off to the side.
“Go? Go where, BT?” Tracy asked. “I think Justin is right, maybe we should just wait them out.” Anything more she had to say was cut short by a tear in the very fabric that held their existence in place.
Travis moved closer to BT to see what was going on. He then did a quick look around him. “The trees—we can make it to the trees,” he said, looking at the large one the truck’s front end was resting against.
BT saw it as well and hastily glanced down to the package in his arms. Unless Henry became a jungle cat and quickly, his short limbs were going to be an extreme hindrance to climbing. “Everyone give me whatever clothing you can spare.” In a normal situation, such an odd request might generate a half a dozen questions. But questions meant time, and that was something they had littl
e of. The next few moments had everyone pulling off various articles of clothing, most of it socks, although Tracy and Stephanie both had a top on under a heavier shirt. Trip, for whatever reason, handed BT his pants. He was now proudly standing there in his underwear.
BT wanted to tell him to put his damn pants back on, but unfortunately it was exactly what he needed. He fashioned a harness for Henry who seemed none too pleased to be donning anything extra. Everyone had quickly figured out where this was going and were doing their best to ensure that the knots would be sufficient to hold Henry’s heft. And, at least for the moment, Henry seemed content with everyone paying him so much attention.
“Let’s try this out,” BT said as Travis and Justin got Henry up onto his back. Stephanie and Tracy were adjusting the makeshift knots. BT was cinching the knots in front as tightly as was humanly possible, which in his case was nearly superhuman.
BT stood slowly, getting used to the added weight on his back. Henry was breathing on his neck and even once or twice let his thick tongue get a taste. “You keep doing that, dog, and I’m going to leave you here.” BT shivered.
Gary had been eyeing the tree. “It’s at least seven feet from the top of the hood to the lowermost branch.” Like everyone else that had survived this far his body had gone through immense changes, but he still couldn’t forget the little kid he’d been who had not been able to climb that rope back in grade school. His friends—and the gym teacher for that matter—had teased him mercilessly. He was now getting the cold sweats just thinking about that climb.
Trip moved past them all, with his ghost-white legs and untied shoes.
“Honey, what are you doing?” Stephanie asked as Trip jumped over the outstretched zombie hands and onto the roof of the cab.
“Looking for coconuts,” he told her as he dropped down onto the hood and within mere inches of zombies scrambling to get at him. “I could really go for a Mounds.” Trip reached up, grabbed the branch, jumped, placing his feet against the tree, and effortlessly pulled himself up. “I think I see some!” he said, looking up and shielding his eyes. “Come on! I could use some help when I knock them down.”
If not for the sound of more fabric tearing, they may have stayed there and looked at him for a much longer time.
“Go,” BT said to Travis who was next in line.
Trip reached down and helped Travis up, who quickly moved to another part of the tree. The closest call thus far had come when Stephanie and Trip had locked arms. He had swung her around like they were playing on the monkey bars at a playground.
“John, please!” she’d pleaded. It was safe to say that none of them had taken a breath as they waited to see if Trip would venture back from whatever dimension he had traveled to.
“I’m sorry; I was just trying to lighten up the mood. These people are SO serious.”
“I get it, honey, I do, but could you just maybe not do it with my life?”
“Your life? I’d never jeopardize your life,” he said in all seriousness as he hoisted her up.
“Alright, Gary, just you and me. We’ve got to go.” BT and Gary were standing on the cab roof, the canvas tarp now pretty much relegated to salvage as the zombies had torn half of it down.
“You go,” Gary urged.
BT stopped to truly look at Mike’s brother. “You’re scared.”
“Me? Naw. This way I can keep an eye on Henry when you climb.”
“Now normally that sounds like a good idea, but I’m thinking that if I go up that tree you won’t.”
“Pssh…come on,” Gary exclaimed. “You think I want to stay down here with the zombies?”
“I don’t think you want to, I just think you don’t want to climb that tree more. What’s going on?”
Gary paused. “I’ve had, umm, issues with climbing before.”
“FUCK!” BT roared, “What is it with Talbots and past events? Get your ass up there or I’m going to put you in the sling with Henry!”
“Something is going on!” Travis shouted.
During BT and Gary’s conversation the zombies had vacated the truck, leaving some room around the perimeter.
“Are they leaving?” Tracy asked.
BT looked around, “I don’t think so, they’re just standing there like they’re expecting something.”
“I think I know what it is.” Justin was pointing. A line of bulkers was forming.
“They’re going to try knocking the truck over. You guys need to get moving!” Travis shouted. He brought the barrel of his gun up to rest on a branch so he could get some stability for his shots. Justin was doing the same. The bulkers were moving forward with as much speed as they could generate in fifteen feet. The truck rocked violently from the impact, Gary steadied BT as his footing slipped.
“Gary, you have to go. If you don’t go, I don’t, and if something happens to Henry, Mike is going to flip the fuck out.”
“Yeah, he’d probably be more pissed about that than anything else.”
“That’s a fair assessment. Come on, I’ll help you out. Fear of heights?” BT asked tenderly.
“Not at all…fear of climbing.”
BT shook his head. “Is that even such a thing?” he asked as he pushed on Gary’s ass to get him into the tree. The zombies had now pulled back even further, giving the bulkers more room to gain momentum. Trip was hanging down like a bat, his head nearly even with BT’s, his legs wrapped around the branch.
“Hello, good sir. Going up?”
“Get out of the way!”
“Second floor, women’s apparel, candles, small household electronics,” Trip announced as BT launched himself into the air.
He grunted heavily as he pulled himself up and past. “Thanks for moving,” he said sarcastically.
“No problem, man,” Trip said as he moved to sit upright.
The truck groaned as the bulkers slammed into it, the tires coming up nearly eight inches before crashing back to earth. They hadn’t succeeded in turning it over, but it was safe to say that they would have dislodged at least a couple of the previous inhabitants from the top with their efforts. The zombies now looked from the truck to the tree, unsure of how their food had moved.
The group could only watch as the bulkers repeatedly hit the truck, caving in the side and finally getting it partially tipped. The truck came to rest against another tree, the passenger’s side wheels off the ground and the truck balanced at a forty-five degree angle. The only perch that would have been afforded to them then would not have been wide enough by half to hold them all. BT shuddered; he wasn’t the only one to do so.
“Well, at least we got rid of the truck,” Gary said. His attempt at lightheartedness was not met with overwhelming results. The day was warm, although thankfully not hot as the sun made its journey across the sky. The tree was safety, but it was safety without comfort. The only one who was not constantly adjusting in order to find a more easy sitting position was Trip. He looked as if he might be performing meditation he was so still. Henry had been good thus far, but at some point he was going to want out of his restrictive harness.
“We have to keep moving,” BT said. The massive horde had finally passed them by leaving only their dinner guests, which numbered in the hundreds.
“You’re serious?” Tracy asked. “What are we going to do? Pretend we’re Tarzan? No, Really!?” she asked as she looked to the trees next to them. Some were within reach while others tantalizingly close.
“We can’t wait them out, Mom. They’ll never leave,” Travis told her.
She knew he was right, there was no question he was right, but she hadn’t liked climbing trees when she was young, and doing it now to save her and the lives of those around her wasn’t making it much better…if at all.
“This is insane,” Stephanie chimed in.
BT had wanted to tell her the only thing that was insane around here was her husband. He used an extraordinary amount of restraint to refrain from issuing those words, though.
Again
Trip took the lead, appearing as if he wasn’t even cognizant of the conversation that had been going on around him. He leaped as if he were the Sugar Plum Fairy in a classic remake of The Nutcracker, his legs already a shimmering white as if he’d been wearing tights. As he was in mid-air, his left shoe spiraled off and hit a zombie square in the nose. If the zombie minded, he said nothing in protest.
It was a long second that Trip floated in that air before his body came down onto a branch, a loud crack heralding his arrival. The group held a collective breath as they waited to see if Trip would go plummeting to the ground. The branch held, although it was clear to those looking at it that the limb was suffering a catastrophic failure.
“Honey, you should move to another branch,” Stephanie urged.
“Why? Will this bank not let me withdraw money?” he asked, clearly confused.
“What is he saying?” Dennis questioned.
“Allow me,” BT said. “I’m starting to understand Tripanese. See, he thinks when his wife said ‘branch’ that she was referring to a bank.”
“Well, why not? Makes perfect sense.” Dennis was looking down at the zombies that, for the time being, were mostly silent, though the way in which they gazed upon the tree-dwellers was unsettling. He had the feeling they were like crocodiles in a marsh waiting for the hatching birds to fall so they could get a quick meal. Trip, in the meantime, had moved higher up the tree he’d jumped to.
BT looked around desperately; with Henry on his back he knew he was well over three hundred pounds of combined weight. He’d need a branch somewhere close to the thickness of his arm before he’d feel safe enough to make a leap of faith.
“You guys coming? If you don’t hurry, we’ll never beat the Nottingham Sheriff to Robin’s lair,” Trip called out.
“Guys, there’s another tree over here that looks sturdy enough.” Gary was gauging the distance. “I think I can make it.” He was pushing against the tree he was on, looking for some extra propulsion.
“You go from scared of climbing trees to Batman?” BT asked him.
“I said I was afraid of climbing, not afraid of heights,” Gary replied. He leaped and missed.