The End .... zf-3

by Mark Tufo

  "How is that possible? Doesn't the parasite die when the host does? How can it keep going without that symbiotic relationship?"

  "And that's the difference. Our little carnivorous sycophant values its existence above all others. Sort of like man itself." The Doc said wonderingly.

  "Doc, come back."

  "Right. So I can't even begin to go into depth about how, but apparently when the leech realized that its very life was on the line, it developed a way to reroute the functions of its host. It took control much like a marionette. Unfortunately, this type of hostile take-over requires copious amounts of proteins to sustain."

  "Meat." I said softly.

  "Precisely."

  "What happens when their food supply runs dry?" I asked knowing full well I was talking about people.

  "You may or may not have noticed that they will eat just about anything they can catch. Funny though they will have nothing whatsoever to do with high protein bars which would sustain them just as easily as meat based proteins."

  I knew the answer but I asked anyway. "How do you know all this Doc?"

  He didn't hesitate with his response. "We've got ten of them on base for studying."

  "What the fuck?" BT yelled. "You've got those things on site? Are you fucking crazy?"

  "Strange." The Doc said as he stood up and walked over to BT's bedside. He tapped on BT's intravenous bag. "I gave him enough sedative to keep him asleep for another eight hours."

  "You know those things can talk to each other right?" BT said panicked. "Tell him Talbot."

  "Lawrence, they can do no such thing." The Doc said as he plunged another hypodermic into BT's IV line. "The virus burns so hot in humans that it virtually wipes clear all higher brain functioning, like a magnet to a hard drive."

  "Talbot!?" BT pleaded.

  "Doc, they aren't hard drives." I said. "I'm not saying that they have conversations, but they have the ability to communicate somehow. They know when prey is available and they have a pack mentality. They know when to converge or even to diverge if a more readily available food source comes into play."

  "These are all interesting theories, Mike," the Doc said with a small slice of condescension on top.

  I could tell he was about to start rambling on with a myriad of explanations and reasons why this couldn't be true. I didn't give him the chance.

  "How many battles you been in Doc?"

  "That’s not the point."

  "The hell it isn't Doc. How much about a wolf's behavior could you learn from him if all you knew was from a caged specimen."

  "I understand the analogy Mike, I really do. But I am telling you that the host brain is quite literally liquefied from the experience."

  "You said the host brain."

  The Doc paused.

  "Good one Talbot!" BT said barely able to muster a thumbs-up under the assault of the newly added sedative.

  CHAPTER EIGHT - JOURNAL ENTRY 4 -

  I don't know if the Doc didn't like my answer or was just done talking, he plunged a sedative into my IV line. Unlike BT, I was out in seconds. I slept wonderfully. No visions of Heaven or Tommy's playland. I think I dreamt something about the New York Giants playing the Red Sox in the World Bowl and somehow the Boston Bruins came out on top. Don’t judge me, you know you've had weirder dreams. I was graciously accepting Lord Stanley's Turkey Platter when I was rudely shoved awake.

  "Michael B. Talbot, are you awake?"

  "Fucking am, now." I don’t wake up very well. I wanted to sit up a little straighter when I noticed who had pulled me out of dreamland. This guy had more ribbons and shiny shit on his uniform than I had ever seen.

  "Michael B. Talbot, I am Lt. Colonel Byron Fox, 1st Marine Corps Air Station."

  "Little far from home Colonel?" I asked. First MCAS was at one time stationed in Hawaii, probably not anymore.

  The Colonel did not even acknowledge my comment as he threw out his own question. "Doctor Baker came to see me a few hours ago with some disturbing new details about our enemy. What can you tell me?"

  "How much time you got?" I asked him.

  "I have to be in a briefing with the base commander at 1830, so about an hour."

  Great, this guy was about as dry as toast. He grilled me for the entire hour, ringing out every iota of minutiae he could garner. He must have been a supply commander. I glossed over Eliza for the time being. I don't know why, maybe I was afraid that he would kick my family and me out if he knew we were being targeted. The Marine Corps is all about the greater good, sacrifice of the one for the many. I just wanted to make sure that my family was not the 'ONE.'

  He knew I wasn't giving him everything but not from lack of trying. He would ask the same questions just with different wordings. More than once I had to stop and sort through all the 'half-truths' I had told him and make sure that I was consistent. I was exhausted after our verbal sparring, another half hour and I might have admitted to creating the tainted shots.

  "We'll talk more." The colonel said as he abruptly rose and walked out of the room.

  "Why didn't you tell him Mike?" BT asked.

  BT startled the crap out of me. I had to remember that I did not have this room to myself.

  "Shit, BT don’t you sleep?"

  "Only when I want to. Something about this place has me on edge. Obviously you feel the same or you would have told him."

  "I don’t know what it is BT. We are on a military base with more guns and trained personnel that we could ever hope for and I felt safer in Little Turtle. I think most of it has to do with the fact that we're pretty much stuck in these beds. Part of it could be that I just don’t think he'd believe me."

  BT nodded in agreement.

  "I mean we're living through it man, and still I am harboring doubts."

  "It all seems pretty improbable. I always thought the downfall of civilization would be a socio-economic collapse. I fully expected China to demand all of our debt to her in one fell swoop. They would have won the war without firing one shot."

  I looked over at BT. I must have had a confused look on my face because he asked me what the hell I was looking at. I could not reconcile the size of the man with the obvious amount of smarts he possessed.

  "How in the hell do you have enough time outside of the gym to learn all this stuff?"

  "Blow me, Talbot."

  "Ah there's the BT I know and love."

  "So what do you want to do about this place?" He asked more seriously.

  "I want to leave. But not yet, I want us to be as close to 100% functional as is possible. This place has…something."

  "A feeling of expectancy."

  "That'll work. Calm before the storm and all that shit. There is just way too much food here for the zombies to pass on by. I don't give a shit how many bullets and grenades and claymore mines they have here, it isn't enough. They will either come on their own or Eliza will bring them. Either way I really don't want to be here when it happens."

  "How long you figure, Mike?"

  "It's never good when you use my first name BT."

  He cocked a half smile at me.

  "Well, provided I don’t find some new and unusual way to reinjure my shoulder, which may be difficult. I should be semi-functional in a few weeks. You on the other hand are probably looking at a good 3 or 4 months before you are even close to approximating something close to normal."

  BT laughed before he asked his question. "So again Mike, how long?"

  "Do I look like CNN?" BT's gaze withered me. "Fine, I've got to figure that the bitch is even now amassing an army. It'll take her a while to get anything together that can take on this base. I can only hope that the majority of zombies out there are still of the slower variety. I figure if everything goes our way we have a max of a month."

  BT breathed heavily through closed lips. "When you feel better Mike you could leave."

  "Yup sure could."

  "But you won't." BT said resignedly.

  "Yeah not really a chance of
that BT, I've come to grow fond of you and the constant threat of getting my ass kicked by you."

  "Mike, you've got your family to think of."

  "BT you are part of my family now. I mean we might not be able to pass as twins and all, but we are brothers."

  "Brothers in arms."

  "I've been to war BT. There are not many stronger bonds that can be created than with your fellow soldier. When the world disintegrates around you and all you have is your buddy next to you watching your back and to rely on, well hell man, what more do you need? Don't sweat it for now, we'll see how we're doing in three weeks and we'll go from there. If we're up for it and these Army guys can see it out of the kindness of their hearts to give us a hummer, we'll just go."

  "What if they don't have any kindness?"

  "Eh, won’t be the first time I stole a military vehicle."

  "You scare me Talbot."

  "Those are the same words my parole officer said."

  “What’d the Doc say about your leg?”

  “He said I should have got a second opinion before I let you operate.”

  I laughed, even though the movement caused extreme pain through my shoulder. “Asshole.” I mumbled.

  “Hey I’m just telling you what he told me.”

  “Seriously, BT.”

  “Well my pole vaulting days are over.” He said with some serious lament in his voice.

  He sounded so pathetic I was half tempted to believe him, but the guy would have had to use an oak tree to vault over a pole.

  “BT, shit. You know it hurts me when I laugh.” I said gripping my shoulder.

  “It’ll heal, in fact it’s done remarkably well in this short time span. I’ll probably always have a limp, but that just works in my favor.”

  When he didn’t answer I asked. “How so?” Knowing full well that I was walking into a set up trap.

  BT flashed a smile. “Now I won’t have to work so hard on my pimp walk.”

  I sighed in feigned disgust. It hurt less than laughing. For long moments there was a calm silence between us. BT broke it.

  “I miss Jen, Talbot.” BT said.

  I thought he might have wiped a tear away but I couldn’t be sure and either way I wasn’t going to call him on it.

  “I miss her too, BT. She saved my skin a couple of times. Did you know we were neighbors before?” No need to explain before what.

  “I think I remember her saying something about that. How the hell did she put up with you?”

  “Back when civilization ruled the world, I reined myself in a lot better. I guess now there’s nothing left to hold the crazy back.”

  With no small measure of difficulty BT sat up so that he could get a better look at me. “Talbot you’re hilarious.” BT guffawed for a few long seconds.

  “I was being serious.” I said to him. His laughing, which had been ebbing began to flow full throttle again.

  For forty-five minutes we reminisced about Brendon and Jen, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying, more times than not it was a combination of the two.

  "BT I haven't had the chance to ask anyone, but what happened to Brendon?"

  "He shot himself."

  I couldn't think of anything to say. There were reasons why in these times someone might decide to off themselves, but why then?

  "He was bitten?" It was half statement half question.

  "He must have been there was a bandage on his hand and when they laid him down I saw one on his leg, I don’t know how he even managed to get to Carol's."

  I missed the kid, allies were falling fast and replacements were slow to come forward.

  BRENDON'S STORY - CHAPTER NINE -

  Brendon could never remember being able to change a tire that fast. Lug nuts that should have literally been frozen on, seemed hardly finger tightened as he used the tire iron to unscrew them. Adrenaline, fear and anger seethed through his system. He had no direction to focus his turmoil on. Justin was a spy, he was also his friend and the brother of his fiancée. Mike could just about be considered his dad and he knew what was up with Justin but did nothing. Realistically, what could he do.

  Brendon felt justified and cowardly as he sped away from the Talbots'. They would never be able to survive without him.

  "Oh who the hell am I kidding." He said to the steering wheel. "I won’t survive without them." His gut wrenched from the inner conflict. He was thirty miles down the roadway before he finally pulled over to reevaluate his situation. "How could I leave her?" He wailed. Pride is listed as one of the seven deadly sins for a reason. Brendon knew his life was almost forfeit but he'd be damned if he would grovel back to the all-knowing Michael R. Talbot.

  He drove another five miles before he once again pulled over to rethink this course. He knew to within a few miles where they were going. He could just meet them there, all would be forgiven. "No!" He yelled. "Mike will have some smart ass comment about, I knew you’d be back. Or couldn’t stay away could you?" Brendon punched the accelerator, gravel spun out from the back of his truck. A lone crow perched on a non-functioning phone line watched his departure.

  Brendon spent his first night alone in a mini-mall parking lot. He slept in fitful starts, always fearful that something would go bump in the night. The truck windows kept completely fogging over, so even when he did thrash to full alertness he could not tell if something was out there or an overactive imagination was to blame. Brendon quickly sat up. Wiping his sleeve across the wet glass, images of yellowing chipped, meat encrusted teeth pressed against the windshield jump-started his heart. "This sucks." He repeated for at least the twenty-second time. A little ribbing from Mike was a small price to pay.

  Brendon spent the majority of the next morning sitting in his truck, constantly shifting his decision to keep on driving away from or toward the Talbots'. He dozed in and out of sleep, his legs cramped under the dashboard. It was sometime past noon when his knee slammed up into the steering column, his eyes were drawn to the far side of the parking lot as a young woman of nearly the same age as Nicole walked steadily in his direction. Age was the only thing his former fiancée and this interloper had in common. His heart snagged on a barb of realism as he realized that his engagement was now terminated.

  The woman that was headed his way was dead and just didn’t know it. Her gore-streaked hair covered most of her visage but yet she did not once reach up and brush it away. Ripped lips revealed blackened teeth and a cavernous throat. She looked something between a sea gull and a shark with her black eyes. Her once white sweat pants were completely ripped up the right side revealing purple-bluish flesh that had torn in more than one spot. Oval mouthfuls of muscle and tendon were neatly removed. Brendon fumbled with his gun as his pulse quickened and his pupils dilated. He debated whether to leave, get out of the truck and kill it or shoot from where he sat.

  He decided he would get a cleaner shot if he got out of the truck. He was completely unprepared for what happened as his foot hit the pavement. The zombie shifted from the typical side-to-side ambling and started a full on sprint towards him. The buffeting wind pushed her hair back to reveal red-rimmed black eyes. Saliva spewed forth from her mouth and ran parallel to the ground on her cheeks as she picked up speed. Brendon’s shot went wide right, nicking the girl's ear. She would never wear hoop earrings again. Her pace never wavered as she kept locked on like a meat seeking missile. Brendon’s next shot shattered the right side of her head. Head plate flew into the air, gray brown brain was clearly visible and still she came. Brendon's third and final shot dropped the zombie a mere 10 feet from him, the push of the bullet forced the majority of her brain out of the exposed hole. His heart nearly cramped from the encounter.

  "One zombie." He said shaking his head. "Just one more and I'd be dead." He didn't know it on an intellectual level yet but his instinctual side had clearly made up its mind. If he wanted to survive, which he did, he needed to get back with the Talbots. He pulled out of the parking lot, passing seven zombies who started their re
lentless pursuit.

  He got a few miles away from his close encounter, his breathing finally under control. He stopped this time on the roadway with a 360 degree view all around him, with at least 100 yards or more of clear sight. Nothing or nobody was going to be able to sneak up on him, at least not until night. His fuel tank and his stomach were both running on empty; he would need to rectify those situations soon.

  Brendon looked at the flat black matte finish of his 9mm pistol, one pull of the trigger could end all of his doubts and misgivings. “Would it hurt?” He asked no one. A response was not forth coming. He smacked his gun-laden hand against the steering wheel. The bullet pierced the cab roof, a brilliant beam of light struck him in the eye. “Holy shit!” He said sticking a finger through the new exit point. “Great that ought to make it a little cooler in here tonight and let anybody in the general vicinity know I’m around.” His ears stung from the noise in such a confined space, his mood souring by the moment.

  There was a Wendy’s up ahead, but unless he wanted to eat frozen ketchup packets he didn’t see the point. In a few more hours though, those would probably sound good. Brendon started the truck and drove slowly up the roadway looking for a place to grab some food and to keep a look out for any signs of the dead. A mini-mart that had seen better days came up on his right hand side. Both front doors were smashed and an F3 tornado seemed to have swept through the inner aisles but there still seemed to be plenty of food available, or at least food-like products, this was a mini-mart after all.

  Brendon pulled up close to the front doors and then reversed a few feet just in case he needed the extra space to get away from something. He hesitated in the cab whether or not to leave it running or take the keys with him. “At this rate I’ll just end up pissing my pants where I sit so I won’t have to get out.” He smiled at his own grim realization that paranoia was taking more than a foothold. He opted to shut the truck off. The idling diesel engine was loud enough to sufficiently hide the dragging foot falls of zombies. His only middle ground was to leave the keys in the ignition so that there was no chance he’d drop them and not be able to find them.