Those Left Behind

by Mark Tufo

  “Trip; what the hell are you doing?” I asked.

  “It’s the Man, man! Well, in this case, it’s a woman. She’s telling me I can’t bring all the cupcakes to the show! Who goes to a show without all the cupcakes? When did we leave America and move to Sweden, man?”

  “Sweden?” I asked BT.

  “Apparently, they’re a cupcake-free country,” BT shrugged.

  “Makes sense.”

  “Is he still in here?” It was Stephanie; she was coming up behind us.

  “Could you maybe fill me in on what is going on here?” I asked.

  “It’s Deneaux,” she whispered after looking around. She spoke the name like it might summon the bogeyman, which in this case was more real than not. “She told him yesterday there wasn’t enough room for all the snack cakes and he’s been down here ever since doing his best to eat them all before we leave.

  “All of them?”

  She smiled weakly. “I’ve already thrown a large trash bag of empty wrappers and boxes away.”

  “He’s going to catch diabetes,” BT said.

  “Is that possible?” I asked.

  “You can’t just eat bags of sugar and not have some repercussions. Will you do something with him? It gets really bad when he starts chanting. And oh yeah, be careful—he’s been awake for all that time and he periodically rides his sugar highs and then crashes.” With that, BT left.

  “Thank you, Mike.” Stephanie rubbed my arm and left as well.

  “Yeah, that’s cool,” I called out to them. “Hey, Trip. Hey buddy...how you doing?” I was talking like I was approaching a wild animal and I didn’t want it to attack me.

  Trip hugged the box of Ring Dings he was motoring through closer to his chest. I think he growled; bare minimum he bared his teeth at me.

  “It’s gonna be alright,” I told him.

  “Is it man? Because it doesn’t feel like it’s going to be alright. Shit’s going sideways in a hurry. This isn’t the right timeline for Ron to die.”

  I was floored by that; we’d got real serious real fast. “What are you talking about?”

  “He’s supposed to be here, right now, man. A point is coming where you have two roads to go down. And you, you’re going to choose the wrong one. And Ron? He’s supposed to make you change your mind, man.”

  “How can you know these things, Trip?”

  “It’s the high fructose corn syrup, man. It really attaches to the ‘sight’ receptors in my brain.”

  “Trip, I need the serious side of you now. Tell me which road I’m supposed to avoid and I’ll do it before it ever happens.”

  “That’s the thing, man.” He looked at me, extreme sadness surrounded his eyes. “None of us are going to realize it was a choice until it’s too late. People are going to die.”

  He didn’t say who, but I had a feeling he knew. And if the look on his face was telling a story my guess Stephanie was included among those lost.

  “Is that what this is all about?” I asked, regarding his sit in. “Should we just stay here?”

  “Do we have any milk?”

  “Dammit.” I knew I’d been close to the well-spring that was Trip. Someday I was going to get the whole story out of him. The burned out hippie façade, while entertaining, was far from the entire picture. Like the boy Tommy we’d initially discovered on that Walmart roof, Trip walked around with a veneer. Sure, it smelled burnt and was smoky colored, but it was a veneer, nonetheless. The problem was he was not able to control it in any useful way. It was not a disguise like Tommy’s had been. Trip’s was more of a self-defense mechanism, a hiding place.

  “I don’t trust that one,” Deneaux said to me pointing at Trip. The stoner had moved from the floor and was loading another small pallet of snack cakes onto the bus. We’d made an agreement; after some great self-sacrifice I took off a case of paper towels.

  “Trip? You don’t trust Trip? Relax. He smokes things but certainly not cigarettes; he’s not going to raid your stash.” I told her. “Anyway, that’s like a polar bear not trusting a baby seal,” I told her before walking away.

  “We have to go!” It was Mad Jack and he was much more animated than I’d seen him in a long time.

  He was holding the only reason Deneaux didn’t have a bullet in her skull.

  “Zombies?” I asked, looking at his face.

  He just nodded. He turned the display so I could see; the screen was on infrared or something, didn’t matter, it just looked like a huge blob of zombie colored goo.

  “We’re done! Whatever you’re doing it’s as done as it’s going to be! On the bus!” It went agonizingly slow. We were as wieldy as a wet carton of eggs, and yes, I know that makes no sense. Sometimes I wished for the discipline and strength of my old Marine Corps units. I was ushering kids on to the bus; Tracy was helping Carol, whose hip was bothering her. Ben-Ben was freaking out about something and was being a pain in the ass about getting on the bus. Of course, the fucking cat was one of the first to find her way on; was not at all surprised to find her sitting on Deneaux’s lap. Apparently, demons can sense their own.

  “Tommy, do you know what’s going on?”

  He looked at me and shook his head. “It’s not Payne.”

  “Well, that’s something.”

  “Knox?” I asked BT.

  “Maybe...if he followed us here,” BT replied.

  “Tracy, how are we doing?”

  “We’re ready to go, save one.”

  “Well, get them on the bus. We don’t have time for this shit.”

  “I think you’re going to have to take care of this one.” She nodded to the house. Henry was sitting on the deck, patiently looking down at us.

  “Shit.” I climbed the stairs and sat down on the step next to him. “I know, I know, big guy. We’re leaving another home. I forget sometimes how much you hate change. We’re definitely birds of a feather in that regard. But we don’t have a choice; not if we want to do better than we’re doing now. You get that, right?”

  He barked, I wasn’t sure if he was agreeing or disagreeing.

  “I love you, Henry. I have from the moment I saw you in that litter. There were three other pups there, but you were the only one that wriggled your little ass up and came over. You remember that? You licked my finger, bit it, then backed up and took a crap nearly half your size at the time. Kind of crazy, huh? I was smitten at that point; you were showing your true colors and you didn’t care who knew it. A pretty much ‘love me the way I am’ kind of persona. I could empathize with that, and I still do. Listen, pup, I have reservations about this whole thing too; is it the right thing to do? Am I exposing all of you to more danger than necessary? What good is making a better life if only half of us survive the journey? Yeah, I have those kinds of thoughts running through my head. So, my big furry friend, if you don’t think going is such a good idea, then I’m inclined to stay with you. And if I stay, there’s a good chance Tracy will as well. I mean not a definite chance she’ll stay, but a decent one. Who knows, this could be the opportunity she’s been looking at for years to get rid of me. If she stays, though, there’s a good chance this whole thing unravels. Then we’re here. We’ll stay; for better or for worse, we stay. Your call, Henry.”

  He swiveled his large head to look at the house first, then the bus, then his gaze settled on me. I’d love to say I knew what was going on in that head of his. He stood, moved closer, and licked the side of my face before starting his strange, patented hop down the stairs. He didn’t so much walk down steps as bounce down. He sauntered onto the bus, throwing a definite ‘fuck you’ to all dangers past, present, and future.

  “That’s my dog,” I said as I followed him on.

  “Bout time,” BT said from the driver’s seat. “And no, you’re not driving. Everyone’s seen firsthand what you do to your vehicles.” He closed the door and just like that we were underway. Some, like myself, looked to the house we’d left. I won’t swear it on a stack of bibles, but I swear I saw
Ron wave from his bedroom window. I waved back. Tracy turned quickly when she saw what I was doing. There was a tiny gasp from her as maybe she saw the same thing I did. The curtain fluttered as whatever was there moved away or maybe a breeze had stirred it. I sat down next to MJ to get an idea of our present predicament.

  “Where are they all coming from?” Tracy asked.

  MJ had to hit the pan-out button twice so we could see more than just a horde.

  “I’ve counted. There are fifteen thousand, four hundred and twenty-seven zombies,” MJ told her.

  “You counted the zombies?” I asked, wondering how the hell something like that would even be possible.

  “Well, the software did. It would be much too time-consuming for me to do it.”

  “But you could?”

  “Well...of course.”

  “You could pinpoint individual beings from a tracking satellite?” I asked.

  “Why wouldn’t I be able to? It’s only in the tens of thousands.”

  “Forget I asked.”

  “How could I? I have an eidetic memory.”

  “Tommy, any idea?”

  “I don’t know,” he sighed.

  “How could it be Knox?” I was thinking out loud. “BT, when you get out to route 1 you’re going to have to take a left.”

  “That doesn’t get me to Augusta.”

  “Gonna have to take the long way around. I don’t think we can fight through what’s coming.”

  Belfast, which was about six miles from us, was completely overrun with zombies. I watched, fascinated, as they were streaming past houses like refugees. Occasionally, groups would stop and chase down the few survivors that still called that place home. Dozens of people were being slaughtered. Screechers were pushing them from their hiding spots and into the waiting mouths of the hungry horde.

  “Losing feed,” MJ said. I don’t think he could have uttered better words. I’d been watching the screen intently. Rage had been building up in me for all those that were being murdered. The horror was somehow magnified—being able to watch it and to do absolutely nothing about it. I’d been looking for some sort of driving force behind the mass movement and as of yet, had not discovered it. Unless this was just a massive hunting party, out doing what deer hunters of old would. Get a line of men, then make an abundance of noise to shepherd the deer into hunters already waiting in position. If this were a campy television show, a red alarm klaxon would have gone off over my head. As it was, I thought my ass may have puckered up a bit. That too much information?

  “Stop the bus!” I bellowed much louder than I needed to, considering I was only two rows from the driver.

  “Fuck, Mike!” BT roared back after the bus did an impromptu swerve.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Trip said coming up the aisle. “We going back, man? I forgot one of my lighters. Maybe I can grab the rest of the snack cakes, too.”

  “No more!” Stephanie said. “I’ve watched you eat thirty since we started.”

  I was about to talk to BT, but I mean, I couldn’t just ignore that. “Thirty? You ate thirty damn snack cakes? We’ve been on the road for less than fifteen damn minutes, Trip. How do you have any teeth left?”

  He smiled. You can already guess that I was looking at a grill dominated by chocolate. The bus had slowed, and now stopped. BT turned to ask me what the hell I wanted him to stop for.

  “How much time until the feed is up?” I asked MJ.

  “Forty minutes, twelve seconds.”

  I didn’t know what to do...must have shown.

  “Mike, talk to me. Tell me what you think is going on,” BT said.

  “I’m wondering if we should go back. I think this is a trap.”

  Yeah, that got everyone’s attention.

  “For us?” Tracy asked.

  “Not us specifically. I think the zombies are driving food. My guess is there’s another horde somewhere off to the other side of us, even now approaching at a run.” There wasn’t one of us that didn’t look off to our left. It didn’t help there was a small hill blocking the view, another ten thousand zombies could be cresting the side right now and would be coming down in droves within the next few minutes.

  “They could be miles away, though,” Tiffany said.

  “Or only a few hundred yards,” Justin added.

  “This road could be flooded with them soon and there is nowhere to turn off.”

  “Fuck. What do you want me to do?” BT asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.” I repeated myself for effect, shaking my head and running my hand through my hair. “If this is a trap and we stay here and wait until the satellite comes back up, there’s a good chance our escape route will be cut off from the zombies coming from Belfast. If we go back now, there’s a more than good chance we’ll end up in a battle against those very zombies.”

  “I think you’ve answered that part, Mr. T,” Tommy said. “Either way, going back is not a great option.”

  “Moving forward blindly is not the greatest idea either,” Carol said.

  “We didn’t always have the satellite,” BT said. “We shouldn’t allow it to dictate what we’re going to do now.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more than I do right now,” I told him. “You want to move with no plan and half the information available to us. A man after my own heart.”

  “This is serious.” Tracy felt the need to remind me.

  “I know hon, I’m terrified. I honestly don’t know what to do.” I was sincerely hoping this wasn’t the fork in the road Trip had alluded to. Seemed entirely too soon for that kind of foreshadowing to come to light. The bus started moving.

  “Decision made,” BT said pointing to the rearview mirror. Two zombies had stepped out onto the roadway and were now coming our way.

  “I hope I didn’t fuck us by making you stop.” I was standing behind his seat holding on to a railing.

  “Don’t go down there. I don’t like the second-guessing Talbot. Just go with that sick, twisted gut of yours and we’ll find a way out after the fact. You hear me?” He was looking at me in the oversized mirror that was used to spy on unruly guests and teenagers necking in the back seat. Although, I don’t know how much it was needed with the geriatric nature of the previous riders. Although who knows? Maybe Howard Lipenstein, wearer of many golden chains and unbuttoned shirts with thick chest hair poking free, likes to sneak hooch on and play a little slap and tickle with the ladies’ knitting club.

  Like our bus was a huge zipper tab and we were opening the most disgusting pair of pants ever, zombies were spilling out into our wake. We were staying ahead of them, barely, they were coming up on our left side at full sprint mode.

  “Faster,” I told BT.

  “It’s a bus. How fast do you think I can get it?”

  “I don’t care how you do it but you should go faster. The road curves heavy to the right coming up.”

  He got it. If the zombies were in a line, we’d be steering literally straight into the teeth of them. The bus lumbered forward as BT stepped on the gas. I wasn’t feeling too good about our chances when I saw a trio of cars blow past us going the other way. They were obviously trying to get away from something. I watched as the lead car fishtailed and spun around when it encountered a thick cluster of zombies. Whoever was in the car blew out the side windows as they opened fire on the zombies. Can’t imagine the driver was overly thrilled with the loss of that added layer of protection. All three cars had turned around and were now following close behind us. Much like World War II foot soldiers hiding behind a tank as it blazed a trail.

  “If they get any closer they’ll be able to use the bathroom,” BT said.

  “Tommy, are they doing anything we need to be concerned about?” I shouted, he had his head out one of the rear windows.

  Before he could respond we drove into, through, and over our first set of zombies. Blood sprayed up the front of the bus and smeared heavy fluids all over the windshield.

 
“I can’t really see them that well, but it doesn’t make any sense for them to fire on us. We stall out and they’re done for,” Tommy said.

  “Allies for the time being. Alright, keep an eye on them. Gary, Justin, can you two keep the older kids occupied?” I asked.

  “There’s too many, Mike! I can’t keep using the bus as a battering ram,” BT said.

  “Yeah, you can.”

  “Imagery is back up!” MJ shouted.

  “Find us a way out…now!” I yelled back.

  I could hear the whir of his fingers pressing buttons. “Ooh,” he moaned.

  “That didn’t sound like a good, ‘ooh’,” I told him.

  The bus started to slow down, BT was trying to save our front end. I’d not been expecting the heavy caliber bullet to rip through the roof of the bus from behind.

  “They shot at us!” Tommy announced.

  “Yeah I figured that out.” I knew why. If we slowed down, so did they, and they apparently had paid extra for the fast lane pass. BT hadn’t slowed any more, but he hadn’t sped up either. They shot at us again, fairly close to the first round. At the angle they were shooting we weren’t in any danger of being struck, but let’s face it, any bullet coming in your general direction is totally unwelcome. And if they got spiteful they could easily put one in our engine compartment and that would be about all she wrote. The stakes were too high.

  “Move,” I told Tommy.

  “I will not. You cannot shoot them.”

  “The hell I can’t. You know something I don’t?”

  He said nothing.

  “I like it a lot better when that radar of yours is telling us stuff. Now get the fuck out of the way. If they incapacitate this bus while you delay me I’ll hold you personally responsible for all the lives we lose.”

  “What about their lives?”

  “Not my problem. I pulled them out from under the umbrella of my protection the moment they aerated our ride.”

  “Move boy.” BT had come up behind me.

  “I appreciate the back-up BT, but who the fuck is driving?”

  “Driving this bus, high on…hey, what rhymes with bus?” Trip called out from the front. he was singing to the much more famous Grateful Dead tune.