Zombie Fallout 7 For The Fallen

by Mark Tufo

  “The smoke.” He pointed through the windshield.

  I could see a small funnel of it. It didn’t look like much more than a small campfire throwing it off. Campfire meant people, though. I took a small glance through the back windshield. It seemed my driving had been relaxing enough for all of them to get a little much needed sleep. We weren’t yet under attack; I was going to see how this rode out before I awoke them.

  “Buckle your seatbelt in preparation for a bumpy ride,” I told Tommy.

  “Had it on since Gary started driving,” he told me.

  “Okay so it wasn’t just me.”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “I thought he was trying to kill a snake on the floorboard every time he hit the brakes.”

  It was the further I drove that I realized this wasn’t just a marshmallow roasting fire. Something was going on. Now I’d wished I’d taken 95. I was slowing down looking for the best place to turn my truck around when I saw it.

  “Oh shit,” I said as I saw the bus heading our way. “He’s gotta be doing seventy.”

  That was fairly miraculous considering all the vehicles on the roadway. Smoke was billowing out of the front, luckily, the driver was going so fast that the smoke was traveling down the sides and to the back.

  “Where’s he in such a rush to get to?”

  “I think it’s what he is in a rush to get away from,” Tommy said.

  A bevy of bikers came into view. I did not want to get involved. First off, because I didn’t want to expose anyone to the danger; and secondly, how did I know who the good guys were. Just because bikers were chasing a bus didn’t necessarily make them the evil ones, now if it was a school bus that might change the equation. Sure…it cast them in a worse light, but by no means was it a definitive answer. No matter what I decided, I couldn’t stay where I was; the path through the cars was too narrow for us and a bus. The ear-irritating sound of metal squealing on metal pretty much woke everyone up as I pushed against some cars in an effort to make room.

  The herking and jerking of Gary’s braking had nothing over what I was doing. Professional rodeo riders would have been complaining. I had created a sort of dugout through the cars and at the same time made myself vulnerable. There was always the chance the bus would race on by and the bikers would stop to check us out.

  “Shit,” I said just as I decided this was a horrible plan.

  The bus was within a quarter mile or so when I threw the truck in reverse. I was pinging the back of the truck off of more than a few cars.

  “See? I told you it wasn’t easy!” Gary shouted through the glass.

  “What’s going on?” BT asked, sticking his head through. It was good to see him looking better.

  “Company.” Tommy pointed to the rapidly approaching bus and motorcycles.

  “Shit,” BT said.

  “Couldn’t agree more,” I told him.

  “Any idea who’s who?” he asked.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” I told him, my head jerking as we ripped off the front fender of a Toyota.

  “That bus is coming up fast!” BT’s eyes were growing big.

  “You been talking to Captain Obvious lately?” I asked him, trying my best to avoid the parked cars that seemed to be jumping into my path of their own volition.

  The bus was less than a football field away, within seconds he would be abreast and then past. Then the bikers, then probably a couple of thousand zombies behind them, a yeti, and a pack of werewolves…why not?

  I had run out of time. I could hear the bus honking its horn. Where the hell did he think I could go? His front end was inches from my plow blade, billowing smoke was obscuring the driver. It was another quarter mile or so before the cars cleared up enough that the bus could attempt to pull past me, which he did. I was still driving backwards somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty miles an hour. I was too scared to actually look down and check though, figuring I’d lose control if I did so. My full attention was riveted to the small four-by-eight inches of reflective glass to my side.

  I heard, “Ponch!!!” It was yelled out from the bus as it pulled alongside.

  I spared a quick glance. “John?” I asked, not believing what I was seeing.

  “Who?” he shouted back.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, trying to figure out the biker situation.

  “My wife rented a party bus! We’re going to a concert…she got a ticket for you, too!”

  “Hey, Mike!” Stephanie yelled out. She was on the other side of her husband holding onto a handrail for all her life was worth. I could see the white of her bones shining through she was clutching so hard.

  “Good or bad?” I asked, hoping she would catch the meaning of my abbreviated question.

  “Bad.” In reality, I didn’t even need her verbal response, it was in her panicked

  expression.

  “BT.”

  “On it,” he said, getting the boys at their firing stations.

  I started to slow down and so did Trip.

  “It’s really good to see you, man. Stephanie wanted to know if you still had her sneakers,” Trip rambled.

  Stephanie was shaking her head back and forth.

  “Don’t slow up, man, you’ll be late for the show. I’ll be right behind you!” I told him. There was no traditional rationalizing with Trip, you just had to speak the correct language.

  “Oh…right, right. I’ll get the sneakers from you there!” He was all smiles.

  I gave him the thumbs-up.

  “You hitching, man? I can give you a ride, we’ve got plenty of room,” Trip said.

  “GO! I’ll see you there!” I yelled over to him.

  Steph must have said something, because he gave me the thumbs-up and pulled past. The bikers were almost on me by the time I had stopped the truck and got it back into drive.

  “Well, fuckers, it’s time to learn a thing or two about size differential. I feel like BT around us regular folk,” I said to Tommy.

  I started to see the wisps of smoke as many of the bikers started shooting at us.

  “Well, I guess that answers that question,” I said as I began to build up some steam.

  I was going somewhere around twenty miles an hour when I cut the wheel, catching a biker head on. The truck bucked, and even with my seat belt on I left my seat, but that was nothing compared to the biker. I launched him. I’d sheered the bike nearly in half on contact. The rider was sent spiraling into the air to land in a death pirouette.

  “Should have worn a helmet.”

  “I don’t think it would have helped,” Tommy replied.

  I drilled two more bikers—both of these head on—before the others tried to get around me. Most started drifting over to the shoulder so they could do just that. I could hear bullets smacking into the body, a few even broke through the windshield.

  “Shit! I just got shot,” I said, looking at the blood running down my shoulder. “Don’t let any of those fuckers past!”

  The truck quickly became a rolling gun blind. Bikers who were slowly picking a path through the snarl of traffic became relatively easy targets. We dropped at least five or six of them before they decided whatever prize they were seeking from Trip and his wife just wasn’t worth it. I saw a smallish guy, raise his hand up in the air and whirl it around in the traditional ‘rally here’ gesture. He turned and gunned his bike, leaving a trail of rubber as he did so, the rest quickly followed suit.

  I followed for a mile or so just to make sure it wasn’t a ruse on their part and maybe they were doubling back. It wasn’t long before I lost sight of the much faster bikes, and still I thought about pursuing them. I immensely disliked leaving an enemy out there.

  “We going back?” Tommy asked.

  Of that I wasn’t so sure. What Trip was doing here was beyond my comprehension. There was a pretty good chance he had already forgot about our encounter and would just keep going to whatever destination he had originally set out for. His wife was with him, th
ough. I’m sure at some point she’d get him to pull over. Or, more likely, the bus would just quit. The smoke pouring from the thing indicated it had suffered a fatal wound.

  “Douche bags always regroup, it’s like a genetic thing,” I said to Tommy.

  “We can’t catch them.”

  “You’re right,” I said, close-lipped. I did a beautiful three-point turn in the center of the highway, only smashing four or five cars as I did so.

  “What the hell was all that about?” BT asked as we started heading North on 495.

  “You’re about to find out.”

  It was about five miles by the time I finally saw the bus. It was parked on the side of the road; smoke was still coming out of it as if it were on its last legs. Trip had his back to me, and as I drew closer, I noticed he was pissing on the tire.

  “Nothing to see here!” he said as I pulled up alongside. He was waving his hand for me to pass.

  “You know you can get a ticket for public urination right?” I told him.

  “See, that’s just the man trying to regulate everything. Pissing is one of the most basic human functions, and you and your oppressors are going to tell me where and when I can do it!” Trip said. I could tell he was getting pissed off (pun intended). He was halfway turned around to look at me, dick still in hand.

  “Come on, man,” I told him, shielding my eyes. “Some things can’t be unseen.”

  “She’s a thing of beauty,” he said happily.

  I hoped he was talking about the plow.

  “Ponch!” he yelled excitedly. “When’d you get here?”

  “Where’s your wife?” I asked him.

  “Where?” he asked, stuffing himself back in his pants. “She gets mad when I piss outside.”

  “So you hate when the man tells you where and when to piss, but you’re afraid of your wife telling you the same thing?” I asked.

  “I don’t live with ‘the man.’” He looked around.

  “Who’s Chong?” BT asked, coming down off the truck.

  “Ponch, you in the circus now?” Trip asked, looking up at BT.

  “BT, this is Trip. Trip, this is BT.” I stepped aside. They were going to need to feel each other out in the ways that best suited them, and I personally wanted nothing to do with it. Trip caused me great mental headaches and BT could cause me great physical ones.

  “You’re funny, little man. How about I spin your head off?” BT asked as he moved a couple of paces closer to Trip.

  “Threats aren’t really going to work,” I said aloud. BT shushed me.

  “Like a top? That would be fantastic, because then I’d be able to see my butt. I’ve always wanted to. Stephanie says I have a nice one, but I really have to take her word for it,” Trip said, trying his best to look over his shoulder and down his backside.

  “How about I just plant you in the ground instead?” BT asked.

  “I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to be a cannabis plant, so still and serene, swaying in the breeze and drinking rainwater. Just let me get a few things.” Trip went back into the bus.

  “What’s wrong with him?” BT asked me as Trip walked away.

  “Oh… it gets worse,” I answered.

  “This is the guy that saved your ass?” BT asked, pointing up to the bus.

  “At least three times.”

  By now, everyone had come out of the truck and gathered around.

  “Whoa,” Trip said as he stepped out of the bus. “Where’d everybody come from? Were you guys in the bus?”

  We all heard some rustling in the woods and then Trip’s wife Stephanie emerged. “I’m so sorry. I had some…um…pressing needs to attend to.”

  “She had to pee,” Trip stage whispered.

  “Trip!” she said, flustered.

  “What?” he asked innocently.

  “Stephanie, it’s nice to see you again.” I stepped forward. “Did the hotel fall?” I asked. Other than that, I could think of no reason why they would be this far east, certainly not a foraging expedition.

  “I…umm had a disagreement with the person in charge,” she said hesitantly as she looked sidelong at her husband.

  I got the implication. Someone where they were staying didn’t like Trip and had forced them out. “So what are you guys doing here?”

  “Looking for you,” she told me.

  “Are you kidding? I told Trip in passing where I lived while we were riding in his crazy little helicopter. I never figured he’d remember. I was just trying to say something so I wouldn’t bite my tongue off in fear.” Maybe I slipped him my address, I couldn’t remember, it was a pretty trying time.

  “I have a helicopter?” Trip asked.

  “Come on, man. I’m here and I’m not believing this,” BT said. “How is this possible?”

  “Divine intervention?” I said as an explanation. Stephanie nodded, having had that same thought not too long ago.

  “Is it that implausible? Look at all the variables that were in place for us to meet on that section of 495. What if Gary had taken an hour longer or finished an hour sooner? What about my decision to even take 495? That’s three just within the last two hours. What about everything else? Not to mention on Trip and Stephanie’s side. I mean, one more rolled bone from Trip and we would have missed them.”

  “Coincidence,” BT said.

  “I’m not so sure,” Tommy said.

  “Listen, we all know I’m no theologian,” I said.

  Tracy snorted. “Sorry, involuntary reaction.” She was still trying to stifle a laugh.

  “You done?” I asked.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Maybe God is helping just a bit. What if this whole cluster-fuck of an apocalypse wasn’t his doing? Let me finish,” I said when I saw BT about to protest how an omnipotent being missed something so big. “Listen, we all know my half-assed thoughts on God and the devil. I personally think they’re great friends, but what if there’s another. Something that is the epitome of evil.”

  “That’s not the devil?” Travis asked.

  “Not in your dad’s world,” BT answered.

  “The devil is God’s justice, plain and simple. Don’t cross God, never meet the devil. Sounds like a plan to me. But this,” I said, sweeping my arms, “this I don’t think was either of their doings. Something else is in the mix.”

  “What is it?” Tracy asked, her earlier smile gone.

  “Man,” Trip said.

  At first I thought he was referencing back to ‘the man’ but this made sense. “You might be on to something.”

  “Mike, come on. Where are you going with this?” BT asked.

  “Hell if I know, but it could be man. God is reward for a life lived well and the devil is punishment for being an asshole, the whole karma thing.”

  “Tell Beelzebub hi for me,” BT said.

  “Nice,” I told him. “Okay, let’s go with the free will thing. We are all able to do as we want without any outside influence.”

  “So the devil-made-me-do-it defense can’t be used anymore?” Trip asked.

  “In Mike’s world, yes,” Tracy told him.

  “I’m moving off planet then,” Trip said.

  “I think he’s already there,” Travis said to Justin.

  “Good one,” Justin told his brother.

  “What if we went too far? What if God wants to try and set things right?” I asked.

  “Why doesn’t he just come down here and do it then?” BT asked. “Or send us laser guns that don’t need reloading or not let our loved ones die!” Now he was shouting.

  “I don’t think he can,” I said, hoping that wasn’t blasphemy.

  “An all-powerful being that can’t…that doesn’t sound right,” Tracy said.

  I noticed Tommy nodding, but I didn’t know if it was in agreement with me or Tracy.

  “I think maybe he set it up that way.” I was flying by the seat of my pants now, not an unusual position for me to be in.

  “His game,
his rules,” Gary chimed in.

  “Oh, not you too?” BT said. “When did Talbot become synonymous with crazy?”

  “It’s been a long time,” Tommy said, reflecting back on some of the Talbots he’d encountered along the way, more than one making him smile.

  “I think Gary’s on to something,” I said. “Maybe he knew that once he created this world that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from tinkering with it from time to time, so he created a way to keep himself out.”

  “How, Mike?” BT asked. “How could anything stop him?”

  “Same way you could build a wall that you couldn’t get over,” I told him. I don’t know if I was swaying him yet, but it was giving him pause to consider. “I’m just saying that there seems to be a LOT of times that his presence seems to shine through more so than others. Like there are holes in his wall or net.”

  “Or a back door where he can come in quickly and leave,” Gary said.

  “Sure. Listen maybe I’m completely wrong, but come on, how the hell did we find Paul? Or how did Trip find us? And I’m going to use that same logic in the hopes that he finds a way to guide us to Doc. That’s the hope I’m holding on to, BT. My son’s and your life hang in the balance. I can’t think of a better person to lay my faith on.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” BT turned slightly away. “Fucking pollen,” he said, going towards the truck.

  “Stephanie, I can take you two to get another car and I’ll give you directions to get to my brother’s house. He’ll take you in no questions asked. Okay, he might have a few questions, but you’ll be welcome there,” I told her.

  “I’m a little done with being alone on the open road,” she said.

  “I can’t say I blame you. You’re welcome to come with us, we have the room.” She looked dubiously over at the plow. “Gary did some great things in the back. I’m not sure how long we’re going to be traveling, and I have no idea what we’re in for, and I’m pretty sure your bikers will come back once they pull their tails out from between their legs. It’s that damn free will again, makes some people do the stupidest shit.”

  “I’d still rather we stay with you,” Stephanie said with relief.

  “Man, I hate to bring this up,” Trip said, “but do you have Stephanie’s sneakers?”