by Mark Tufo
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Sir, there’s more.”
“I’m listening.”
“I went back and looked at the imagery for hours. The motorcycles have been chasing this truck down a fair portion of the East Coast.”
“They either really pissed them off, or there’s something in there they really want. Either way, it’s worth checking out. Get a drone up and send it out. Program the satellite to stay on that cement truck. Let’s see what the fuss is all about.”
“Right away, sir.”
Chapter 23 – Dennis and Deneaux
“Home stretch,” Mrs. Deneaux announced as they passed through Columbia, South Carolina. “I need to get some sleep; you stand guard,” she told him before she removed herself from her seat and climbed back into the rear of the cab and into the sleeper.
“Yeah sure,” Dennis replied.
Her breathing became the steady rhythm of one asleep almost immediately. He had a hard time believing that she had just moments before been awake and barreling the truck down the highway.
“That’s some scary shit,” he said softly. He was contemplating getting out of the truck to stretch his legs and get fresh air when Deneaux spoke.
“I don’t care what you think,” she said evenly.
“What are you talking about?” He turned around. She didn’t respond and he couldn’t see her face.
“He was a zombie! Of course I shot him!” she shouted.
Dennis’ heart leapt. What is she talking about? he thought. He reached over and turned the dome light on. Deneaux’s eyes were wide open yet unfocused. Like a fucking snake, Dennis thought. She’s so paranoid, she sleeps with her eyes open. He quickly shut the small light off.
“Screw this, I’m going outside. The dark and zombies are less scary.” He would have done so, but Deneaux’s next words riveted him to his seat.
“Michael has no proof.”
Mike as in Talbot? Dennis thought.
“I didn’t kill Brian or his precious friend Paul.”
What the fuck are you talking about, you old bat?
“They died because they were stupid!” she screamed. “It’s alright though, even if he had something, he’ll never find me now.”
There was a pause. “What the hell are you looking at?” Mrs. Deneaux asked Dennis. “You never seen an old woman sleep? Or are you one of those perverts that likes to watch women sleep and then do all sorts of nasty things to them. I bet that’s what it is, isn’t it? Are you playing with your little pecker even now? Here let me see it, I still know a trick or two.”
Dennis nearly spilled out of the truck in his haste to retreat to safer ground. He was twenty feet away before he stopped hearing Deneaux’s cackles.
“Don’t pay any attention to her,” he told his scared penis.
When he calmed down a bit, he began to go over the words Deneaux had said in her sleep. She’d implied two things: that she had complicity in Paul’s and this guy Brian’s deaths; and that Mike was still alive. If she had done something to Paul, it would make sense that she was trying to put as much distance between herself and Mike as was possible.
“What now, Dennis?” he asked aloud. “This lady is nuts and dangerous…two very scary adjectives. The smart move would be to go find a ride and get the fuck as far away from her as possible. Go back to Maine and see if she was lying to me all along.”
He’d always spoken his problems verbally. He would tell Mike and Paul that it gave his brain a chance to reason the issue out as it had to take the time to circle back around and into his ear canals. By that time, he’d usually have a solution, but not this time. Is she full of shit about the New World Order stuff as well?
“One more day, man. I’ll spend one more day with her. If there is a chance of getting a vaccination or a cure, I owe it to Mike and his family to find it. One more day. If it doesn’t pan out, I’m leaving her.”
He thought about going back into the truck, but he wasn’t ready for anymore revelations just yet, and if she hadn’t fallen back asleep, she’d start shrieking about his manhood, and it had JUST crawled out from his belly. He wouldn’t put it through that abuse again so soon.
When Dennis was certain the crone was asleep, and he was nearly sleeping on his feet, he cautiously made his way back into the cab. He awoke a few hours later as the truck started up. Mrs. Deneaux was back in her familiar seat.
“Sleep good, lover boy?” She placed her hand on his thigh and cackled when she saw the expression on his face. “I’d be the best you ever had,” she said as she put the truck in gear.
Dennis squashed down the taste of bile that had risen in his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’m sure you will.” She was smiling at him, her tobacco stained teeth gleamed dully.
Mrs. Deneaux hopped on Route 26, which brought them mostly in a northwestern direction before she hopped on Route 85, then 441 which brought them straight into Athens, Georgia.
“Coming up to the lion’s den,” she told Dennis, her earlier smile not even tracing the corners of her mouth. To Dennis, it seemed to be the first time she showed any outward sign of stress.
Mrs. Deneaux pulled her rig up to a non-descript building.
“Here?” Dennis asked. “It looks abandoned.”
“I’m going to do all of the talking. If they ask you anything, you let me handle it.”
“You’re not bringing your gun?”
“We’re already under surveillance. If I show any sign of aggression, they’ll just shoot us.”
“You seem to be taking all of this in stride,” Dennis said, wanting to jump out of his seat and away from the madness they were about to descend in to.
Mrs. Deneaux stepped away from the truck and towards the fenced building. She began to wave her hands at a camera that Dennis thought couldn’t be operational due to the askew angle in which it hung.
“There’s nobody there,” Dennis said, coming out of the truck. He was thinking that he should have just left her last night when he heard footsteps approaching.
“What do you want?” a man asked, coming out of the shadows of the building.
Dennis wondered about the caliber of the hunting rifle the man held in his hands. “Enough to kill me, I’d imagine,” he muttered.
“Why, Sergeant Decker, you don’t recognize me?” Mrs. Deneaux said almost sweetly.
The man’s scowl was quickly replaced with a look of bewilderment.
“Mrs. Deneaux? You’re alive?” he asked.
“In the flesh.”
“And bones,” Dennis added quietly.
“Who’s he?” The sergeant pointed over to Dennis.
“Boy toy.”
The funny thing, Dennis thought, was that the Sergeant didn’t scoff at that remark.
“Stay here. I’ve got to run this up the flagpole. I’m only a lowly enlisted man.”
“I told you to apply for that commission. I would have had Winston endorse you.”
“I’m sorry about your husband,” the sergeant said solemnly.
“I’m not, he was a cheating asshole,” Mrs. Deneaux said effortlessly.
Mr. Deneaux’s philandering was well known. The sergeant had always been amazed that Mrs. Deneaux had stayed with him. Although who could blame her, with all the power the man wielded, she was almost royalty—at least in the clandestine circles in which they traveled. The general public didn’t know her, but she was a legend, most crediting her husband’s rise to power on her brains and tact.
“Can we at least come inside the gate?” Mrs. Deneaux asked before he retreated.
“Sure, sure,” he said, opening a hidden panel and pressing a button. The gate, that looked chained shut slid effortlessly open. “Come on.” She waved to Dennis.
“Definitely should have left last night,” Dennis mumbled.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Deneaux said as she blew him a kiss.
The sergeant spoke to someone inside the shadows of the bui
lding. The duo could not hear his words, although Dennis was sure it revolved around. ‘Shoot them if they move.’ They heard the tell-tale sign of a door clicking in to place.
“Got a light?” Deneaux asked the shadows. “That’s very rude,” she answered when no one came forward. She produced a light and lit a cigarette.
“Captain Najarian, you’re not going to believe this,” Sergeant Decker said when he got his superior officer on the radio.
“Oh, I might. What is it, Sergeant?” the captain asked.
“You got a minute to go to the surveillance room sir?” the sergeant asked.
A few moments later, the Captain was blowing air out from his puffed up cheeks. “You’re right, I’m looking at her right now and I don’t believe it.” When the Captain had found Winston Deneaux dead, word had come down to find down the real brains behind the operation. When a team had finally got to her last known address at Little Turtle, it had been reduced to ashes and everyone including himself believed the old lady to be dead.
“What should I do?” the sergeant asked.
“Shooting her would be the safest course of action. Hold on, I’ll come up to you.”
It was not lost on the captain that Mrs. Deneaux had, at one time, resided in the same location as Michael Talbot. She could possibly have some information regarding his whereabouts and then maybe he’d shoot her. Sergeant Decker came out through the door, followed immediately by a man dressed in full battle-dress utilities.
Mrs. Deneaux smiled when the man came into view. “Captain Najarian, I thought you’d be a general by now.”
“It really hasn’t been that long since we’ve seen each other,” he told her.
“I just figured you’d have a star waiting for you on the other side of the apocalypse,” she said.
Captain Najarian stopped for a moment. It shouldn’t have but it surprised him for a moment that she most likely knew about everything. The bunker was common enough knowledge in the upper echelons; the plan for why it was going to be used was not.
“Oh, you didn’t realize that I knew about that? Very rich.” She smiled.
“Why shouldn’t I shoot you?” he asked in all seriousness.
“Do you really believe I would come here completely exposed without some sort of opt-out plan?” she asked, taking a large drag on her cigarette.
“No, no you wouldn’t. What do you want here?”
“I want what’s rightfully mine.”
“Which is?”
“The seat next to those two old crones that want to rule the world. I can’t believe that, in all this madness, they have yet to replace my dearly departed.” Deneaux watched the captain like a hawk. “Oh, I see now. I dare say you want that seat for yourself, maybe all three seats by the looks of the way you’ve clenched your jaw. Planning a little coup during the reorganization of power? How quaint.”
“Sergeant,” the captain said with some strain, “Please escort our esteemed guest inside.”
“And her…umm…kept man?” the sergeant asked.
“Oh, you should probably arrest him,” Mrs. Deneaux said as she strolled towards the door.
“What are you doing?” Dennis asked.
“Well, I’m going to start a new life. You’re a loose end I need to tidy up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Captain, this man is a subversive that has come here to relieve you of your antidote and give it to the masses. Sort of like Robin Hood, only without the tights. I don’t think you’d fill out tights well,” she said to Dennis.
“You heard the lady. Sergeant, arrest this man.”
“You’re a fucking bitch,” Dennis said.
“Like that’s the first time I’ve heard that. Captain, could you please show me to the quarters my husband would have housed in?” she asked as she took his arm.
“Hands behind your back,” Sergeant Decker told Dennis.
***
“It’s good to see you, Vivian,” Dixon said. He’d carried a torch for his friend’s wife since he’d met her back in the early seventies when Winston was just starting down his political career path. “I was truly sorry to hear about your husband. He was so close to achieving what we’ve been working on for so long.”
“Dixon, you’ve never been much of a liar. It’s a wonder you’ve made it this far in life, not being able to hide your true intentions.” Mrs. Deneaux stretched out on her bed.
Dixon laughed. “You’re right, he may have been my best friend, but he was a prickly old thorn. Still, it will be difficult to rule without his even hand.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Mrs. Deneaux replied.
Dixon’s eyebrows shot up.
“Oh come now, Dixon. I’m more qualified than my husband ever was…or that oaf Wendelson. We could rule together, like modern day monarchs.”
She looked casually over at him. Her outward appearance was one of utter calmness, but inside she was a bundle of nerves. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her imperceptible shake as she brought the cigarette to her lips. She knew he loved her, but would that be enough for him not to imprison her at the least and kill her at the extreme. Dixon was not known for his ability to share his toys, and this would be the biggest and shiniest he had ever owned.
“And what of the oaf?” Dixon asked.
“Well, certainly I’m not advocating his hasty departure from this earth, but maybe we could find a station more suitable for his talents. Like perhaps leader of the military. We would have a trusted and pliable man in that department.”
“And Captain Najarian?”
“He’s planning to take over as soon as everything is in place.”
“You’re quite sure of this?” Dixon asked.
“If you’re not, then perhaps you’re losing your ability to read people and I am backing the wrong horse in this race.”
“He has been loyal to me for ten years. Why should I believe you?”
“He’s been loyal for ten years because your goals served his.”
“Ahh, Vivian, I’ve missed your council. When they told me you were dead I mourned.”
“That must have been the worst six minutes of your life,” Deneaux said with a laugh.
“What has taken you so long to get here?”
“I’ve been a little busy. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a war going on out there. I sure would have appreciated a little forewarning.”
“Alas…even we didn’t know. It was your husband that jumped the gun.”
“My husband? He wouldn’t take a shit without someone showing him where the toilet was.”
“As you know, it was his warehouses that held the flu shots. When the vice-president died from the flu, and the directive came down to fast track the vaccinations, someone at his plant had taken the bold initiative to ship them en masse, probably believing that he was doing the world some great good. Your husband found out about the mistake, but before he could send the stop order, someone put a bullet in his head.”
Mrs. Deneaux’s hand trembled more. She had just found out that she singularly had been responsible for the death of billions. Then she calmed a bit when she rationalized that it was going to happen anyway, she had merely sped up the process.
“Any idea who?” she asked evenly.
“It had to be someone that knew and would benefit from the early dispersal,” Dixon said.
“That could be Wendelson or even Captain Najarian,” Mrs. Deneaux reasoned.
“I don’t see the reasoning for Harry.”
“Captain Najarian perhaps. In the confusion of the world flushing itself down the toilet, he takes out one more potential adversary and no one is the wiser.”
“Perhaps,” Dixon said. “And then perhaps it was you. You had as much reason to kill the man as anyone.”
“That’s rich, Dixon. How would I get access to the millions he took from me if he were dead?”
“That’s true, he was worth more to you alive than dead. It is so good to see you. Will y
ou join me later for dinner and perhaps a drink?”
“I could think of no better way to spend my evening,” she told him as he bowed slightly and headed for the door.
“What do you wish for me to do with the man you brought in with you?”
“Keep him fed for a bit, I have a feeling he will be a beneficial bargaining chip later on down the road.”
“To whom?”
“Nobody you know, just personal business,” Mrs. Deneaux replied. “I will see you tonight.”
“Until tonight, Vivian. It is so good to see you,” Dixon said as he quietly shut the door behind him.
Vivian waited until she heard him walk down the tiled hallway before she got up and threw the lock. She was in a nest of pit vipers, and just because she herself was one did not mean that someone wouldn’t turn and strike at her.
“Who would have thought dealing with the zombies would be easier?” she asked before laying her head down onto her pillow. She slept restfully, her dreams not encumbered with the screams of the multitudes she’d had a hand in murdering.
***
“Mike, man, what have I got myself into?” Dennis asked, resting his head against the cool steel bars of his prison cell.
For the first day he was there, he truly kept expecting the old hag to come down and tell him that the whole thing was merely a ploy for her to gain his captors’ trust. Then she would help him escape and they would do what they had talked about.
“She seemed so sincere,” he berated himself for being such a patsy in her plan. “What good am I to her, though? Why bother even dragging my ass into this? Is it just to see me suffer?”
Chapter 24 – Mike Journal Entry 11
“Hey, Mr. T, how you doing?” Tommy asked, leaning over entirely too close. All I could make out with any detail was his nose.
“You smell like Pop-Tarts.” I pushed him away slightly. “Help me up.” I was in the back of the truck and we were still moving. That was a good thing. “What happened?” My head was still reeling. I felt like my brain was sliding along a grease-slicked track.