Timothy 02: Tim2 (31 page)

Like a field marshal I surveyed the battle scene and I wasn’t liking what I saw at all. The white blood cells weren’t retreating. Like an ill-trained militia, they were just being overrun at every impasse. Hugh was gaining momentum as he steamrolled over what I was throwing at him. I would not be allowed to be a prisoner of war in this engagement, had he no honor?

Minutes flew by as my end rushed to meet me, then something happened. It’s tough to relate, because I’m not entirely sure myself, but Hugh began to hesitate as something, some as yet unseen force, began to attack his flank. He turned to face this new threat and the white blood cells, which seemed to be bolstered with confidence or a shot of whiskey, attacked with a renewed vigor. “YEAH!” I would have shouted if I had the strength to do more than watch.

Hugh was in trouble. He had completely given up on attacking me and was entirely on the defensive, but the antibiotics and white blood cells were offering no quarter as they attacked relentlessly. I was getting weaker by the moment. As the battle waged on, my internal temperature began to spike. It had to be cruising past 107, because I felt my brain beginning to liquefy. Hugh might not be a danger to me anymore, but the liquid fire approaching like magma sure as shit was. I passed out in pain as the fire lapped against my feet.

I couldn’t even begin to assess how much time had elapsed when I awoke. I hadn’t moved much from my perch against the toilet. My head was splitting, I was thinking due to the severe dehydration I was suffering if the burning in my throat was any indication.

“Hugh…help,” I said, seeking out my longtime ally.

No response. It was then I remembered our epic battle. Was he even now sulking in a corner plotting his next maneuver, licking his wounds like I was?

“Oh fuck, Hugh, I’ll forgive you if you fix this damn leg,” I moaned, grabbing my still-throbbing appendage. I noticed a bullet half lodged in my skin. “What the hell?” I asked as I gripped it with my thumb and forefinger. I yanked back, red emblazoned my world as pain lanced every fiber of my being. I rocked back, smacking my head against the wall. The clatter of lead on tile kept me coherent. I had staved off unconsciousness. Blood plopped from my new wound. “Hugh, what are you doing, man?”

I felt under my shirt. There was a bump a few layers deep under a puckering wound. The bullet had been pushed up, but nowhere near the surface.

“Come on, man, we can figure this out,” I begged. I was pissed at myself for it, but the pain was so great, prostrating before him seemed prudent. “Listen, I’ll get you all the food you can eat, man. I’ll raid a damn orphanage if that helps, just fix these wounds, man.”

Nothing, not even a contemptuous sneer.

“Fuck you then, we’ll sit here and starve!” I yelled.

Hugh’s a lot of things, patient isn’t one of them. If I’m hungry…he would be starving. I went and sought him out. I mustered what I could in terms of white blood cells in case he was playing possum and was luring me out for a surprise attack. The forces I garnered were so pathetically low, I’d be lucky to fight off a pollen attack. I swept my entire being; there was no sign.

“Hugh?” I questioned.

A thick green-yellow puddle mixed in with some mud browns of spent mucous coated the bathroom floor where my head had been. “Hugh?” I asked looking at the refuse.

I pulled myself to a sitting position, and then to something akin to standing. I started to walk, although with a noticeable limp. I went to the end of the hallway and into the master bedroom. I had a momentary fright when I realized there was someone on the bed. In this weakened state, I wouldn’t be much of a match for a toddler with an attitude. The thing on the bed didn’t move. I wondered if it was alive. I could only hope that it was holding on just like me, and then I could eat him or her and gain some sustenance. I moved slowly, not for stealth purposes, but because I didn’t have any other gear.

I pulled the covers away, and then I started to laugh. Unless I was into latex and plastic this wasn’t going to be much of a meal. An anatomically correct sex doll stared blankly at me.

“Oh, this guy was a winner,” I said sitting next to Suck Me Susie. “Probably spent five grand on this thing…should have used it on a higher class escort service.”

I waited until I built up enough steam to attempt another go at a horizontal slant. “So far so good,” I said as I teetered towards the master bathroom. I opened the shade to the window, the bathroom looked out over their backyard and the Speights. Enough light came in for me to see my reflection in the mirror. I looked ten times worse than I felt. Muddy brown-crusted fluids had solidified on my face. It looked like I had been crying shit. Thankfully the water turned on as I turned the faucet. A holey towel was on the rack. I chose not to think where it had been as I dunked it in the overflowing sink.

I scrubbed my face raw with a pat of soap I had found. Even with all the aftermath of war removed from me, I didn’t look or feel good. “What now?” I asked my reflection.

I was convinced now that I had vanquished Hugh, what should have been a celebration of epic proportions was reduced to how I was going to deal with the rubble of my destroyed existence. I started to lie out a rebuilding plan; somewhere there had to be a dentist that could cap my teeth, but unless he was blind, my two-faced countenance was never going to gain me entry into his sanctuary.

“First things first,” I said as I grabbed a crappy disposable razor. I broke it open, cutting my finger as I did so. When I had the sliver of metal free I gingerly dragged it across my hastily sewn stitches on the top of my forehead. “I cannot believe I have to spend the rest of my days looking like Clarence with his doughy face,” I said with chagrin. When I had completely cut through the top stitches, I lightly pulled to see how hard it was going to be to rid myself of my slack-faced mask. What happened next I was wholly unprepared for; it didn’t fucking move, not one millimeter. My heart was thumping so hard it actually hurt.

“It’s just stuck, that’s all. Dried blood and all…there’s got to be somewhere where I can get it started.”

I cut every stitch, even going back around to make sure I hadn’t missed any. I fumbled about the entire edge, looking for a seam I could pry back. As soon as I found one, I was going to pull it like it was a giant Band-Aid.

“What’s going on?” I asked in alarm, my feet dancing about independently of each other as I had a rising tide of hysteria. “Fuck this,” I muttered as I pried the piece of blade under the skin. The pain was intense and the answer was horrifying. I almost put my head through the mirror so that I could get as close as I could to see what had happened, and even then I couldn’t and didn’t want to believe it. Hugh had knitted my old face to this new body like he would fix anything he figured to be broken.

“Oh God no!” I wailed as I smashed my fist into the glass.

I was human and I was grotesque! My leg was partially broken, my left ankle was useless, and I still had two chunks of lead free-floating within my body. I had gone from the top of the food chain to the bottom and all of this realization was brought crashing to the fore as I witnessed a zombified Scarlett emerging from the bunker stairwell. She began to come across her lawn and then her neighbor’s, staring straight at me through the window as she did so, and then went running for the back door, the same one I had slammed through. The fucking twist of this was not lost on me in the least. I heard Scarlett blaze into the living room and her running steps were coming down the hallway for me. At no point in my life had I been more terrified than when I saw her staring at me from across the bedroom.

I shut the door
to the bathroom just as she jumped over the bed. The assassin had become the mark. (Or the predator had become the prey). Either way I was fucked.

Check out these other titles by Mark Tufo

Zombie Fallout

It was a flu season like no other. With the H1N1 virus running rampant through the country, people lined up in droves to try and attain one of the coveted vaccines. What was not known, was the effect this largely untested inoculation was to have on the unsuspecting throngs. Within days, feverish folk throughout the country, convulsed, collapsed and died, only to be re-born. With a taste for brains, blood and bodies, hordes of modern-day zombies began scouring the lands for their next meal.

This is the story of Michael Talbot, his family and his friends: a band of ordinary people trying to get by in extraordinary times. When disaster strikes, Mike a self-proclaimed survivalist, does his best to ensure the safety and security of those he cares for. What he encounters along the way leads him down a long dark road, always skirting on the edge of insanity. Ensconced in a seemingly safe haven called Little Turtle, Mike and his family, together with the remnants of a tattered community, must fight against a relentless, ruthless, unstoppable force. This last bastion of civilization has made its final stand. God help them all.

Zombie Fallout 2: A Plague Upon Your Family

The Talbots are evacuating their home amidst a zombie apocalypse. Mankind is on the edge of extinction as a new dominant, mindless opponent scours the landscape in search of food, which just so happens to be non-infected humans. This book follows the journey of Michael Talbot, his wife, Tracy, and their three kids - Nicole, Justin and Travis. Accompanying them are Brendon, Nicole's fiancée and Tommy, a former Wal-Mart door greeter who may be more than he seems. Together they struggle against a ruthless, relentless enemy that has singled them out above all others.

As they travel across the war-torn country side the Talbots soon learn that there are more than just zombies to be fearful of: with law and order a long-distant memory some humans have decided to take any and all matters into their own hands. It's not just brains versus brain-eaters anymore. And the stakes may be higher than merely life and death, with eternal souls on the line.

Zombie Fallout 3: The End…

As the world spirals even further down into the abyss of apocalypse, one man struggles to keep those around him safe.  Michael stands side by side with his wife, their children, his friends and Henry the wonder Bulldog along with the Wal-Mart greeter Tommy who is infinitely more than he appears. Whether Tommy is leading Mike and his family to salvation or death remains to be seen...