Zombie Fallout (33 page)

“If it’s about the bullets Talbot, I already feel your concern but we’ve got at least a week’s worth,” Jed replied.

I was still breathing heavily from my run over. I had been reluctant to take deep breaths and it was only partly because I had let my cardio routine lapse in the last few months. So I rushed out my words without explanation. I pretty much got the response I deserved.

“The zombies are getting taller…” next breath I finished with “…Jed.”

“Booze is tougher to get than a fresh T-bone, so I know you haven’t been drinking. Some of that wacky tobaccy then?” Jed asked with a raised eyebrow.

As much as it pained me, time was of the essence, two gulps of unsavory air, a brief respite and I started over again. “Jed, that wall out there is eight feet tall.”

“It’s over then,” he said as he made his way over to the emergency P.A. system that had been rigged all around the complex. “Cease-fire!” he yelled. He was midway through his third call before the shots began to trail off. There were still one or two distant shots as if those person’s trigger fingers were having a difficult time relaxing.

Jed laid it out over the speaker. The Little Turtle complex’s bubble had just been burst. Whether anyone thought we could shoot our way out of this mess was irrelevant. They had all just been notified that this course of action would lead to our demise. Inaction meant the same thing, but there was a lot less satisfaction in it. Normally quiet means peace; this, however, was the quiet of the dead.

It was disturbing to say the least. As I walked home, the feeling of being in a fishbowl gave me the skeevies. Almost all the way across the wall, the zombies were peering in at us. I didn’t want to look at them. I could feel hundreds of sets of eyes on me and it wasn’t because I was the pope, more like a leg of lamb. Hands in pockets, head bowed, I entered the house. Tracy was peering out the window at the wall. She shivered involuntarily.

“What now Mike?” she asked without looking away from the scene she was fixated on.

Again with the shrugging, I was getting real sick of being asked questions I had no answer for. It was like being in 12
^th
grade all over again. But at least then I was usually stoned and I didn’t care. Now was the time I had to have answers, our lives depended on it. My shrug, at least, had a desired effect. Tracy pulled back from the window to look at me. Okay so maybe not so desired. I felt like an albino under the withering gaze of an Arizona sun, my cheeks flushed.

“You don’t
know
?” she asked. It sounded accusatory to me, but it was intoned with defeat.

I walked over to her and wrapped her up in a big hug and then I lied. “We’ll get out of here.” And she believed it about as much as I did.

The preternatural silence was occasionally disrupted by the staccato sound of gunfire. Apparently there were still a few die hards on the walls that weren’t willing to give up so easily. I was going stir-crazy sitting in the house. I couldn’t find anything to do that even remotely kept my mind from thoughts of zombies. Crossword puzzles – zombies, model building – zombies, reading – zombies.

“This sucks!” I said as I stood up from the couch. No one argued. We had been sitting in near silence for over an hour. “I’m going to see how Alex is doing with the truck.” This was not a source of easement either.

When I told Tracy about the idea her eyes had lit up like Christmas trees. It had warmed my heart to see the new life that had been breathed into her, even if it was only short-lived. She was a smart person and she could see that I wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about the plan as I should be.

“Fuck that!” She screamed at me. I stepped back. At 5’2” and 110 pounds she scared the shit out of me like no drill instructor double her size could. Her vehemence was unmatched. “Well, I’m not going!” She yelled as she circled the room like a tiger waiting to pounce on its prey. And I was the one feeling like the goat. “What if the truck gets stuck, what then Mr. Bad Ass Marine? You’ll be delivering canned goods to the zombies. All they’ll need is a can opener and a fine Chianti and they can have a huge smorgasbord.”

I put my hands up in a placating manner. I might as well have tossed the whole can of gasoline on the fire. “Calm down,” I begged. Ooops, wrong tact, the spitting volcano erupted, Vesuvius incarnate.

She pushed past my arms and punched me full force in the stomach. Whoa, I hadn’t been expecting that. I bowed over from the force of the blow, the wind knocked right out of me. Good thing she didn’t follow up with an uppercut, that would have been real embarrassing. I was busy gasping for air as she retreated. It looked more like she was circling for another opening.

Finally being able to come up to a near stand, I was ready to answer her. Her pacing hadn’t slowed. I was choosing my words carefully. “There aren’t many alternatives, Tracy,” I pleaded. “If some of us can get away that makes it worth it.”

She huffed. “To what end?” came her question. “Where are they going to go? What are they going to do? Better to stand here and fight until the end.”

“But they’ll live to fight another day. We can’t be the only holdouts.” I hoped that was true, or truly what was the point. A truckload of women and children wasn’t going to repopulate the planet.

“I’m not going,” she stated. Her pacing stopped as she stood in front of me, daring me to disagree with her.

I thanked God she wasn’t leaving and cursed the fates at the same time. She was forsaking the best chance of escape. I had to press further regardless of the threat to my stomach.

“What about Nicole, are you answering for her too?” I asked.

Tracy lurched forward, I at first thought it meant the start of round two and prepared for my defense. It turned out it was more of a swoon. I was reluctant to put my guard down as I stepped forward to keep her upright. She pushed me away.

“We live as a family,” she gulped, “and we’ll die as a family.” She spun and left the room.

Ten minutes later, still standing there I couldn’t tell if my stomach was more upset by her punch or her words.

CHAPTER 22

Journal Entry - 19

Alex was busy welding the front plow into place. I stood back and watched, uneasy in the feeling that the greenish yellow arc of light was burning my image into the brains of the hundreds of zombies that were watching.

He nodded in solace. His wife and child were getting on the truck. Hispanic families were different from American. The males still had the final say so and Alex had exercised his right. Because the truck had been his idea, his wife and child were exempt from the selection process. They had earned a ride.

“Are you going too, Alex?” I asked

His eyes fell. “Jed said that I was eligible for the same exemption as my wife and kids, but I couldn’t find it in myself to take the place of some other woman or kid. What kind of man would I be?” His eyes met mine. “I am going to put my name in for one of the gunners on top. If God deems it, I will go with my Marta.” He kissed his hand and made the Holy sign of the Trinity on his chest.

“How much longer?” I asked, pointing to the truck. Alex seemed happy to move on from the subject we had reluctantly broached.

“Tomorrow at the latest. I’m working on a couple of ideas for the skirt. I want to make sure it doesn’t cause the truck to hang up on anything.”

We didn’t touch that with a ten-foot stick. But as Alex’ eyes briefly met mine, the point was made. He was entrusting his wife and child to this design. I jumped when a shot rang out no more than a hundred yards from our location. Alex had turned back to his task at hand. I was going to ask him if he needed any help, but this felt more like my cue to leave. I contemplated going into the clubhouse and talking to Jed, but the likelihood that he of all people would do anything to elevate my present mood was unlikely. I loved the old man, but he was a crotchety son-of-a-bitch. Then again so was I. I mean the part about being a son of a bitch, not crotchety. Ha, I could elevate my own damn mood, I said sourly as I began a slow walk around the perimeter of Little Turtle. I received the occasional greeting from some of the sentries but for the most part I was left alone. It was when I reached the far side of the complex that I ‘felt’ a difference. I couldn’t at first tell what it was, but the change was thick in the air.

I looked around trying to figure it out. It was an absence that was causing the difference, an absence of prying eyes. There were no zombies watching my every move. No zombies debating on which part of me might be stringy, which parts succulent. My spirit nearly soared. It felt like a reprieve, a last minute call from the governor. Even the air smelled a little sweeter, marginally. On this side of the complex the wall was built on top of a small rise, maybe six feet or so. The other side of the wall had the same drop off, so that would explain a lot. There would have to be a lot more zombies killed on this side before their vision would peek over the top. But it was more than that, I hoped. The air was less heavy here, that’s the best I can explain it. But I wasn’t convinced. You don’t grow up on the East Coast and not hold on to a certain measure of cynicism. I climbed up onto the nearest guard tower, startling the guard to no end. Not realizing how close I had just succumbed to friendly fire, the view was worth the chance. There were some zombies milling about but not anything near the volumes on the other three sides. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

“So about the time they started to see over the wall on the other side,” I stated more to myself than him. He half smiled and shrugged. He had no clue.

“They’ve just been leaving in streams pretty much since,” he said, kind of like he was looking for some praise, friggen idiot.

“So you’re telling me the zombies have been vacating this area for the past three hours, and you didn’t feel the need to tell anyone?!” I yelled at him. He backed away.

“I…I…I um, Fritzy said,” he stammered.

I was pissed, a potential escape route was staring us in the face and this fat fuck couldn’t get up off his ass to let anyone know. I was closing in on the guard, for what I hadn’t decided yet, but as he pulled back and covered his face with his hands I knew it was time to ease off a bit.

“What about Fritzy?” I barked.