Zombie Fallout: 'Til Death Do Us Part Part 23

Knowing John the way I did, I was pretty certain it had been.

"Oh, man, my head hurts," John said as he sat up rubbing his head in the opposite same spot as Luke.

"Weird, man, mine too!" Luke said as he looked around Mirabelle trying to locate the Ring Ding box, that was now nowhere in sight. "Hey, baby, I'm still a little hungry," he said trying to maneuver around her.

"Not a chance."

"You know how angry I get when I'm hungry." He placed his hands over his head. He was shaking them around crazily, hopping from one foot to the other. Mirabelle was laughing.

She kissed him quickly. "No."

I felt guilty that I had eaten one of this man's favorite treats and especially now that they were a finite commodity. I slowly pushed the wrapper into my exposed pockets, hoping that he would not hear the tell tale snack noise.

"Dude, those are some ugly shorts," John said, his face was just about thigh level.

I stepped back. "Yeah well, the Gap was closed."

"I think you look fine," Mirabelle said, coming to my aid.

"Looks normal enough to me," Luke echoed.

The second stop after the antacids would be for new clothes. The probability that I could die at any moment was high and I sure as s.h.i.+t wasn't going to go out looking like this.

"You about ready to rock and roll?" I asked John seeing if he was ready to go.

"No music yet, man," John said, putting his hands on his ears.

"I was actually talking about getting ready to leave, buddy."

"Are you sure?" Mirabelle and Luke asked at about the same time.

"Who the h.e.l.l is Buddy?" John asked me.

"Okay, let's start from the beginning. John the Tripper, sometimes known as John or Trip, we need to leave soon so that we can find your wife."

"Right, right," he agreed as he grasped at the elusive clarity. "And where is she again?" he asked, looking up at me, once again letting the slippery thoughts slide through his fingers.

"Maybe this will help you remember, honey," Mirabelle said as she walked over and placed a Ring Ding in his hands.

"He gets one but I don't?" Luke asked as he stared longingly at the one sitting untouched in John's hands. Mirabelle put her hand on his chest when she realized that he was going to make a move for it.

"Don't you dare," she warned.

"I don't like apples," John said as he turned the package over in his hands. He then opened it up and popped the entire offering into his mouth. His teeth were coated in a chocolate substance as he over-exaggerated his chews.

Mirabelle grabbed him a drink of Kool-Aid when she realized he was having difficulty with his breakfast.

"Breakfast of champions, Bruce Jenner would be rolling over in his grave (or maybe not, he could still be alive or a zombie)," I mumbled as he washed it down with the vile liquid.

"My wife's in Philly, and she works at a hotel in downtown."

We had at least something to go on. It sure beat driving around until John recognized something. It was like the sugar acted as a direct infusion to his cognitive thought processes. That was something I would keep in mind. When we stopped for antacids I would add Snickers onto the list of things I needed to get. "Is that downtown?"

"Yes, and why are you wearing Daisy Dukes?" he asked.

"Do they make my a.s.s look fat?" I asked back, trying to deflect the question.

"I'd rather not know," was his diplomatic answer.

"Are you ready to go?"

"You're going out like that?"

"I don't have much choice."

"Yeah...then I'm ready whenever you are," he told me.

I made sure that Luke and Mirabelle realized how open the invitation to Maine was. They seemed somewhat interested, but I couldn't imagine them actually leaving their homestead any time soon. Unless, of course, Luke's wife could no longer wrangle up Ding Dongs or whatever the chocolate-like treats he liked were called.

Luke and John embraced and cried like they were brothers or friends who had known each other for decades. "I'm going to miss you, man," John said as he wiped his face.

"Besides Mirabelle here, you're the best person I've ever met," Luke said, trying unsuccessfully to mask his own water works.

They hugged again. Both men's shoulders were bobbing. I didn't know if I should feel jealous or not. I think if I walked out the door and never saw John again he would merely forget he had ever met me. After another ten minutes of them making excuses not to part, we were seated in the Gremlin. John had his hand pressed up against the gla.s.s as we pa.s.sed by Luke's and Mirabelle's. I waved. Their kindness had been like a small hiker's cabin amidst a raging blizzard. I would not soon forget the reprieve, and I did not think John ever would.

"You alright, bud...Trip?"

"He was a kindred spirit," John said, finally looking through the front winds.h.i.+eld as opposed to the rear.

"Maybe after you get your wife, you can go back. It's not that far." He seemed to perk up after that.

"Do you think Stephanie would want to?" he asked earnestly.

My first thought was to say 'how the f.u.c.k would I know?' "If she sees how important it is to you, then I'm sure she'll want to." Although, in all honesty, I thought the odds were much slimmer than that. Odds that I figured her to be alive were about ten percent; odds that we'd find her in addition to her being well at about one percent. Odds that we found her alive and well AND she would want to hunt down her husband's long lost friend from yesterday? I figured that to be an unimaginably small number, the type that scientists used when they were trying to figure out the weight of atoms.

John, in contrast to his earlier mood, seemed completely upbeat. He must not have received my odds sheet from Vegas yet. Beside wearing too short shorts and a tight wife beater t-s.h.i.+rt, plus driving in a lime green Gremlin, the day was going exceedingly well. I knew I had cosmically cursed myself the moment I had the thought. Nothing changes the fates quicker than telling the universe that everything is going great! Might as well flip a cop off doing ninety with a bottle of tequila in your lap and marijuana cigarette hanging out of your mouth. That's about how quickly our day went from 'wicked p.i.s.sah' to 'what the f.u.c.k?'

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

Eliza & Tomas "You ready, Tomas?" Eliza asked as she headed for their vehicle.

Tomas stared back at the city as the last few fires sputtered on. There wasn't much left at this point that could keep it going. He turned to catch up with her. "I am, Lizzie. I just want this to all be over."

"Are we still on the same side, brother?" Eliza asked as she sat down.

"I will not raise my hand up against you, if that is what you mean," he told her as he walked around the front of the black gla.s.sed Dodge.

"When Michael Talbot's family are begging for my mercy, you will not help them?" she mused. "I find that somewhat difficult to believe."

"You believe what you want, Eliza. I have not lied to you." What he failed to elaborate on was that he would also not lift a finger to help her if the tables were somehow turned.

"I think we are in for some fun in Maine. Maybe not as much as the Black Plague, but certainly something to rival it."

Tomas had finally come to the realization of who-and more importantly what-his sister had become. No amount of reasoning, pleading, begging, or crying would change that. She had become a monster to rival anything ever produced in the pages of a book or on the cells of a film. He only had two hopes left; one was that, once she had destroyed Talbot's family, the hatred that burned so deeply within her would be extinguished. Or that the resourceful Talbots were able to gain the upper hand and destroy his sister. Either way would almost be a relief.

Tomas turned the car around and got back onto the highway; the restocked tractor trailer convoy packed full of speeders and a new, deadly surprise followed suit. Once the initial attack had subsided, a fair portion of Eliza's human familiars had returned, those were bolstered by her new henchman leader Kong and his trucker friends. She had drained a few of the deserters dry for their actions. The men that were following Eliza knew they had made a deal with the devil, but when you're faced with h.e.l.l, options are limited. Eliza could barely contain her excitement, her black eyes s.h.i.+ned brightly as Tomas drove on.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.

Maine It was early evening and Mrs. Deneaux was sitting on the deck overlooking the pond. Her gaze had that far away look as she reflected back on her life.

"Beautiful out here isn't it?" Tracy asked as she came out the sliding door. She was holding a steaming cup of tea, hoping that it would somehow drive the cold in her soul away.

"I've seen prettier," Mrs. Deneaux said as she took a drag.

Tracy looked past the comment. "I just wanted to say thank you."

Mrs. Deneaux looked over to the woman suspiciously. "For what?"

"BT told us all what you did. He said they probably wouldn't have made it if not for you. I just wanted to thank you for bringing my brother-in-law and friend back."

Mrs. Deneaux's eyes narrowed. "Do you know why I did it?"

"I would imagine because their well being meant something to you," Tracy replied not sure of the basis to Deneaux's question.

"I did it because I stood a better chance of surviving with them than without them. Not because I have any personal affinity for either one. I think your brother-in-law is a dolt personally, and BT was just your husband's lackey. Without Mike directing him, he is as unsure of himself as an eighteen-year-old virgin with a hooker. Now Michael I miss, that was a man that could get out of a jam, smart enough to know what to do and dumb enough to do it himself." She laughed at her wit.

Tracy was aghast.

"Oh don't look so surprised, dearie, self-preservation is a pretty strong motivator."

"At the expense of all others?" Tracy asked.

"Who should be more important to me than me?"

"And you can live with yourself like that?"

"Quite comfortably," Deneaux answered. She turned back to the pond as a lone loon landed and made an other-worldly cry. Deneaux took another drag from her cigarette. "Are we done talking?" she asked. Tracy had already gone back in.

"Fun isn't she?" BT asked as Tracy fumed past.

She stopped to respond. "You didn't at some point think killing her and dropping her on the side of the roadway was a good idea?"

"Every couple of miles, but she never put the d.a.m.n pistol away," he responded truthfully.

"How's Gary doing?" Tracy asked, trying to take her mind off of Deneaux.

"He's pretty torn up. He thinks he alone is responsible for Mike's death."

"That's ridiculous, Mike is...was a grown man." Tracy swallowed hard as she made the adjustment from present to past tense.

"He can't help it, as his big brother he feels like he should have been able to protect him."

"I'll talk to him," Tracy said.

"That'll do him some good, I think," BT replied.

"Do you think it's over, BT?" Tracy asked, her eyes pleading for some hope. "Will my children, will my grandchild be able to live in a world in recovery?"

BT wanted to, no, needed to give her the answer she so desperately sought. He could not find it, though, and remained silent.

Cindy who had been seated in the room, her eyes red from crying, looked at the two of them. "We're all dead. There is no hope for us. All day long we prepare for the zombies. We are trying so hard to keep them out never realizing that in so doing we are preventing ourselves from being able to leave. And I'm sorry, but this isn't the Garden of Eden, I don't want to spend all eternity here. The zombies do not die on their own unless we kill them...they will ALWAYS be out there!" She shouted. "How can we possibly defeat that? Even if we somehow keep them from coming in, what have we gained?"

Tracy wanted to argue with her that, as long as they were alive, they had a chance; she just didn't have it in her. She was sadder in life than she could ever remember being and she could not see a way to a better place. The survivors on the planet were quickly gravitating to two distinct groups. There were the Cindys; they were defeated and merely marking time until the end. On the far side of the spectrum were the Deneauxs: the ultra-survivors that would do all in their power to stay alive no matter who they had to crush in order to get there.

Mike had treaded the line in between, firmly holding on to the belief that they could somehow not only survive but win, without sacrificing who he was. With his pa.s.sing, so too did that dream seem to have evaporated. If not for her children, Tracy thought she might find a way to visit Mike sooner.

"I was wondering when you would find me," Gary said to his sister-in-law.

"It wasn't easy," Tracy said. She had spent the last ten minutes hunting him down only to find him at the end of Ron's driveway.

He turned towards her, his eyes shot through with red. Tracy thought that he probably hadn't slept since they got back. "I'm so sorry, Tracy," he started.

"For what?" she asked wholeheartedly.

"Mike."

"Stop it, just stop the 'woe is me', Gary. I heard what happened. How could you possibly blame yourself?"

"I left him behind."

Tracy pressed on, even though she faltered for a moment as she thought about Mike dropping to his knees in the middle of the roadway. "Didn't he pretty much beg you to leave?"

"Yes," Gary said, looking down at his feet.