Zombie Fallout zf-1 Read online

  “How does a zombie look so fucking good?” Tracy asked as she finally got to her feet.

  “Mom?” Nicole was still bewildered, but finally took her mother’s words to heart and looked at the monster in front of them.

  Except for some unkempt hair and a grayish sheen to her skin tone, the zombie was a knock out. For a second or two Nicole wasn’t sure if they were being confronted by a monster or just a starving civilian. All pretense of a peaceful outcome was shattered as the Allison-thing reengaged her one-track mind. Her mouth opened wide, revealing bits and chunks of her last conquest. Like the door of an ancient mausoleum creaking open, the stench of death issued forward. Nicole brought her pistol up to bear, her hand shaking wildly as she pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Nicole waited impatiently for the terse spring of the recoil and the acrid smell of gunpowder. All that happened was her hand shook wildly from side to side and the acidic smell of decay flooded her senses.

  “Shit!” Nicole yelled as she pulled the trigger again and again, but still nothing happened, not even the satisfactory slamming of the firing pin hitting home.

  Tracy had not been stationary during this brief interlude; she had also brought her rifle to bear. The Allison-thing was so close that her mouth closed around the barrel of the rifle.

  ‘Gonna be tough to miss from this distance,’ Tracy thought with a certain sense of satisfaction.

  “This oughta take care of that shit-eating grin, BITCH!” Tracy yelled just as she pulled the trigger.

  Yes, Allison-thing’s grin did expand, but not because of any hot lead injection. Tracy realized the gun wasn’t loaded. It was more useless than Viagra at a Promise Keeper's Convention. Allison-thing was held at bay as the muzzle of the weapon pressed against the back of her throat. Tracy wanted to scream in rage and frustration, in revenge unfulfilled. Meanwhile, Nicole picked up the closest object that she could find. Tracy reeled as the flying box of condoms narrowly missed hitting the side of her head.

  “Really?! That’s the best that you could do?” Tracy shouted.

  “Sorry Mom. What are we gonna do?” Nicole shrieked, hysteria rising dangerously close to the surface.

  “Go behind the register and see if there’s a bat or a crowbar or something to hit her over the head with,” Tracy said as she struggled with the Allison-thing.

  The zombie still hadn’t figured out that to get to the meat it would have to dislodge from the bitter metal stick. The barrel was coming dangerously close to pushing through the back of her slender neck.

  “There’s only a cane!” Nicole shouted from the register station.

  “That’ll have to do. Hurry, I don’t know how much longer I can hold her back.”

  Tracy was struggling under the relentless assault. The Allison-thing would never stop. Tracy knew that even as her arms ached with the strain of holding the undead bitch away from her. Tracy was proud as her daughter conquered her rising tide of fear and approached the zombie, cane upraised. Nicole swung with all her might, but between the mass of the cane and the lack of muscle Nicole possessed, the blow did little more than irritate her mother’s assailant. Again she raised the cane and struck. The zombie finally noticed that she was being attacked. It backed up, dislodging itself from the gun and turned her full attention on the small morsel of meat to her side. ‘Succulent’ was its vacant thought.

  “Mom!” Nicole wailed as she dropped the cane and backed away.

  Tracy’s arms were burning from the exertion of holding the zombie at bay. As the Allison-thing came loose, Tracy’s arms fell. The rifle in reality weighed only seven pounds, but right now it might as well have been seventy. She caught her breath as the zombie turned all of its attention to her daughter. Nicole was moving backwards, her eyes wild with fear. The look of sheer terror on her face got her mother moving.

  “First my husband! Then me! And now you want my daughter?!” Tracy screamed. She turned the rifle around so she was holding the barrel. “Well, you can’t have any of us! BITCH!” Tracy said, as she swung the beefy end of the stock with a strength and aim even Babe Ruth would have been proud of.

  With contact came that disgusting sound that only a collapsing skull can make. Some compare it to the sound of a watermelon exploding after a three-story drop. In reality this isn’t even close. It is a much more visceral concussion. The sound assails the senses with the ire of a screeching cat in the dead of night. It is as repellent as a horde of spiders crawling on your head or getting your sternum poked or watching people chew with their mouths open. You get the point. It is a sound that is not meant for human ears. The stock of the rifle nearly stuck in the caved-in cranium of the Allison-thing. As Tracy pulled the gun back she was greeted with an audible pop as the suction between bone, blood and wood separated. Allison-thing’s head hung at an awkward angle. Her body stopped in midstride. It attempted to swivel its head to see its attacker but the bones in her delicate neck were in no better shape than her mashed in melon. Tracy heaved a cry of satisfaction and relief as the Allison-thing collapsed to the floor. Some violent twitching from her extremities kept Nicole and Tracy engrossed for a few long macabre moments. Tracy had more expletives she wanted to shout at her downed adversary but was fearful if she opened her mouth only the contents of her roiling stomach would issue forth. Finally the Allison-thing lay still.

  Tracy grabbed Nicole’s arm and pulled her through the exit. Not a word was said on the ride home, or ever again on the matter. Mike would learn of the cigarettes, eventually, but when he questioned his wife, the stern look on her face kept him from pressing the matter. He didn’t see any reason to pry any further. Women were a complete and utter mystery to him but he knew enough about when to keep his mouth shut.

  CHAPTER 15

  Journal Entry - 13

  It was not difficult to see the source of Justin’s fever. The scarlet wound on his cheek screamed for attention. The sight of a thousand ravenous zombies could not compete with the fright one sick boy placed into me. If Paul hadn’t been sitting on the toilet I would have used it for some dry heave practice. It was then I finally REALLY noticed my lifelong friend.

  “Paul?” I asked. I had to blink and rub my eyes, how cliché is that?

  “Hey buddy,” Paul said, his voice strained. He was feeling extremely guilty for his part in this progressing drama.

  Paul and Mike had talked occasionally, usually in drunken stupors, about what they should do in the event of a disaster. Now in Paul’s defense, most of these scenarios involved terrorist attacks, not zombie infestations. But after much debate and loud obnoxious rants, it was agreed upon that Mike’s house was easier to defend and had more supplies including armament. At the first sign of trouble, Paul was supposed to get his ass over to Mike’s, but he had let indecision rule and that had threatened the lives of his nephews. He knew Mike would have a hard time ever forgiving him this transgression.

  I was torn between figuring out why and how Paul was here and the health and welfare of my son.

  Paul saw my distress and eased at least one burden. “We’ll talk later, it’s a long story,” he said as he waved me away to the front of the crowd huddled around the bathtub.

  Tracy didn’t look up from Justin as she sought out my hand for comfort. Words didn’t seem necessary. I could see the jagged groove of flesh missing from Justin’s right cheek. His face had swollen to almost double its proportion. If it had been caused by a bee stung, it would have been hilarious. As much as his cheek stuck out, his eyes had sunken in. He looked more like a caricature of himself than the real article. Red lines of infection radiated out from the unsightly wound.

  I would have already thought he was a zombie if not for the next few moments.

  Justin’s eyes gained a measure of focus as they found mine. His next words were strained and choked as he tried to force air over his tortured tonsils.

  “I’m s...sorry Dad,” he cried.

  I took a big intake of air as I sobbed. My heart wanted to leap out of my chest.
Paul stifled his own keening. Tracy didn’t hold anything back as she let loose as only a grieving mother can. Her sobs racked her body; she released my hand in order to cover her face with both of hers.

  In the back of my mind I heard Tommy speak, but I wasn’t cognizant of any particular word he spoke.

  “He didn’t get bit,” Tommy said.

  I wanted to lash out. I wanted to smash things. I wanted to swear to the heavens for this hell thrust upon me. But what would it accomplish? It wouldn’t make my son any better. It wouldn’t restore order to the universe. I didn’t know what had happened, but from the hangdog expressions on Travis and Brendon, it wasn’t a difficult puzzle to put together. Paul, being Paul, had procrastinated his departure from his house until his window of opportunity had closed. My boys had somehow got the half-assed idea to go and save their uncle. I loved Paul with all my heart, but never would I have sacrificed one of my kids for him. I wanted to lay into Paul and scream ‘How dare you!?’ But the guilt that he had already placed on his own shoulders was more than I could ever hope to achieve, and again to what end? My son was infected with the deadly virus, and berating Paul would do nothing, absolutely nothing to save Justin. I felt hopeless, no, scratch that, for the first time in my life I felt impotent. Okay the second, there was that one time in college when Paul and I had bought some incredible sensamilian herb and for some reason I couldn’t achieve the ‘full vigor’ of manhood with my girlfriend. But this was worse, much, much worse. I stroked Tracy’s hair as tenderly as I could. She bristled from the contact. I told her I had a quick meeting at the clubhouse and I would be back soon. She never so much as looked up at me; I can’t say I could blame her.

  I looked at the crowd in the bathroom and demanded, “Keep his fever down, and Travis come get me right away if he gets worse. And whatever you do, don’t anyone let word of this get out. They’ll put him down like a mad dog.” I ignored Tracy’s flinch at my words; they were nothing but the truth. I hesitated for a moment, then knelt next to my waxen-faced son and tenderly kissed him on the brow. As I turned and left the room, my shoulders shook as I tried to restrain my own heart-wrenching sobs.

  Ten minutes later, there were six people including myself present at the impromptu clubhouse meeting. Alex, who looked like he had no sooner hit the pillow when he got the call, Jed, and Tim Tinkle, (no, I did not make the name up). He was head of the new “Security Department.” He was a good-looking guy, about 6’2”, 185 pounds, in great shape. He had blue eyes that were striking next to his prematurely silver hair. But he had the look of someone who has had to constantly defend himself, and with that name he probably did. I had my doubts about Tinkle. He looked like he had a short fuse. Next, there was Wilbur Heathrow, an older, heavyset guy, with wide spaced eyes on a narrow face that gave him the look of a salamander. He was head of the Guards. I don’t know what went on while I was gone, but it looked like there were a whole lot of new posts. Maybe the titles made these people feel more self-important or more likely made them feel like they were in control of the situation. It was my personal belief it did neither. Why did we need a head of Security and a Guard Warden. It was the same thing, like saying, ta-may-to, ta-mah-to, what’s the difference? Whatever, if it made people feel all warm and fuzzy inside, then why not? And to round out the six, Carl had showed up.

  When it looked like all the movers and shakers were present, I pulled away from Jed and asked for everybody to be seated. Tim Tinkle remained standing. “Gentlemen,” I began. “I’m sorry to have taken you away from whatever you may have been doing.” I looked at Alex especially, knowing he was way short on sleep.

  He gave me a slight nod. “De nada,” he said, acknowledging my apology.

  “We’ve got some problems,” I stated.

  “Why are you wasting our time with the obvious, Michael?” Tinkle intoned self-importantly.

  Why was this guy starting already? And I hated being called Michael, it always reminded me when I was young and in trouble.

  “Um, okay,” I looked questioningly at Tinkle. “What I wanted to finish saying…”

  “Are you implying that I interrupted you? The mighty Michael Talbot?” Tinkle sneered.

  “Uh, Ti… Tim, I’m not sure what’s going on here. I’m just trying to pass on some information I think is vital to our safety and security,” I put forth, doing my best to rein in my anger at this idiot.

  “Are you saying I’m not doing my job right?!” Tinkle yammered, taking a step forward and thrusting his finger at me.

  “What the hell, man, I didn’t even know there was such a job until Jed told me five minutes ago. Listen, I’m not trying to get into a pissing contest with you.” Ooops, wrong adjective, he blew like Vesuvius.

  “What does that crack mean, Talbot? You making fun of me? You got a problem with me? I’m gonna kick your ass into Tuesday.”

  Which I thought was kinda hilarious, considering it was Tuesday, unless of course he meant next Tuesday and then it would suck. He was approaching fast, veins sticking out of all sorts of unnatural places.

  “Tim, please,” Jed stood up, trying to thwart the hostility.

  Tim pushed him aside. Luckily Carl was able to grab him before Jed hit the deck. Tim swung with a roundhouse that a zombie would have been able to dodge. I dropped low and struck with all of my force into his solar plexus. The wind couldn’t get out of his sails fast enough. I felt the force of the super-exhaled air as it traveled with velocity over my head. I was thankful he hadn’t eaten any jalapenos for dinner. It might have melted my hair. He immediately doubled over, trying his best to gasp for the elusive air. I was a millisecond away from finishing him off with an uppercut when Jed finally righted himself.

  “Enough you shitheads!” he yelled.

  I felt like I was five. I pointed at Tinkle. “He started it!” I blustered.

  Tinkle couldn’t talk yet but he had the presence of mind to point at me and shake his head.

  “I don’t care!” Jed raged on. I didn’t know the old coot had that much fire in him. “Tinkle, sit your ass down. Talbot, continue.” Tim did as he was told, by small degrees he was able to retain more air, but luckily the firestorm had died down.

  “Okay,” I stated again. “Where was I before I was so rude…” Jed pointed a finger at me. “Um right, uh I think we’re in for a bit of a mess.”

  “Mike,” Alex said exasperatedly. “You know that I came here because you had something important for us. But if you woke me for that, I’ll be the next one up there taking a swing.”

  “All right, sorry,” I held my hands up. “I was just thrown off-track for a sec. We’ve all been wondering where the zombies are? Why aren’t they attacking? Are they dying? Did they move on? Now I’m not saying this is fact, these are just my observations. I think these zombies are a little more advanced than we give them credit for.”

  Everyone stirred a bit except for Carl.

  Wilbur spoke up. “This is ridiculous, they’re brain-dead, flesh eating parasites. They have all the brainpower of Tim over there.” Everyone laughed, even Tim.

  I related the story about when we had gone to get Justin and how the zombies had just up and left us for easier prey. “Listen, I know it’s just conjecture, I have as much knowledge about this as you guys. But I think the zombies know we’re here.”

  “That’s preposterous!” Wilbur yelled out. “They’re not even self-aware.”

  “Since when do predators have to be self-aware, does a wolf KNOW it exists?” I shot back.

  Wilbur withered a bit.

  “I thought about this the entire way home from the armory after our encounter with the zombies.” The news of the sighting of so many zombies had seemingly beat us back to Little Turtle “I think the zombies have exhausted the easier food supply.”

  Wilbur was like a pit bull; he just wouldn’t give up. He must hang around a lot with Tinkle. “Those are our family and friends that you so casually call food.” He clearly wanted to continue with his scathing
diatribe, but the only place this was heading was another confrontation resulting in a punch to the abdomen and I’d probably lose my fist in his massive midsection.

  “Wilbur.” I said solemnly as I carefully interrupted his harangue. “I’m not trying to make light of the situation, I’m calling it like I’m seeing it. Those people the zombies have hunted down were the infirm or slow or those caught unawares. I think that the reason we have been so ‘relatively’ safe is because we are a much tougher prey.”

  Wilbur was about to unseat his great mass again.

  “Hold on Wilbur, just let me finish. Lions go after gazelles and zebra and only occasionally water buffalo and even then only the smaller ones. But if desperate enough and hungry enough they will attack a full-grown elephant, I watched it on the Discovery Channel. I’m willing to bet the pickings have gotten real slim outside these walls and we’re the next available source of food.”

  Wilbur finally got his bulk up. His chair sagged in relief. “Oh come on, are we really going to listen to this?” he said, addressing the rest of the gathering. “He’s telling us zombies are smart and that they know we’re here. He’s drawing parallels between them and Wild Kingdom for goodness sake. Why are we wasting our time with this, or him for that matter. He’s just pissed he’s not in charge and this makes him feel more important.”

  I felt defeated, “I have no desire to be in charge of this three-ring circus.”

  “So you say!” Wilbur said fiercely

  I ignored his barb and continued, “I was only trying to make sure we were prepared for what’s coming. Jed, I’m going to pack my family up and get going. Those of you that want to are more than welcome to come along.”

  “Good riddance Talbot, we don’t need your kind here anyway,” Wilbur snorted. Tinkle nodded, agreeing.

  Alex looked away. “I’d like to come, Mike, but it feels safe here.”

  “I understand Alex, you have to look out for your family. Good luck my friend,” I said honestly.