For the Fallen Read online

I came up with the ever witty “Huh?”

  “Shit, Talbot, how much room you got in that head of yours that you travel so far

  away?” BT chided me.

  Travis laughed. “Sorry,” he mumbled when I glared at him through the rear view mirror.

  “It’s not his fault you’re a space cadet,” Tracy told me.

  And then BT’s words hit. I think if I added up the days since the zombies came, we

  truly had spent the majority of them on the road. Defending a homestead definitely

  had its own share of dangers, but that was nothing in comparison to all manner of

  nasty and deadly things that could and most likely would be discovered on the roadway.

  “He’s left us again,” BT turned to say to Tracy.

  “Welcome to my world,” she replied.

  “Sorry, I was really just thinking on it. Being on the road sucks, and yet, here we

  find ourselves again,” I said.

  “It’s got to be better without Eliza…right?” Justin asked without too much conviction.

  “One would hope,” was what I said. My thoughts didn’t mirror the sentiment.

  “Zombies!” Travis shouted. It was loud in the small confines of the truck.

  My head was on a swivel as I looked around. “Where?” I was trying to pull a Regan

  from The Exorcist. (The whole head pulling a three-sixty thing for those of you not brave enough to

  have watched it, like me.)

  “Oh, God!” BT said.

  I saw his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly in his throat. I’d never seen him turn green;

  I wouldn’t have thought his skin color would have allowed it. Granted, it was a dark

  green like Godzilla as opposed to a Kermit-like green, which I guess is more fitting

  anyway considering his size.

  “I know that smell,” he gulped. “Pickled weasel.”

  I slammed on the brakes, the truck coming to a skidding halt. I think Tracy bounced

  her forehead off BT’s headrest. My throat was closing, tears were welling up in my

  eyes. I had no sooner shoved the truck in park when I opened the door and was outside

  gasping for air. Truth be told, I don’t think I was the first one out; but since I

  was rapidly losing consciousness, it was difficult to tell.

  When I had finally pulled in enough ragged breathes of air to stop my pupils from

  dilating, I turned back towards the truck, and I’d swear I saw a brown mist swirling

  around inside that cab. I noticed two things that almost blew my mind. The first was

  that Tommy had not vacated like the rest of us, and the second was the big bundle

  of fawn fur he had in his lap.

  “What the fuck is Henry doing here?” I asked, pretty much to myself as everyone around

  me was still suffering the after-effects of what could only be described as the usage

  of a biological weapon.

  I waited a few moments longer, letting the cloud dissipate; although I was figuring

  it could be sticky enough that it would adhere itself to the interior of the truck,

  thus further reducing its resale value. Tough to sell something that smelled like

  sewer gas, even with a clean CARFAX.

  “Henry, what are you doing here?” I asked him as I approached.

  I gingerly tested the air with my nose as I cautiously approached. His stub of a tail

  was banging rapidly back and forth. He tilted his head up so I could scratch under

  his chin and chest where he liked it most.

  “Did you get a hold of Lyndsey’s cooking again?” I asked him as I grabbed his massive

  head.

  I was referring to my sister, whose stabs at cooking had lined many the bottoms of

  trashcans. I’d once watched her, fascinated, as she made chocolate chip cookies from

  scratch. The resultant thing that emerged from the oven had looked like liver and

  tasted worse.

  I was thrilled to see the dog…and worried. He was one more loved one I would need

  to be concerned for, but evidently he had decided to not be left behind again.

  “Get him out of the truck,” Tracy said, coming up slowly. When I gave her a confused

  look she elaborated. “Whatever made him make that smell is close to the surface. He

  needs to get rid of it before we start back out.”

  “Ooh.” I nodded in understanding as I helped the big guy down.

  Henry padded over to the soft shoulder of the roadway, did a quick once over to make

  sure no one was looking, and then went about his business. I think I saw a couple

  of crows die as they circled above and into the waft of air that came from his pile.

  “Better?” I asked him.

  He did seem relieved. I thought he knew better than to eat anything my sister dropped.

  She was getting better, though; the things she would pull off the stove were starting

  to resemble real food more and more. Not that they tasted any better, they just ‘looked’

  more edible.

  In a few more minutes, we were back on the road.

  “Is it safe?” Tracy asked.

  She could have been referring to any number of things. And I had not a single answer

  for any of them.

  Chapter 2 – Mike Journal Entry 2

  The ride had been somewhat muted after Henry’s umm…outburst. I’m thinking most of

  us in the car were more or less holding our breath just in case. I know I was even

  driving about twenty miles per hour slower just so I could stop faster if the need

  arose. Luckily, we’d only had one false alarm; Justin had moved in his seat causing

  the material to squeak. I had the front end of the truck dipping down I was bringing

  it to a halt so quickly.

  “What do you think the odds of this are?” BT had asked. “I mean it’s pretty much like

  looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “How big is the haystack?” I asked him in all seriousness.

  “You know it’s just an analogy, right?” he queried back.

  “I mean, if the stack isn’t too big and maybe we have a giant white tarp underneath

  when we separate the straw we could probably find the needle fairly easily. Maybe

  even get some magnets. That would be fucking genius.”

  “Just turn the damn truck around,” he told me. “I’m not sure how long I can be in

  here with your crazy ass.”

  “We’ll find him,” I said.

  “You’re that sure?” he asked in all seriousness.

  “Yes…there’s no other alternative.” What I left unsaid was that if we didn’t, this

  trip would end with a bullet for Justin and himself. Eventually they both would succumb

  to the zombie virus they each housed inside themselves.

  We were nearly to the New Hampshire border when our first—and I could only hope, last—spate

  of trouble reared its ugly head. I had to slow the truck as we were coming upon zombies.

  So far, only in the ones and occasional twos, and then they really started to thicken.

  A bunch were meandering along the shoulder; but most tended to stay in the roadway,

  making driving become more like a video game as I tried to avoid hitting them.

  “Oh, these zombies you avoid,” Tracy said sarcastically, referring to her Jeep Liberty I had

  totaled seemingly years ago on our quest to Walmart to get Justin and subsequently

  Tommy.

  “You’ve got to let it go, woman,” I said, not risking turning back towards her. One,

  because that would take my eyes off the road; and two, I didn’t want to see how much

  I had angered her.

  “This is Eliza’s work,” Tommy sai
d as he placed his hands on the window and stared

  out. “She called them here, and now that she’s gone…”

  “They’ve lost purpose,” I finished. Made sense. They had a new purpose now, though.

  As they saw us, they started to congeal on our space, which was somewhat funny. I

  mean, at least at first. It was hopeless for them, but that abruptly changed as we

  came upon the main part of the horde.

  “My God, there must be hundreds,” Tracy said in alarm.

  Yeah there were hundreds…adding up to a thousand or more. Plus they looked hungry;

  and considering that we were the only items on the menu, well, you get the point.

  “Now what?” BT asked me.

  “Should have just taken the damn Gatlin gun,” I told him.

  I had the truck crawling at a measly ten mph. We were in imminent danger of becoming

  encircled. Going forward was not going to happen. Not without a tank. And back was

  rapidly losing its appeal as well.

  “Everyone got a seatbelt?” I asked as I buckled myself in.

  “You can’t possibly go through them.” BT’s eyes were growing wide.

  I smiled a sick grin at him. I felt like I had just eaten old, slimy, cheap, (you

  know the extra fatty kind), uncooked bacon, and maybe it had a coating of green with

  a few maggots thrown in just for effect. Yeah, it was that bad.

  I heard belts buckling so quickly it almost sounded as if it had been choreographed.

  “Dad?” Travis asked.

  “It’ll be alright,” I lied.

  I took out my first zombie as I hit him dead center with the grill of the truck. His

  head struck the hood with such force that it sent a spray of broken teeth and blood

  halfway up the windshield. I was glad for small favors when, instead of his whole

  body coming up the truck, we were just momentarily jostled around as I ran over him.

  “Gross,” Justin said. He had turned around to see the damage done. I’d seen enough

  of it in my rear view mirror to be happy I was only viewing a six-inch-by-two-inch

  rectangle. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like I had run over its midsection, pushing

  internal organs out through its mouth. Long ribbons of what looked like skinned animal

  parts lay on the road next to its head. The slimy bacon was sounding worlds better

  right now.

  The nose of the truck dipped down as I drove off the road and into a culvert. My heart

  skipped a beat or seventeen as I dug the front end into the upslope. The wheels spun

  for a moment, I think it was zombies who actually saved us. A few slammed into the

  rear end and lent just enough force to allow my rear wheels to catch and make the

  truck start up the other side.

  I rolled down my window. “Thanks for the push!” I yelled as I waved. It’s quite possible

  I wasn’t completely under control of my own emotions. (Lack of blood flow to the brain

  most likely being the cause—see earlier part about heart skipping beats).

  “You are fucking nuts!” BT yelled, looking around I think for another seatbelt to strap over

  himself.

  “Please tell me you haven’t just figured that out?” Tracy asked. She had both hands

  wrapped around the back of his seat as the truck was bucking wildly back and forth

  and up and down.

  We were off-road now, the high grass and weeds making it a particularly difficult

  chore to see the surrounding terrain. I saw the small barbed wire fence and heard

  the high-pitched twang as we snapped through the line. I exhaled hard as my chest

  was forced into the steering wheel. We were in danger of high centering over a large

  rock, the screech of metal was deafening. I could only hope I hadn’t just taken out

  the oil pan.

  A group of birds flew up as I was barreling down on them. “Pull!” I shouted enthusiastically.

  This only made BT dig his fingers harder into the dashboard.

  “Damn you, Talbot,” he muttered.

  I was racing across the expansive open field, thankful to whoever had spent the time

  to clear it of trees. My hands were swinging back and forth on the steering wheel

  so rapidly from the uneven ground it really did appear like I was ‘playing’ at driving

  much like a child might.

  “They’re falling back,” Justin said, probably in the hopes that I would slow down.

  The rising of the oil pressure was a contributing factor in determining that I needed

  to go even faster to put as much distance between us and them as possible.

  “I smell smoke,” Tracy said.

  “That’d be the engine,” I told her, I could only hope it wasn’t actually caused by

  the scummy pretend bacon sloshing around in my stomach.

  “Not one fucking day, not one day could you make it with my truck!” Blared over the

  car speakers.

  “What the hell?” I asked, looking around.

  “I hooked up a two-way radio to the car sound system,” Ron’s voice drifted out.

  “Sorry about the truck,” I told him.

  “Screw the truck, how much trouble are you in?” he asked, concerned.

  “No video camera?” I asked, quickly sweeping a hand across the front of the stereo.

  “Mike,” Ron said smoothly.

  “Umm…enough,” I said vaguely, not trying to alarm the rest of the occupants.

  “Where are you at? I’ll send help.”

  “This is kind of like On-Star,” I told him.

  “BT, where are you guys?” he asked, completely deciding to skip over me.

  “Pretty close to the New Hampshire border, saw a sign saying something about toll

  booths,” BT replied. I think he was happy to be doing anything else besides watching

  me drive.

  “You guys must be close to Kittery,” Ron said.

  “Did he say something about kittens?” I almost shrieked.

  “Kittery…he said Kittery.” BT did his best to calm me down. “But right now Ron we’re

  off…umph…off the map. Will you slow down so I can talk?” he roared.

  “Sure, sure, I’ll let them know what I’m doing,” I told him as I pointed behind us.

  A legion of zombies blocked out the entire rear view.

  “You’ve never listened to me before, don’t start now.”

  “Oooh, fudge,” I whistled.

  “What’s oh fudge?” Ron asked.

  We had narrowly missed a metal hydrant sticking up from the ground. My guess was that

  once it had been used for agricultural purposes, it had almost become our demise.

  As if the ruts and valleys of this uneven land weren’t enough, now I had to wonder

  how many of those ‘meat sticks’ were around. (Is further explanation necessary? See,

  if we got stuck it would be like ‘meat on a stick’ for the zombies.) Not the best

  analogy, but I was scared; we were on suspect turf with a failing vehicle, and no

  place to hole up. Oh yeah, and I almost forgot to add the part about the zombies chasing

  us. The shitload of zombies chasing us.

  “Road!” Justin yelled so loudly I nearly lost control of the truck altogether.

  I was going to thank Captain Obvious, but I was too relieved after our venture in

  the unchartered.

  “Look out, man!” BT shouted.

  It was not enough warning, the passenger side of the truck rose precariously high