A Plague Upon Your Family zf-2 Read online

  Alex looked around nervously as he stepped down off the truck. “What’s up Mike?”

  “Dude I just need to take a quick leak.” (And rip some major ass, I didn’t tell him that part) I yelled back. After the events of the last few weeks I did not want to stray too far from the relative safety of the cars but I was still holding on to the vestiges of decency. That and I wanted everyone to be far enough away from my back blast. Twenty something years of married life and I had never (willingly) ripped a fart in front of Tracy. Sure I’ve let go of my share in my sleep. I’ve even woken myself up with a few that were so air splittingly loud. Whether or not I woke Tracy too I don’t know she never let on. I found the best middle ground available. I walked over to a small cattle fence, ten feet from the edge of the road. I could tell by the way the gas was heating the rear of my pants this one was going to be a stinker. I just hoped it wouldn’t leave a vapor trail in the frigid air. I was thankful to all the gods that still walked across the land that this wasn’t a call to nature that involved the other end. There wasn’t so much as a stop sign to hide that action. At least I could use my body to shield the majority of this basic action.

  “Wonderful.” I heard from the back of the truck as the door rolled up. “I’m stuck in that truck for God knows how long and that’s what I have to witness when I finally get out.”

  “Oh no.” My head exploded. Civilization, and possibly humanity itself is hanging on by a thread and that’s what survives? Mrs. Deneaux was gently lowered from the rear of the truck by BT and her nephew, Thad (the manager from Safeway). I almost lost grip of my manhood as it tried in vain to pull up into my body. The better to protect itself from the soul-sucking bitch that was walking on the snow swept roadway. I finished, yanking my zipper up. I nearly severed what my priest had circumcised 44 years ago. ‘Alright enough with the surprises.’ I walked back towards the rear of the truck to see who would be popping out of the back like a rabbit from a magician’s hat. Mostly to gauge our strength but partly to see what other malcontents might make themselves known. I looked into the murky interior, hoping that Jed had somehow managed to get aboard. Unless he was cowering behind the near catatonic April, this wasn’t going to be the case. In this new reality I would more likely expect to see Fritzy (the zombie rapist I killed in the cat suit) than my unexpected ally Jed. Close to April, pushed against the back of the truck was Little Turtle’s guest greeter, Joann, and she was clutching on to a small group of children, three I thought but I wasn’t completely sure. I wasn’t even sure if they were hers, not that it mattered though, it seemed like a pretty symbiotic relationship. They clutched each other so tightly, I thought it might take acetone to release them. Bad analogy I know, I was going with the whole super glue thing. Anyway, no immediate help from that small scrum. Next was Igor, the Russian gate guard, he was sleeping comfortably against the left side of the truck with what appeared to be a bottle of vodka held firmly in his left hand. That was a welcome surprise, he was a little older and a little overweight, but I thought I’d be able to trust him in a fight. Provided, of course, that he stayed awake. And then my eyes widened.

  “Hi, neighbor happy to see me?” Jen asked.

  ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Besides Alex and his recovering wife, we had five small kids, a waifish woman that was holding on to two of the kids not in Joann's clutches, one uber-bitch, two women Joann and April, that had checked out and most likely needed an intravenous dose of xanax, uber-bitch’s nephew that looked like he would be more comfortable counting zombies than killing them, a giant black man that I was more than convinced wanted to break me in half, a drunk Russian and then the kicker my lesbian neighbor Jen. Don’t get me wrong it’s not that I don’t like lesbians, hell I want to be one. It’s just that Jen had pretty much told me that she no longer had the will to live and to top it off she proved she was useless in a fight, having cowered in the truck on the day we had made a stop at the local National Guard armory.

  Paul pressed on my shoulder as he jumped from the back. “Thanks man.” He said.

  “Yeah any time I can be of help.” I answered never taking my eyes of Jen.

  “Well are you going to help a lady down, or are you just going to keep staring at me?” Jen asked as she held her hand out to me.

  “Why are you in the truck?” I asked. It came out before I could stop it. It sure as hell wasn’t the politically correct thing to say but, man, I really wanted to know.

  She pulled her hand back as if it had been stung. “Listen Mike, I know how you feel about me.” She started.

  ‘Jen if you had any idea of how I felt about you, you’d be over there huddling with the others.’ I wanted to say it, my inner demons screamed to say it, my immature side cried to say it, my socially conscious, higher civility reasoning, stupid jerk other side had a different thought on the matter.

  She continued. “I want revenge Mike.”

  “Jen we’ve had this conversation before.” Her eyes teared up a bit, friggen women they always know which damn buttons of mine to push. Maybe I should stop wearing mine on my sleeve. If I put them under my jacket they’d be a little tougher to get to. I pursed my lips, and shook my head.

  She seemed to take that as an acknowledgement that it was okay to continue, uninterrupted. “When we got back that day, I sat in my and Jo’s bedroom. Most of the time it was with a .32 caliber pushed to my temple.” I involuntarily blew out air. “I just wanted it to be over, the pain, the hopelessness, everything. I mean what was the point right?” I found myself nodding with her. “I awoke the next morning with the gun still pressed against my head.”

  “Holy crap, you were a muscle spasm away from, well you know.” I said in disbelief.

  She smiled wanly. “I dreamt about Jo that night.” Her eyes got that far away look. “I dreamt about her love of life. No matter how shitty things got for her, she appreciated and looked forward to the small things in life, a cup of hot cocoa, a trip to IKEA, a new bottle of patchouli, a game of softball. Oh God I miss her.” She sobbed. I looked away for a few seconds letting her collect herself. She seemed to be indebted from the gesture. "Whew, sorry, I had to get that out. Jo would have wanted to me to live, to love, to embrace everything. Not wallow in despair. If she knew that I had wanted to kill myself she would have kicked my ass."

  By the way, I would have paid to see that. Sorry just a side note.

  “When I finally realized why my skull ached that morning, I pulled the gun away from my head and tossed it across the room. When it knocked over the hat I had put over the picture of me and her on our union day I knew then and there that Jo was still with me and I wouldn’t let her, or for that matter you, down again.”

  ‘That remained to be seen.’ I didn’t say it. I’m an immature dick, not a monster. I helped Jen down and handed her a power bar. I turned as I heard Brendan’s truck door open. Justin stepped out into the severely lit day. Embracing his blanket like only Linus could.

  “God he looks so pale.” Jen said. “Almost like he’s…sorry.” She looked over to me. We were both thinking it though. Justin’s head swiveled to the left and then up and over to his right and down again, almost like he was watching a monster serve that became an ace in a tennis match. “What’s he doing?” Jen asked.

  I watched as a fly circled around and around Justin’s head. Terror mounted. Well my Marine Corps buddies were going to love this, big bad ass, afraid of a fly. What was going to be next? Was I going to be scared of the French? I watched as the fly did two more circuitous routes around his head and then landed on the very tip of his nose. Justin only stared down at it, never once unwrapping his hands from under the blanket to brush the thing away. My skin crawled with unseen, many legged bugs of varying size and color. “Okay everyone, I think it’s about time to go.” I shouted, never taking my eyes off the offending fly.

  “Oh don’t be a bother Talbot we just stopped.” Mrs. Deneaux said as she puffed on a cigarette. “These idiots,” She said as she swept her hand
to encompass pretty much everyone. “Won’t let me smoke in the back of the truck, something or other about second hand smoke.”

  “Fuck, stay, I don’t give a shit! Finish your cigarette. Finish a carton. Hell, go pull some grass, dry it out and smoke it. I’m leaving.” I answered in a yell. Mrs. Deneaux looked like she wanted to add fuel to the fire, but this wasn’t a scene at Wal-Mart where she could bitch someone out and basically get whatever her cold shriveled little heart wanted. Something in the look of my eyes must have told her that I truly would leave her there without a second thought. She ground the remainder of her smoke under her shoe.

  BT came up to the rear of the truck. “Who made you boss?” His voice boomed.

  “You know what BT?” I said as I tried to make myself as tall and intimidating as possible. Not an easy trick to pull off when I was pretty much looking him in the sternum.

  “No, what?” He asked.

  “Rhetorical BT, rhetorical. Nobody made me boss. In fact I don’t want to be boss at all. That would actually make this entire fuck fest a lot easier if I didn’t have to worry about any of my decisions getting people killed. I would like nothing more than to lie in the back of that truck and help Igor polish off whatever liquor he has stowed away. So my giant friend, feel free to take the reins of this carnival ride and do with it what you may. I’m just too tired to deal with it.”

  “Aw I’m just busting your balls, Talbot.” He said as he basically just stepped up into the back of the truck. “You’re just crazy enough to get us out of this.” And then he laughed. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or petrified.

  Alex had just finished up with his wife Marta, changing the baby’s diaper. “Hey Mike, what’s up? Not to be a pain in the ass, but driving this truck is a bitch. I wouldn’t mind taking a few minutes for the blood in my kidneys to start circulating again.”

  I didn’t even need to turn around when I pointed behind me. Alex’s face fell. “What is it Alex?” I asked.

  He tore his gaze from over my left shoulder and back to me. “What do you mean Mike? You just pointed it out to me.”

  “Is it bad?”

  “Are you messing with me Mike?” I shook my head in the negative. “It’s a speeder.”

  “How far away?” I asked although I could almost approximate its distance as the minute tickle in my brain began to expand.

  Alex looked back over my shoulder. “Maybe a quarter of a mile. What’s going on cuate? How could that thing possibly know that we’re here, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I’m not sure Alex, but look at Justin.”

  Alex slowly pivoted his head, reluctant to look, the day was almost already a total disaster and it wasn’t half completed. “He’s just standing there. he looks pale but no worse than he was earlier.”

  “Look closer Alex.”

  “What’s he looking at? Is that a fly on his nose? So?”

  “What’s a fly doing out here Alex? In the dead of winter.”

  “It could have been in the truck, Mike.” He said, but the words didn’t even ring true in his own head. Alex made the sign of the Holy Trinity on his chest. “Marta finish up, we’re leaving.”

  The zombie crossing the snow-covered field wasn’t going to get to us any time soon, but it was disconcerting to be the prey as a predator closed in. I’m sure there isn’t a gazelle in the world that feels comfortable with a lion in the general vicinity. The fly finally alit from Justin’s face as he turned to look at our approaching company. Color rose in his cheeks, but because he was scared or enraptured was difficult to say. Tracy helped Justin back in to Brendan’s car and then looked over to me. She was worried, as was I, but for differing reasons. She was concerned with his physical well-being. I was more concerned with what was going on inside his head. I was beginning to wonder if Justin was a zombie GPS. Our own portable ‘Harmin’ or better yet how about a Zom-Zom. Wonderful, death all around and I’m making plays on product names. By the time we pulled away I was able to make out facial features on our would-be assailant. He looked none too pleased we were making a hasty retreat. In the distance I could see more of his kind begin the fruitless journey across the frozen tundra, in search of a meal. For one minute second I thought if Justin were to stay here would they stop pursuing? I said, I thought about it, this isn’t the bible I can’t get in trouble for contemplating. Eventually we were going to have to stop and fight but the middle of a highway didn’t seem like the wisest place to make our last stand.

  CHAPTER 9

  The next two hours of driving did little to abate my feelings of dread in fact it did more to intensify it. I was trying to go over the events of the day to find some sort of alternate explanation for what was going on. First off, sprinting zombies were not on my agenda. Our survivability odds had just been greatly reduced. Any mode of transportation that didn’t include wheels was tantamount to suicide. These new zombies could run full tilt probably forever. In my hey day I could sprint for a max of maybe a quarter mile, now, hell maybe 100 yards before some significant body part failed. I shivered thinking back to our escape from Wal-Mart, if we had encountered speeders then…well I guess it would be over and I could stop fixating on the damn issue at hand. The main problem right now was the sun, well the sun and its gradual decline. We were going to have to stop, sooner rather than later, and with our own shining lighthouse transmitting our whereabouts I couldn’t fathom where we would find sanctuary. I’m not above sleeping in a car but with three other people it was not going to be a comfortable affair. We could all sleep in the truck bed but if something happened we would have to abandon the Jeep and the Explorer, which was not an option. We could find a defensible house, but images of the old Dawn of the Dead movie flickered through my brain plate. Hands coming through windows and all that stuff. Come to think of it that didn’t turn out to be such a good idea either.

  This was not looking good for the home team. Let’s see, we were outnumbered probably thousands to one, they don’t need sleep and they have just harnessed a second gear. Yep, not good at all. I was thinking about the myriad ways of our demise when I nearly finished the job myself. Alex had been slowing down for near on a half mile trying to gain my attention to pull along side. My thoughts were elsewhere when I almost slammed into his tailgate. His brake lights as large as saucers in my field of vision.

  “Two other cars on the road and you almost crash with one of them.” My wife stated. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you drive my Jeep.”

  I was pissed and had to bite back a sardonic reply, mostly because she was right. Not about smashing up her Jeep but the part about almost making us road kill. I had read once in one of those bathroom readers’, ok don’t go getting all high brow on me, one of my past life’s small pleasures was to sit on the throne and while passing time (and other things) was to gain some useless knowledge. And one of those little nuggets (get the pun?) was the fact that back in 1899 Oklahoma, there were two cars in the whole state and they had an accident with each other. They say history repeats itself, well there’s proof positive, almost.

  “Talbot!” My wife said with some force. “Alex wants something.”

  I pulled my hand across my face hoping to pull off the growing fog in my head. It didn’t work. I got up alongside the semi, a low throbbing apprehension coursing through my body.

  “What’s up Alex?” I yelled over the sound of our engines.

  “I’m getting tired Mike.” Alex yelled back. Although the words were superfluous, he looked exhausted and he had two small kids up in the cab with him. Young children could make you tired if you were already lying in bed and this was far from that peaceful scenario.

  “Getting?” I asked sarcastically.

  Something got lost in translation or he was just too tired to grab onto the barb. He just shrugged.

  “Any ideas?” He asked.

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing Alex.” Alex had been expecting me to elaborate with my plan. Unfortunately I didn’t have one. W
hen I didn’t answer right away Alex took that as a cue.

  “There’s a small town up ahead called Vona.” He finished.

  Now it was my turn to shrug, "So what.” Vona, Detroit, fucken Paris, where could we go without a flesh eater joining us for company.

  “They have a sheriff’s office.” He concluded.

  Light and hope began to not so much blaze but at least glimmer. A sheriff’s office should have holding cells and a bit more fortification than the average house. “Lead on, Tonto!” I yelled.

  “Who the hell is Tonto?” He retorted.

  “Never mind, how much further?”

  “Ten minutes at the most.”

  “Alright we’ll scout ahead.” I accelerated past him. It would be safer to have my Jeep go in first. It was much more maneuverable and would be easier to vacate a hostile area if the need arose. Five minutes later I was taking the off ramp down into Vona. Alex stayed at the top of the ramp with the engine idling. If I wasn’t back in twenty minutes the plan was for him to leave. I knew he wouldn’t, but that was the plan.

  My guts felt like I had swallowed a salamander. As calm and collected as I could, which wasn’t working by the way, I turned to see if I could garner any information from my early warning detection system, Tommy. I was neither alarmed nor relieved.

  “Hey buddy, got any feelings?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible.