Zombie Fallout 2 (13 page)

“You’d probably have to have an ulcer or something so that the infection could get into your blood stream.” Joann stepped up and gave her educated guess.

That was all it took, BT’s threatening stance instantly turned back to laughter. I hoped Tracy and Joann were right and Eddy could go fuck himself. My stomach lurched under the strain of digesting the zombie’s unmentionables.

I was SO ready to let go again and join BT, although this trip down the rabbit hole might lead me to a rubber room. But let’s reason this out, if you are out-of-your mind insane in a sane world, then it is like algebra, you have a negative times a positive, so that makes it a negative. So far so good. Now if you are an off your rocker lunatic in a demented, deranged world, than you have a negative times a negative, which is a positive. I think I was on to something. It was like the old adage, if you can’t beat them, become as crazy as a fucking loon and enjoy the ride, or something along those lines.

BT had finished up his latest laugh-spell and was looking over to me while I was pondering the benefits of psychosis. “So what’s the plan Talbot?”

“Huh? Oh, what the hell makes you think I’ve got a plan?”

“I’ve known you for three weeks, Talbot. I haven’t seen you yet not have a plan, whether they are good or not, doesn’t matter you still always have one.”

BT got behind me and put his forearms under my armpits, he hefted me up no harder than if I was a ten pound bag of dog shit (which I felt like). My knees cracked like rifle shots as they flexed open. I took three or four shaky steps before my lower back finally decided to disengage its fusion from my ass.

“You’re a sight Mike.” Alex said.

“That’s what my wife says.” I answered as I placed my fist into my lower back hoping in vain to unloosen the sailor knot that most likely was going to be a perpetual fixture in my ever widening list of painful areas.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Tracy threw in for good measure. She rubbed the sore spot as best she could, but this was going to take a team of Sven’s (Swedish masseuses) working around the clock a couple of years to fix.

“Dad, you alright?” Nicole asked coming up to my side and hugging me. Although I think she was more coming up to make sure I didn’t fall over. To confirm my suspicion, she whispered into my ear. “You can lean on me.”

“It’s tolerable.” I lied. She knew. Funny how parents want to protect their kids even when the truth is right there in front of God and everyone.

“Talbot, come on man. I want to get this over with.” BT begrudged from across the room. Alex nodded in agreement.

“Dad?” Coley asked. The concern was etched deeply in her small features.

“I’m fine.” I answered, doing the best I could to make my shuffling walk look like a cockneyed strut. And trying to make my scowl of ache, look like the traditional happy go lucky smile I generally walked around with. If the entire world’s a stage, and we are merely players, I would never earn an Emmy for my performance that day.

“Alex you ready?” A superfluous question, but one that needed asking anyway. The poor guy was sweating profusely from the mountain of clothing that he was wearing. Well that and the fact that he was about to make a dash through a throng of hungry meat-eaters. He looked at me like I was fucking nuts. ‘Ah so my plan was working already. Lithium here I come!’

“I’m just trying to ascertain that you are truly involved with the synergy of this colossal undertaking. It’s going to be a team effort, something in which we are all going to have to pull together and think outside of….”

“Fucken stop, Talbot.” BT pleaded. “I was a Project Manager before I decided to de-stress my life. Zombies I can handle. Corporate speak bullshit, well that’s a different matter. I swore that if I ever had to listen to one more suit and tie or dog and pony conference call I was going to go postal.”

“Did you know that’s a misnomer, for the amount of the workforce, the percentage of violence in the post office is actually below that of the national average for workplace violence.”

“What’s the percentage in sheriff offices?”

I got the point.

I stood at the door, plumes of human exhaust issued forth from my mouth, I watched as zombies pressed into our make shift walkway from both sides. Their arms nearly met in the middle, it was not going to be a fun walk for Alex. I shivered at the thought of all those germ infested hands reaching out and touching someone, hopefully not me.

Alex was standing next to me looking like a bowling ball with a sweater on. More sweat popped on his brow as he looked down the expanse of the gate, all that could be seen was a sea of arms and fingernails. As if on cue we turned to look at the huddled form of Justin in the far corner. One didn’t have to be bitten to suffer some affects from the zombies.

“Mike I’m losing my taste for this quest.” Alex said.

“If you stay low Alex, there is a clear pathway.” I said it but I didn’t believe it. It was clear now but as soon as the zombies saw him they would adjust to get closer.

Brendon had been behind us the whole time, just waiting for some sort of instructions or plan. “This sucks.” He said more to himself. The sentiment was appreciated by us all.

“I hear that freezing to death isn’t so bad.” I said resignedly.

BT looked pissed. He frustratedly shot a few rounds into the growing mass of zombies. As one zombie fell two moved in to take its place. We’d never be able to fire enough rounds to clear a wide enough hole for Alex, first off would be the fear of hitting him inadvertently the other was that we just didn’t have enough rounds to have a continuous barrage of bullets. The roach motel moniker looked like it was going to stick.

I turned to look, if only to be distracted from what lay outside. I walked over to little Eddy, who looked suspiciously like a little old man. His mother pulled Eddy close to herself and shied away from my advancing form.

“He didn’t mean anything Mr. Talbot he was just exploring…you… you know like little kids do.” She said nervously. “I…I promise he’ll be good, and quiet.”

“Sure…sure.” She said nervously. This lady looked like a cat that had her tail stepped on. She was ready to jump at the smallest infraction.

I sat down on my haunches, instantly regretting my decision to get down to Eddy’s level. My knees felt like they were going to shoot straight out of my jeans, like Roman candles on the Fourth of July. Well I was here now might as well get down to business.

“What you got there Eddy?” I asked with my nicest voice, but that was in direct contradiction to the distorted sneer I wore on my face from the blistering pain that was emanating from my knees and back.

Eddy looked at me nervously, trying to ascertain my true intent. But like any six year old, exuberance won out. “I found a sled!”

“Do you mind if I take a look at it?”

Eddy eyed my suspiciously like I was going to take his prized possession. I felt for him I truly did, he had already lost almost everything he had owned. But the riot shield he was holding might be the solution to all our problems.

I have to admit the little bugger was a lot stronger than he looked, he didn’t buckle once as I placed almost all my weight on his shoulder in a concerted effort to arise like Lazarus. Lazarus was more successful.

I could tell Eddy was wondering if I was serious or not, and also when I might get around to doing just that, because that would also be awesome.

A minute later, myself, Brendon, Travis, Alex, and BT were standing behind a beaming Eddy, who seemed so pleased that he was the one that found something that we were all so excited to see.

I pulled out a large dusty box from the back of the sheriff’s coat closet. The box had suspiciously been ripped open from the bottom. Eddy flushed as the damaged box came into full view.

I tousled his hair. “You did good kid.” He stood up straighter, pride swelling his small chest.

BT finished what Eddy had started. Three more ‘sleds’ spilled on to the floor along with at least 10 gun shaped tasers, boxes of shotgun bean bag rounds and canisters of tear gas along with 5 gas masks.

“Why in the hell does a sheriff’s office in the friggen middle of nowhere have all this gear?” Brendon asked.

I shook my head.

BT spoke up. “Back after 9/11, when the feds thought that a terrorist plot was being hatched everywhere, they sent these riot control packages to just about every police force in the country.”

CHAPTER 12

“Ready?”

“Why do you keep asking me that, Mike?” Alex fumed. His body heat causing a sauna in his makeshift armor. “I just want to get this over with so I can get out of all these clothes.”