, I thought. At first, I thought that was the case as the engine noise first grew
louder and then began to dissipate with distance. I could literally feel the tension
in the room begin to break, and then that quickly it rose again as the engines were
once again approaching.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered.
“How is it, that during the ‘end of times’ it’s all zombies and rednecks?” I asked
BT as I clutched my weapon.
“Oh I’m sure there are some good people left,” BT stated.
“And?” I asked.
“And what?”
“Oh, I can tell by the way you left the end of that sentence that you have more to
say.”
He was smiling now.
“See? I knew it…out with it.” I prodded.
“I think you’re an asshole magnet.”
“An asshole magnet? Well that’s fucking new. Wasn’t sure assholes were magnetic.”
“Now you know.”
“Well I feel better,” I told him.
“I thought you would.”
“Oh one more thing, BT,” I said as I was going over to check the boys’ positions.
“Yeah?” His face serious now.
“You were attracted to me.” I didn’t stick around long enough to see his response.
A tossed book clipped my heel; that would have to suffice.
“No firing until we’re sure,” I told Justin.
“Do we let them in?” he asked.
“I can’t imagine they’ll want in. First off, they’d have to get through our perimeter
security.” Justin was looking at me strangely. “The zombies.”
“Oh.”
“And for what purpose? To check out some books? The risk is most definitely not worth
the reward. It’s just some folks foraging,” I said hopefully.
For a few seconds, my bleaker imagination ran wild and I had visions of Eliza arisen
from the dead to finish what she had started. I was fairly certain that wasn’t the
case, though. I’d convinced Tommy that the best send-off for his sister was cremation
by funeral pyre. Trust me when I say that I made sure that fire burned hot enough
to return her to her most basic of vestiges. What was left wouldn’t have filled a
pepper shaker. I checked that as well.
Engine noise began to echo off the small buildings that lined the road leading towards
us. And then they were upon us. Two pick-up trucks sat side by side, their headlights
illuminating the swirling mass of death and decay.
“It’s Uncle Ronny!” Justin cried.
“Some things never change,” Travis said to me, referring to his brother’s flair for
the obvious.
“And sometimes I like it like that,” I told him. “Okay, everyone, he may pull that
Gatlin gun out, so get ready to duck.” I wasn’t going to though. I loved that thing,
and I wanted to watch it spit fire! “Alright…get ready,” I said when we heard a door
open.
Zombies were beginning to move rapidly towards the two trucks. For the life of me,
I couldn’t understand the delay in sending a savage lead curtain downrange.
“Any day!” I shouted.
“Oh! Hey, Mike!” Gary yelled, looking up in approximately my direction. The night
was fairly well lit with a healthy half-moon rising, but it would have been difficult
to see me recessed in a window even if it was full. He was lit up pretty good, though.
“Gary, you know there are zombies coming your way, right?” I asked, truly concerned.
He appeared to be muscling into some sort of backpack. I could hear other voices down
there. I couldn’t make out the dialog, though.
Gary hefted the package onto his back like a rucksack and then secured a strap across
his midsection. Although, where a rucksack was made of a canvas-like material and
soft, this looked solid. Roughly the size of a spare tire if you were to stick a spare
tire in a box for shipping. Suffice it to say, it was big.
Gary took two steps towards the library then quickly went back to the truck to grab
his rifle. I smacked my forehead with my palm. Zombie apocalypse and he leaves his
rifle behind. Now my heart was hammering. Gary was holding his rifle to his chest.
“Covering fire!” I shouted. “And be fucking careful!”
We opened with a hail of lead. Zombies collapsed to the ground as we shattered skull
plates, scattering brains all over the front walkway. Yup, then I got a sick memory
of an old commercial ‘a mind is a terrible thing to waste.’ If I hadn’t been so worried
for my brother, I would have gladly enjoyed the dark humor.
“Gary, fucking shoot!” I yelled, watching in seemingly terrified slow motion as the
zombies raced towards him. We couldn’t shoot the closest ones. With our angle, any
bullet would come dangerously near to him.
When I thought all was lost, the zombies just…stopped. Gary had a nearly perfect bubble
of protection around him. It was terrifying to watch. I now knew what the box housed
on Gary’s back was, but to realize that your brother’s life rested solely on the soldering
skills of a man who had named himself Mad-Jack…that was fucking scary.
“Cease fire!” I shouted, although that already seemed to be the case once everyone
saw what I was looking at.
“Is he singing?” BT asked. “He is. What is that shit…REO Speedwagon? Why are you crackers
always bat-shit crazy? You’d never see a black man tip-toeing through the zombies
singing crappy 80’s music.”
“Hey, I like REO Speedwagon,” I told him.
“I’m sure you do.” He said it as an insult. I’m positive of it.
“And I’m not a cracker,” I said weakly.
“Uh-huh,” was his response. “Cracker ass cracker.”
“What the hell is he wearing?” Tracy asked, coming up beside me.
“Looks like a jumpsuit. Where the hell did he get a jumpsuit, and why?”
Well, I got the answer to the second part of my question soon enough as Gary moved
into the stream of light radiating out from the front of the truck. It was difficult
to see at first, and to be honest, it took my mind a few seconds to piece it all together.
Over the left side of his chest was a stitched tag like the military would use; the
name ‘Talbot’ clearly marked in white thread. It stood out against the gray possibly
brown material of the jumpsuit. It was the patch on his right arm that gave me the
most difficult time trying to discern. When it did, I nearly fell on my ass laughing
so hard.
“What is it?” Tracy asked, wondering how I could find any humor in the situation we
found ourselves in.
“Gary…” I started trying to get my laughing under control. “He’s…got…a zombie buster’s
patch on!” And then I was howling all over again.
“I told you crackers were crazy!” BT shouted.
Even Tommy, who was almost always dour-faced lately, was smiling.
“Nice outfit, Uncle Gary!” Travis shouted.
“Thanks,” Gary replied, beaming.
“Any chance that’s an old Halloween costume?” Tracy asked me.
“Doubtful,” I told her.
“You know you really should have given me full disclosure about your family before
I married you,” she said.
“We would have never been hitched if that was a prerequisite.”
“I should have put it in a pre-nup,” she said with all seriousness, never taking her
eyes off of Gary.
“How’s it working?” Mad-Jack asked. He had his window rolled down a quarter of the
way.
Gary gave him the thumbs-up. To my way of thinking, if he wasn’t getting eaten, then
it was working.
“Mike, what did you do to my truck?” Ron asked with chagrin from the driver’s seat
of the first truck.
“That not obvious to him?” BT asked me.
“I know, right?” The destroyed remains of ‘said’ truck were pinned on the handrail,
leading up the main steps into the library. And anybody including a casual observer
would note that the thing was destroyed.
I led off with “Ummm,” and then right into a smart-ass comment, “first prize at the
demolition derby was a bucket of fried chicken…seemed like a fair trade.”
“You suck, Mike,” Ron intoned.
“I would have done it for that,” BT replied.
“Yup...definitely a pre-nup. Next time, I suppose.” Tracy shook her head.
“Next time?” But she was already heading away.
“Were there biscuits?” BT asked.
“What?” I didn’t even know what he was referring to.
“The prize, Mike, the damn prize! Did it come with biscuits and gravy?” BT asked,
clearly agitated.
I was shaking my head. “There was no…” BT’s face began to contort to one of anger.
“Err…I was saying there was no mashed potatoes, but tons of biscuits and gravy.” He
relaxed at that point, a smile creeping across his face, his eyes half-closed as he
remembered some past meal. “And I’m the
louder and then began to dissipate with distance. I could literally feel the tension
in the room begin to break, and then that quickly it rose again as the engines were
once again approaching.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered.
“How is it, that during the ‘end of times’ it’s all zombies and rednecks?” I asked
BT as I clutched my weapon.
“Oh I’m sure there are some good people left,” BT stated.
“And?” I asked.
“And what?”
“Oh, I can tell by the way you left the end of that sentence that you have more to
say.”
He was smiling now.
“See? I knew it…out with it.” I prodded.
“I think you’re an asshole magnet.”
“An asshole magnet? Well that’s fucking new. Wasn’t sure assholes were magnetic.”
“Now you know.”
“Well I feel better,” I told him.
“I thought you would.”
“Oh one more thing, BT,” I said as I was going over to check the boys’ positions.
“Yeah?” His face serious now.
“You were attracted to me.” I didn’t stick around long enough to see his response.
A tossed book clipped my heel; that would have to suffice.
“No firing until we’re sure,” I told Justin.
“Do we let them in?” he asked.
“I can’t imagine they’ll want in. First off, they’d have to get through our perimeter
security.” Justin was looking at me strangely. “The zombies.”
“Oh.”
“And for what purpose? To check out some books? The risk is most definitely not worth
the reward. It’s just some folks foraging,” I said hopefully.
For a few seconds, my bleaker imagination ran wild and I had visions of Eliza arisen
from the dead to finish what she had started. I was fairly certain that wasn’t the
case, though. I’d convinced Tommy that the best send-off for his sister was cremation
by funeral pyre. Trust me when I say that I made sure that fire burned hot enough
to return her to her most basic of vestiges. What was left wouldn’t have filled a
pepper shaker. I checked that as well.
Engine noise began to echo off the small buildings that lined the road leading towards
us. And then they were upon us. Two pick-up trucks sat side by side, their headlights
illuminating the swirling mass of death and decay.
“It’s Uncle Ronny!” Justin cried.
“Some things never change,” Travis said to me, referring to his brother’s flair for
the obvious.
“And sometimes I like it like that,” I told him. “Okay, everyone, he may pull that
Gatlin gun out, so get ready to duck.” I wasn’t going to though. I loved that thing,
and I wanted to watch it spit fire! “Alright…get ready,” I said when we heard a door
open.
Zombies were beginning to move rapidly towards the two trucks. For the life of me,
I couldn’t understand the delay in sending a savage lead curtain downrange.
“Any day!” I shouted.
“Oh! Hey, Mike!” Gary yelled, looking up in approximately my direction. The night
was fairly well lit with a healthy half-moon rising, but it would have been difficult
to see me recessed in a window even if it was full. He was lit up pretty good, though.
“Gary, you know there are zombies coming your way, right?” I asked, truly concerned.
He appeared to be muscling into some sort of backpack. I could hear other voices down
there. I couldn’t make out the dialog, though.
Gary hefted the package onto his back like a rucksack and then secured a strap across
his midsection. Although, where a rucksack was made of a canvas-like material and
soft, this looked solid. Roughly the size of a spare tire if you were to stick a spare
tire in a box for shipping. Suffice it to say, it was big.
Gary took two steps towards the library then quickly went back to the truck to grab
his rifle. I smacked my forehead with my palm. Zombie apocalypse and he leaves his
rifle behind. Now my heart was hammering. Gary was holding his rifle to his chest.
“Covering fire!” I shouted. “And be fucking careful!”
We opened with a hail of lead. Zombies collapsed to the ground as we shattered skull
plates, scattering brains all over the front walkway. Yup, then I got a sick memory
of an old commercial ‘a mind is a terrible thing to waste.’ If I hadn’t been so worried
for my brother, I would have gladly enjoyed the dark humor.
“Gary, fucking shoot!” I yelled, watching in seemingly terrified slow motion as the
zombies raced towards him. We couldn’t shoot the closest ones. With our angle, any
bullet would come dangerously near to him.
When I thought all was lost, the zombies just…stopped. Gary had a nearly perfect bubble
of protection around him. It was terrifying to watch. I now knew what the box housed
on Gary’s back was, but to realize that your brother’s life rested solely on the soldering
skills of a man who had named himself Mad-Jack…that was fucking scary.
“Cease fire!” I shouted, although that already seemed to be the case once everyone
saw what I was looking at.
“Is he singing?” BT asked. “He is. What is that shit…REO Speedwagon? Why are you crackers
always bat-shit crazy? You’d never see a black man tip-toeing through the zombies
singing crappy 80’s music.”
“Hey, I like REO Speedwagon,” I told him.
“I’m sure you do.” He said it as an insult. I’m positive of it.
“And I’m not a cracker,” I said weakly.
“Uh-huh,” was his response. “Cracker ass cracker.”
“What the hell is he wearing?” Tracy asked, coming up beside me.
“Looks like a jumpsuit. Where the hell did he get a jumpsuit, and why?”
Well, I got the answer to the second part of my question soon enough as Gary moved
into the stream of light radiating out from the front of the truck. It was difficult
to see at first, and to be honest, it took my mind a few seconds to piece it all together.
Over the left side of his chest was a stitched tag like the military would use; the
name ‘Talbot’ clearly marked in white thread. It stood out against the gray possibly
brown material of the jumpsuit. It was the patch on his right arm that gave me the
most difficult time trying to discern. When it did, I nearly fell on my ass laughing
so hard.
“What is it?” Tracy asked, wondering how I could find any humor in the situation we
found ourselves in.
“Gary…” I started trying to get my laughing under control. “He’s…got…a zombie buster’s
patch on!” And then I was howling all over again.
“I told you crackers were crazy!” BT shouted.
Even Tommy, who was almost always dour-faced lately, was smiling.
“Nice outfit, Uncle Gary!” Travis shouted.
“Thanks,” Gary replied, beaming.
“Any chance that’s an old Halloween costume?” Tracy asked me.
“Doubtful,” I told her.
“You know you really should have given me full disclosure about your family before
I married you,” she said.
“We would have never been hitched if that was a prerequisite.”
“I should have put it in a pre-nup,” she said with all seriousness, never taking her
eyes off of Gary.
“How’s it working?” Mad-Jack asked. He had his window rolled down a quarter of the
way.
Gary gave him the thumbs-up. To my way of thinking, if he wasn’t getting eaten, then
it was working.
“Mike, what did you do to my truck?” Ron asked with chagrin from the driver’s seat
of the first truck.
“That not obvious to him?” BT asked me.
“I know, right?” The destroyed remains of ‘said’ truck were pinned on the handrail,
leading up the main steps into the library. And anybody including a casual observer
would note that the thing was destroyed.
I led off with “Ummm,” and then right into a smart-ass comment, “first prize at the
demolition derby was a bucket of fried chicken…seemed like a fair trade.”
“You suck, Mike,” Ron intoned.
“I would have done it for that,” BT replied.
“Yup...definitely a pre-nup. Next time, I suppose.” Tracy shook her head.
“Next time?” But she was already heading away.
“Were there biscuits?” BT asked.
“What?” I didn’t even know what he was referring to.
“The prize, Mike, the damn prize! Did it come with biscuits and gravy?” BT asked,
clearly agitated.
I was shaking my head. “There was no…” BT’s face began to contort to one of anger.
“Err…I was saying there was no mashed potatoes, but tons of biscuits and gravy.” He
relaxed at that point, a smile creeping across his face, his eyes half-closed as he
remembered some past meal. “And I’m the
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