“Take a little longer,” Azile said as she brushed past.
“Can we put some of the rifles in the back?” I asked the driver.
He looked at me strangely. “You may have been carrying food and weapons, not me.”
Then I realized it, his trailer was jammed full of zombies. “Yeah, I’ll just hold on to them,” I told him as I handed the weapons up to Azile, truly hoping that one would accidently discharge and take out the damn cat.
“My name is Jake Fitzgerald, most folks just call me Fritz,” he said, extending his hand.
I nearly froze, remembering the last person I’d known with the same moniker. I recovered smoothly enough, I hoped. I wasn’t an actor. “Mike, Mike Tal...isman.” I was figuratively fist-palming my forehead. I had nearly given the man my true name.
I could see Azile’s slight head shake as she realized what I had nearly done. Fritz hadn’t seemed to catch my error as he was getting the truck rolling. “Nice to meet you, Mike, it’ll be great to have some company. What happened to your rig?” Fritz asked, looking into the back where the sleeper was.
“Someone was shooting at us, must have hit a fuel line. They took off once we started returning fire,” Azile replied, trying to be as least descriptive as possible.
“Man, looks more like a bomb went off,” Fritzy laughed.
“You’d think,” I half laughed, keeping an eye on him to see if he was fishing or not. He didn’t seem to be.
“Have you tried this little vial thing out yet?” he asked as he pulled a small bottle wrapped in an ornate piece of silver jewelry out to show us.
I clutched my shirt as if I had one underneath. “Not yet. Not sure I want to, either,” I told him.
“I get you, I mean the only way you could, would entail being face-to-face with a zombie and I don’t want to do that. Already been close enough a few times, no desire to do it anymore and willingly. Besides, Kong said he tested it and it worked, his word is good enough for me. And if it does work it’s worth what we’re going to do.”
“Do you even know?” I asked him.
“Well I know that Eliza woman has a personal vendetta to settle, that’s about it.”
“So you signed up with her not caring the consequences?” I asked.
“Why should I?” he shot back. “As long as I gain from it, that’s all that really matters.”
“Fuck everyone else?” I asked.
“Basically. I don’t know why you’re getting all judgmental on me, you signed up for the same damn mission,” Fritzy said indignantly. “You know, I’ve known Kong a good many years now.”
Shit. Alarms started going off in my mind’s early warning detection system.
It must have for Azile, too, she pressed the barrel of an as yet unseen weapon—at least to me—up to Fritzy’s head.
“Yup I figured, he never once did say anything about a niece. I’m getting hijacked by my own pistol,” he said, looking over slightly at the revolver. “Well isn’t that wonderful.”
“Is it the name?” I asked aloud, but to no one in particularly.
“Huh?” Azile and Fritzy asked.
“I haven’t had much luck with people named Fritzy or similar sounding anyway,” I told them. “Stop the truck.”
“Pretty please,” Azile said as she pulled the hammer of the pistol back.
“You gonna shoot me now?” he asked nervously as the big rig came to a halt.
“No, something much better,” I told him.
By the time Azile was putting the truck in gear, Fritzy, his vial and that stupid fucking cat were neatly tucked away in the trailer with a few hundred zombies.
“Should have just shot him,” Azile said. “It would have been more humane.”
“He was going to wipe out my family just because. Fuck humane.”
We could hear him screaming for mercy occasionally, then some heavy duty sobbing. A few times I thought I heard some serious hissings from a cat, but that just may have been wishful thinking on my part.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The Deck
Tony was on the deck reassembling one of his rifles after a thorough cleaning when he heard the shot. He grabbed another rifle to go investigate. The rest of the family was trying to get some sleep as he did his watch. At first, he thought that perhaps someone was up and decided to take out a little frustration on the zombies, but when he turned the corner and saw that one of the spotlights was out he knew what was happening. The other side had decided to fire back.
He dipped down below the edge of the railing which had been lined with half-inch steel plating, trying to see if he could possibly figure out where the shots were coming from. Travis came running out when he heard the shots. Tony’s cries of warning were intermingled with the sound of the rifle shot as Travis went down. Tony stood and peppered the location where he had seen the muzzle flash, then he ran back to his grandson.
“I’ve been shot, Pops,” Travis said. “It hurts so bad.” His teeth were chattering between words.
“What’s happening?” Nancy asked, coming towards the door.
“Get down!” Tony yelled. “Help me get Travis back in.”
Help was coming in droves now. BT was next, he quickly traversed the length of the room and grabbed Travis as Tony kept them covered.
Nancy swept everything off the kitchen table as BT placed him gently down.
“Hurts so bad, BT,” Travis said, his eyes clenched shut, tears of pain attempting to push through.
“It’ll be alright,” BT said stroking the boy’s head.
“Nancy, get some towels, water and a knife,” Tony said as he put his rifle down. “And then get his mother.”
BT looked over at Tony with concern.
“I...I’m so cold,” Travis said. “I could use a shot of whiskey for the pain.”
BT ran over to the liquor cabinet as Tony cut Travis’ shirt off. “Well De Niro you’re not,” Tony told him. He grabbed the bottle from BT, popped the top off, and took a long pull. “That’s for not being careful,” he told his grandson, “and this…well this is for scaring the hell out of me.” He poured a fair amount over Travis’ wound. Now Travis’ howls of pain were real.
“Jesus H. Christ, what the hell are you doing, Tony?” BT shouted, throwing his hands to his head, unsure what to do. “The more time I spend with the Talbots, the more I feel like I’m the sanest person in an insane asylum, but at that point what difference does it make?”
Tracy was now at the entry to the kitchen. “Tony?” she asked, her one word question turning her face ashen white.
“He’ll be fine, bullet went in and out. I, on the other hand, probably suffered a heart attack.” Tony sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs while taking another pull from the whiskey bottle.
“Mom, it hurts so bad,” Travis said, reaching out with his arm from the undamaged side.
The bullet had caught him underneath the shoulder; it was a flesh wound that had already stopped bleeding for the most part.
“Oh, Travis,” Tracy sobbed, grabbing her son.
Tony pressed the bottle up against his head. He hated the fiery liquid, but he thought it might be the only thing that would quell the panic of nearly seeing his grandson cut down. More shots had been going on as the rest of the clan gathered in and around the kitchen. Slowly but steadily, the compound was going dark as the spotlights were taken out.
Tony took one more pull. “Ron,” he said as he stood, “they’re getting ready for some sort of offensive, I can feel it, we’re going to need a couple of more people out on duty. Everyone needs to make sure they stay below the lip of the railing. Shut off unessential lights in the house and get Travis down to the safe room at least until he gets patched up.” He was trying his best to walk the fine line between allaying Tracy’s fears and making sure the boy didn’t feel like he was being left out.