“Fuck.” I muttered. What good was surviving if we had to drag our souls through the mud? I might not be a holy man, but I was still afraid of what God would think when I showed up at the pearly gates dragging the dilapidated leftovers of my shredded soul.
“So Michael Talbot, what have you done in your life that warrants your entrance into this the most Holy of Sanctuaries?” God, Saint Peter or Buddha, might ask.
“I survived.” Would be my meek reply. Might as well have said. “Blue! No, No, Yellow!!” Right before I was launched into the abyss. (You would have to be a fan of Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail to catch the reference. If you have by some chance gone this far in your life and have not witnessed one of the greatest comedies created then odds are you’re not going to find a DVD player that works now, sorry.)
My meager portion of breakfast was not sitting well and I did not want to sour it any further. I went back to the cell where Nicole and Tracy were sitting. Justin was facing away from the windows, presumably sleeping but I don’t know how with all the noise we had been making. Tommy was sitting in the corner, holding an unopened bag of pop-tarts. That more than the expression of woe on his face told me that he was extremely upset. I was about to ask him what was the matter when the first volley of shots exploded within. I covered my ears, as did most everyone else. Within a minute the shooting had stopped. It would be another fifteen before the choking smoke cleared.
I walked over to Tommy and put my hand on his shoulder. “You all right Tommy?”
Tommy looked up. “He’s close Mr. T.” He stammered out.
“Is Ryan back?” I asked. That would be the best thing I had heard today.
“No it’s someone else.” He answered somberly.
My ass clamped tight. I don’t know why, it was an involuntary reaction to Tommy’s words. Apparently my body thought it was the right thing to do, who’s to say. I turned back to face the windows and it was a sight to behold, not a zombie in view. With renewed hope and an unclenching sphincter I asked. “Did you get them all?”
“Naw Mike they left.” Brendon answered.
“Son of a bitch, that’s something new. They usually hang around for their punishment.” We had all witnessed hundreds of zombies walking into sheets of lead without so much as a pause as their comrades in mouths fell. That these zombies were smart enough to realize the pointlessness of staying at the windows was foreboding.
“We killed a good ten or fifteen of them Dad.” Travis said beaming.
BT cautiously walked up to the window to better survey the damage done and to try and assess our odds of success.
“What’s going on BT? Can you see anything?” Alex asked.
“Yeah, damnedest thing. They pulled back about hundred feet or so, and they are just sitting there looking at me.”
“How many?” I asked. ‘Please say, two maybe three PLEASE!’
“Two maybe three…hundred.”
‘Well that’s what you get for wishing, how many times my mother told me to be more specific when I asked for something.’
“They’re just kind of standing out there in a loose semi-circle. Guys I wouldn’t want to bet my life on it but they look like they’re waiting for something.”
“Or somebody.” I finished.
“Mike what if the zombies at the window were just a distraction?” Alex asked me. A new thought furrowing his brow.
It took me a quick second to get over the initial shock of how many zombies we were actually contending with. “How so Alex?”
“I mean we knew they couldn’t get to us and I think they knew they couldn’t get to us, but they sure did keep us away from the windows.” Alex stated. “That sure would keep us in the dark to how many of them were out there.”
“Or they were just stalling us.” I said. These new developments were coming faster than I could recognize them.
“What’s going on Mike? You seem to know more than you’re letting on to.” Alex asked.
“Not really Alex, it’s just a feeling I’m getting. I don’t have any ‘knowledge’ but all the same I think the quicker we get out of here the better off we’re going to be.”
Alex kept looking at my face hard, trying to glean some inkling to what I was feeling. There was nothing there to give him.
“Brendon can you hit the zombies from here?”
“Shit yeah Mike, its a hundred feet. I used to shoot gophers at a hundred yards back in Missouri.”
“Take a shot every few seconds, so that they don’t get any crazy ideas about coming back. Apparently the thought of dying again doesn’t sit well with them. Jen you ready for round two with the door?”
She stomped out her cigarette and nodded grimly.
“BT how much help will you need pushing our causeway through the door?” I asked.
“Seriously Talbot?” BT answered looking at me like I had asked him if he could cut up his steak by himself.
“Fine BT, but we’re not going to have a lot of time for you to build up a head of steam and get that thing going. The fucker’s got to way half a ton.”
“You worry about protecting my ass. I’ll get this to the truck.”
“Alex I want you to put on as many clothes as you can and still be able to move, including gloves.”
“Why don’t I just make a run for it, they’re a hundred feet away I only have to go six, I’m not Speedy Gonzalez but shit a tortoise would like those odds.”
“I’ve got a feeling Alex that as soon as we open that door that they’ve got a surprise for us.”
“Yeah this plan just gets better and better.” Alex answered as he grabbed a pair of sweat pants that he had been using as a pillow.
“See, hang around with me for a few more weeks and you’ll be able to pass as a New Englander, no problem.”
Alex grumbled something in Spanish, it had to be swear words and a colorful variety too because his wife was trying to shield her kids ears.
Alex looked like a sumo by the time he was finished, I thought it might be better to roll him to his destination. The killjoy didn’t see the humor in my revelation and he let me know in no uncertain terms. We positioned the bars by the door. BT rolled his neck in a large circle in preparation. Jen had her hand on the handle. Alex was dripping sweat as he waited tensely for the shortest sprint in human history. Brendon kept the zombie crowd at bay. Travis and I positioned ourselves on either side of the door to lay covering fire when and if needed. The plan was ready and it looked pretty damn good on paper, if I do say so myself. Too bad the paper wasn’t of the toilet variety, because the plan went to shit in a hurry.
“Ready?” Jen asked everyone.
‘No.’ I nodded.
The door swung open and hell came through. (Actually all hell broke loose, but poetically the last sentence sounds way better. I might be fighting for my life but it doesn’t mean I can’t go for the dramatic overtones.) My hunch proved to be true, much to my chagrin. Why do my hunches always involve the negative? Couldn’t I have ever had a hunch about the winning lottery numbers? I could have been waiting out the apocalypse in my gun turreted castle somewhere in the mountains of Vail. As soon as Jen stepped clear of the door, the first of the zombies tried to gain entry. I can only figure that they were hiding against the exterior wall just in the event that we would open the door. There could be no other explanation. Travis’ shotgun roared I immediately found myself covered in a visceral mixture of bone and brain. The salty, metal taste of blood drained down my throat. I would have puked if I had had enough time to really comprehend what was happening. The zombies Brendon was ‘holding’ at bay broke for the opening in our defenses as soon as the first of their brethren hit the ground.
The bars started their slow arduous journey forward. A couple of things stuck out immediately. The first was the disgusting taste of raw innards as they made their way down my gullet. The second was that the bars weren’t moving nearly fast enough to beat our adoring fans to the truck. The third and possibly the most important was the quarter inch high threshold that was about to become a major roadblock. BT had managed to get the bars to within a foot of the doors and he was gaining momentum. Through it all Travis’ gun roared as he kept our attackers at bay. As soon as BT hit that threshold those bars would stop and then we’d be sunk, the door to the building wouldn’t be able to close and we would have actually built an awning for our guests to arrive in before they dined. We were all about ambiance at Club Chez, home of the delectable jellied brain.