CHAPTER FOUR – Talbot Journal Entry 4
We stopped that first night off of the Mass Pike at a rest stop. The combo Dunkin’ Donuts, Mobil Gas Station and Papa Gino’s had long ago been ransacked but the building itself was in remarkably good shape and easily defendable, two sought after qualities in this brave new world. I had everyone exit the truck and pulled it up so close to the front door only an anorexic zombie would be able to fit through, and I had yet to find one that fit that bill. Gary grabbed the radio out of the back and set it up on one of the red and white checkered pizza joint tables.
“Is it time yet?” Gary asked.
“He said he would keep it on all the time, so I would imagine any time would be fine,” Tracy answered.
“Breaker one nine, breaker one nine,” Gary started. “This is Hammer of the Gods, breaker one nine, Hammer of the Gods over.” “Hammer of the Gods?” my wife mouthed the question to me. All I could do was shrug my shoulders.
“Can you hear me Mount Olympus ? This is Hammer, over?” Gary asked.
An out of breath response came through almost as clear as if we were next door and not two states away. “I thought you were kidding about those call signs,” Ron said.
Gary seemed instantly relieved when Ron spoke. It was a connection to normalcy, or at least the Talbot version of it. “ Mount Olympus , this is Hammer, the Chariot of Fire has suffered some damage.” “Chariot of Fire? Gary, speak English. Wait, the truck! What happened to the truck? Get Mike on the horn!” Ron yelled.
I was backing up, my arms outstretched, hands waving back and forth in the negative. “Tell him I’m not here,” I told Gary .
“I can hear you, you little pecker, get on the mic!” Ron said from three hundred miles away.
“Balls!” I said resignedly. “You and me are going to talk, Gary ,” I said softly but with force.
Gary looked taken aback but there was also something else there, something underlying and subtle; it was humor. The ass was loving it. ‘That’s fine,’ I thought to myself, ‘revenge is a two lane highway, and we still had plenty of roadway left before this dance is over.’
“Yeah Ron, this is Mike,” I said with forced cheerfulness.
I had to step back from the speaker as Ron’s yells bellowed forth. “That truck is brand effen new, you’ve been gone for one day. What the hell could you possibly have hit? There’s not even anybody out there.” “Well, there was this moose…” I started.
“You hit a freaking moose? What were you doing, did you take the damn thing off-road?” “See, it’s more like the moose hit us.”
“Forget it!” Ron yelled. I could picture him throwing his hands up in the air the way my mom had so many times before when I was a kid and trouble had somehow found me and then followed me all the way home, and sometimes even inside. “Is everyone alright?” he asked, finally getting down to the important matters.
“Don’t you think that should have been your first question?” I taunted.
“Don’t try me little brother.”
“A little shaken up but no worse for the wear, you’re going to lose your security deposit though.” I could hear him groan. “That’s fine,” he said grudgingly. I could tell he was struggling within himself to not go ballistic and from this distance it was funny, any closer and not so much. “What are your plans for the night?” he continued.
We had decided before we left that we would check in at least once a day, preferably at the same time, and that I would let him know where we were at and what we planned on doing the next day. There was an innate comfort in somebody knowing where you were at all times. It wasn’t like he could send in the cavalry to rescue us, but maybe, eventually, he would be able to find what remained of us and give us a proper burial, provided of course there were any remains to be found.
“We’re off the Mass Pike, mile marker 70, holing up for the night in a rest stop. Then we’re going to go a little further west tomorrow into Pennsylvania and maybe south depending on if I get any hunches.” “Mike, for the fiftieth time, is this what you want to be doing? The U.S. is huge, how are you going to find one woman?” “No, this isn’t what I want to be doing,” I answered a little snappishly.
“You know what I mean.”
“Ron, I don’t know how it will happen, but it will. I will find her and I will kill her.” I was much more confident about the finding part than I was the killing, but this I would keep to myself.
“Alright little brother, you guys have a good night and stay safe. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. And one more thing.” “Yeah…?” I said hesitatingly.
“You mess my truck up any more and you’re going to need Eliza to protect your ass from me .” I wanted to tell him just to get another one, what was the big deal. I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and instead said, “Hey bro, don’t want to waste any more battery, over and out.” “Wait you litt....” I took this opportune time to shut the transceiver down.
Gary was about ten feet away, his face split with a shit eating grin.
“Not cool man,” I said, pointing my finger at him. I might have done something more than threaten him but just then the sound of metal scraping on metal caught all of our attention. The sounds of multiple firearms being readied dominated the landscape for the next four seconds. Travis was coming up behind me, shotgun at the ready. I put my hand on his shoulder as he drew up alongside. I pointed to my eyes and then motioned for him to watch our backs. The building, which I felt had been an ideal resting spot just moments earlier, now seemed more like a trap. We were in the dining area in the middle where long gone customers used to sit and try to digest all the processed food they bought at the gas station store on our left or at the pizza counter in front of us. The Dunkin’ Donuts had never opened the fateful day the zombies came, either that or the last employee to ever work there had had the foresight to close shop and run. That heavy gauge metal screen had been pulled down in front of the counter. You know the kind, you can fit your fingers through and almost reach the plastic mugs. What the hell you’re going to do with it once you get it in your grasp is beyond me, they won’t fit through the gaps, not that I had tried… lately.
No other sound emanated from the gas station store, but I still brought my gun up out of an abundance of caution. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Tracy tense up. Gary for all his comedic endeavors was now all business. He came up beside me as we advanced on the store. Justin went up to the front doors and peered out. I stole a glance towards him. His thumbs up assured me that our one avenue for escape was still clear.
“One chance,” Gary said loudly, startling the hell out of me.
I hated giving potential enemies any sort of heads up. Maybe that was how they had done it when Gary was in the Air Force. Marines? What can I say, we don’t fight fair, we fight to win.
“Did you hear me?” Gary asked again. “I said one chance .” “Dude,” I said impatiently. “You already gave them their one shot, enough already.”
“We’re coming in!” he added just for good measure.
I stopped and let my gun slack down. “Really? Are you kidding me? Should I get some flyers printed up, with our arrival date and time?” “Well I don’t think that’s necessary,” Gary answered.
“Don’t shoot!” came from the far corner and of course the dimmest lit section of the store.
We both swung our guns and trained them on that spot, advancing even slower.
“Don’t move,” came from our immediate right.