The End ....

“Ass.” Was all I could muster.

After a significant lull, I realized that BT had drifted off into slumber. I was close too, when distant gunshots rang out. Fully alert now, I realized my dilemma. Here I was with a damaged arm tied to a bed without a weapon, I was sort of like a human kabob without the marinade or the accompanying vegetables or wooden skewer or…OH STOP TALBOT. Great just great, I was pissing the other half of me off.

“BT you awake?”

“Yup I heard it too.” BT said with his eyes still closed. “Relax Talbot.”

“Not really in my nature.”

“We’re in a military base, I’m sure they can take care of whatever is going on.”

“Yeah you’re probably right, I just hate being this helpless. Bambi could come in here right now and kick both of our asses.”

“Now are you talking about a zombie Bambi or just a regular type Bambi?” BT asked in earnest. “Cause I’m going to freak out a little if you’re thinking that there could be some zombie animals. Can you imagine nests of zombie rats coming after us, with that little hairless tail, or what about zombie pigeons? They’re already the rat of the sky. Or maybe cockroach zombies.”

“Stop already. I thought I was bad.”

“I think maybe we have too much time on our hands.” BT said. “But you don’t think there are animal zombies do you?”

“Fuck no.” I said much too quickly, more to defer my unbounded imagination than to qualm BT’s fears. Could the disease pass the species line? Why not, other diseases did. Super, nothing like a 600-pound silverback gorilla wanting to munch on your head. “Oh no.”

“What Talbot?” BT asked alarmed. Looking wildly about the room for this new threat.

“I was just thinking about a zombified Big Foot.”

BT was a half second away from calling me crazy, before he really let the thought of that set in. “Oh man, that would be really bad.” BT said and he meant it.

“Big Foot as a zombie?” Tracy asked from the doorway. “What are you doing Talbot? Didn’t I tell you not to infect others with your touched thoughts?”

“It could happen.” I said, defending my position.

BT nodded in agreement.

“The Doctor either needs to up both of your meds or halve them. I don’t know which.” Tracy laughed.

“So what gives?” I asked, nodding my head to the doorway.

“I figured the gunshots would get you thinking, I just didn’t know how far and fast you’d go down the rabbit hole.”

“What? BT thinks that there are zombie cockroaches.” I said deflecting the conversation.

“He’s a pretty big guy Talbot. Are you in such a rush to throw him under the bus?” I noticed that she did look down around her legs as she asked the question, a small shudder of revulsion coursed through her.

It’s funny how thoughts, even inane (or insane) ones, have a habit of wriggling their way through your psychoses. That’s why therapists are (were) some of the most screwed up people on the planet. It’s impossible to listen to that many people with that many problems and not begin to inherit more than your fair share of them. Just think about it. What if I were to tell you that before you sat on that public toilet a grotesquely dirty male/female had just sat there and they had crusty sores that leaked a viscous oozing liquid that slightly resembled phlegm from a person suffering from bronchitis. You know what I’m talking about, that thick green/brown lung cookie. And that these seeping pustules carried small microscopic teethy worms that will burrow into your soft exposed flesh spreading their infection throughout your body. Will you ever be able to look at a toilet ring the same again? Or will you picture miniature monsters awaiting their chance to do you harm.

“Talbot, you’re doing it to me again!” Tracy yelled.

“What I didn’t say it.” I said surprised.

“Did BT think about zombie cockroaches on his own?” Tracy asked.

“Well yeah, he did.” I answered her honestly. “I mean I might have brought up something about Bambi.”

“Bambi? Really Talbot?”

“He did say something about nothing being left to rein the crazy in.” BT threw in for good measure.

“Thanks man.” I said to BT

“Anytime, there’s enough room under this bus for the both of us.”

“Is it a double-decker? Although that wouldn’t really mean any more room underneath it.” I said as I started to wonder if there would be more room or not. I felt the heat of two sets of eyes on me.

“Talbot sometimes I wonder how you got us this far.” Tracy said.

“What?”

“The shots. Remember those?”

“I was getting to it.” I said, but in fact I wasn’t. I had completely forgotten about them, so intent was I on flesh eating rabbits.

“Zombies came ashore.” She answered.

“Ashore, what the hell does that mean?” BT asked

"Ashore like in landing craft?" I asked

I got the look that was becoming all too common. The, 'are you crazy glare.'

"No boats then?" I added.

"Yeah no boats." She shook her head and continued. "Dozens of them just started walking up the beach. Caught an older couple that was getting a little randy behind some dunes."

"At least they went out happy." I said. The words were out of my mouth long before I realized how tasteless a statement that was.

Tracy thought it. BT said it. "Fuck Talbot what is your problem?"

"What?" the dawn of recognition coming slowly. "Oh sorry, I wasn't even thinking."

"I wouldn't mind so much but it seems to happen more and more." Tracy said.

"I'm sorry let's get past this." Of course I wanted to, it was my shattered reputation on the line. Tracy reluctantly let it go. "Was this the first time?"

"The first time you've inserted your foot in your mouth or the first time the zombies have come up the beach?"

BT pointed at Tracy and nodded. "Good one."

"Funny, but deserved." I said. "Let's go with the beaching."

"I'll tell you what, the Army guys were running around like chickens without heads and the Marines looked pretty concerned."

"So I'm going to go with a yes on that then."

"What do you think it means Talbot?" BT asked me.

"I've got a couple of ideas BT, and none of them are good. You still want to hear them?"

"No." BT answered truthfully. "Well get on with it."

"Well first off it could mean that some zombies fell into the water sometime in the last few weeks, maybe off of some transport ship and just finally made it ashore here."

"Eh, maybe." BT said shaking his head in the negative. "Next."

"Some local zombies have figured out a more viable option of how to get into the gated buffet."

"Possible." BT said. "Or?"

"Or Eliza sent some forward troops in the hopes of finding some weaknesses to this base's defenses."

BT eased his back down towards the pillow. "Shit."

"Eliza? Already?" Tracy asked, hoping against hope that I was wrong.

"It feels like something she would do. I know the zombies have some rudimentary intelligence. I just can't imagine that they'd be able to pass tactics to each other. Possibly one might figure out that he could walk into the water and bypass all the fences and guns but not dozens at least not all at once."

"Okay though Mike." BT said. "If this is Eliza in all of this, why tip her hand now? She had to know that a few dozen zombies weren't going to breach this place. She could have waited until she had a few thousand zombies. That would have really thrown this place into mass chaos. These military guys aren't dummies. Now they're going to set up defenses and patrols."

I pondered BT's question. Eliza's actions made absolutely no sense. Unless. "It's a feint."

"What?" BT and Tracy asked simultaneously.

"Jinx!" I yelled. "Now you guys have to get me a coke! Man, what I wouldn’t do for that carbonated drink of pure refreshment right now."

"Are we on hidden cameras? Are you getting sponsorship money for your product endorsements? Can you get back to the 'feint' thing."

"Sorry that just sounds so good, in a tall glass with lots of ice and the huge condensation droplets sweating on the outside of the glass."

"Talbot." Tracy and BT once again said in synch.

"Again! Huh! This gets better and better."

Tracy glared at me.

"Sorry, sorry." I reiterated. "It's just that my mouth is so dry right now."

"Talbot!" BT shouted. "If my leg wasn't busted I would run all around this base to find you that damn Coke just so I could bust it over your head. Now what are you talking about? Although that does sound really good, maybe with a little vanilla in it."

"I'm leaving." Tracy said.

"Hold on hon." I said coming back to a Cokeless reality. "Eliza has something else planned, she has to know that this place only has so many resources to combat a threat and she is going to stretch those resources as thin as she can. I don't have a clue as to what she's thinking but it's obviously better than having a water assault."

"Seemed like a pretty good plan to me." BT said

"Yeah me too, so whatever she's thinking must be even better."

The room must have dropped twenty degrees because we all shuddered in unison. I don't think there is a 'jinx' rule for that.

"How's your leg feeling now?" I asked BT in all seriousness.

"Better by the minute." He answered.

Tracy garnered what we were talking about. "Neither of you two is in any sort of condition to go back on the road. Mike you have literally died twice in the span of five days. And don't even say it! Three is not the charm."

"How'd she know I was going to say that?" I asked BT.

BT shrugged his shoulders, and then miraculously hit his power down button.

"How does he do that?" I now asked the slumbering giant.

"Mike?"

"I know Tracy, we can't leave. I'm not sure I could get out of this bed and make it into the head to take a piss without passing out. Eliza just keeps forcing our hand. There's still time but the meter is definitely running.

CHAPTER TWELVE - JOURNAL ENTRY 6 -

"Mike you awake?"

"What is it with hospitals?" I asked with my eyes closed. "You keep giving me sedatives to sleep and tell me I need rest so that I can recuperate and then you wake me up every half hour to see how I'm doing."

"Mike." The Doc said calmly. "You've been asleep for nearly 36 hours."

"Holy shit, no wonder why I kept having dreams about pissing. In one of them I was at an old abandoned town pool. It was empty when I got to it but I started to take a leak and it was filling at this really alarming rate, and I was like 'Holy crap this had better stop soon or its going to over flow and I'm going to be really embarrassed when my piss starts flowing down the streets and into storm drains The whole time I'm taking this piss I don't feel any relief. I am never getting that satisfactory release of pressure from my bladder. You know what I mean Doc?"

"Mike to be honest I've given up a long time ago trying to figure out what you are talking about."

"So you've never had the 'piss dream'"?

"Can we perhaps move on to another subject?"

"Oh I get it Doc, did you have some bed wetting issues as a child?" The Doc's face was beginning to look a little indignant. "Do you still have some issues? I mean cause it's alright with me. I mean we all have our own skeletons in the closet so to speak. I mean I don't personally wet the bed but…"

"Oh for the love of God Mike, I really have no desire to discuss my fictional bodily function problems. I came here with a serious problem and a potential solution."

"Alright, alright but I still think I'm going to bust at the seams."

"Fine!" The Doc said handing me a bedpan.

"This might go a little smoother if you weren't looking at me like you wanted to punch me."

"Let me know when you're done." The Doc said as he went back over to a small table that contained a rather large syringe. I was hoping the needle looked so big because the table was so small and if that wasn't the case, I hoped the needle was for BT. Hell he was still asleep. It wouldn't hurt him until he was awake. "You done yet?" The Doc called over his shoulder.

"You're really ruining the mood over here, Doc. I haven't pissed in 36 hours I would really like to enjoy this."

"The elimination of waste should not…"

"Doc! You're killing me over here."

"Shoe doesn't fit quite so right when it's on the other foot, does it?"

"Point taken, I think." After a couple of more minutes I took probably the best non-beer induced piss of my entire life. I bet I lost 3.5 pounds in 2 minutes. I was going to market this new diet sensation. 'Piss Away the Pounds'. Might be tough to get a sponsor though. Oh well, I had time to work on a new name.

I sheepishly handed over the near brimming bed pan to the Doc, I don’t know which of us was more disgusted and embarrassed when some sloshed out and onto his arm and chest. "Sucks for you." I said under my breath.

"What?" The Doc asked, completely mortified with this new development.

"Nothing, I didn't say anything."

The Doc looked at me suspiciously. This was not a good position for me to be in. I had one arm tied down and he had a nearly full bedpan of hot steamy piss. I'd probably die from shock if he threw it at me. The last time I had been this scared I was in my living room with Henry in my arms and a small contingent of zombies were trying to make me their breakfast. Doc Baker walked over and put the bed pan in the industrial sized sink, and then proceeded to take off his now urine infused scrubs. His vigorous washing had turned his skin into a cherry pink version of its former self. He was muttering something way over there. Every once in a while I would catch single words like 'asshole' or 'nutsack'. He could call me whatever he wanted as long as he didn't pick that bedpan back up.

Doc Baker came back his left arm considerably redder than his right.

"You know." I said. "That pee is sterile."

"Don't!" He said pointing an angry red digit at me.

"Fine, fine." I said holding up my one good arm.

"Can we get on with what I wanted to talk to you about?"

"Does it involve that needle?" I said pointing past him.

"It does."

I felt like I had already been pricked, deflated. "And me?"

"Not directly."

"BT then? He's a big guy he won't even feel it." That actually elicited a small laugh from the Doc.

"No I was thinking of your son Justin."

"What's going on Doc?" I asked, all triviality discarded.

"If I had a team of virologists and biologists and a couple of dozen other ologists I might be able to use his blood to produce some sort of vaccine against this scourge."

"You're throwing a lot of hope out there with a significant amount of negative tone to it Doc."

"Well there's hope Mike, but not on as broad a scope as I was hoping for. I've been studying Justin's blood since the day he got here. There's a key there, of that I'm sure it just so happens to be locked in a world class bank vault and I'm trying to safe-crack it with a sparkler."

"That bad?"

"The sparkler might be an overstatement, more like a wet match."

"Ouch."

"Don’t get me wrong, I'm taking vials of his blood in the hopes that an epidemiologist somehow stumbles into camp. But until then I might have an answer or at least a way to treat what afflicts him."

"I'm listening." Hell he could have been talking about the Baroque movement and I would be listening, couldn't really go anywhere in the state I was in.

"I am going to put this in as easily explainable layman terms as I can, not because I think you're an idiot."

"Thanks."

"But because my grasp on the concept is tenuous at best. In a normal human when they receive a bite from a zombie, their immune system is completely destroyed by the parasite. The system doesn't even have time to offer a viable defense. The saliva of the infected appears to be the most optimum way to spread the contagion, unfortunately not the only way. But in Justin's case he received such a small influx of the bug his body was able to rally and offer something almost as good as a victory."

I was remembering that night not so long ago when I had sat over my son's bed dreading the fact that in all likelihood I was going to have to put a bullet in him. One does not easily get over one of the darkest days in their existence. "What's that Doc? What's almost as good as a victory?"

"A sliding stalemate, the parasites have been stalled, somewhat."

"I don't much care for 'sliding' and 'somewhat', there's more Doc, I can see it in your face."

"It's a war that Justin can't win. He might be able to hold them off for weeks, months maybe even a year or two but eventually they will overwhelm him. If he catches a cold or gets bronchitis and his body has to start spreading white blood cells around he won't be able to produce them quick enough. The antibiotics I'm giving him are helping but it's more like giving Percocets to a man with a dislocated shoulder. It dulls the pain but doesn’t fix the root of the problem."

The Doctor seemed hesitant to continue, I prodded him on. "And?"

"And, I've got an idea."

"The needle?"

"The needle."

"What's in the needle Doc?"

"It's what the CDC was developing when this whole thing started."

"You told me yourself it didn't work Doc."

"It didn't work because it just wasn't strong enough. But it might be enough to tip the scales with your son."

"Last time I checked Doc, scales can tip both ways."

"And that's the problem."

"You can't be asking me this Doc."

"Mike he is fighting a battle with a predetermined ending. This might be his only chance."

"What if it doesn't work?"

Doctor Baker sat back in his chair pinching the bridge of his nose in his thumb and forefinger. "Then the inevitable happens a lot sooner."

"If we, and by we I mean Tracy myself and Justin agree to this will he be cured? Will the virus be destroyed?"

"No this is a symptomatic treatment, it's much like giving insulin to a person suffering from diabetes. It will keep the parasite in check. It will allow his body to recover an equilibrium; it can stop the war that is raging within him."

"An armistice?"

"Armistice, détente, stasis, whatever you want to call it, your son will be back."

"Where is Justin now?" I asked a cold chill sweeping through my soul.

"He's in our isolation ward."

"Doc, I can't do it again." Doc Baker remained silent. "The night he was injured I stayed with him. I had a loaded gun with the hammer pulled back in my lap. I talked to him the entire night about every good and not so good thing we had done in our lives together. I fully expected to end his life that night." An unforced sob issued forth from the depths of my being. The Doc placed his hand on my good shoulder. "Can you know what it's like to take a piece of you, something that contains all your hopes, your dreams, your love and just destroy it? CAN YOU!?" I yelled.

I was sobbing nearly inconsolably. BT faked sleep. I owed him big for that. Tracy, true to her nature, was Johnny on the spot. She had somewhere along the line honed the skill of always being at the right spot at the right time to a science.

"What's going on Mike? Doctor?" She asked with concern. I was thinking that she thought I had received bad news about myself. Trust me I wouldn't have taken that news half as bad as what the Doctor was proposing. "You alright Mike?"

I wiped my eyes. "You know how I feel about you seeing me cry."

"I know, I know, you're Ironman. That's what has me concerned Mike, in twenty years of marriage I've seen you with more punctures, burns and body parts hanging on by a thread where you've just grunted about going back to the emergency room. The two times I've seen you cry, one involved the death of my dad and the other was your mom. So what's going on?"

The Doc took about ten minutes to lay out everything to her like he had to me.

"To quote my husband! Abso-fucking-lutely not!" She shouted.

"Go to him then." The Doc started.

"I do! Every day." She retorted.

"You didn't let me finish, Tracy."

In my head I couldn't believe he had pulled out the condescending card. BAD, BAD move.

"You've got about ten seconds Doctor, to explain yourself before I turn and walk out of here. I'd rather kick your ass right now. The only thing that’s keeping me at bay is the gratitude I have for you saving my husband, but that will only get you so far." Her finger of doom was in full thrust mode. A diamond tipped jackhammer would be less lethal.

I could tell the Doctor was especially appreciative of the fact that his chair had wheels and he was on a tile floor, but he would run out of running room long before she ran out of fuel.

"Tracy go to your son, ask him how he's doing." Tracy looked about to respond. "No really, ask him how he is doing. I've had long talks with him. He's told me that he feels like he slips a little deeper every day. That a little more of who he is gets dragged away and discarded like so much trash. Sometimes he just feels like giving up." Tracy sobbed much like I had. "He's tired of fighting both inside of himself and against the outside world. He knows what kind of threat he poses to all of you. He can't bear the thought that his mere existence could bring harm to any of you. He has lost hope. He's asked me more than once to give him enough pills or a lethal injection to end it all."

Tracy came over to me crying. She was careful to avoid my wound. She didn't do such a good job. I did my best to bite back my tears of pain.

"I don't bring this to either of you lightly."

Tracy held her hand up.

"It's just that…"

"Doc, stop talking now." I told him.

"Right, I'm going to check on my other patients."

"Thanks Doc." I wrapped my good arm around my wife. Her racking sobs jostled me, but that was a kind of pain I was familiar with. It was the kind that I could cope with. It was like a bad friend who you knew was going to borrow money that he had no intentions of paying back. He was the friend that would turn over your couch cushions after he burned them accidently with a cigarette after you specifically told him that nobody smokes in the house. He was an asshole, but he was YOUR asshole. That other pain? Well let's just say that pain was like a lawyer who just so happened to be a Yankees fan after they just bought their 26th championship. Yeah, he's that asshole.

Tracy and I did about another hour's worth of mutual consolation. We had a way of taking the little bit of strength we possessed and bouncing it back and forth between the two of us, adding to it at each and every toss. Do all married couples possess this super power? Probably not or there would have been fewer divorces.

"What do you think Talbot?" Tracy asked, lifting her tear soaked face off my tear soaked chest.

"I think I need a new shirt." Tracy made as if she was going to punch me. "I think we have the Doctor lay everything out there for him, the pros and the cons and we let him decide."

"Okay."

"Okay, that's it? No expletives about how crazy I am? Or how nuts this situation is? I was expecting more."

"There is no other answer Mike, you heard the Doctor. Our baby is ready to give up."

"I know." I said stroking her hair, which also happened to be wet. "You'd better wait before you go back out."

She looked at me funny. Ah, the Tracy I know and love.

"Your hair is soaked, you go out now and you're going to get an ice helmet. Although I really kind of dig chicks in uniform."

"Well maybe if you weren't in that hospital bed."

"That is not right. Not right at all." I lamented.

"I'm going to see Justin."

"Tell him I love him."

"Do I look like I've been crying?"

"Besides the running mascara, red eyes and Rudolph nose? No, you look fine."

"I'll tell him you love him. I'll see you tonight."

"Bye love."

"Bye Talbot."

Tracy walked out of the room. I turned to adjust myself. I had only been awake for a couple of hours and I was exhausted. BT's blanket was up over his head. I could see his whole bed shaking.

"You crying?" I asked him.

"I'm sleeping, leave me alone." He sniffed.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - JOURNAL ENTRY 7 -

Justin was in a small room maybe ten by ten feet with a heavy lockable oak door. He was usually able to walk around his room but for this experiment he was fully restrained to his bed with cloth straps. I involuntarily got the heebie-jeebies thinking about being completely tied down and then getting an itch on my nose. I was convinced that would drive me insane. The room was cramped with myself in a wheelchair, Tracy behind me, Doc Baker, a fully armed guard and the center of attention, Justin in his bed.

"For the fourth time, Mom, I want to do this." Justin said looking up as high as he could with the strap across his forehead.

Tracy reached down and grabbed my hand out of my lap. "Is the guard necessary?" Tracy asked.

Nobody responded. He was necessary in case the unspeakable happened.

"Justin, I am going to put this mask on you for our protection, okay?" The doc asked him. Justin nodded his head, his eyes locked on a fixed location on the ceiling. The 'mask' was nothing more than a leather strap with a wide piece that fit securely over the most dangerous part of a zombie, the mouth. Images of Hannibal Lecter streamed through my head as the mask was placed into position. To say my stomach was in knots would be an understatement. I could barely pull in air. Even the guard who had zero vested interest was uptight, but then he'd be the trigger man if this went bad and killing any defenseless enemy strapped to a bed would not ever sit well.

Without another word spoken in the room the doctor administered the shot to Justin's arm.

"How long Doc?" I asked quietly. The doctor didn't even have time to respond as Justin's body struggled against the bonds. He thrashed so violently against them I thought they would start to saw through his skin. Tracy's grip on my hand was excruciating. She had my first and forth knuckles nearly touching. Saliva ran down the side of Justin's face in amounts I wouldn't think a human would be able to produce. Henry yes, Justin not so much. The doctor was checking Justin's pulse when he jumped back. The guard tensed up, undoing the snap on his holster. Tracy might have broken my hand. Justin's scream was muffled from the leather.

I won't swear to it. I can't. My mind just can't wrap around it securely enough to give a definitive answer but when Justin looked over to me and Tracy his eyes looked unbelievably black and flat. They reflected perfectly the soul of a black, dead heart. And just as quickly they returned back to their normal state. I hoped this wheelchair wasn't dry clean only.

"Oh my God." Tracy said under her breath. Apparently she had seen what I had, it was good to at least know that all those years of tripping on acid hadn't finally caught up to me.

Justin arched one more time and relaxed, his eyes were closed. Doc Baker hesitantly walked closer to check his vital signs.

"Doctor." The guard said. "Maybe you should step back." It was looking more and more like Justin's transformation was not such a secret.

"Nonsense." The doctor said without much conviction. "Can't you see his chest rising and falling? He's breathing."

I don’t know why these thoughts run through my head, they just do. Maybe it has more to do with the aforementioned acid trips from my college days than I would like to believe. What if the doctor had just created the first hybrid human-zombie? A living zombie? Would he be able to reproduce? Talk about unruly grandchildren.

Justin opened his eyes. "Did it work?" He asked. The flood of carbon dioxide that was released into the room as everyone let go of the breath they were holding was nearly intoxicating, possibly suffocating, no wonder why Vegas used to flood their casinos with oxygen.

"It'll be a few days until we can be sure but this is a great start," Doc Baker said. "I'm going to need some more blood Justin," he added apologetically.

"You sound like Eliza." Justin said jokingly.

"Poor taste son. We'll have to work on your material. Tracy could you wheel me up to him. If I try to do it I'll end up doing donuts."

"That wasn't much better than Justin's attempt at humor." Tracy said.

The doc got his measure of blood and left, giddy as a schoolboy that got to touch his first female breast. The guard also left the room but was in arm's distance of the door in case his services were still required. Tracy and I stayed with Justin a few more hours before my reserves started to give out. It was great to see our kid come more into his own with each passing minute. He looked happy, he smiled, and more importantly those flat black eyes never returned.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - JOURNAL ENTRY 8 -

I don't know what I had done in a former life to deserve this (although I had some guesses). Porkchop and I had become fast friends. Not sure what he saw in me, maybe it was my captive audience to his incessant questioning. I didn't begrudge the kid, like so many others his road up to this point had been extremely difficult. I was to learn that Doc Baker was not his biological father but rather a much needed stepdad. Generally, Porkchop wore me out like no tranquilizer could. Where was he when I used to suffer through bouts of insomnia? This next story had me riveted though. I am going to attempt to translate it as best I can, right from Porkchop's mouth to this journal.

PORKCHOP'S PAGES

"It was an awesome night. I had just made Major General on Halo ODST. I had killed like thirty-two guys and only died twice." (Tommy was here this time. The big kid usually came to see me right after lunch. He also held up two fingers to mimic Porkchop's hand signals but I think it had more to do with licking off some errant jelly.)

“The night it all started, my dad had come home from the bar early. Said he had got into a fight and didn’t feel so good. Which was kind of a bummer ‘cause when he goes out drinking he always comes home late and doesn’t bother me when I’m playing my 360. He just walked into the living room, grunted at me and walked into his bedroom. I was pretty psyched, it was a school night and I’m not even supposed to be watching TV, although mom didn’t care. Dad used to always say it rotted your brain, but what about booze?” Porkchop stopped his narrative and was actually asking, looking at me to answer his question.

I’m not one to rain on another’s libations, I’ve enjoyed the devil’s brew entirely too much to call someone else on it but Porkchop was fairly demanding an answer. “Um well, shit…sorry.”

“Oh its fine my dad used to say motherfucker all the time.”

“Porkchop!” Doc Baker admonished from across the room.

It was funny to see someone so innocent looking use one of the higher echelon cuss words, but I didn’t let on to either Porkchop or the doc.

“Sorry.” Porkchop said without a hint of truth, he was looking right at me with a smile in his eyes.

“No big deal.” I said smiling right back at him.

“So?” Porkchop prompted.

“Right, well it’s like anything Porkchop, if you do it in moderation.”

He was looking at me with the glazed over stare of a lost teenager.

“If you don’t do it too much.”

“Oh.” He answered. I had got him back. “My dad used to go to the bar every night after work and on Saturdays too, sometimes on Sunday but not all the time. He used to like to say that if God could rest on the seventh day so could his liver. What does that mean?”

“Um, I’m really tired Porkchop.” I was shooting for evasiveness. There was no way I was going to start dragging his dad through the mud. I didn’t even know the guy.

“My mom says he was an assaholic.”

I think I ripped a hole in my intestinal wall trying to stifle a laugh.

“That’s enough swearing Porkchop.” Doc said absently as he was prepping what looked like a surgical tray.

“It was getting late and I had finished playing Halo and had moved on to Rockband.”

It took me a moment to realize Porkchop had started his story back up. No matter how funny the kid was I had to remember this was the night he had become an orphan. He had lost a mom who most assuredly loved him more than the air she breathed and the food she ate and a father who might not be the best role model in the world but he was a provider. That was the best I could offer his memory.

“Smashing Pumpkins was on, do you know the song 1979?”

He didn’t stop for my answer. He needed to tell the story and if he stopped he might not get the nerve to start it up again.

“I was halfway through on expert!” He said proudly. “I hadn’t missed more than 3 or 4 notes.”

I knew this was impressive, I had never even graduated to the ‘hard’ level. ‘Medium’ was all the coordination I could muster when I played.

“My dad comes into the room and just walks right in front of the television. I couldn’t see shit.” He added softly looking over in the Doc’s direction. “I wanted to yell at him to get out of the way, but that’s not a good idea, ever.” He stressed. “The crowd on the game starts booing at me 'cause I’m missing so many notes. My dad turns away from the screen, it was then I noticed he had blood all over his face.” A tear streamed down Porkchop’s face. I wanted to take the kid in my arms and hug the bad thoughts right out of him. “So I asked him if he was alright. He looked back at me like he just realized I was there. He…he lifted his arms up and started walking towards me. He was holding a hand. I knew it was my mom’s 'cause of the wedding band.”

That was something that no kid should ever have to see.

“He dropped the hand on the floor. I…I couldn’t do anything Mr. Talbot. I just kept looking at my mom’s hand on the floor. I was wondering why she wasn’t screaming, why wasn’t she coming out of the bedroom to get it. I mean maybe it wasn’t too late to sew it back on. I wanted to get some ice but then my dad stepped on it and I heard her hand bones crack. All I could think, Mr. Talbot, was that my assaholic dad had just ruined my mom’s perfect hand and now it could never be put back on. I got so mad I stood up on the couch and just started swinging my guitar controller. The first swing caught him square on the side of the face. I thought he was going to get so mad but he didn’t say anything, it was almost like he didn’t even know I had done it. So I did it again thinking that maybe that would get his attention. And then I did it again and again. Something snapped I didn’t know if it was my controller or my dad’s head. I was bummed about the controller. I had saved up all my allowance for 5 months to get it.”

Porkchop was full on crying now. But he marshaled on. There was a strength to the kid that you might not account for upon first glance, but the fact that he was alive was testament to that.

“I don’t know how many times I hit him but my arms were tired by the time he went to his knees and then he kinda fell over. My controller went with him. It flew right out of my hands cuz it was stuck in his head. His arms and legs were twitching and I could hear him moaning a little bit, but I didn’t care, I needed to go check on my mom.”

If this was a movie, this is where I would start yelling at the person on the screen to ‘RUN, just get out of the house, LEAVE NOW!' “Oh Porkchop. I’m so sorry.” I knew what was coming long before he could begin to tell me about it.

“The bedroom door was open, but it was super dark in there. I couldn’t see anything. So I called out to my mom.” He wiped his nose, rivulets of snot running into his mouth. “She didn’t say anything, she wasn’t moaning or anything. So I started to think that maybe she had gone to the hospital. Then I thought that she might need some stuff while she’s there. I needed to turn on a light so I could get her a bag packed. I turned on that light Mr. Talbot. I didn’t even think it was mom. How could anybody be in so many pieces?”

The doctor had come over and was fiercely hugging Porkchop. I had a lump in my throat that could have been used for ski jumps. “It’ll be alright.” The doc said, slightly swaying to Porkchop’s full-throated cries.

After a few minutes, Porkchop had got himself in a near semblance of control. “I went over to Doc Baker’s house.”

“We were neighbors in our condo units.” Doc elaborated.

“I thought maybe he might be able to fix my mom up.” Porkchop said biting on his lower lip in an effort to stifle anymore crying.

“When Porkchop had come to my door, he was covered in blood. I thought that he had been involved in some sort of accident. He told me that something was wrong with his parents. I walked into that apartment completely unprepared for what I saw. I honestly thought it was a domestic dispute turned horribly wrong. I told Porkchop here to take a shower while I called the police. Well by then it was too late, most if not all of the cops were either out on other wild calls or had abandoned ship altogether having realized that the world had indeed shit the bed.”

“Doc.” Porkchop said.

“Sorry, can’t tell you not to do it and then turn around and do it myself, not much leadership by example.”

“I’ll let it slide this time, if you let it slide the next time I do it?”

“One, I’ll give you one. But don’t tell Mrs. Baker and it can’t be a really bad one.”

“Deal.” Porkchop said through blurry tear stained eyes.

“We heard sirens and gunshots all night. The news talked about a virus running rampant but I just couldn’t believe there was something out there that could make people eat other people, much less re-animate the dead. I mean medically there is nothing more preposterous. Porkchop wasn’t in much of a condition to answer any questions but I had seen his apartment. Something terribly wrong had happened, but I could not reconcile it. That night as the sirens and the gunshots grew louder and more drawn out, my family, Porkchop and myself crammed onto my couch. I don’t know why I did it but I had turned out the lights. We sat there the whole night like that. By the time the morning came at least three quarters of my body had fallen asleep, I had pins and needles nearly everywhere.”

“That’s a lot of sharpened steel.” I said absently.

The doc eyed me sharply. I hadn’t meant anything by the words just an observation. Forty-four years old and I still hadn’t figured out how to disengage the thought from speech button in my brain. There were seven year olds that had this simple basic function mastered.

“The scene outside my window was horrific. It was equally as bad as the scene in Porkchop’s own abode. There were dead and dying people everywhere. What I would come to know as zombies weren’t yet out in great numbers but there were still plenty afoot. The real problem was that Gary, Indiana was on fire. Mike, we were four stories up in a condominium. I figured we’d be able to wait this whole thing out and let the government deal with it. I had done an inventory the previous night and figured between my house and Porkchop’s we had at least a week to ten days worth of food, surely by then order would be restored.”

“Wouldn’t that have been nice,” I threw in for good measure.

“Quite. I wanted to wait. That seemed the most logical course of action. I’m a doctor. I don’t know how to kill, unless its malpractice.” The doc paused for dramatic effect.

“Really Doc? That’s your attempt at humor?”

“That was a secret passion of mine, to become a stand-up comedian.”

“Well lucky for us all you settled your sights lower and became a doctor.”

The Doc looked at me. “See now, THAT'S funny, do you mind if I use that?”

“Knock yourself out Doc.”

“They do shows every week and I’ve been gathering enough material and…well forget about that. Needless to say those fires saved my life. If the city hadn’t been burning I would have never left. The most dangerous thing I had ever done in my life up to that point was work at a strip club.”

Doc didn’t elaborate at this point, so when someone tells you that they worked at a strip club, you tell me what you assumed he did. All I could think was that I hoped that establishment had an 11-drink minimum. That might be the only way you could get through his routine.

“I worked my way through college as a disc jockey there.”

“Whew.” I blurted out. Luckily the Doc didn’t make the connection.

“There were fights almost nightly at the club but we had 5 or 6 bouncers who did all the heavy work. All I had to do was play music, announce the dancers and crack a joke or two.”

“I heard your jokes Doc, good thing there were breasts involved.”

“I guess I always thought the cheers were for my witticisms.”

“Oh yeah definitely not for Miss Double D’s tatas.”

“I gather you don’t have many friends Mr. Talbot.”

“Ouch, that hurts, but you’re more right than you know. I apparently was born without the gift of a thought filter.”

“And yet that lovely lady Tracy still married you?”

“That’s probably got more to do with my prowess, if you know what I mean?” I said with as much leering as I could muster without letting Porkchop in on my meaning.

“Oh I’m sure that was it.” The Doc said condescendingly.

“Can we get back to your story?” I asked a little snappishly.

The doc laughed and then just as quickly turned serious. “I was scared Mike. I mean I was frozen from indecision. Do we all go out as a group and get the car? Do I get the car and then have everybody come out then? Do we bring all the food? Do we need supplies? Formulating a plan was beyond me. My entire life revolved around order, things that involved stepping out of bounds were dealt with by my staff or my wife. I mean my wife is as smart as she is beautiful but this wasn’t a soccer practice running late or a skinned knee, this was Armageddon. Not many people have a plan for that sort of thing.”

I meekly held my hand up.

“Well of course except for you, Mike.” I nodded, and he continued. “But the rest of us like to think our ordinary lives are going to continue on as planned, two week’s vacation in France, dinner every Thursday at Chez Palace, building my practice up to the point that I can finally sell it and retire to Arizona, just normal stuff.”

I wanted to tell him that wasn’t normal for 98% of the American population. Most of us would have been happy with a 4 day weekend at Six Flags, a Wednesday night run to Wendy’s, and hopefully making enough money so that we wouldn’t have to hand out stickers at Wal-Mart when we had retired. No offense Tommy. If nothing else the zombies had leveled the playing field. We all were equally mired in the shit of existence now. I just nodded. I saw no sense or purpose in kicking the man while he was down.

“It was my middle kid Blake that finally got me going. He’s asthmatic and the smoke from the fires was really starting to affect him. Waiting it out was rapidly losing any appeal it may have contained. We grabbed everything we could carry, blankets, food, Xbox 360.”

“What?”

Doc shrugged his shoulders. “My oldest son Jesse said he wasn’t leaving without it. I figured what the hell, I couldn’t ever picture a time when the world would return to a state of normalcy again but for him I think it was more of a security blanket.”

“To each his own.” I personally however like the security that a Mossberg 12 gauge shotgun provides over that of a wireless game controller, but who I am to judge. Porkchop for one would see the validity of a game controller turned defender.

“We ran out to my car. Mike, if just one zombie had got in our way I think we would have been finished. All of our hands were full. I hadn’t even thought to grab a weapon. Looking back the best I would have had to offer was a steak knife or a golf club and I don’t think I could use either one except for its intended purpose. It was a tight fit with the six of us and Buddha but we made it. We weren’t 5 miles out of Gary when we ran into a military convoy. When they found out I was a doctor, I was instantly drafted. I tried to explain that I was a General Practitioner and not a surgeon but when you’re in a desert and somebody offers you something wet to drink you don’t stop to question what it is.”

“Well you did right by me, Doc.” I said, alluding to my shoulder surgery.

“So that’s my story. We’ve been here ever since. I’ve done more surgeries in the last few weeks than I care to count and not all have been as successful as yours. So I would greatly appreciate it if you take care of that shoulder so it heals properly.”

Porkchop had for the most part recovered from his remembrance of his parents' demise. The runny nose and bloodshot eyes, the tell tale signs of getting a good cry-on would however take a good fifteen minutes or so more to diminish.

The doc turned to Porkchop who had just finished wiping his nose on a rapidly snot-hardening sleeve. “Porkchop, could you please track down Rachael? I’ve got some work for her to do? Thank you.” Porkchop headed out the door, his normal cheery self rapidly coming to the fore.

We said nothing for long moments after the door closed.

“You did good Doc. You did right by Porkchop and by your own family.”

“Taking Porkchop in was as natural as if he was my own. He spent more time at my house than his own. I just feel like I should have done more.”

“How many kids do you have Doc?”

“Huh?” The Doc asked pulling back to the present from his own thoughts. “Uh three, well four now.”

“They’re all here right?”

“Well not right here, but yes on this base.”

“And your wife?”

“I see your point.”

“That’s all I’m saying Doc. You kept your family safe. There’s nothing more you could have done.” I was getting the distinct impression the doc wasn’t fully convinced. “How old are they?”

“Well I can’t tell you my wife’s age.”

“Wasn’t asking.”

“ Jesse is my oldest son, he’s 15. He's kind of quiet around strangers but warms up like vinyl seats in July when he's around friends and family. He's got a little bit of a mouth on him and is definitely the family's prankster. He’s addicted to video games.”

“Yeah I got that when he took his 360 with him.” We both shared a laugh over that.

“ Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2 is his poison and he can tell you the stats on every gun available in the game. He despises his younger brother and sister but doesn't tolerate ANYONE screwing with them (except for Porkchop). He's kind of wise beyond his years in his ability to understand the human condition even if he can be a bit emotional himself. He’s a big kid and loves guns. He spends most of his spare time training with some of the other kids. The military has set up an ROTC type program. They get the kids some combat training in fire arms safety and marksmanship skills. It worries me Mike.”

“Those aren’t bad skills to have right now, Doc.”

“I just had so much more planned for him in life than one the military has to offer.”

The doc was a good man, and saved my life at least twice that I knew of so far, but he was definitely more of the small picture ilk. The world had dramatically shifted on its axis and he had not yet caught up. “Doc, learning those skills now might be his best chance to stay alive and have a different life!”

“I…I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

That seemed to perk him up marginally.

“Next is my middle child Blake, he’s 13. Unlike his older brother, he's very outgoing and has an IQ that puts the rest of us to shame. He's not as physically intimidating as Jesse but he can make you look like a fool if you want to argue with him.”

I figured that had something to do with the limiting factors associated with being an asthmatic.

“Where Jesse is more of a warrior, Blake is the thinker, the artist, his obsession is books. Being the artistic middle child and kind of a mama's boy, he takes a lot of crap from the rest of the guys in the family. I figure he's the one who will be able to pay for my nursing home should I make it that far so I’ve decided I’d better be nice to him. Rachael is 10 and she is my only daughter.”

“Be thankful for that.”

The doc wouldn't understand the backhanded compliment at least not for another two and a half years when his daughter turned from a sweet daddy’s little princess into a multi-headed demon from hell, as all teenage girls must.

“She is without a shadow of a doubt, the strongest personality in our house. She is the most wonderfully devious of children. If there is trouble to find, she's not only in it but in it to win it.”

I had learned the hard way after punishing my own boys way too much, that my daughter not only sought out trouble but was usually the root cause of it.

“Rachael's very smart but loves to tell you that she's not (the better to get away with things). She is a mini version of her mom, entirely too cute to be as cunning as she is. She scares the hell out of me because she is going to need to be locked in a closet VERY soon.”

Maybe that secret desire of all fathers to be able to lock their daughters away from testosterone infused boys could now be realized. So maybe a zombie invasion wasn’t all bad.

“Doc you did good. Now if you could up my Demerol, I’m in pain and really tired.”

“Thank you Mike, I take my quip about you being friendless away.”

“Don’t be so hasty Doc, wait until you really get to know me.” My eyelids began to slide shut as the Doc pumped some pain killing juice into my IV line. “One more thing Doc.”

He was checking my pulse. “What is it?”

“Don’t let her out of that closet until she’s about 18, the demon spawn in her will almost be gone.” And with that came blissful pain free sleep.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - JOURNAL ENTRY 9 -

I had been in a hospital bed for nearly two weeks before Doc Baker thought I’d most likely be alright to stay in my own bed in the quarters assigned to myself and my family. The quarters were nice enough. They harkened me back to my Marine Corps fleet days. The barracks were basically a no frills apartment complex. Square non-descript buildings with a square non-descript room, with an off-shoot bathroom in each apartment. In my Marine Corps days we had been stuffed 4 jarheads at a time into a 15 by 15 foot room. Honestly didn’t care about it at the time, pretty sure I’d go nuts if that was the case now. Turns out there weren’t enough survivors to merit any sort of over-crowding. Tracy, myself, and the ever stinky Henry had our own room. Nicole had the apartment next to us by herself, and Justin (when he was released from the hospital) had a room with Travis, on the other side of our room. Carol was actually down the hall, by request, go figure. It was my first night back and I couldn’t sleep to save my life. The kindly doctor had begun to wean me off the pain meds I was on. I might add that I thought it was entirely too early in the healing process to be put on aspirin. Oh what I wouldn’t do for a nice Percocet.

Tracy rested lightly next to me. Between the throbbing in my shoulder and Henry’s outbursts from his butt and mouth (farts and snores), I was getting exactly zero amount of sleep. Me and the doc were going to have a good old conversation in the morning. If that didn’t work, this was a military base, there had to be a decent black market trade going on. I got up for the fifth time. Henry raised his massive head up off the floor. I swear if he could talk, he’d be saying something like ‘Don’t blame me for not being able to sleep. My gas smells like cherry blossoms on a warm spring day.’ I patted his head, and he lay back down contentedly. I wanted to look out the window just for something to do, but the base was lit up like a Christmas tree on crack. If I had moved the blackout blinds even a fraction of an inch the room would have been flooded in light as if it was high noon and not 4 a.m.

When the throbbing in my shoulder had subsided into something less than a thundering rhino charge, I figured I might be able to give elusive sleep another chance. My ass was just about to make contact with the bed when I heard a small thud followed immediately by a muffled yelp coming through the wall, which just so happened to be the wall that we shared with my daughter. I still almost went through with the whole bed thing. The noise was that slight and unmenacing sounding. I hesitated, the burn in my thighs making itself known as I hung in that unnatural in between pose of standing or sitting.

“Effen paranoia.” I lamented. I quietly padded across the room and out the door, I didn’t even bother completely shutting the door. I didn’t want the latching mechanism to wake my wife when it closed. The four-foot walk to my daughter’s door did nothing to instill any sort of fear into me. I felt foolish. I almost turned around. “In for a penny, in for a dementia.” Wasn’t that how the saying went? I was at her door, what was I going to do? Knock at 4 in the morning and see how she was doing? Hell, she was probably just having a bad dream, weren’t we all? And that decided it. Maybe I’d be doing her a favor if I woke her up.

I knocked lightly, and waited. Nothing happened. I knocked maybe just a little bit louder. I waited, still nothing. Dammit, she’s probably sleeping pretty good. ‘Talbot get your ass in bed and leave everyone alone,’ my inner psyche spewed. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, I rarely listen to my higher consciousness. I turned her knob. The door was unlocked. Now I was pissed, hadn’t I taught that girl anything! This was going to suck for her. I was about to wake her from a nightmare only to scold the hell out of her. I opened the door. I was immediately struck with the oddity of the scene that was laid out in front of me. The light was on in her bathroom, which shed enough light to let me see that Nicole was nearly naked on her bed. ‘Oh fuck! A dad’s worst nightmare. That’s what I get for not minding my own business.’

“I’m so sorry.” I said aloud.

Things at this point happened rapidly. Her head whipped up, I couldn't help but notice the gag in her mouth. I moved forward. “What the hell?” Then I smelled burning flesh (my own) as my body collapsed to the floor. I twitched like a bass out of water. The stun gun had sent upwards of 50,000 volts of charged electricity through my body. The arc and contraction of my muscles nearly made me bite my tongue off. My teeth chattered under the assault. I had 100 charley horses happening concurrently across my body and there wasn’t a thing I could do to ease the pain.

“Bet that fucking hurts!” A tobacco teeth stained mullet wearing cracker said in my face. Redneck Number One was back. “After you kilt my friends, I swore I’d get me revenge on you all. It was just a stroke of pure luck that brought me here. Old Vern froze out in that field that night when you took our trucks. I stumbled back to the road and the next morning these military trucks picked me up. They says I was a referee.”

Through my muscle clenched teeth I was able to muscle out “Refugee, douchebag.”

That got me another charge of electricity into my rib cage. It felt like muscle was tearing away from tendon, the pain was that intense.

“So’s, I was already here by the time you’s got here but ‘course I didn’t know that. I just happened to come across your little flower of a daughter just this morning.”

I strained against the paralysis.

“Don’t waste yer time, you piece of shit. I shot you with ‘nough ‘lectricity to keep you from moving for the next fifteen minutes. Oh, I couldn’t have planned this any better iffen I had tried. You’re going to get a front row seat, well so to speak, front row floor maybe. As I do all sorts of things to your daughter. Then I’m going to slit her throat and I’m going to make sure you’ll be in position to have her blood flow over your face. This is going to be so much fun!”

Nicole’s face was strained with terror. My body was immobile,. I was impotent. A ten-ton elephant sitting on me couldn’t have had the same effect the stun gun did. Redneck number one stood up and began to walk over towards the bed. He produced a foot long bowie knife from under his jacket. Nicole looked over to me, pleading for her life with her eyes. I did not even have the coward’s option of closing my eyes. They were frozen in the open position. Tears formed. The room before me got blurry but it would not be enough to spare me from the horrors that were mere moments away.

I could feel a small pressure on my foot, I didn’t know it then but it was the apartment door being forced open. Henry came up beside me, he licked my forehead. I wanted to tell him to leave. There was no sense in two of us witnessing this atrocity.

Redneck Number One turned to look at the new intruder who had entered into his sick fantasy. "What the fuck is that ugly thing? Looks like he was runnen' too close to a truck that stopped short." He snorted at his own joke. Redneck Number One came back towards me. "Whassa matter ugly?" Redneck asked Henry. You gonna be sad to see your master dead? That's okay, I'll kill you too just to make it an even three." Then Redneck did something that I think saved mine, Nicole's and Henry's lives that night. He walked back towards me, I strained against my invisible bonds and was rewarded with a kick square in the ribs.

Henry then did the unthinkable, at least as far as anyone who knew that dog was concerned. He attacked. This was no play attack. His deep grumble alerted the Redneck that something had changed. Redneck had no sooner turned than Henry had latched onto the dirty bastard’s shin. I don't know what clicked in the dog's head. Lord knows he'd seen Tracy whack the crap out of the back of my head enough to not be too distraught when I was under attack. Henry must have known this was different but it still did not completely explain his behavior.

I’m not sure what you may or may not know about English Bulldogs, so I’ll give you the 101 version. There is no more passive breed of dog on the planet, unless of course you’re trying to hide food from them. Most Bullies have what you might consider scraggly teeth. They don’t so much bite as they do crush. Their jaws are massively powerful and extraordinarily large. I can attest to that fact from the numerous times Henry and I have played and he will put my entire forearm in his mouth. He’d break my bones long before he’d be able to break my skin. That being said Henry would much rather sleep than play. They know true affection and they love to be the center of attention. I once did a test with Henry to prove to my wife how loving of a dog he was. This is no lie or exaggeration. One night I was cooking steaks on the grill and I might have had a few too many beers as I was cooking. Well lo and behold one of the steaks I cooked fell off the plate when I hit the tray with the screen door. There was no chance on God’s green earth I was going to eat this thing now, so I dusted it off, cut it up and placed it on a platter for Henry. ‘Watch this.’ I told my wife. She asked me what the hell I was doing as I got down on my haunches next to my furry friend. She placed one hand on the phone a heartbeat away from dialing 911. I literally got down on all fours, head to head with Henry, and made like I was going to eat his food. Now this is steak mind you, not kibbles and bits. You know what that dog did? He moved over so I could get a better angle on the dish. That’s Henry, not a mean bone in his body.

So when Henry’s giant maw literally wrapped around Redneck's lower leg, I was just as surprised as Redneck was. The pain must have been intense, I watched as Redneck’s eyes began to bulge out. Dirt bag or not, he still had a knife and now realized he was going to need it for defense instead of fun. Henry snapped that man’s tibia and fibula, the cracking of bones was as loud as a percussion grenade in the small room. Redneck's knife came down, his aim blinded by the pain. I watched in helplessness as the knife arced down, Henry’s yelp of pain was all the proof I needed that Redneck had struck home.

“Gotcha fucker!” Redneck yelled as he fell over, the pain in his broken leg making standing a losing venture. Henry was bleeding profusely from a wound to his side. The redneck was slumped against the wall, knife still in hand. His outstretched arm would still be plenty close enough to finish the job. “Fucking ugly motherfucker! I’m gonna kill you now!”

‘Oh no, Henry’. I could accept a lot of things that a hard life had to offer. This was not going to be one of them.

Those were the last words Redneck Number One ever uttered. Not because he died, but because Henry ripped his jaw off. If that SOUNDS gross you should have been there to witness it. The splintering of bone and muscle as Henry tore into the soft flesh of the redneck’s face was gruesome. Teeth popped out of the redneck's jaw as Henry applied more pressure. When Henry shook his head, the bottom half of the redneck's jaw just came unhinged. Gristle, blood, teeth, and jawbone fragments flew around the room. A smear of blood landed on my right eye. Half the room became bathed in red as I desperately tried to blink, to no avail.

Two MP’s and my wife simultaneously made it to the doorway. To my wife’s credit she only retched half as hard as one of the guards.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - JOURNAL ENTRY 10 -

A half hour later we were all in Doc Baker’s house.

“How is he Doc?” I asked nervously.

“Mike you know that’s the fifth time you’ve asked me that question right?” The Doc answered.

I looked longingly at him.

He sighed loudly. “He’s fine Mike, and he’d be a lot finer if you’d stop bugging me and let me finish sewing these stitches.”

Henry hadn’t even required any sort of numbing agent so intent was he with the frozen hot dogs he was sharing with Tommy, I’m not even sure he knew somebody was working on his side. Nicole in between sobs couldn’t contain herself from wrapping her arms around the lovable mutt.

“See I told you it was worth saving him back at the house in Little Turtle.” I said to Tracy smugly. (Note to all men, wrong fucking time to prove a point!)

“Talbot, are you kidding me?” My wife shot back. “You and your daughter almost died tonight and you want to throw an ‘I told you so’ in my face?”

“Well I uh… had thought so. Not really so much anymore.”

Tracy glared at me.

“So are those hot dogs really frozen?” I asked Tommy in a vain attempt to thwart the hostility. Tommy ignored me like only someone who valued their own existence could. “Could use a little help here Tommy?” I begged

“Wanff a hoff doff?” He answered.

Henry took that as his queue and wolfed down the proffered frozen meat snack.

I turned my attention back towards Henry. The laceration looked nasty. Fourteen stitches later he was as good as new.

“Alright.” Doc said as he snipped the excess thread away. “I recommend as little movement for Henry for the next three days as possible.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem Doc.” I said. Henry had fallen asleep on the operating table with half of a frozen hot dog sticking out of his mouth.

We went back to the barracks. I had rounded up an old musty cot to sleep on, while Nicole got into the bed with her mother. Henry had never woke back up as Tommy had carried him back up to our room. I waited until I was sure everyone was asleep and then I sobbed silently. There were just so much pent up emotions looking for an escape. A big chunk was relief, relief that my daughter was physically ok. Emotionally, that might take a while. Relief that Henry was ok. I was going to buy that dog a cow tomorrow. Out of us all he seemed the least affected. If I’m being honest, I think a big part of my tears were of frustration. I had walked into a trap. I had almost gotten my daughter and my best furry friend killed. That was a tough thing for me to reconcile. The cot swayed under the assault of my cries. I was being as quiet as was possible under the circumstances. It wasn’t enough.

From the shadows came my wife’s voice. “It wasn’t your fault Talbot.”

I wanted to answer her. It’s just that my throat was closed off.

“Get some sleep Marine, we’ve all lived to fight another day.”

She was right, of course she was right, she’s always right. Now if I could just heed her words I’d be all set. Three minutes later I stumbled into slumber.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - JOURNAL ENTRY 11 -

It was sometime way after noon when I finally dragged my ass out of bed. Any movement more involved than scratching my nose sent excruciating bolts of pain radiating at the speed of fire from my shoulder outwards. If not for the fact that my bladder was sending an ‘imminent release’ warning to my head, I would have stayed in bed even longer. I might have cried a little (definitely some heavy moaning) when I reached over and grabbed my pain meds, Doc had hooked me up at his house last night when he had seen how bad I looked. I dry swallowed two but was not going to be able to wait the twenty or so minutes before they kicked in. I briefly wondered how ticked off Tracy might be if I just went where I lay.

Yeah, that wasn’t going to work, for two or three good minutes I rolled around trying to find the least pain inducing method to get up. None were significantly better than any other. I went with the band-aid removal method. Bad, bad idea. Isn't it always? I sat straight up and fluidly stood as quickly as I could in a vain attempt at daring the pain to keep up. The pain had no problem doing that and nearly sent me to my knees. I fought to keep my vision from reducing to a pin point. I steadied myself on the steel headboard, thankful for the cool touch of it. When the spears of pain subsided to small knives, I shuffled my way to the bathroom. Two minutes later I stood in the bathroom, bladder completely pressure free and bathed in a fresh coat of sweat. This simple bodily function had nearly wiped me out and yet as my first day out of the hospital it was world’s better than pissing in a bedpan. Not much is more degrading than having someone remove your waste and then make comments about it as they do so. ‘Oh someone’s not drinking enough water’ or my personal favorite ‘You had corn last night?’

Either I had been in the bathroom longer than I had thought or the pills were working faster than expected. The dull pleasantness of the buzz did its best to help me forget that my shoulder was knitting itself back into place. I longed to go back to bed but the mere thought of getting back out prevented me from doing that. I figured I’d go in the living room and sit in a chair and maybe pretend to read as the Percocets really went about their business. Let’s not kid ourselves, I was soon going to be high enough to watch a candle melt and enjoy the hell out of it.

Tracy and Henry were nowhere to be found. My olfactory senses were thankful for the latter although that dog always managed to put a smile on my face even if it was hidden under my pulled up shirt, the better to hide my nose. The timing was impeccable. My ass had just made contact with the cushion when a knock came at the door.

“You had better be a pizza or a candle delivery service.” I yelled.

Tommy walked in thinking that was his invitation. “Hey Mr. T, how you feeling?”

“Hurting a bit buddy. What’s up?”

“Mrs. T thought I should hang out with you because I’m feeling a little purple.” He said with a long face.

Even on pain pills it was not difficult to realize his meaning. “Blue, Tommy? You’re feeling blue?”

“Isn’t that what I said?” He asked truly puzzled.

“Hell you might have. What’s the matter? Why are you under the weather?”

“We’re all under the weather Mr. T, of course, unless we’re in a plane really high.”

I laughed, and that hurt like shit. So I was somewhere in the midst of a ‘Ha – ha and ooh – ooh.’

Tommy looked ultra-concerned. “Don’t worry about it.” I said patting him on the leg. “Could you get us both some water and then come sit down?” The majority of my pain had eased as he sat down handing over a tall glass of Coke. I didn’t think we had any Coke but I wasn’t going to turn it down plus there was no piss Nazi to tell me I wasn’t drinking enough of the right kinds of fluids. “Thanks.” I said raising my glass.

Tommy stared diligently at a condensation droplet.

“Alright Tommy, out with it. I can’t stand anything but an extra wide on you.” (And by that I meant smile).

He looked up at me with tears in his eyes, my heart was breaking. “I miss my parents Mr. T.” He said looking back down at that droplet, trying his best to not cry. Screw it, I did. I mean not your full out bawling, but between the pain and the pain meds I was already raking the coals of my emotions.

My tears sent Tommy over the edge. He let go. I don’t know how long he had been holding onto his grief but if the pure pain that poured forth from him now was a hint then this was the first time. I got up and used my arm to hug him as tight as I could. His heaving body sent shock waves through my injury. That pain, however, was preferential to what he was doing to my soul. After a half hour or so and a small puddle on the floor later, Tommy had finally got to the bottom of his reserves. There was the occasional sob and I’m sure that he had a sinus headache that would rival any migraine. Images of Porkchop began to pop into my head. It took me many clouded moments later to put the puzzle pieces together.

“Tommy.” I said as I stepped back a pace.

The bleary teary-eyed face that stared back at me had absolutely nothing in common with the boy I had come to know and love.

“Yeah Mr. T?” He said using his sleeve to wipe his dripping nose.

“Why don’t you start calling me Dad?”

“What?” Tommy asked as he snorted.

“Let me run it by Mrs. T, Tommy but if you’ll have us I would love to adopt you.”

I don’t know how it happened but Tommy’s face fell even further. A heretofore unknown untapped reservoir of water sprang a leak. ‘Stupid Talbot, always know how to say the wrong thing at the right time.’ I was only beginning to berate myself when Tommy took a momentary respite.

“You would really do that? You would really become my dad?”

Holy shit, now it was my turn to spring a leak. At first I thought he was crying because I had been so presumptuous as to think I could possibly be a stand-in for his real father when all along he was crying because of his thankfulness. I should have known better, Tommy is a better person than I could ever hope to be.

Tracy came in at some point. “What’s going on?” She asked as she pulled the leash off of Henry.

“I want to adopt Tommy.” I told her amidst my blubberings.

“I was wondering when you were going to get around to that.” She said nonchalantly as she hung the leash up on a peg. “I was going to suggest it once you got better.” She added coming over to us.

Tommy beamed as he hugged us both. “I love you both, Mom and Dad.” Henry broke up the party as he began to lick the salty tears off of the floor.

One thing that’s nice about the end of the world, it really cuts through the old administrative red tape. The next day we were able to make the adoption official in the eyes of the tattered government and hopefully some other higher power. The Talbots, plus BT (maybe I should adopt him too) and the Bakers attended the small ceremony. Next came the Feast of the Cakes, as Tommy liked to call it. It was his party and therefore his request had been granted.

As the soiree was coming to a close I pulled him aside . “Hey Tommy.”

“Hey Mr. Dad.”

“Maybe we should just stick with Dad.” He smiled sheepishly. Chocolate cake and strawberry frosting lined his chin like a beard. “Listen Tommy, I just want you to know, I’ll never be your father.” His brow furrowed. “But I’ll always be your Dad.” His cheesecake lined smile was all the confirmation I needed that I had made the right decision. The hug he administered was just the cherry on the top.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - JOURNAL ENTRY 12 -

I was itching in a couple or three different ways. I had an itch to get back on the road and away from sanctuary, call me crazy. Maybe I was becoming an adrenaline junky, I needed the drama of action in my life. No, that was crap, the simple fact of knowing that my family was safer now than at any time since the zombies came, was comforting. I had massive itching going on around my shoulder, but this was a deep tissue itching. No matter how desperately I tried to rake through the top layers of my skin, I was not going to get that satisfying sweet spot. You know, that point when you finally get at a difficult location on your body and just scratch that itch into oblivion. Oh, it is such sweet, sweet delight.

That wasn’t to be my lot. I had flakes of epidermis piling up under my fingernails. It was actually kind of gross. Doc Baker had become so concerned he had even placed me back on my blessed pain meds. Hey, I’m not an addict, but I like a good high as much as the next guy. I had another itch too, well maybe more like a tickle, a psychic tickle. It was way back in my head but it was ominous and it kept telling me to get long gone. I would have heeded it too, no matter what my wife said, but every extra day I could give BT and myself to heal up improved all of our chances of survival. Besides my true life ‘shit’ forecaster (Tommy) didn’t seem in any rush to leave. Of course that might have more to do with the 24-hour chow hall and the truly unbelievably delicious apple turnover they made here, than with any inherent danger that may or may not be coming.

When I got up for the 47^th time and jammed my shoulder into the corner of the door using it like a large scratching post, Tracy had had enough.

“Get your jacket.” Tracy said.

“But it’s freezing out.” I replied lamely.

“Hence the jacket.” She retorted.

I was moments away from a not so manly whining. Tracy could sense it coming and was having none of it.

“Now, Talbot.”

“Fine.” I answered like a petulant 8-year old. Again not a finer moment for me, but even the Percocets were doing little to eradicate the discomfort of my healing shoulder, and Tracy will attest to the fact that I am a horrible ‘sick’ person.

“Where are we going?” I asked, resigned to the fact that we were going out no matter what.

“The beach.”

“The beach? You say that like this is Hawaii. It’s gotta be 10 degrees out there with a wind chill of something like 10 below.”

“Yeah, I know that.” She answered flatly.

“You hate the cold.” I was trying desperately to get out of this field trip.

“I hate you getting up a couple of hundred times every hour, more.”

“Forty-seven.”

“Forty-seven what?”

“I got up forty-seven times.”

She looked at me incredulously. “You counted?” She shook her head. “Forget it, you need this diversion as much as I do. Maybe you’ll be too cold to want to scratch.”

“Yeah, probably because my blood will congeal.”

“Ha ha, we’re still going. Get your jacket.”

I turned to grab my jacket off the peg, stopping only once to rub up against the hook.

“Talbot!”

“Fine! But if you weren’t my wife I’d tell you a thing or two.” My voice had been trailing off since the first word, so that I had ended on a mumble.

“What was that?” Tracy asked.

“Yes dear.”

“I thought that’s what you said.”

The short walk to the shoreline was actually invigorating. The cold air was refreshing. The monster irritation in my shoulder was tamed to a minor troll. I felt slightly naked not carrying my AR but base rules prohibited the carrying of rifles. Pistols were alright and actively encouraged. I carried both my Glock 9mm and my Smith and Wesson .357. Tracy was actually carrying a Walther 9mm. She made me so proud, had I not been on a military base with so many military personnel around I might have shed a tear of pride.

We walked completely ignored by the myriad of soldiers that passed us. We were just a couple of refugees in an ever-growing community. I wondered how long the resources on hand would be able to sustain this impromptu base, and then as quickly as the thought popped up it blew away. I planned on being long gone before that ever became an issue.

We reached the shoreline. A few miserable looking guards patrolled the beach looking for any wayward zombies. I didn’t see how that was going to happen though. The bay had frozen solid since the last time zombies had come ashore. There were a bunch of kids actually playing hockey a hundred or so yards off shore. The scene was serene, almost idyllic, Norman Rockwell-ish.

“Travis should be out there.” Tracy said pointing to the 20 or so kids skating around in the semblance of a game.

My nerves pulled tight. I don’t know why but the Hershey squirts would have been denied passage, my sphincter had slammed so tightly shut. I go over these things again and again, not even sure if I should keep flagging my ‘not so proud’ moments. Did I fear he would fall through the ice? That seemed unfounded, considering that there were at least ten or more hummers driving near the ice water freeze line. The ice had to be at least 18 inches to support that weight and the vehicles were at least another hundred or so yards past the kids.

“Why are they so far from shore?” I fairly begged of Tracy.

“Relax, Talbot. Travis told me that the ice was a lot smoother out there.”

“You knew?” I nearly yelled.

“What’s the matter with you?” She asked.

“I don’t fucking know!” I said as I started to speed walk nearly busting out into a sprint.

“Talbot don’t you go out there all willy-nilly, you’ll embarrass him.”

“Fine.” I said, doing everything in my power to keep my muscles from firing at full tilt.

We were half way to the kids when I felt a tremor.

“Did you feel that?” I said as I stopped and turned to Tracy who was hastening to catch up.

“Feel what?” Tracy said catching her breath as she pulled up alongside. “I thought I told you no running.”

“That.” I said as another minor quake erupted under our feet.

“That’s probably just the humvees.” Tracy said. I don’t think she even believed the words as she spoke them.

The roar as ice began to crack was unnerving. Brontosaurus leg bones snapping under sound amplification could not have competed with the blistering reverberation. Everything and everybody became as frozen as the landscape around us. That false harmony ended quickly and badly as first one and then another hummer sank into the fracturing ice. Kids, hyper aware of danger, were not slow to react. The majority of them had already closed half the distance to Tracy and I as the second hummer finished its icy descent into hell. Tracy started running out towards Travis. I got up to her and grabbed her arm.

“Forget him!” I yelled.

“Are you out of your mind?!” She screamed trying to tug her arm away.

“Shit I didn’t mean it like that, he’s on skates, he’s going to pass us by in a few seconds. Us on the other hand, need to start running back NOW!” I yelled as I pulled her towards shore. She didn’t need any more prodding as the ice behind us literally began to explode under an as yet undetermined assault.

“Mom? Dad?” Travis asked as he skated next to us. “What’s going on?”

“Go!” I yelled to him. “Get to shore and get your boots on as fast as possible, we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Mom?” He asked.

Tracy nodded, holding on to the terror that was building up within in her. Not wanting her son to see it.

Travis had made it to shore and was nearly done putting his boots on when we finally huffed and puffed our way to shore. Walking on ice is already a slippery proposition, pun intended. But when you’re running because your life depends on it, it becomes infuriatingly difficult to gain any sort of momentum.

We turned to watch as one more hummer became forever locked in a watery graveyard. One of the two occupants barely escaped only to succumb moments later when another fissure opened up in front of him. I wanted to help but there wasn’t anything to be done. The remaining hummers pulled onto shore. They must have felt what I did because each passenger manned the mounted .50 cal sub-machinegun. Tense glances were passed around as we all wondered what in the hell was going on.

“Dad.” Travis said grabbing my arm and pointing off into the distance.

I could barely make out a glint of reflective light. I walked up to the closest hummer.

“Could I see your glasses?” I asked a tense looking Lance Corporal seated behind the wheel. I hoped my use of combat vernacular would aid in my question.

“Sure, whatever.” He said never taking his eyes off of the water line. He pointed into the back storage compartment.

“Thanks.” I said as I grabbed the binoculars. “Sweet Jesus!” I said as I pulled the binoculars down from my eyes and handed them to Trav. “Sorry God.” I mumbled. It was something I did every time I took the Lord’s name in vain, Old Catholic habits die hard. “Time to go.” As I grabbed the binoculars back and threw them back into the hummer. “Lance Corporal.” He didn’t move.

“Yeah, yeah.” He said thinking I was going to thank him for the binoculars.

“Lance Corporal!” I yelled.

He finally spared me a glance.

“Close to the shoreline on your left, use the binoculars.”

He held the binoculars up. “Sweet Jesus.”

“Yeah I thought the same thing, you Catholic?”

“What? You need to get out of here. Lutheran by the way” he said, getting out of the hummer to warn his fellow Marines.

“Yup, thought the same thing about getting out of here. Wouldn’t have taken you for a Lutheran.”

“Mike, what the hell is that thing?” Tracy asked, squinting her eyes and shielding them from the majority of snow blindness to see.

“Not a hundred percent sure, mind you, but Terex 5500 comes to mind.” I said grabbing her arm and rushing her back towards our barracks.

“A what?” She said turning back to get a better view of a rapidly approaching monstrosity.

“Oh just one of the largest dump trucks ever created on the good old planet Earth.”

“A dump truck? Big deal.” Tracy said digging her heels in and stopping our forward momentum.

“”I really don’t think you’re getting it. That thing is probably 30 feet tall and 50 feet long and can haul 100’s of tons of dirt. But I’ve got a pretty bad feeling that thing’s payload doesn’t involve dirt, only things that should be buried in it.”

Tracy was a little slow on the uptake, but quick to realize the horror. “There’s zombies in that thing?” She asked.

“That would be my guess.”

“Who the hell is driving it? Not the zombies right?”

Now at this point did it really matter who was driving? I guess there would be a higher threshold of fear if zombies had learned how to drive. The only thing that could be potentially worse would be a drunk Asian woman on her cell phone. The most likely answer though to this equation involved an old friend, and I had a significant throbbing in my shoulder to prove it.

“Durgan.” I said. The name came out flat, but it was charged with emotion. He had a lot to atone for and I was feeling in a judicial mood.

Tracy nearly pulled me over as she grabbed my arm and started to run back to grab everything we could and get out while the getting was possible. I had my doubts we’d be in time. Those trucks could travel somewhere in the 40 mph range, granted not on ice. But that thing was still moving at a good clip. We were just getting to the front door of our quarters when I realized a significant problem.

“Hon, you go on up and get everything ready. I will be right back.”

“Mike what are you doing?” Tracy asked with concern.

“I have to get something.”

“Could you be a little more vague?”

“I could but I don’t have time. Trust me I’ll be back in about twenty minutes, just have everything we can carry ready to go.”

“Mike I hate when you do this shit.” Tracy said. I thought she might put up more of a fight but was super-thankful she didn’t.

I kissed her before she wheeled away and up to our temporary home.

I was headed to the base commissary, which is basically just a stripped down super market. I was halfway through my ten minute run there when the battle for Camp Custer began. I hadn’t heard this much munitions being expended since my days in Iraq. No scratch that, this was worse, in Iraq there was a controlled rate of fire. Acquire target, fire, reacquire, fire. This was frenetic, panicked, blind dispensing of lead hoping to seek a target. I know I was placing human emotions where they didn’t belong but I would swear there was almost an anguish to this blitzkrieg. Mankind was desperately trying to keep a toehold here in an increasingly difficult world. Someone or something was doing its best to terminate that germ of humanity before it could put down roots.

Helicopters whipped past me heading towards the front of the base, not the back. Shit, apparently there was more than just the attack at the beach.

The ground under my feet was rumbling like the world had just eaten the largest burrito ever produced and now a killer case of indigestion was setting in. M1A1 Abrams tanks rambled past me going close to 50 miles an hour. God save anyone that got in their way. Nope I take that back, FUCK whoever gets in their way.

“GO!” I screamed. “Get those bastards!” Patriotic pride swelled up in me. If I thought I could have jumped on one of those tanks without getting my arm ripped off I might have done it. A young gunner, couldn’t have been more than 19, spared me a glance, the fear in his eyes brought me back to center. ‘Relax Talbot get what you need and get to where you need to be.’ The distinctive sound of missiles being fired and exploding gave me hope. Not much on this planet can survive the hell fire that is an Apache attack helicopter, but then again this wasn’t a conventional enemy.

As I approached the store I could feel what hearing I had left begin to slide further down the scale. I’d never be able to hear those stupid tones again at my next hearing test. The gunfire had increased, how that was possible was beyond my scope. I immediately found what I was looking for and just as quickly regretted my decision. Whatever was happening outside was coming to a crescendo and I was still a good 15 minutes from where I needed to be. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid.’

Too late to question myself now. I grabbed what I needed and hoped that it was fully charged. Outside the store the Gods deigned to shine down on me. A lone hummer stood sentinel in the parking lot. I figured whoever owned it was busy elsewhere. I opened up the rear hatch and with a concerted effort and some help from an elderly man who was stocking up on Similac, no clue why, we placed my ill-gotten booty into my ill-gotten booty. I remembered the last time I had ‘borrowed’ a military vehicle. Damn near got me a prison sentence. I was pretty certain that wasn’t going to be the case this time.

I shut the hatch and turned back to the store; the earth was still rumbling like Godzilla was laying waste to the Japanese countryside. I had to know, I had to look back at Sodom and Gomorrah, it’s who I am. I walked to the far corner of the parking lot so that I could look past the store and get a decent view of the front of the base. It was singularly one of the worst decisions I had made thus far in my life that was rapidly losing precious moments of existence as I stood there. Godzilla and King Kong side by side would have been less frightening (not really, just using that for dramatic effect) but I was pretty petrified.

Not one, not two, but three Terex 5500’s had already crashed through what little fortification the base had offered. Sure one was completely ablaze but that wasn’t stopping its progress. Multiple rocket launchers fired from different locations on the trucks. This I could tell by the telltale smoke trail. ‘Humans? Why?’ Then the second wave of despair crashed into me. The putrefied, pustulant smell of the dead. I tracked my visage lower, thousands of zombies were rambling into the base. ‘Humans and zombies? Why?’ I asked again. Only one thing in the world could have pulled this off, Eliza, the bitch that had planted the tree that had the evil roots.

I stood a few moments longer watching as the two trucks that were seemingly still fully functional raised their dumps up to discharge their payloads. Hundreds, maybe thousands of zombies spilled onto the ground, many became damaged or even crushed from the not so fragile dismounting, but true to their kind, they didn’t seem to mind all that much. The trucks looked like they were taking huge shits, the sight and smell confirmed my thoughts. Time to get moving.

Escape from this base was impossible. Eliza had pulled it off. I could have and I should have ended this all months ago, if I had just let Justin take that original shot back when we first came across Eliza. I felt weak. I had let my humanity rule back then and now Eliza was going to make me pay for it, in spades, some diamonds and maybe even with a heart or two. I ran back to the hummer, the glow plugs seeming to take hours to ignite, giving me ample time to lament my decision for this detour. It wasn’t that the time lost would have spared me the coming fate. It’s just that I would have been able to have a few more moments of life with my family. The hummer started. I put it into drive and slammed my foot down on the accelerator. I rolled out of the parking lot at a whopping 10 mph.

My next stop was the base hospital. Thankfully it was back towards the barracks. If I had to go forward I wouldn’t have made it. I wasn’t being pessimistic, just realistic. I would have tried because I had to, but I wouldn’t have made it. I grabbed my precious cargo that I had liberated from the commissary and headed into the hospital.

Doctors, nurses and patients were running around trying for an orderly mass evacuation. Where the hell they were going to go was beyond me. I heard one voice above all others.

“Someone had better tell me what the fuck is going on!!” The voice boomed from Room 312.

“Oh what is it Lawrence?” I said as I ran into his room.

“Oh fucking Talbot, man, I am so glad to see you. And if you ever call me Lawrence again I’m going to rip your head off and shove it up a zombie’s ass. What’s going on? Forget that, get me out of this contraption.”

I got over to the side of his bed and began to undo the traction sling that had his leg suspended.

“Seriously though Talbot, what is going on?”

“Pretty much the end game BT. Eliza somehow got people to work with the zombies. They got these huge trucks and just stormed the gates. At least a couple of thousand of the rotten meat bags have breached the gates.” I helped BT into a sitting position.

“How much time do we have?” He asked.

“None.”

“Say again. Because it sounded like you said none.”

“There’s no way off this base bud.”

“Than what are you doing here?”

“Personal reasons BT, I was afraid that if the zombies got to you and turned you, the first person you’d come and try to eat would be me. And you already scare the shit out of me without being a monster too.”

“Fucken hilarious.”

“My wife tells me that too. Let’s go.”

“Mike I’m just going to slow you down. Go spend these last few minutes with your family.”

“See I knew you were going to say that. So I got you a present.” I ran out to the hallway and grabbed my ‘gift’ and drove it in.

“A scooter? You got me a scooter? Do I look like I should be collecting social security benefits?”

He was giving me shit the whole time, but he was still shuffling his ass over and onto his cherry red ride.

The scooter sagged under the assault of his weight. Such an inappropriate time, but I couldn’t help it, laughter started slowly in my gut and frothed out my mouth.

“What are you laughing at Talbot?”

It took me a bit before I could get it out. The effect of my words on BT made me break out into a fresh chortle. “You look like a Russian bear on a tricycle.” I told him. It wasn’t nearly as funny when he ran over my toes.

“Yeah not so hilarious now is it?” He said as he drove out into the hall.

“It sort of is.”

“This thing has reverse Talbot, don’t make me use it. Where we going?”

“Ambulance exit, hope my ride is still there.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN - JOURNAL ENTRY 13 -

Tracy was at the entrance to our building, her demeanor shifted from ‘worried sick’ to ‘where has your ass been' as I pulled up.

“Talbot, everything’s packed. We’re ready. Are we all going to fit in that thing?”

“Get the shit and get back upstairs.”

Tracy seemed to misinterpret my message. She looked relieved.

“They’ve been stopped?” She asked.

“Not so much, this is Camp Custer after all.”

“What’s going on Mike?”

“Trace get the boys, grab the stuff and head back upstairs, I’ll tell you when we get there.”

She was definitely not appreciating my curt manner.

“Hon, remember that huge truck?”

She nodded.

“There’s three more coming and they’re full of zombies, there’s zombies everywhere. There is no way to get off this base.”

I watched as the light of hope in her eyes flickered and then went out.

“So this is it then?” She asked looking straight into my eyes.

“Oh come on, you know me better than that.” I said. Not really a lie, I never said we’d get out.

BT pulled his bulk out of the hummer. Tracy was relieved to see him. She ran over to help support him, as much as a 110 pound woman can support a 300-pound man. But it was the thought that counts.

I could tell BT was really laying it on thick with Tracy. “Mike.” He said through gritted teeth and a false pained expression. “Could you get my ride?”

“That thing is heavier than hell, you get it out of the trunk.” I said.

“Mike!” Tracy shot back.

“Fine.” I answered.

As they headed into the building, BT turned over his shoulder and threw me a wink. He mouthed the words, ‘That’s for calling me Lawrence, asswipe.’

“Real nice, real nice. That’s the last time I risk Armageddon to come get your over sized ass.”

“Mike!” Tracy yelled from within the foyer.

“Fine! But if I get a hernia lifting this thing out, you’re the one that’s going to have to push my intestines back in.”

“Uh huh.” I heard from her as she headed upstairs, BT daintily leaning on her shoulder.

Gunfire had diminished significantly. I didn’t take that as a good sign. The earth was still trembling under my feet, which meant at least one and probably more of those behemoths were operational. I stowed BT’s new ride under the stairwell. I don’t know why. I honestly didn’t think that he’d ever get the opportunity to use it again.

Travis was looking out the window when I got up to the room.

“Would you shut the curtains, please?” I asked him.

He turned to me; this was the first time in weeks he looked more like the boy I knew than the man he was becoming.

“What now Dad?” He asked.

I was out of answers. I sure as shit wasn’t going to tell my youngest that we were waiting for death. I turned to Tommy who had somehow got a hold of Tonka truck that looked suspiciously like the rolling death machines outside. He was peering into the plastic windshield in an attempt to get a closer look at the figurine driving the truck.

“What’s going on Tommy?” I asked him. Something had fastened itself to his attention and I wanted to be there for the reveal.

“Ryan keeps telling me to look closely at the synthesizers.” Tommy answered, his tongue nestled securely between his upper and lower jaw. Henry had come over to sniff at the purple goo covered appendage.

I couldn’t have been any more confused if I had just tuned into an English Cricket match. Flat bat, bouncing pitches -- it’s madness!

“Did he mean ‘sympathizers’?” BT asked.

“Well that makes a shitload more sense.” I answered.

“Talbot.” Tracy said.

Damn cursing. “Tommy, what are you looking for?” If Ryan thought it was important enough to share with Tommy, than it was.

“I don’t know, it’s really fuzzy. It looks a lot like the old cable boxes TV picture when you would try and watch the scrambled adult channels.”

“Hey wait now, I was just a kid.”

Tommy looked at me funny.

“Okay so you weren’t talking about me personally then, I take it?”

“Talbot what is wrong with you?” Tracy asked?

“Come on BT, help me out every kid did that.”

BT looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we couldn’t afford cable when I was growing up.” He winked at me again over Tracy’s head.

I flipped him off.

Tracy thought I had done it to her and reciprocated the gesture.

“No wait, honey it wasn’t for you it was for that effen big jerk behind you.” BT winked again. “You’re lucky you’re that huge.”

Tommy spoke up, the room instantly quieted down. “Ryan keeps saying we have to go look at the humans. Like now.”

BT made as if he was going to get up.

“Not this time BT.” I said. He looked hurt. “BT, I can’t think of a better friend I would want to stay here and defend everything that is sacred to me.” Now he looked honestly touched, I couldn’t leave it like that. “And besides I think your cherry red scooter might draw us some unwanted attention.”

“I know where you live Talbot.” BT rumbled.

“What are you going to do Mike?” Tracy asked.

“Most likely the stupidest thing possible. Justin, grab your stuff.” Travis made to get his gear too. “I put my hand on his shoulder. “Not this time. I want as few of us out there as possible.” I thought he might be hurt from my decision and maybe he was and wasn’t showing it. But not having to go out into a deadly nightmare has its pluses. Justin’s health was vastly improved from when we had arrived on base, but he still harbored the virus within him. I was hoping that this would somehow benefit us while we looked for some answers to Ryan’s questions. Uncertainty mounted upon ambiguity, sounded like a crappy foundation from which to launch an escape.

I hesitated in the stairwell. Sure, part of it was because who willingly wants to go into battle. What really had me stopped in my tracks was how were we going to blend in, and a lot of that had to do with how the battle outside was going. If we ran out there in civvies (civilian clothing), it was damn sure guaranteed the army and Marines weren’t going to ask whether we were refugees or invaders before they shot at us. If we went and changed into camos and the attackers were winning we pretty much were going to suffer the same fate. Dead is dead, doesn’t really matter how you get there.

“I think we need to cover both bases.” I said to Justin. Not being privy to my inner dialog he was now thoroughly confused.

I ran back into the apartment; not much had changed in the 15 seconds I had been gone. “Trav, get away from the window.” The fighting had not yet reached this far into the base but it was only a matter of time and an eighth of an inch thick pane of glass would do little to stop a bullet.

“What are you doing Mike?” Tracy asked looking up from the couch. Stress was etched into her features. The small reprieve from a world gone mad had done us all some good, but that plush rug had been violently pulled from beneath us and we were going to have some serious difficulty righting our collective equilibriums.

“Blending in.” I told her.

There were many reasons why our marriage had survived and she continually never ceased to amaze me. Her insight into my mind could at times be frightening, but not this time.

“You know, Mike, that we don’t all reside in that head of yours right? We are not figments of your imagination. Unless you tell us what is going on we don’t just know.”

I’ve referenced it before but I’ll give you some more clarification. The male mind is truly only designed for the task at hand. If we were an operating system and you were to take a look at the resources being used for the job we were working on (whether it was sex or watching a football game or just eating a sandwich) we would be pinned at around 98%, the other 2% would be available for possibly looking for dangers that threaten like a rabid polar bear crashing through your front door during the third quarter. We would have just enough system resources left to recognize that and then shift over into survival mode.)

And being prior military that 98% might actually get ratcheted up to 99ish percent, when there is a military operation running through my grape, I am constantly thinking through contingency plans and odds of success and failure. Banalities and frivolities are things of a peaceful civilized society, they have no place in conflict.

So when I answered Tracy with “Huh?” it really shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone.

Seeing the stonewalled face I portrayed, she turned to Justin.

He shrugged his shoulders. “He didn’t tell me anything either.” Justin told his mother.

I ran into my bedroom and into the closet rooted around for a few seconds and was rewarded for my trouble. I came out and threw a pile at Justin. “Put these on.”

He started to take his jacket off. “No, put the cammies on over your other clothes. I think we’re going to need to have both teams' uniforms on for this.”

Tracy placed her face in her hands. Nicole emerged from the bathroom, morning, afternoon and evening sickness had settled in for the long haul with her. The road was no place for anybody, much less someone in her condition.

“Hi Dad.” She said, her pale green color nearly matching the décor of the room.

“What’s the matter ‘Oley, I don’t smell any buns?” Tommy said with a sorrowful look on his face. The room turned to look at him. “Are they hot cross buns?” Tommy asked. “Cinnamon buns? Because that would be awesome, but that doesn’t make sense because those would be rolls. Corn muffins?” Tommy asked expectantly.

All this talk of food was not having an agreeable turn with Nicole’s fragile stomach so she launched herself back into the bathroom, the door barely closing as the first of the retches racked through her.

“What’d I say?” Tommy asked nervously.

“Tommy what are you talking about?” Travis asked him.

“Ryan says Nicole has a bun in the oven. Is it a big bun? I mean because how is everyone going to be able to eat it, are we only going to get one bite to eat each, because I really like hot buns. Do we have butter? I don’t really like margarine, I could put some peanut butter on my bite though, that would be pretty good.”

I was tense because there was still some serious danger in my immediate future but Tommy’s words always had a way to warm my heart. I could tell that BT was near to out loud laughing. The embarrassment he would cause Tommy was the only thing keeping that in check.

“I’ll tell him what’s going on Mike.” Tracy said with a soft almost ghost of a smile. “Just hurry up and get back here, both of you.” I gave her a small kiss. She gripped my hand before I could turn to leave. “I’m not kidding Mike, get your’s and Justin’s asses back here soon.”

I nodded. I was not going to verbally promise something that I wasn’t sure we could deliver on.

“Not even a false promise Mike?” Tracy asked.

“Get your shit Justin, let’s go.” I didn’t turn back to face her, I might not have left. Inaction can be as deadly as a poorly executed action.

CHAPTER TWENTY - JOURNAL ENTRY 14 -

Outside of the barracks it was eerily quiet, like we were in the eye of a hurricane. The housing area was located nearly dead center in the camp. Fierce fighting was still raging to the front of camp and sporadic fighting was coming from the rear but for the time being nothing was blessedly happening here. Some people milled about, lost in confusion, indecision; some just plain scared out of their minds.

“Sir, sir.” An older balding man came huffing and puffing up to me. When he got closer I realized he might actually be younger than me, he had just led a soft life and his unconditioned body showed it. How had he made it this long? “Sir, what is going on, what should we do?”

Up close, how the hell he figured me for military I don’t know. First off I had a very unstandard goatee and my cammies which weren’t meant to be worn over my civvies, couldn’t have been any more ill fitting if I had tried. My drill instructor would have beat me into the dirt if I had ever showed up to revelry looking like this. That got me smiling. I think it might have looked more like a sneer though the way the roly-poly man backed up a step.

That didn’t stop him completely from marshaling himself. He grabbed my cuff as I began to walk off. “Sir, what should we do?” He said pointing back to the small throng of people looking nervously around.

“Fine, you want to know what I think you should do?” I said addressing the crowd. I got some nods and a general consensus of ‘Yes’s’ “This is for ALL of you. I don’t care if you’re Catholic, Protestant, Lutheran, or into Buddhism, Hinduism, a Jehovah’s Witness or better yet an atheist or agnostic. First thing you should do is pray, because even if you don’t believe in a God or a higher power, what do you have to lose? If I’m wrong and there is no God you only lost a few seconds comforting yourselves and each other, but if I’m right?” I left that one unanswered. It was self-explanatory.

“The second thing all of you should do is get indoors and arm yourselves.” Roly looked like he might protest. “There are no pacifists or atheists in a fox hole. We are all about to be in a fight for our very lives, do you want to meet your maker knowing you went down meekly or you did everything in your power to eradicate all evil on this planet?” Most took the majority of my words to heart and would at least go down swinging after their one sided correspondence with a higher entity. Others, like Roly, still wandered around aimlessly looking for someone or something to get them out of this jam. They would be among the first to be ground to dust under the wheels of the war machine.

“Justin you stay behind me, anything happens, you head back. Got it?”

“Sure something happens to you, I go back alone and tell mom I left you behind. Got it.”

“That’s not what I meant smart ass.”

“I’ve got your genes.”

“Lucky you.” I said, not as a compliment.

After a moment’s thought, I headed towards the rear of the base and Lake Michigan. More enemy humans to scope out towards the front but that also meant more fighting. More fighting meant more bullets and more explosions, more of an opportunity to get killed. I had checked my itinerary earlier in the day. Nowhere on it did it say anything about dying. We hadn’t gone more than a block when we began to run into wounded soldiers who were being medevacked out of the hot areas. The shell shocked look of defeat shone through their eyes. Hastily made bandages were soaked through with blood. More than one unlucky soul screamed for their mother, most gripping what remained of a slightly tethered leg or arm. One poor bastard's entire lower half had been compressed to a third of its former size, how he was still alive was proof to me that God had turned a blind eye towards his children. His glassy shock-tainted stare was having an unnerving effect on Justin. To be fair, Justin’s illness had kept him largely out of all the battles we had thus far been in. Unfortunately for him, he’d be able to get some much needed experience today.

Justin was having a difficult time compartmentalizing the sights all around him. He kept stumbling into me, so intent was he on looking around at the human carnage and subsequent debris. I’d seen it before, happens all the time in combat. Some guys, no matter how much training they’ve received, can’t cope with the sensory overload. We used to call them ‘freezers’, more times than not these ‘freezers’ would get their buddies killed because the friend would go out to save them and usually take the bullet.

“Justin, you have got to stop walking up my heels.”

“Sorry Dad, I’ve just never seen so much…”

“Death."

"I was gonna say blood, but whatever."

"I know, but you’ve got to move on. We’ve got to concentrate on what we need to do. These men and women were brave. They died for us and have given us this chance to save ourselves. The best way we can remember and honor them is to succeed.”

My words seemed to have the desired effect. Justin stopped ramming into my back and his gazed stayed to the front. More likely his stomach was right now rivaling his sister’s and he didn’t need any more fodder for his stomach canon. The barrage of injured began to slough off to a trickle and then to nothing. As good as that was visually, it was that bad in terms of the direction the battle had taken. No more casualties being taken off the field of battle meant that there weren’t enough healthy soldiers to do the task. That fact was punctuated when at the very next block we began to encounter soldiers in full on retreat. As if they were dragging it behind them, came the pustulous smell of the dead. Justin volleyed forth a greenish-yellow bile that seemed nearly incandescent in its hue.

“Feeling better?” I asked him without turning around.

“Worlds.”

“That sarcasm?” I asked.

“What do you think?”

“You really are going to need to get away from me when you get your first chance. A few years more with me, you’ll be my clone,” I said swatting his shoulder, his hunched over form getting a closer look at his refuse from the impact.

He stood straight up, eyes wide with fear. “She’s here.” He whispered.

“Like here, here?” I asked pointing to our general vicinity. “Or here in the camp?” I asked. I wanted to push him away from what was looking like a good place to dispose of any undigested food and maybe some twice churned stomach soup, I might possess.

“Close but not here.”

The worst passed, it was looking more and more like I might get to finish the processing of the omelet I had eaten earlier in the day.

"Can she tell that you're here?" I asked concerned. She could have us rounded up and served on a platter in under twenty minutes if she could locate us.

Justin was concentrating hard, a thick vein stood out on his forehead. Was he fighting for control of his mind, or was he trying to break through Doc's vaccine and back into the cold embrace of his dark mistress? Both were disturbing thoughts and I was getting nervous just standing here. If an errant patrol were to come around the corner of the building and they were of the ilk to shoot first and kick our bodies second, well that would just be shitty.

"Justin we gotta go." I said shaking his shoulder, I could hear movement and it was getting closer. It wasn't the haphazard flight of the retreating either. This was the stealthy approach of the nearly victorious. Justin was coming back from whatever depths he had ventured but as a snail's pace. If he hadn't been joined to my side for the last 20 minutes I would have sworn he had just got stoned, and then I'd really be pissed because he hadn't shared. No matter how much I wanted it to be, we were not on a movie set as extras for some Alfred Hitchcock horror flick. This was proved to me when I looked up and down the side of the building and there was no super convenient place to hide. If this was a movie we could just press flat against the building and miraculously the enemy would fail to turn in our direction. Yup, good chance that wasn't going to work.

I half-dragged Justin away from our tentative last resting spot, the cries of screaming men and women masking our move. We hid behind a deuce (that's a two ton truck to all you non-military folk, although if you're still alive you must have had some sort of training and would have known that.) I started taking Justin's camo pants off, that seemed to bring him all the way to his wits.

"Dad? Wait, where are we? What the hell are you doing?"

"Good to see your back. Now get your cammies off, we're playing for the other team now."

"What?" He asked still dazed.

"The camp's overrun, I want to look more like the enemy right now. You know, the whole hiding in plain sight."

"Dad that's not really going to work so much." Justin said flatly.

"Sure it is, it's a great plan, thought it out all by myself."

"Maybe that's the problem."

I stopped in mid-motion taking my blouse off (that's a camouflage top to all you non-military types, must I keep explaining myself?) and looked him square in the eye. "It's good to have Justin back." His wit and sarcasm had been severely lacking during Eliza's hostile takeover bid.

"It's good to be mostly back." He said, stressing 'mostly.' "Look through the windows, Dad."

We were on the driver's side of the truck. I looked through and past the passenger window; the two thick panes of glass did very little to hide the nightmare that stumbled our way. "Oh fuck." I said without much emotion. What is the best way to meet your end? Angry defiance? Resignation? 'Oh fuck' seemed an appropriate blend of the two. "You ready to run?"

"Too late, speeders have already passed us."

"Well aren't you just full of good news. Wish I had a grenade, I really saw myself going out in a big movie ending explosion."

"Dad, get behind me!" Justin whispered urgently. I checked my safety off. Zombies were within feet of us. Justin pushed the barrel of my gun down. "Dad, please get behind me." He beseeched.

"Justin, this isn't how I want to go out, it's the whole machismo thing. You know the guns a'blazing and all that." It's funny the words that were coming out of my mouth had nothing to do with how I really felt. I pretty much wanted to piss myself. Who the hell would know the difference? The zombies wouldn't give a shit if I self basted.

Justin pulled me behind him and pressed the both of us uncomfortably hard up against the body of the truck.

"What the hell are you doing? Even if I piss myself I'll be damned if I watch you die first."

"What?"

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Just shut up." Justin whispered. A few speeders had come around the back of the truck. I wriggled to break free of Justin's pinning. "Stop, this might work." He said out the corner of his mouth.

"Might?" I hate 'might'.

Two speeders ran right up to us, every fiber of my being fought for action a war raged in my skull, run! Fight! Puke! Sex! (oops, my bad, errant thought).

The nearest zombie sniffed around Justin, its eyes opaque and its mouth hanging open, small maggots wriggling in the meat-infested mouth. This one looked like he liked to gnaw on bones, its teeth were all jagged and in some serious need of dental care. The smell that emanated from his mouth was death incarnate. I can't even begin to describe that odor. If you found my first journal, I talked about carrying fresh Henry shit in a plastic bag around your nose, that would now be what you used to try and diffuse halitosis Hal's breath.

Justin flinched as the zombie licked up the side of his face. What would I do once that lick turned to a bite? Justin's screams would cripple me. The zombie kept licking though, up the side of his face and over to his left ear, where I was now eye to eye with this thing. It paused hesitantly, still licking Justin, but now its nose went into hyper action. He was sniffing around like Henry would be when I'm hiding a peanut butter treat in my fist. Henry knows it's there because he can smell it, he just can't see it. Then it dawned on me what was going on, Justin was somehow hiding us 'in plain sight'! See, this still could be a movie set! I'm holding onto that.

The confusion was evident, the zombie wanted to do what zombies do, 'eat' but Eliza held sway and by default Justin was able to bend a piece of that to his will. Rivulets of sweat were pouring down Justin's face. The exertion he was spending was burning through him like a wildfire. Halitosis Hal greedily licked up the fluids like it was the fountain of youth. Justin was burning like a furnace. I was soaked through and through and 'no' it wasn't because I had let my bladder get the better of me.

Distant screams off to our right perked Hal's interest. He took one long soul searching look into my eyes and ran to his dinner bell. Like that, the spell was over. The other zombies completely lost interest in us, as if Hal was their leader and if he didn't think we were worth eating than neither did they. Justin collapsed, the only reason I was able to keep him from hitting the deck was that I was almost meshed completely with him.

"Holy shit Justin, what just happened?" I asked him as I gently helped him to the ground. Zombies streamed past us, paying us no more attention than if we were a plate of brussel sprouts at a chocolate bar.

"I…I'm not a hundred percent sure, I sort of told the zombie that we worked for Eliza."

"Not that I'm complaining but why didn't Hal…"

"Hal?"

"That zombie, why didn't he eat me?" Ideas were popping up in my head.

"I was screaming in my head to him that you didn’t exist."

"He bought that?"

"Well he is a zombie, Dad, I don’t think he could even get a job at the post office."

"Again back to the whole this is awesome 'but' part."

"Why aren’t we still under attack?" Justin asked.

"Sure, I mean maybe we weren't on Hal's fine dining experience."

"Hal?" Justin shook his head.

"Forget him." It was surreal to be having this conversation, actually any conversation, as hundreds, maybe thousands of zombies ambled on past us.

"Dad, best I can tell you is that they have an almost herd mentality. Where the leader goes the rest follow."

Idea number one popped in my head. "Can you do this thing." I asked pointing to his head. "Again, and get the whole family out?"

"I don’t think so." He said dejectedly. "If that zombie had stayed a few seconds longer I wouldn't have been able to hold him off."

I shivered knowing I had been that close to having my eyeball eaten out, or possibly my nose removed in a teeth-filled vise.

"I'd never be able to hide you all." A small tear of frustration coursed down his face.

"Justin, you just saved our ass, you did great. Can you get up?"

"You there! What are you two doing?" An authoritative voice shouted.

I had been so intent on using Justin's newfound powers I failed to realize that the zombies had gone on by. (Please don’t ask for a clearer explanation than that. I know it's difficult to believe that I could somehow miss the small fact that dead people who loved to feast on the living who were within biting distance had gone by without my noticing.) My first priority was to the collective safety of the Talbots and Company, all else was secondary. Still survival relies heavily on quick thinking.

"He's been shot!" I shouted.

"Leave him." The voice shouted, sounding impatient that someone had had the audacity to get wounded.

"He's my brother, I can't just leave him." I shouted back.

"Dad, what are you doing?" Justin whispered.

"Fake that you're wounded. I'll tell you what I'm doing after it's over."

"Ow, ooh, ah this hurts so much!" Justin moaned.

"Tone it down a bit, not looking for an Emmy." I slowly reached my right hand down to my ankle.

"Fine!" The insurgent said, clearly getting closer. I didn't look up to watch his approach. I was fearful that he would suspect my ruse and shoot us both where we were, me down on my haunches and Justin half sitting up and in my arms. Out of the corner of my eye I could see our discarded cammies, could he? The sun was blocked as the man came in to get a closer look. "Where's he shot? I don’t see any blood."

"Funny thing." I said as I launched up from my kneeling position. My K-Bar slid effortlessly into his Adam's apple. The angle of the blade pierced his jugular and went up and through his tongue. There was some small resistance as it burst through his upper palate and then into his brain. A look of shock and betrayal was lined on the man's features as I helped him down much as I had Justin only moments earlier. The man had expired long before I was able to pull my blade out. A strong suction was followed by an audible pop. Only Justin's retching disturbed the quiet morning.

"You going to be alright?" I asked Justin, looking around to see if anyone had witnessed this event. I wiped my blade on the man's jacket. A glint off his chest brought my attention to center, a tickle in my head fused into thought. A tiny vial no bigger than a push tack was attached to a thin chain that hung from the man's neck. A pin-prick amount of red fluid swam lazily within. "What do you think that is?" I asked Justin. He still appeared to be varying between a yellow and greenish hue.

"Please tell me you're not into trophies, Dad?"

Justin couldn't bring himself to look at the dead man. Killing the dead is one thing. We're just finishing what nature had intended all along. Killing a living breathing man, that was an unnatural act. It violated all that should be sacred. I wouldn't lose much sleep, if any, over this piece of shit. He had chosen his fate the moment he hooked up with Eliza. Who in their right mind aligns with the living dead and the undead and doesn't expect a bad ending? That's just piss poor planning on his part if you ask me.

I ripped the chain off the guy and held it in front of Justin's eyes. Probably should have wiped some of the guy's blood off first though. The quickly thickening blood hung in long dangles before releasing from the chain links and striking softly into the not so pristine snow. Justin was rapidly going for a complete disgorging.

"Blood." Justin said breathlessly as he heaved what little remained inside of him.

I looked to his puddle of vomit, alarmed. Blood is never a good thing to discard. I was relieved when I didn’t see any. I looked at him questioningly.

"Blood, it looks like blood." He said pointing weakly to the vial in my hand.

"I think you’re right." I said looking more closely at it.

"Why?" He asked.

"I think we need six more."

Justin lurched a little with the thought of killing six more 'live' men. "Why?" He asked even more weakly.

"I think I'm holding zombie repellant here."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - JOURNAL ENTRY 15 -

I removed the charm from the chain and placed it in my pocket. "You up for this?" I asked Justin.

He gave a thumbs-up and a greasy smile. It wasn't the 'Ooh Rah' war cry of the Marines but it was going to have to do.

"Dad, you sure that thing is going to work?" Justin asked alluding to my new favorite piece of jewelry. Mind you it's not that I have other jewelry that I'm fond of, it's just that this piece could potentially save my family's collective asses. "I don't think I've got enough energy left to mask you again."

Now he had me thinking. What if this thing was useless, no more than a trinket fished out of a gumball machine. Death by rended flesh was not my ideal way to go. I was really looking for a massive coronary during mind blowing sex as my opt out. "Maybe you're right. Let's do a test. Let's make this quick though, time is definitely getting short."

Some of the slower ambling zombies were no more than 100 feet ahead of us. I was figuring better to let one of the deaders realize I was food than a pack of speeders. We approached some of the zombies who looked like they had gone through in an industrial washing machine full of glass. They were torn to shreds, shards of skin hanging askew. Occasionally birds would swoop down and feast on the proffered meat. To say it was disgusting would be like saying Henry's farts smelled like sweet ambrosia. I was willfully getting as close to them as I could; the repulsion I felt nearly rivaled the fear. My blood was blistering through my veins. The flight mechanism in me was in hyper drive. I could just turn around and…do what? The zombies were heading in the direction I needed to be in. Whether I blended in or fought my way through I had to get to where they were going before they got there, and I had to do it fast. The speeders up front were still meeting some resistance but it wasn't the resistance of a dug in enemy, it was the sporadic firing of an opponent during controlled retreat. The Marines were giving up territory in an attempt to save lives.

My concern for my family spurred me on. Justin fought to keep up, his reserves nearly depleted from his magic act. I was within 15 feet of the first zombie when he turned to look at me. One eye had completely rolled back up and into its head, his nose had been stripped clean of all edible pieces as had half his lip. The exposed brown teeth were forever frozen in a sinister looking stare.

"Shithead, should have used a whitening agent in your toothpaste." It was my way of dealing with the horror within. "I bet you've got the breath to match that smile."

The zombie had stopped its forward momentum to get a better look at us with its one good eye. His tongue flapped independent of any conscious thought. A seagull took that opportune time to swoop in and latch onto the lolling appendage. I nearly vomited when the bird used every ounce of its wing strength to rip the tongue from the zombie’s mouth. The zombie paid it no attention whatsoever as his tongue first stretched to unimaginable lengths and then like an over taut rubber band just snapped free. Viscous black liquid oozed forth from the wound. The zombie smacked its lips around the new au jus.

"Oh Dad, what the fuck?" Justin cried.

My sentiments exactly, but if I had voiced my thoughts it would not have been the only thing to spew forth and with the human enemy behind us I could not give them any reason to suspect that we weren't part of their group.

"What do we do if he tries to eat you?" Justin asked realizing we couldn't kill it without exposing ourselves to some serious issues, flying lead being among them.

"Well he's a deader and he looks like he's been through the ringer. We should be able to outpace him without drawing too much attention." I was however intentionally leaving out the thousand or so zombies to our forefront.

The zombie wavered a few more seconds as we got closer, like he was deciding if we were tasty enough to eat.

"Come on, come on." I said softly. "Make up your mind, it's not like you're doing trigonometry." Then I laughed.

"Dad, is this really a laugh worthy moment?"

"It is if you're wondering can a zombie do trig, when even I can't."

"Real hilarious Dad."

"You had to be there."

The zombie made one whistle snort sound through his completely open sinus passage and turned. I would swear that he looked a little bummed that we weren't on the menu but it's difficult to tell these things on a person who has had most of their facial tissues destroyed.

"I think this vial is our golden ticket out of here, Justin." I said excitedly.

"How are you planning on getting more?" Justin asked. We knew how I had to get it. The question was HOW was I going to get it.

I started to slow up a bit, letting the zombies get ahead and the human attackers from the rear catch up. The first opportunity presented itself almost immediately and it almost ended up being our last. I was thankful that the usurpers did not appear to have prior military training. They were basically broken up into independent units. There were no fire teams or squads, just loose bands of traitors, traitors to all of mankind. The zombies were mortal enemies, of that there was no doubt, but they did not choose their fate. These humans were tantamount to a tic latched onto a parasite. They were living off of a scourge. I would be glad to rid the world of as many of them as I could.

Nobody even looked at us twice as we meshed back into a group of them. Apparently leeches don't communicate. A couple of guys that bore a family resemblance and a third headed off to check out one of the base houses.

"Hey, do you mind if we come?" I asked the person that I assumed to be the leader of the trio.

The guy spit out a wad of tobacco, turned to look at us both. "You don't get all weak in the knees with killing do you?"

I shook my head in the negative.

"What if its women or kids?"

I shook my head again and even added in a lip scrunching to get my point across.

"What about him? He already looks a little queasy." The guy asked pointing to Justin.

"Naw, he's fine." I said. "He just had a bad can of Spam for breakfast." I proxied.

"I hate that shit. Either of you get in my way, I'll kill you." And with that he turned back around and headed towards the house.

The third man of the trio brazenly walked up to the front door and kicked it in. I more than half expected a shotgun blast to send him reeling back down the steps. I was more concerned the vial around his neck would get broken than the douchebag’s neck getting busted. When nothing happened we all walked in. The first man walked straight down the hallway like he had just come home from work. The leader quickly followed but got halfway down the hallway and took a left into the kitchen. His brother would have followed except for the seven-inch blade I stuck in his rib cage and through his lungs. You could barely hear the small 'thud' as he slipped out of my arms on the way to the floor or you might have never known about his passing.

"Bollie! Get in here man, they have your favorite." The leader shouted from around the corner.

I never did learn what his favorite was.

"What the fuck man!?" The first guy through the door had made a circuitous route and was now coming in from the living room. Tough not to figure out what was going on considering I was standing over the dead body of his friend with a bloody knife in my hand.

"Earl!" He yelled. "Get in here, these fuckers killed Bollie."

Justin's MP4 jumped in his hands as he fired a burst at close range into the man. The first round caught him square in the chest. Subsequent rounds neatly climbed up his body as the gun recoiled. The second bullet ripped out his carotid artery and the third would have made any Mohawk Indian proud as the top of the man's skull plate was neatly sheared off. Zombie pate.

And yes that did go through my mind. My errant thought nearly got me killed as Earl had come around the corner, his AK-47 ripping through the siding next to me. I pushed Justin into the living room. We toppled over his fresh kill. We would never be in a position to defend ourselves in time. Divine intervention, sheer luck, fate, I don't know. I don't have the answers. Bigger things than my mere life were going on. I sometimes felt like we were on a cosmic chessboard and far superior beings than myself were playing a game for our survival. Who knows, maybe it was nothing more than 'Trading Places' and the whole screwed up thing was based on a wager of a Narflack, which basically translates to one American dollar. The distinctive chatter of the 7.62 lead shedding dispenser was cut off by a much smaller almost fire cracker sounding weapon.

"That a .22?" Justin asked me. We both scrambled as far away from the doorway as possible. A loud thud, presumably Earl, hit the floor. We were safe for the moment.

"You in there." A voice trying to be bigger and bolder than it really was, rang out. "Your friend is dead and you're next if I don't see your guns and then your hands."

"Jesse?" I asked.

"Who is it?" His voice cracked and he immediately attempted to recover thinking this might be a ruse. In a much deeper tone he said, "You should get out of my house before I do to you what I did to your friend."

"You keep saying that but I can assure you that he was far from my friend. Jesse, its Mike Talbot and Justin."

He wasn't prepared to give in quite so quickly. "Why are you with these guys?"

"Jesse we weren't. We took out two of them before you got the third. Is your dad around, I might have found a way to get off this base?"

"No it's just me, Blake, Porkchop and Rachael."

"What are you doing Jesse, what did you tell him that for?" Blake admonished his older brother.

"Jess, it's me Justin." All the boys had become fast friends during my days of rehabilitation. If anyone could break through this détente my money was on Justin. "I'm gonna slide my gun out and then come through, don't shoot me," he threw in for good measure.

The relief on Jesse's face as we all made our impromptu reunion was evident. His dad and mom were getting some supplies when the invasion had happened. Jesse was assigned with babysitting duties. He was under the distinct impression that it wasn't going to involve gun play though.

"You did good." I told him as he did his best to avoid looking at the man he had shot. Blood was beginning to pool in the foyer.

"Eww, gross." Rachael said as she stepped into the hallway.

"Cool." Porkchop said. "Hey Mr. Talbot, Justin, did Dad send you guys?"

"Someone did, Porkchop, but I don’t know who." I told him cryptically.

He understood about as much of that sentence as was possible, so basically none.