The End Has Come and Gone

“Are my front teeth missing or something?” Meredith shot back.

“Okay, point taken. Listen, I want you to drop down to around 70 or so. When you do that, Tracy is going to start to pull away and I guarantee you that one of those cop cars is going to try and get her.” “Uh-huh,” Meredith said slowly, taking in the information.

“You’re not going to let them though.”

Meredith stole a glance over towards BT as if to see if he was bullshitting her, “Um, how am I supposed to do that?!” she fairly cried.

“Well, see, if you watched car racing you’d know,” BT said with a smile he didn’t feel.

“Um, excuse me, you don’t look much like a Nascar follower yourself.” “You’re right, more of an Australian rules football fan myself. Brisbane Lions are my team.” “You’re kidding me right?” Meredith shot him an incredulous look.

“Never about the Lions.”

“Fine, what do I need to do?”

“Just stay in front. When they swerve to get over, you swerve to block them .” BT knew it was an exercise in futility, but it would buy Tracy and Ron a few very precious minutes. Eventually the two trailing cars would see the ruse and instead of following in a line they would come up side by side. No matter how much Meredith swerved, she would not be able to block both at the same time.

“I’m scared, BT,” Meredith said as she took a deep breath.

“I don’t know if it’s appropriate right now, but somehow your crazy Uncle Mike convinced me that this was sound logic and I fell for it. We were surrounded by zombies, no hope of rescue, and low on bullets. He looks over at me, his face serious as a heart attack and he shrugs his shoulders and goes, ‘What the hell BT, you only die once.’” Meredith mulled it over for a few seconds and then looked over at BT and started laughing.

“That’s exactly what I did! Ease up now,” BT cautioned, placing his hand on her arm.

Tracy began to rocket down the roadway. In a few more minutes she’d be a fading memory.

It didn’t take Officer Gibson long to see the ploy for what it was. He grabbed his police radio. “Job, get up here and get that other car before it gets good and gone. This one is mine,” Aaron said as he tapped the bumper of the slowing truck.

“He hit us!” Meredith yelled.

BT was thinking they’d be lucky if that was all he did. BT didn’t hesitate as he blew out the back window with rifle shots.

Officer Gibson swerved to the left as a bullet came dangerously close to his ear. “He shot at me!” he yelled to Wes as if that was beyond the realm of any conceivable possibility. “Wes?” Aaron looked over to Wes and saw a gaping wound in his chest pulsing blood. Wes looked over towards Aaron, the hiss of air as it escaped his punctured lung louder than the air that came in through the damaged windshield.

“I think I’m hit, Boss,” Wes said without any volume to the words.

Aaron was amazed Wes could even speak; his body was hissing like a blown out tire. “Wes, I know we went to the Academy together but I’ve never really liked you.” Wes looked more hurt from the words than the wound. His breath started to hitch as he struggled to get elusive air into his system. Blood and carbon monoxide were becoming his biggest enemies, but none of them could compete with Officer Gibson.

Aaron removed his pistol from his holster and drilled Wes straight through his outstretched hand and into his forehead. He was dead before what was left of his head collided with the passenger side window. “Now I’m going to have to clean that!” Aaron shouted as the gore from Wes’ head streaked down the window and the upholstery.

BT watched the entire exchange, hoping that the wounding of the cop’s partner would take him out of the game. When it didn’t he turned to Meredith, “You should probably speed up now.” “Make up your mind!” Meredith screamed, partly because of the voluminous amounts of air that were cascading in from the rear but mostly because she was scared shitless.

“Definitely faster,” BT said as he started to reload his magazine, fingers fumbling nervously with the shells. ‘If the cracker was crazy enough to shoot his own friend that doesn’t leave much room for doubt with what he’d do to us,’ BT thought.

Aaron stopped long enough to push Wes from the car.

“Jesus, Aaron. What the hell happened?” Job asked as he pulled his car next to the other cruiser.

“Did I tell you to stop?” Aaron screamed.

Job rolled up his window and floored it.

“Dude, I watched him shoot Wes,” Kyle said, looking nervously back as Aaron got back into his cruiser. “That man is crazy, we need to get out of here.” Job looked at his rear view mirror. Aaron was gaining rapidly even though Job himself was doing 95. “I think you’re right, he’s been acting crazier than an evangelist on acid.” Kyle stopped looking back to look over at Job. “What does that even mean?” “How the hell do I know? I was under pressure for an analogy and that was the best I co uld do. But think about it.” “Yeah, I guess that would be pretty bad.”

“He’s almost on us. No, don’t turn around, he might suspect something. Let’s just have some fun with these people, kill them and then we’ll maybe leave tonight. When he takes those pills he’ll be out for hours.” “Good plan, then hurry and catch them because I want to get away from him as soon as possible.” The cruiser easily climbed to 110 and Job had his foot only about three-quarters of the way down.

Tracy ripped onto the Route 3 off ramp, tires squealing like live pigs shoved through a deli counter slicer. All the occupants were thrown to the left, threatening to overturn the car with the inertia. Angel was damn near in Tracy ’s lap. Dizz, Sty and Ryan were pressed so tightly together they could exchange undergarments and nobody would be the wiser.

“Damn, lady!” Sty said as he tried to pry his mouth away from Dizz’ elbow. Ryan was closer to another man’s junk than he ever hoped to be for the rest of his life. He almost tore a muscle in a straining attempt to keep his hand off of Sty’s thigh. His face hung dangerously close to plopping straight down into Sty’s lap.

“Like what you see?” Sty said, smiling slyly as Tracy finally hit a straightaway and the g-forces of orbital release were removed.

“Kiss my ass, Sty,” Ryan said as he turned bright red.

“I think the left side of my head is flat,” Dizz said, referring to where he made contact with the window.

“Didn’t Mountain Man say we were supposed to stay on that other road?” Sty asked.

“I saw a chance for us to get away, it’s called improvisation and I learned it from my husband,” Tracy explained briefly, looking through her mirrors for any sign of pursuit.

When she turned forward, her heart lurched at the sight of the approaching truck until she realized it had to be Ron. She frantically waved him forward; she did not want him to stop as he barreled to intercept the cops. To his credit, he slowed slightly to look but immediately regained his forward momentum and hurtled on.

“Where are we going, Pretty Lady?” Angel asked.

“That’s a good question, sweetie,” Tracy answered. “I don’t know.” And she didn’t, should she follow Ron and see if she could help, or hide somewhere around here and wait for whoever remained alive to drive by. Or did she just keep driving and go back to Ron’s?

She knew she couldn’t go back into the fray with the kids. The whole reason BT had done what he had was so that she could get away with them. She damn well couldn’t go back to Ron's house without the rest of them. What would she say?

She pulled into an Arby’s parking lot. It had a ring of juniper trees that encircled the entire place. On ly the most prying diligent eyes would see the car. Then Mike’s paranoia crept in on her thoughts. ‘Yeah, but aren’t cops very prying and very diligent?’ “You suck sometimes, Mike,” she said out loud. Tracy parked the car behind the building and started to undo her seatbelt.

"Whoa lady, where you going?" Sty asked, grabbing her shoulder.

"Are they open?" Angel asked, looking up at the big Cowboy Hat sign. "I like curly fires."

"Fires?" Tracy questioned the girl.

"She means fries," Ryan explained.

"I don’t think they're open sweetie," Tracy told the little girl. "I'm going to the front of the store and see who passes by. You guys need to all stay in the car."

"Wait! Out here? By ourselves?" Dizz looked on the verge of a panic attack.

"Eyean, do they have Happy Meals here?" Angel asked her older brother.

"I don’t think so sis," he said and watched as her face sank in resignation, "But we can check." She immediately perked up.

"Absolutely not," Tracy said, "Nobody is leaving this car."

"You are," Sty pointed out.

"Except for me," she said, shooting him a withering glance.

"Pretty lady just told you!" Angel squealed with delight.

Sty sat back hard; teenage brooding came to the fore.

"Eh," Tracy said. "You've got nothing on my daughter," she finished mockingly. "I'll be right back. Dizz, you get in the driver's seat. If anything happens to me, you get out of here. Understand?"

"God help us all," Sty said sarcastically.

Dizz looked sick although he nodded once in acknowledgement. Tracy was out of the car and had taken a step away. "Dizz, I meant now."

He gave her thumbs up, swallowed back some gorge and got into the front seat. Angel immediately got serious. She sat up straight in her seat and allowed Ryan to buckle her in with absolutely no extra added squirming.

"Which way is reverse?" Dizz asked, looking at the shift box.

Tracy turned back around. "Get out," she told him. A look of relief flooded his face as he extracted himself from the seat that he was so reluctant to take. Tracy turned the car around and backed up into the parking spot.

"You crossed over the white line," Dizz told Tracy, referring to her less than stellar parking job.

"Better than most times," she said looking down. "Now get back in."

"I'd rather go with you lady," Sty said. "It's way safer."

"Blow me," Dizz said as he determinedly got behind the wheel.

"Like a pinwheel?" Angel asked.

"No, he actually…"

"Dizz!" Tracy and Ryan yelled.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"I'll be right back. Okay?"

Dizz' thumbs up reply was about half mast.

"How about a little more enthusiasm?" Tracy asked him. He brought two thumbs way up and the cheesiest false smile he could muster. "Better, but not great,” she said as she went around to the front. Even behind an 8’ high, 4’ wide juniper she felt completely exposed. ‘Didn't even bring my gun. What the hell is wrong with me?’ She was torn between standing at her post or returning to get her weapon.

Dizz solved her problem as he came walking around the side of the Arby's. "You forgot your gun," he said. "So I brought it to you," he added needlessly.

"Dizz, you were supposed to stay in the car!"

"I figured you were going to need this," he said defensively.

Angel and Ryan rounded next.

"Guys?" Tracy asked exasperatedly.

"Eyean said he would look to see if they had any toys," Angel said excitedly. Ryan didn’t look Tracy in the face. He figured his sister could do the dirty work.

Sty came around last. "Don’t look at me lady, I wasn't gonna stay in there by myself."

"Fine! Dizz, give me the gun,” Tracy said, “We'll all go in and see if there’s anything we can use in there and then all of you are getting back in that car!"

Dizz looked thrilled that he didn’t have to go back just yet.

Tracy hoped the store was locked as she approached. The sun was at high noon and was doing little to shine any light into the store. The interior looked darker than it had a right to. It didn’t feel menacing, but 'inviting' was also another adjective she would not have used as a descriptor. The door swung open easily as she pulled on it. "Of course," she said sourly.

It was when she opened the second set of doors that reality made itself known. The air that poured around the group was thick with stench. Tracy was physically repelled; she stepped on Sty's foot as she retreated. He didn’t seem to notice as he was doing his best to get away also.

"Never really liked roast beef," Dizz said, almost removing himself to the other side of the parking lot.

"I don’t really want a toy Eyean!" Angel said as she rushed to meet up with Dizz.

Sty and Tracy pushed the first door closed in an attempt to stem the tide of poisoned air. Ryan placed his hands on the glass of the store front. Head bowed, he did his best to calm the currents in his stomach. He spat puddles as his salivary glands were working overtime.

Sty went over to egg his friend on and see if he could push him over the edge. "Man, that was almost as bad as if you went into a porta-potty and started dunking your head in for turds."

Ryan gagged again. Sty was loving it, a little more and victory would be his!

"It's like someone blended old moldy fish with road kill cat and then made…" Sty stopped short as Ryan's hands bounced off the glass from the impact of the zombie that slammed into the partition from the other side. Ryan jumped back.

"FUCK!" Ryan yelled in surprise, his stomach's earlier unrest completely forgotten.

"Eyean, Mom says you can't say Fuck!" Angel yelled across the lot.

The zombie slammed into the glass again. Tracy came up beside with the boys. Another zombie came up to the glass. This one didn’t slam up like its partner. Its eyes slid over towards the door.

"Whoa!" Sty said. "Did you guys see that? It looked over towards the door!"

"Did we pull or push that door open?" Tracy asked as she started to grab the kids’ shoulders and herd them back to the car.

"Pull," Dizz said as he grabbed Angel's hand.

"Thought so. Kids, run for the car NOW!"

The kids bolting for the car triggered some subliminal remembrance in the zombie’s rudimentary brain. Chase and pursue. The hunt for food, the most basic of all animalistic instincts and zombie thought. Tracy was rooted to her spot as the zombie met her in the eye – and then it bolted for the door.

‘Great, speeder!’ Tracy thought as the zombie began its pursuit which triggered in her the second oldest response known to all living kind, the need to save one's own ass!

Tracy didn’t stop to check on the advance of her enemy but the smell as it escaped the now defunct fast food restaurant told her all she needed to know. This was going to be a lot closer than she had hoped.

Ron watched as Tracy's car passed by. "She must have been able to get away," he said to his dad. Tony nodded once.

"Meredith and that big son of a bitch BT will be fine," Tony said. "We'll make sure of it."

"Thanks Dad." ‘The old man is determined, I'll give him that,’ Ron thought.

Ron was within a minute or so away from the Route 3, Route 1 interchange. "Dad, can you get on the radio and see if they've passed yet?"

Tony did as he was asked. When no response was received, Ron's hope began to spiral downward. If he drove forward and they hadn't passed yet, he would not be able to lay a trap. If he waited and they were already gone , h e didn’t want to dwell on that thought.

As they drove up the on ramp, Tony saved him the trouble of making a difficult decision. "Is that a cop car?" he asked.

"I don’t even see a car, Dad, much less what kind,” Ron responded. “Oh wait, there it is. How the hell did you see that?"

"Vitamins," Tony answered.

Ron stopped the truck and opened his door so he could prop the barrel of his Winchester 308 on the windowsill. Tony got out and placed his Browning 30-30 on the hood.

"Wrong family to mess with," Tony said as he adjusted his scope for the outgoing projectile.

"Is that them?" Kyle asked Job, pointing to the truck parked on the ramp.

"Yeah dipshit, she traded her red Subaru in for a silver pickup," Job said.

"Really?"

"No, not really." Job didn’t like this at all. He was traveling well over a hundred miles an hour; there was no margin for error. He could not maneuver at this speed, and something about the way that truck was just waiting there was unsettling. "Probably nothing," Job said, doing his damnedest to keep his eyes on the road, on the silver truck, and look for the car he was chasing.

Kyle noticed it first. "They got guns, Job," he said as he gripped the dashboard roll handle. "Turn around man, I don’t feel good about this," he said in a near state of panic.

"I can't, by the time I slow down to a safe enough speed we'll be sitting ducks."

"Job, I don't want to die a virgin."

Job couldn’t help it. With everything that was going on, he had to a spare a second to look at his friend. "No way, what the hell are you talking about? You went out with Vickie Johannsen for almost a year."

"She was saving herself for marriage."

Job knew that was a lie. He had bedded Vickie on more than one occasion and most were while his friend was dating her. Kyle may have made a startling revelation, but Job felt no such compulsion.

"We'll get through this…" the live Job started to tell his friend. "…buddy," was what his incorporeal soul finished. Job exited the world of the living and into the plane of the dead so fast that he did not even realize there was a transition.

He watched from the roof of the car as his own head was thrust back, the right side having caved from the impact of a high velocity 30-30 hollow tip round. His cheek was the first to accept the molten metal. Next, muscle and nerve endings separated as the bullet burrowed further. The impact into his jaw shattered it in four places. Eleven teeth crumbled under the assault and still the bullet pushed on. The back of his skull finally released the offending impact as the bullet came to a stop in the head rest.

Job watched with some detachment as his friend first screamed frantically and then tried to wrest the wheel from the twitching hands of the steering corpse, Job’s foot had lodged down on the accelerator, causing the car to top out at 130 miles per hour. The essence that was Job moved a few feet higher from the scene just as the car began the first of its twelve somersaults. It was the fourth spin that sent Kyle hurtling away. Job was finding it more and more difficult to relate to the events that were unfolding before him. A higher calling was beckoning. And then he found himself in the Field of Flowers, an inner peace that every man strived for settled on him like a warm blanket. He took two steps to the comforting light before the serenity was ripped from his shoulders. Light faded to Dark. He ran as far and as fast as he could away from the hate, the pain, the misery, and the torment, but it was not quickly enough as his world faded to black.

Ron watched in awe as the police car finished the last of its death throes, screeching metal succumbing to the pissed off caws of disturbed crows. He didn’t know what they were bitching about, they'd dine well tonight.

Tony ejected the spent shell casing from his rifle and with the bolt action drove another into place.

"Dad! Wow!" Ron said with true amazement.

"Keep your focus, your daughter is still out there."

"Yeah, but still…"

"We'll celebrate when this is over," Tony told his son. It had damn near been sixty years since he had shot a human and it sucked now as much as it had then. The Japanese on Tarawa had been a ruthless enemy committed to the extermination of the Americans who had the audacity to land on their soil. Tony and a platoon of fellow Marines, due to intense shelling from the Japanese, had become separated from the larger battle group they were assigned to. For four days those forty men had held on to a knoll roughly the size of a football field. The Marines had not slept the entire time as the Japanese sent everything they could at the detachment.

The Marines had bloodied their hands as they dug down as deep as they could with their small shovels. Mortars, grenades and withering machine gun fire rained down on their position almost the entire time. The only breaks in the devastating arsenal assault were when the Japanese would launch a charge. Seven times they came and seven times the Marines had rallied. Their dogged persistence and crippling marksmanship repelled the Japanese.

After the third assault, grumblings of Tuefelhunden came to the fore in the ranks of the Japanese troops, the German word for Marines which quite literally translated into Devil Dog. For what demon must they be fighting that could survive the shellings and the hundreds upon hundreds of Japanese soldiers that kept assaulting their position.

Tony, a mere corporal, found himself in charge of the remnants of his platoon as his lieutenant was killed and the gunnery sergeant was incapacitated by a gunshot wound to his abdomen. The snot-nosed 19-year-old was going to do his damnedest to keep the remaining twenty-two of his fellow Marines alive. He kept his word to fifteen of them. A battalion of Marines had finally pushed far enough inland to encapsulate the ‘Fighting Fifteen’ as they became known in the papers back home. The Japanese initially feared that the gates of Hell had been ripped open as thousands of Marines poured out of that small hill; they turned tail and ran as if their very souls depended on it. Tony had always hated the moniker the newspaper thrust upon them. Twenty-five of the finest men he had ever known had lost their lives in a land God had forgotten, and apparently so would the people back home.

"I see Meredith!" Ron said excitedly.

Tony once more brought his eye down to the sighting aperture.

Even at 110 miles per hour, Officer Gibson took in all the information around him. He had been a good cop once and those skills made the leap into psychosis with him. He first noted the pickup truck strategically parked on the on-ramp. He also noticed the smoldering wreckage that was Job and Kyle. Most disconcerting though were the two riflemen taking aim on his position. He had absolutely no hope of returning any sort of covering fire, his only hope was to use the car in front of him as a shield.

"There's Dad!" Meredith exclaimed.

"Not yet girl!" BT yelled as Meredith pulled a hand off the steering wheel to wave at her father. BT looked back at the cop, hoping that he had been too focused on them to notice the cavalry, but it wasn't to be. The cop car started to shift over to Meredith's left, and then the cop gunned it so that his front quarter panel was even with Meredith's rear.

"BT, I'm sorry he got past me," Meredith said frantically as she looked at the police cruiser in her side view mirror creeping up.

"Let him," BT said coldly.

"You said to not let him," Meredith responded.

"If I learned nothing else from your uncle, I will now be able to go the grave with the ability to adapt."

"The grave?"

"Figure of speech. I hope," BT mumbled.

"Did you just say, 'I hope'?"

"I did not say that out loud."

"You're right, I just made that up. I'm driving 110 miles per hour down a highway with a psycho cop chasing our asses and I needed to add a little more flavor to the mix."

"Sorry," BT said, looking over his shoulder at the cop car which was just a few feet from pulling even.

Officer Gibson liked his position, he was damn near parallel to the bitch and her black boyfriend, another quarter mile and they'd be past the other pick-up truck. Then he'd shoot the life out of the both of them, repeatedly. He'd be long gone before that other truck would ever be able to catch up. Screw it, maybe he'd wait for them too, death did not discriminate. "Should almost be past them," he said to himself, doing the calculations in his head. The bigger truck to his right had him completely shielded.

"NOW!" BT shouted.

"Now what?!" Meredith screamed, looking around for some new threat.

"Slam your brakes! Put your foot through the floor board!"

"Don’t you yell at me!" Meredith shot back, even as she used her entire frame to stand on the brake pedal. The truck bucked, the ass fishtailed, tortured brake pads melted under the intense heat. BT had to brace himself against the dashboard from the forces applied to his body. Smoke shot out from all four braking points and the rear end threatened to come completely off the ground.

Officer Gibson took a second longer to react as he was already enjoying the mythical killing fields. As the front end of the truck slid past him he was awarded the view of two of the largest rifle barrels he thought he had ever seen in his entire life. "Fuck…"

The smell of burnt pads hung in the air as Meredith's truck limped to a stop. The screech of metal on metal thankfully came to a halt in another three hundred feet. The right rear wheel having completely seized up contributed to the quickness of their stop.

Meredith was first out, running to her father. Ron put his rifle back into the cab and met his daughter halfway. Tony, not knowing if the initial threat was over or if another threat were to soon present itself, grabbed the rifle from the bench seat.

"I thought I taught him better," Tony said, shaking his head as he went up to check on his granddaughter.

Tracy could hear the distant sound of a horrific car crash but it might as well have been the miniscule pleadings of an ant under a sun intensifying magnifying glass for all the attention she paid it. What was magnitudes louder was the slap of bare feet on pavement as her pursuers chased her down. At 5’2”, Tracy was never going to be a world class sprinter, but the prick behind her sure was.

Tracy could tell from the faces of the children in the car staring back at her that she wasn't going to make it. She first saw her reflection in the glass and then that of the tortured soul that chased her. Ryan, Dizz, Angel and Sty were all pressed up against the far side of the interior, wide eyed expressions of fear on their faces. Tracy could feel the pull of fingers that grasped out to latch on to the hood of her sweatshirt. Angel squealed and buried her head into her brother's shoulder. Tracy knew she would never be able to open the driver's side door and close it before the damn track star got in with her, and then she'd be exposing the kids to danger. Either way the kids were doomed as she felt the press of the keys in her right pant leg; Dizz had given them to her when he had gotten out of the car.

Tracy almost ruptured her ankle as she got within two feet of the car and thrust off to the right with all her force. Her ankle screamed in pain. ‘I will not be a cheap B movie heroine that sprains an ankle and gets pounced upon by (insert movie monster here). I lived with Mike too long, ’ was her next thought.

The zombie slammed headlong into the car. The door creased significantly to the point where it might never be able to open again. The zombie did not stop or even address the injury to its leg. Its knee cap had shattered in three places and what remained had shifted a full two inches to the left. Tracy was saved by this very damage. The zombie's left leg had locked completely up. His decathlon days were gone, but that wouldn't stop any of his peers from cutting in line.

Dizz hopped into the back seat just as Tracy opened the driver's side door. The car rocked from multiple zombie impacts. Angel shrieked with each one, Sty only every other. Tracy slid over as far as she could and still remain in the driver's seat. Zombies were pressed up against the glass. She could not keep her eyes from them as she tried in desperation to start the keyless car.

"Hells bells!” she said as she raised her butt off the seat to fish the almost forgotten keys from her pocket. 'This is where the B Movie Queen drops the keys, ’ she thought sourly. "Mike, stop it!!!" she yelled.

Diz was scared shitless. It looked like their driver lost her mind and now he was going to have to drive. They might as well open the doors; it would be quicker and less painful.

Tracy's inner ramblings did not come to fruition. The implosion of the window masked the sound of the engine. Eager fingers reached in just as Tracy jerked back and placed the car in drive, not knowing whether it was running or not. Blood-crusted broken nails clawed through the air seeking to gain purchase, but were denied as the car leapt forward. She almost crashed headlong into the junipers and that would have been the end. The small Subaru would have hung on the large plants like a shiny bulb on a Christmas tree. Fortunately she jinked at the last moment and floored it. A small contingent of zombies chased them as Tracy headed back towards Route 3.

Eliza and Tommy - Interlude

"Do you feel it brother?" Eliza asked as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"I feel pain, Lizzie," Tommy answered back.

"Yes," Eliza answered, reflecting back in reflection to a time long past. "Isn’t it wonderful?"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Talbot Journal Entry 8

Gary had been driving for the last fifty miles or so and was reveling in it. He had lost his license about two years prior to the zombpocalypse, something about trying to run over a judge's flower bed. I never got the full story and to be honest, I really didn’t want to know. I’ve had enough close brushes with the law that I didn’t want to know any information that could possibly get me in trouble as an accessory to the fact or some other bullshit. Suffice it to say, Gary was enjoying the end of the world in ways many of us couldn’t understand. His whistling had at some point become less of an annoyance and more of a regular rhythm of the road. My startling awakening had nothing to do with him breaking into song in full on a cappella mode.

I sat bolt upright as a fairly strong shock was sent through my body. I almost jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Dad," Justin started.

I turned back. He looked like I felt. "You felt it too?" It was phrased as a question but it just as easily could have been a statement.

"It wasn't Eliza," Justin said, bowing his head.

"No, it was Tomas." I don’t know why I went back to his old name, but whatever had reached out and made contact was not the Tommy I had known. It felt like a malevolent presence and it was searching for us. I don't think I can explain it any better, but it was as if Tomas had cast a wide net but the holes within it were big enough for us to wriggle through. It would only be a matter of time before he sealed the holes up and we would be trapped like dolphins in a tuna net.

"It didn't feel right, Dad," Justin said, still clutching the sides of his head.

"I agree."

"He was looking for somebody, but I don’t think it was us," Justin finished as he rubbed his temples.

"You got all that?" I asked him. All I had felt were the greasy fingers of evil as they had brushed over my scalp.

"I think it was his aunt, I'm thinking he was maybe even calling to her."

"Like a summoning?" My heart started to freeze. Alex and his family were in extreme danger. Eliza and Tomas, like twin vipers, had turned their deadly gazes towards them and we were powerless to help before they struck. We had a general idea of where to go, but my actual hope had been that Eliza would track us down, not the other way around. I already know that was a horrible plan, you don’t need to remind me. I can't imagine a buck waiting for, or even wanting , the hunter to find him. That is not how the deadly game is played.

I could only hope that Paul and Erin were finally home. Would thanking God for small favors for only having half of your loved and cherished friends destroyed be a bad thing? I couldn't even begin to think about how many transgressions I had with the Big Man, what's one more? And then the stupid straw that broke the camel's back analogy decided to rear its ugly damn self.

Gary had still been doing his best 98 Degrees or Back Street Boys impression. I can honestly and thankfully say that I did not know which one it was. Although I figured I lost a few man points just by knowing the names of those bands.

"Right now you feel like you could never love again, now all I ask is for a chance

to prove that I love you …" Gary 's voice had risen as he sang. Cats in heat would have been preferable.

"Gary!" I shouted. I had awoken Travis, although the fact that he slept through that caterwauling was impressive.

“… from the..." Gary trailed off as I shook his shoulder. "Hey Mike," he said with a large grin.

"Having some fun there brother?" I asked him.

"Who doesn’t love a good love song?" he asked in response.

"Depends on who is singing it," I barbed back.

"I guess that's true," he answered, thinking about it. I could tell though that not once did he question the validity of his rendition, "What's up?"

I started flipping through the atlas and alternating between road signs trying to find out exactly where we were. After a few moments of quietude, I could tell Gary was getting antsy to start up his song. I had to stop him before he got going, at all costs.

"All right, in about another fifty miles we'll be coming up on Route 77. I want you to take that heading south. It looks like eventually in South Carolina it will hook up with 95 and then we can take that into Florida ."

"Mike," Gary said in all seriousness. "We could have saved a lot of time if we had just taken 95 all the way out from Maine ."

He was right and I regretted my poor decision, because in all likelihood people I loved would suffer because of it.

Travis stretched and groaned. "Wouldn't have found the kids then," he said, rubbing his eyes.

Out of the mouths of babes, although who was I kidding? At 17 years old, he was bigger and faster than me. "Good point," I told him. If all else completely went to hell , which was a more likely scenario, we had at least saved those kids and I could go to my beratement from God knowing Tracy was safe.

Gary nodded his head once and went straight back into his song like he had never missed a beat.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN – Alex and Paul

The furniture store proved to be worth its weight in gold after Paul and Erin had tried to go home , Asheville , North Carolina was a vast wasteland. It looked like the entire region’s National Guard had decided to make their final stand here. The only thing that stood taller than ten feet was the church in the center of town. Like a stalk of corn in the eye of a tornado it stood, righteous and untouched. At least it looked that way. The small caravan pulled up to the stairs that led to the massive oak doors to search for signs of life.

"Are you sure about this, Paul?" Erin asked her spouse as he started to ascend the stairs.

"I was until you asked," he responded back.

Mad Jack was following behind, struggling to hold up a box that was roughly the same shape and size of a 25 inch old school television and looked twice as heavy.

"What is that thing and do you want some help with it?" Paul turned to ask.

"I'm good," MJ puffed out. "Is she watching?" he asked in between heavy breathes.

"April?" Erin asked. "You know giving yourself a hernia to show off in front of a woman is not appealing," she told him.

He shrugged with a grimace.

"Are you sure you don’t want any help with that thing?" Paul asked, smiling.

"This thing you refer to..." MJ took a breath, "is a prototype."

"A prototype? It's not going to blow up is it?" Paul asked, grabbing Erin 's arm and pulling her a few steps away.

"Blow up? Why, do you know something I don't?" MJ asked in alarm. He looked like he was about to place his burden down and make a run for it.

"Is it a bomb?" Eddy asked, following the trio.

"He wanted to come with you guys!" Joann yelled from the cab.

"Shhh, Auntie Jo!" Eddy yelled back. "They don’t know I'm here!" he yelled.

"It is most certainly not a bomb," MJ said, addressing Eddy. "And all indications are that it most likely will not blow up," he finished, looking at Paul and Erin.

"Comforting," Paul said sarcastically as he headed back up the stairs.

The huge door swung open effortlessly as Paul pulled on it, the all too prevalent waft of death his only reward. "Does it suck that I've smelled worse?" he asked a rapidly greening Erin . She did not respond as she moved off to the side in pursuit of more breathable air.

"That wouldn't happen to have a fan?" Paul asked as he stepped away and tried to help MJ carry the box up the last few stairs.

"Is she watching?" MJ asked.

Paul wanted to tell him that he was pretty much a shoe-in with April considering that he was the only available male in their party, but it seemed important to the kid so he played along. "Yeah, she sure is," Paul said with a wicked smile.

"I've got it then," he said as he marshaled his reserves and hefted the box the rest of the way.

"Good, ‘cause that thing looks heavy," Paul said under his breath, while also giving his balls a necessary adjustment from the mere thought of carrying whatever the hell was in that thing. Add to that fact that he would have to holster his pistol to help out and he couldn't find any plusses.

Paul held the door as MJ got one foot in. He went immediately to the right and out of eyeshot of the semi and damn near smashed the container in his haste to get it out of his overtaxed arms.

"Heavy?" Paul asked sardonically as he placed a handkerchief over his face. MJ could only manage a weak one fingered response as he leaned over to catch his breath. "Gotcha," Paul laughed.

Erin had secured a scarf around her mouth and nose and now was at the entry way to the church. Paul admonished himself again for his lack of caution. ‘One of these times this is going to bite me in the ass, literally.’ He quickly did a visual sweep of their immediate surroundings as MJ fiddled with some switches and dials. Paul just figured it was all for show as MJ caught his second wind. Eddy slammed into Erin 's legs in his rush to get in and check out something new. Joann was right behind him and scooped him up in her arms, all too aware of the danger that could be behind that door.

Eddy stopped squirming when the stench invaded his nostrils. He now looked more eager to remain with the rest of the troupe in the truck.

"Paul, is this worth it?" Erin asked, watching as Eddy and Joann descended the steps much more rapidly than they had ascended them.

Paul had stopped listening the moment he spotted the altar. It wasn't that he was ignoring his wife; it was that his senses could only handle so much input at any one time. A high pitched squawk from MJ's box brought him out of his self-induced trance. "MJ you s cared the hell out of me!" Paul said, rubbing his ears.

"Sorry, just calibrating," MJ said, not really sorry. He was used to apologizing for experiments gone awry and had learned long ago that appeasement was sometimes the bastard brother of technological advancement.

Erin gave a deep scowl to MJ who did not even look up to acknowledge the slight, which made Erin even madder until she followed her husband's line of sight. "What is that?" she asked, trying to catch up to Paul.

"It's people," he answered, never breaking stride.

"You sure?" she asked, her own steps faltering.

"I mean, it has to be, doesn't it?"

"Why are they all piled up like that? Paul we should go, there's nothing we can do for them now," Erin said, reaching out to grab his sleeve.

"Maybe it's religious. Some sort of sacrifice?" Paul answered more to himself than to Erin ’s query.

"MJ, maybe we should go," Erin begged, looking back towards the door. An even louder box squawk was her only response from that direction. She was halfway through the large church and Paul was halfway again that much closer to the alt a r. “Paul, please!” she near silently screamed.

He turned to her and pressed his index finger to his mouth to quiet her.

"They're dead Paul, aren't they?" she whispered. That they were dead was preferable to them being in that ungodly clothed pile on the altar, alive.

Paul slunk another five feet closer, every fiber in his flight reflex telling him to get the hell out. He ignored it like most people ignore a yellow light, confident in the fact that yellow is more of a 'travel advisory' than an actual warning to pay heed to.

Another footfall forward and Paul had unwittingly tripped a silent alarm. Well, more like a dinner bell but the result was the same. First one set of brown green goop encrusted eyes opened to be followed by another and then a third. It was the fourth set belonging to the priest of the church that caught Paul's attention. The priest's piercing blue eyes snapped open, did one complete revolution into the back of his head and then solidly met Paul's gaze. There was no hesitation on either side as Paul turned and ran and the priest disentangled himself from his congregation in hot pursuit.

Verbal commands were unnecessary for Erin as she watched the entire event unfold. But Paul's shout of “GO!” spurred her on even faster.

"MJ, gotta go!" Paul shouted as he passed the halfway mark in God's house.

"Just a couple of more adjustments," MJ answered merrily, unaware of the danger sweeping down the aisle.

"MJ NOW!" Erin screamed as she passed his position and ran out into the daylight.

Alex had seen that look of terror on enough folks’ faces lately to realize it was time to hit the road.

Mrs. Deneaux climbed up into the bed of the truck by herself, not willing to wait for somebody to offer a hand, her cigarette still lit and shaking wildly in her hand.

MJ stood up to look at Paul as he approached. A throng of flesh worshippers followed closely, led by the leader of the congregation. Paul stumbled a bit as he did the familiar horror movie faux pas of looking behind him. His foot caught on the edge of a pew and nearly dropped him on his face. MJ moved forward to help.

Paul stuck his hand out. "Forget it man, I'm good, let's go!" Zombies filled the center aisle and both sides of the pews. Some were the traditional shufflers, most however were not, and the distance between Paul, the door, and death was closing rapidly.

"I can't leave the box!" MJ yelled.

"It's not worth getting eaten." Paul said as he got to the main door.

MJ paid no heed and turned around to get the device; thick cords on his neck bulged as he strained to pick the device up. Paul took a millisecond to scan the events. He would JUST make it if he opened the church door and pushed it shut. "Dammit!" he said as he ran to MJ's position. "This stupid heavy thing better be worth it!" he shouted as they lifted it into the air. MJ's side dipped as he struggled with his grip. "How did you carry this thing alone?" Paul struggled to get out through clenched teeth. He shifted the load so that he could get his hand on the door handle and open it. His mind had been doing rapid calculations and he figured by now the priest at least should be on them. He was too scared to even look back. Just then sunlight streamed into the church. Alex was at the front door, rifle in hand. "Come on you crazy gringos! What is it with white boys always trying to play the hero?" he shouted. Alex had the rifle raised, poised to shoot at anything moving that wasn't alive.

"Get over here!" Marta yelled from the truck cab.

Paul could not understand why Alex' rifle was not firing as they quickly moved off to the side to give him a better vantage point.

"O mi Dios," Alex softly breathed out.

Paul almost dropped the box, expecting some new horror to come bounding out of the doors a la Resident Evil. He hoped there were no zombie Doberman Pinschers. "What is it Alex?" Paul said as he struggled with himself whether to drop the stupid box and run or stand his ground with Alex.

"They're just standing there," Alex said, not daring to put his rifle down.

Paul craned his neck. Alex was right, about fifteen feet from the door the zombies were crowded around as if they had hit a force field. MJ lowered his corner a bit so that he could peer past Paul.

"I'll be damned! It works!"

"What works?" Paul asked. "This thing?"

"Yeah, it's a frequency modulator. It…" MJ started.

"Fascinating, really," Paul said, "but I'd rather you told me all about it later when we're safe."

"We're quite safe now," MJ said in rebuttal.

"You know what I mean," Paul answered.

"Guys, let's get out of here. This is not how I wanted to spend my afternoon, in a Mexican standoff with zombies," Alex said.

"That's funnier because it's true," Paul said.

"Hilarious. Let's go," Alex motioned with his rifle.

As MJ and Paul descended the stairs, the zombies moved that much closer.

"Paul, we need to put this thing down. My shoulder is killing me and I have a bad grip."

"You're lucky you don’t have a hernia," Paul answered as he put his corner down on the stairs.

With the box on the ground MJ wiped his brow. Paul kept an eye on the zombies.

"Really guys? This is where you want to have a siesta?" Alex asked nervously.

"Relax Alex, it's fine," MJ said, resting against the side of the box. The zombies at the top of the stairs were not moving. The sunlight was not kind in its exposure of the monsters. Shredded gray skin gave way to gray-green ropy muscle, which in turn showed in some extreme cases yellowing bone. Then the unthinkable happened. The priest moved but the box hadn't, from fifteen feet away to twelve. His followers did what followers do, they followed.

"What's happening?" Paul asked as their circle of safety diminished.

"Huh, must be the batteries," MJ answered absently.

"Couldn't think to put in fresh batteries?" Paul asked.

"Can't expect me to think of everything," MJ answered him, a little miffed.

Zombies began to spill off of the stairway as the overcrowding became too great. The ones that had not damaged any parts vital to locomotion began to encircle the trio.

Within seconds before the trio could react, a twelve foot wide bubble of zombies encircled them. Then it was ten feet.

"This isn't fun anymore. I'm thinking we should leave," Paul said as he grabbed the edge of the box.

"In agreement," Alex said. Sweat alternated between running in rivulets down his back and freezing in place.

The circle had become eight feet in diameter by the time MJ got his side up.

"This is going to be a little closer than I thought," MJ said as a red LED light began to flicker on the top of the box.

"Let me guess," Paul said. "Low battery indicator."

MJ could only offer a weak smile in reply. Alex' rifle now went off as the circle became six feet around. The damage the bullet did to the human form from this distance was devastating. Pink gray, brackish brain matter exploded onto their brethren as Alex started to weed out the non-believers in the Power of the Bullet.

And still they pressed on. Paul and MJ kept shuffling backwards. They were careful to make sure that the zombies behind them were given enough time to react to the repelling effects of MJ's box. By the time the three were in front of the truck, a yard stick could have been held to the priest's forehead to measure the space. Black gore stained teeth gnashed wildly as saliva flowed from both sides of his mouth like a rabid dog. Alex had his back pressed up against the side of the box now as the three moved to the cab.

"Careful dude," Paul said as Alex almost jostled the heavy burden from their hands.

Alex didn’t comment as he shoved bullets into the magazine well.

"Screw it dude," Paul said as they got to Alex' door. "Won’t help much now anyway."

Alex nodded.

"Get up there man!" Paul labored.

Alex was hesitant to go first, but he wasn't holding the zombie repeller and this way he could, in theory, cover MJ's and Paul's retreat. Alex scurried up into the cab.

"Okay MJ, put your edge of the box on the step and get in the cab. Can you make another one of these?" Paul asked before MJ could get into the cab.

"Yeah, I've got everything already in my van."

"You mean the one over there?" Paul said, motioning with his head to the van now swathed in zombie kind.

"Yeah, that one," MJ said, bowing his head, "All that beer…" he said resignedly. "You're going to want to hurry," MJ told Paul as he jumped in, passing Alex on the way into the sleeper cab. Brown fingernails were separated from Paul's face by millimeters Paul eased his edge of the box onto the wide step. The box teetered precariously as Paul used the remaining strength in his arms to haul himself in and dive past Alex. Alex fired off two quick rounds at the closest zombies and immediately shut the door. The box fell to the ground as the big rig lurched forward.

MJ watched sadly as the van became a distant memory.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN – Tracy, Ron, BT, Meredith, Tony and Henry

Tony turned his rifle in the direction of the oncoming sound of an engine at high rev. Meredith slid behind her dad, fearful of what this new threat might entail. BT walked up to Ron, gun clutched in his hand. BT's heart had just begun to take on a relatively regular rhythm from the preceding events and seemed a little reluctant to begin such a frenetic pace again.

Henry had climbed over the middle console and let himself out from the passenger side of the now nearly useless truck. With his two front legs in front he bowed his back and stretched. His mouth gaped wide as he yawned, his tongue lolling to the side.

"Rough day Henry?" BT asked.

Henry, in traditional form, did not acknowledge the big man. He walked over to Ron's truck and unceremoniously christened the front tire.

"What the hell Henry?" Ron chided the dog.

Henry walked past Ron and placed one paw on the running board, then looked over his shoulder.

"Is he serious?" Ron asked BT.

"Oh, very much so," BT responded.

"You know, if you lay off the gravy maybe you’d be able to get your fat ass into the truck by yourself," Ron huffed as he picked the dog up and placed him back in the cab.

Ron had no sooner put the dog down on the seat when Henry let out some voluminous flatulence. Even with the sound of an approaching car, BT could not keep from laughing.

"That'll show you to tell that dog off," BT said.

"Should've remembered that was Mike's dog," Ron said, ineffectually sweeping a hand past his face to make the disagreeable smell go away quicker. He had the feeling that the smell had somehow stuck to his hand and all he was doing was continually waving it past his face.

"It's Tracy," Tony said, putting his rifle up, the clenching in his jaw subsiding.

"I don’t think she's going to stop in time," BT said as he stepped away from the truck. Tracy 's tires screamed in protest as she took the on ramp at double the legal limit.

"Not another truck," Ron lamented, hoping that Tracy didn’t rear end him.

The front of Tracy's car dipped down as she laid heavily on the brake. She was barely going 2 mph when her front end collided with Ron’s truck, t he thud of impact did little structural damage, but Ron's truck could no longer be considered pristine.

"Dammit," Ron said softly as he looked at the seven inch scrape on his chrome bumper.

"Gives it a little character," his dad told him with a smile on his face.

"I liked it just fine without character," Ron answered him irately.

"Hi mister!" Angel said, getting out to survey the damage. "Sure was a nice truck."

"Sorry," Tracy said, hugging her brother-in-law.

"What's your name little miss?" Tony asked Angel.

Angel looked up at the grizzled man and that was it, love at first sight. She stretched out her arms, and Tony handed his rifle to BT in order to pick the little girl up. She was nearly asleep before her head hit his shoulder.

"That's my sister, Angel," Ryan said.

"You kids alone?" Ron asked the trio.

They all nodded in their various ways.

"You boys did good," Tony told them, "keeping this little one safe."

Ryan puffed his chest out. There was something about the older man. He had a calming effect on those around him. Ryan could sense something deeper but was too young to put words to it. If he had been able, he might have said Tony had an air of resolve about him. If pushed, this man would push back tenfold. There was a calm but it cloaked a tempest. He very much wanted to be on the good side of this man.

"You Mike's dad?" Ryan asked him.

Tony nodded, not wanting to speak and possibly wake the little package in his arms.

"Thought so," Ryan said beaming. Tony reached over and tousled his hair.

"We should go." Tracy said, relating the story of the zombies at the Arby's.

"Alright, let me pull up to Meredith's truck. We'll get the supplies and get the hell out of here," Ron said.

"Tony, you want me to take her?" Tracy asked.

"No, we're good hon," Tony answered. "I think we both could use the company," he said, gingerly getting into the truck. Henry looked over from the rear of the cab. "No farting, you!" Tony laughed as he scolded the dog lovingly. Henry licked Tony’s face, leaving a three inch swath of spit down his cheek. "Thanks." He dragged his free arm across his face to remove the slobbery kiss.

Henry seemed satisfied as he lay back down. Meredith scooted Henry over so she and Ryan could get in. BT walked back over to the other truck and started dragging stuff out to put in the back of Ron's truck bed. Dizz and Sty kept a vigilant look out for the zombies.

"Do you think they stopped following us?" Dizz asked Sty.

"Maybe they never even started," Sty told him, neither one taking his eyes from the on ramp. When monsters were real, it was worth paying attention. This wasn’t algebra, attention deficit disorder wasn’t going to be a problem.

"I think I see one!" Dizz yelled.

Ron came over. "Just the one?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's a shuffler!" Sty said.

"Shuffler, huh? I like that. Alright, one slow one shouldn’t be too big of an issue. Let me know if any of his faster friends try to crash the party."

"Don’t you think that's kind of weird?" Dizz asked his friend.

"What?" Sty asked as he threw a stone at the oncoming zombie, not even coming relatively close.

"I mean just the one zombie and a slow one at that."

"Probably not even from the same bunch," Sty said, humming another rock in the general direction of the zombie.

"Maybe you’re right," Dizz said, turning to see how the rest of the group was doing.

Sty bent over, looking for a suitable rock to throw at their guest. As he stood back up, Dizz and Sty’s looks of astonishment mirrored each other’s almost perfectly.

Sty's 'shuffler' was now in full on sprint mode, while Dizz watched dozens of zombies swarm onto the freeway from the west bound side.

"Zombies!" they screamed in unison.

Tony gently placed Angel in the shotgun seat. Thankfully she was still fast asleep, although that was likely to change in the next few moments. Tony got out with his rifle. "If I didn’t know any better," he said to BT, "I would think they were trying to ambush us."

"I think your 'knowing' is just fine. Ron, it's your call, but I'd really like to rid the world of a few of these maggot breeders," BT said with some vehemence.

Ron did a quick mental count of the assaulters, distance and firearms available. "Let's do it," he said calmly.

"Dizz, tell me when that zombie behind us gets to within a hundred yards," BT said as he shouldered his assault rifle and let loose a volley towards the oncoming horde.

"Dizz, Sty, get in the car," Tracy said. They didn’t need much encouragement. Dizz immediately turned to follow the progress of the zombie that he now realized was only the diversionary tactic.

Fifteen or so zombies had made their way up the embankment on the far side of the highway, but none of them made it past the median. The one that had staged the diversion actually made it the closest only to have his goal wiped out from under him as he met a chunk of high speed lead with his head. It really was never much of a contest as his skin split first, met immediately by the eighth of an inch of tissue that did little more than lubricate the projectile with blood as it passed through this small layer. Next came the fragmenting of the much thicker skull. Bone shattered like a hollowed out Easter egg under the foot of a petulant child who had not received a Nintendo 3DS for the rising of Christ's day. The bullet, much flattened from its impact with the brain casing, still slid easily through the black-gray diseased matter that had once entertained thoughts of becoming a restaurant owner and asking Alicia Barker to marry him. As the projectile came into contact with the rear of the zombie's head, it significantly slowed from its initial impact and gathered some inertia as it sought to fight its way out of the dark enclosure and back into the sunlight. The mushroomed bullet broke through the back of his skull leaving a hole roughly the size of a baseball. Any thought he might have still harbored of leading anything resembling life crashed to the ground in shattered bits of past memories, pains and joys.

"Well that was gross," BT said, shouldering his rifle. Ryan agreed adamantly.

"And a little disturbing," Ron added. "They are showing the ability to deceive and to employ tactics. Does this somehow tie back to Eliza, or is it just a natural progression of the zombies?" Ron asked the group. Nobody answered. There was no answer anyone could conclusively give.

"Just what the world needs, smart zombies," Tracy said. "Hell, we've already got men, that seems like overkill."

Ron arched an eyebrow. Meredith went over and high-fived her aunt.

"Cute, real cute," BT said. "Can we get the hell out of here now?"

"Yeah, I agree. Let's get home," Ron said

"BT, what do you want to do?" Tracy asked.

"What? NO!" Ron said. "We are heading home."

"Ron, I'm not," Tracy said softly. "My boys, all of my boys are still out there. I can’t go sit this out."

"We got unbelievably lucky here," Ron sputtered.

"Well, I wouldn't call it luck," Tony said as he rubbed his fingernails on his chest. "Skill is what I'd call it," he added, trying to throw some levity into the next few difficult minutes he knew were coming.

"Tracy, you don’t even need to ask," BT answered her original question, "By your crazy ass husband's side is where I want to live or die."

Tracy nodded her thanks.

Henry was looking for some assistance down from the truck seat. Meredith helped him down. "Dad," Meredith started.

"Not a chance!" he said vehemently.

"I started out to do something," Meredith said.

"Yeah, and it damn near got you killed!" he shouted. Meredith flinched, but didn’t back down.

"I have to do this," Meredith told her father.

Tracy wanted to try to convince Meredith to stay with her father. Enough people were already in harm's way, one less would be better. But she could also see the determination that Meredith held. This war was going to be won by the ones that took it 'to' the enemy and not 'from' the enemy.

"I don't think I can handle another good bye," Ron said, turning away from his daughter if only in a vain attempt to hide his tears.

"Dad, I'll be back," Meredith croaked out past her own eye leakage.

"You'd better be," he said. Meredith came over to hug him fiercely. She then circled the truck to give her grandfather a kiss on the cheek and a hug. Water flowed freely from all involved.

"Wow, Talbot men sure do cry a lot," BT said as he got into the car. It was not lost on Tracy as he discreetly pulled his sleeve up to wipe his face.

"BT, you hold to our original deal," Ron said, pointing a finger at the big man.

"Always," BT answered, quickly putting on his sunglasses.

"Missed a spot," Tracy said with a smile as she wiped a tear away on his cheek.

"Damn you woman," BT said.

"I won’t tell anyone," Tracy told him.

"I saw it too and I'm not promising anything," Meredith said smugly.

"Wonderful, what could I have possibly done in a past life that I deserved to be in a car for a cross country trip with TWO Talbot women? Did I shoot the Dalai Lama or something?" He asked the heavens.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – Alex and Paul

Marta was shivering uncontrollably even under the small mountain of blankets that Alex, Paul and Erin had gathered for her. Alex was pacing around the bed as Erin administered a cool damp paper towel to Marta’s forehead.

Erin directed her statement more to Paul but it was meant for Alex also. "She's burning up."

"What did she mean 'worse' Tommy?" Paul asked Alex. "Tommy's on our side, right?"

Alex looked over to Paul, his eyes tortured with pain.

"Is she being used like Justin was?" Paul asked hesitantly.

"The creepy kid?" April asked as she brought more wet towels for Erin .

"That can’t be it," Alex pleaded. "We know Tommy. The kid is always smiling.”

"My husband used to say 'Never trust anybody who smiles all the time, they’re up to something,'" Mrs. Deneaux said, throwing her two and half cents into the fray.

"Guess your husband never had to worry about you then," Paul said meanly.

"Paul!" Erin said.

"No, he's quite right," Mrs. Deneaux said, nodding towards Paul. "I always thought of smiling as frivolous behavior and my husband appreciated that right up until he decided to sleep with his secretary."

"Alright, way too much information," Joann finished. "I think we need to start figuring out what to do. I can feel the heat coming off of Marta from here. We should probably get her some antibiotics or something. And if Tommy is in her head and if, I'm stressing IF, he is on the other team now, are we in danger?"

"Well, I think we're always in danger," Mad Jack said.

"No existential crap please," Joann moaned.

"Sorry," MJ said, "I just thought it was worth saying."

"You know what I meant, all of you," Joann said. "How much more danger are we in now than we were twenty minutes ago?" That question hung somberly over their heads. Alex and Paul both had family that they were trying to get home to. The rest had thrown their lot in with them thinking they would be safer being away from a zombie homing beacon. Now that fundamental premise was being questioned.

"Go then!" Alex shouted. "It's what you’re all thinking, we've already done it once, what's another time? Your soul can only get stained so many times before one transgression becomes indistinguishable from the next!"

"Nobody said that," Paul said, trying to diffuse the situation.

"No one needed to say it Paul," Alex answered, his earlier anger ratcheted down a notch.

"I was thinking it," Mrs. Deneaux said. Paul shot her a fierce glance. She didn’t so much as flinch. "Oh, you can't be that naïve Mr. Ginner. Altruism is a wonderful trait, it truly is, but it is for the misguided. Why should one risk their own life for that of another with no promise of significant gain for the action?"

"Real humanitarian you are," MJ spoke up.

"Pah," Mrs. Deneaux spat, waving her arm at him.

"How much time do we have?" April asked as she looked towards the front door.

"That's the ten thousand dollar question, now isn’t it?" Paul responded distractedly.

"No matter what decisions we come to," Joann stated, "I think we need to get Marta some medicine first. Who's in?"

"Me," MJ replied, raising his hand, “but only if we stop at a Radio Shack too."

"Me too," April said, looking over lustfully at MJ who for the moment was not paying her any attention.

"I'm in," Paul stated.

"Paul," Erin said. Implicit in that one word was the question, 'Why do you feel the need to risk your life and leave me here?'

Paul shrugged his shoulders as if to say, 'Look who's going, someone has to watch out for them and it might as well be me.' Paul laughed a little; sometimes being married was a trip. They had just had an entire conversation, mostly unspoken.

"I will go too," Alex said dejectedly.

"No, you will stay here my friend, by your wife's side," Paul said, placing his arm around Alex' shoulder. "It'll be fine," he added hollowly.

"You really believe that?" Alex asked, calling him out on his statement.

"I have to," Paul answered him. "What's the alternative?"

"Fair enough, but hurry up or I'm going to throw Deneaux outside on her ass," Alex said with a small smile.

"What's the cut-off point?" Paul asked, looking at a non-existent watch.

"I'm going to lock the door on our way out," MJ said.

"That would be wise," Alex told him.

"That means you'll be locked in," MJ said as if he was talking to a five year old.

"I think he gets it," Paul said, grabbing MJ before Alex had the chance to lose his cool again.

"I just wanted him to be aware of that,” Alex heard MJ say as Paul led him away.

Mrs. Deneaux walked over to the far side of the store to the recliner section, and with a loudly audible sigh sat down in an oversized EZ Boy.

"I think her fever's breaking," Erin said excitedly as she pressed her palm to Marta's head.

Marta's eyes fluttered open as she uttered one word. "Demonio."

Alex made the sign of the Holy Trinity. Erin looked questioningly over towards him. "Demon," he offered in translation.

"Got it,” Erin answered with a shiver. Marta's eyes closed as a more restful sleep ensued.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – Ron - Searsport

As soon as Ron got home with his dad, Nancy took the kids to get them settled in. Their initial fears of being in a new place were put quickly at ease by Nancy as she got them cleaned up, fed and showed them where they could sleep. For now she set up a bunch of sleeping bags and pillows in the family room in the basement. She had a hunch that, at least at first, they would feel much more comfortable if they were all within arm's reach no matter how much testosterone the three boys pretended to throw around.

"They going to be alright?" a wiped out Ron asked his wife as she came up the stairs.

"As all right as any kids can be when they lose their parents," Nancy answered him solemnly. “I had hoped Meredith would come home with you," Nancy commiserated as she placed her hand on Ron's arm.

"Me too," Ron said, using his other hand to try and wipe the exhaustion from his features. Ron related all of the events that had transpired throughout the day. As he wrapped up, he thought that he most likely should have glossed over a few of the stickier details. Nancy was looking a little less hale than she had been a few minutes before. “The old man is a rock," Ron said, referring to his father.

"You've got more of him in you than you know. I'm going to check on the kids." Nancy needed desperately to take her mind off of just how close to a disastrous end her daughter had come. She was still mourning for one of them. She could not compound those feelings; her soul was already feeling threadbare.

All was quiet as Ron sat on his couch reflecting back on the day. His hands nervously twitched. He did not notice.

"Eagle's Nest, Eagle's Nest, this is Valkyrie," Mike said through the airwaves.

"What is wrong with you?" Gary asked, "It's Mount Olympus. You can’t just go making stuff up.” "How many people do you think he has checking in?" Mike asked his brother.

‘More than you know,’ Ron thought as he got up to talk on the handset.

"That's not the point," Gary said a little peevishly. "If you're not going to follow protocol…” "Protocol?" Mike cut his brother off, "Are you kidding me? Chariots of Fire my ass, I still haven’t forgiven you for ratting me out. You know that moose wasn't my fault.” "Maybe if you had driven a little better…" Gary needled his brother.

"You're blaming my driving skills now! Maybe if I wasn't so distracted by your attempt at singing, or whatever you call that…” "Boys!" Ron shouted through the microphone. "Am I going to have to put you two in a time out?” "He could probably use it!" Gary shouted. A loud crashing sound immediately followed.

"I've got your time out right here!" Mike shouted to the most likely retreating back of his brother, but over the headset it was deafening.

"Mike! I've already got a headache. It's been a hell of a day,” Ron yelled.

Mike immediately turned all business, "Everything all right?" Mike held his breath waiting for a response. "Tracy make it back?" Fear was coiled in that question like a compressed spring.

Ron took a breath, he hated lying this big to his brother. Oh, there were times when it was necessary like on the Risk board when he would tell a mistruth about how many turns they would stay allies, but this was of a much higher magnitude, life and death to be exact.

"Ron?" Mike asked, fear threatening to overcome all of his senses rendering him useless.

"She's fine, Mike.” ‘Not so much a lie there,' Ron thought.

"Whew,” Mike said in relief. “Can I talk to her?"

"She's sleeping, they had a close call on the way back.” Ron had learned from his earlier revelation to his wife that it was best to limit the amount of details. “She's fine, Mike,” Ron reiterated to stop the next barrage of questions. “As are the kids.” Ron could picture his younger brother wiping the dampness from his eyes as he collected himself.

"Dad, everything alright?" Travis asked on the other end. Ron's vision must have been spot on.

"Good,” Mike choked out. “Just relieved. Your mom is safe.”

‘Dammit.’ Ron thought. ‘Didn’t actually say that.’

"It's a little early for a call in Mike. What's going on?" Ron asked. He didn’t get a sense that there was any urgency to the call but this was not a time in history where assumptions should ever be taken.

"Well, I was calling to check on Tracy and to let you know that we're heading south a little quicker than we thought,” Mike told him.

"What's changed?" Ron asked, intrigued.

"We've got reason to believe that Alex, and possibly Paul if they are still together, are now the objects of Eliza's attention.” "What? Did she send you a text?" Ron asked sarcastically.

"Just about,” Mike answered back seriously.

"I don’t even want to know,” Ron told him.

"Probably better off.”

"Are you going to be able to find them? South is a pretty vague direction.”

"I've got an idea, not sure if it will work. Just something I've been thinking about on the fly.” "The last time you thought of something 'on the fly' it cost me three hundred dollars to bail your ass out of jail,” Ron jibed.

"Don’t go getting all riled up, I paid you back for that.”

"No you didn't.”

"You sure?" Mike asked. “I'll get right on that when I get back.” "Yeah, a lot of uses for cash these days. Just get your ass back here and we'll discuss repayment.” "I'm not aligning with the Allegiance of Darkness on the Risk board if that's what you have in mind.” "Well, that was partially it, but we can figure something else out,” Ron said smiling now. “Alright, call me when you hunker down for the night.” "Roger that, tell everyone there that I love them.”

"Will do.”

*

Ron waited a minute before changing the frequency. “You catch that?" he asked BT.

"Got it,” BT said.

"You'd better be careful or you'll end up passing him by.”

"That would serve him right if I did and then saved the day, so by the time he got there I had Eliza's head on a pike. I’d be drinking the last ice cold Molson on the planet and he’d get stuck having to kill some crippled ass old zombie and drinking a piss warm Schlitz.” "Umm, still a little pissed that he asked you to stay behind?" Ron asked.

"Does it show?" BT asked seriously.

Ron decided wisely to not answer. “You know the drill. Next time he calls, wait a few, then switch to frequency two and we'll discuss what we want to do going forward.” "What I want to do is kick his…"

"BT!" Tracy said.

"Fine, we'll be in touch,” BT said menacingly.

"Always a pleasure,” Ron responded.

A loud growl came over his headset. He truly hoped it had something to do with the curvature of the earth as it came in line with sunspots, as opposed to any sound emanating from a human being.

Ron stood there a moment longer basking in the quiet of his home. He hoped that someday soon the quiet would be replaced by the noise of the living, many of the living.

CHAPTER NINETEEN – Talbot Journal Entry 9

"All right Justin, I know this was partially my idea, but I'm not feeling all that great about it,” I said to my son.

"Dad, we've already decided that I can skip one day of shots without any ill effects. This is just one more day and it means that they will last longer,” Justin answered. He had a brave face on, but I wasn't completely convinced. Hell, I was scared and the bitch wasn't in my head nearly as deeply as she was within his. I could feel her on the periphery of my consciousness but that was it. Kind of like a mosquito on the other side of a screen door, somehow we now shared a link from the 'kiss of death' she had given me before the downfall at Little Turtle. But it was more a knowledge of something bad than actually being bad.

As the effects of Justin's shots wore off, it meant that Eliza could begin to hold sway over him. It was not a comforting thought. We sat at the edge of I-95 for a few hours waiting; we actually saw a few cars pass by. It wasn't rush hour by any stretch of the imagination, and they were about as friendly as Yankees fans after losing to the Red Sox, but it was still nice to see actual living breathing, not trying-to-cut-my-throat people.

"Oh Dad,” Justin said with a moan. “I'm beginning to feel her.” He began to scratch his arms like a junkie.

"It's not worth it,” I said, digging through his bag for a shot.

He seemed to rally his reserves. “It's alright, I can do this,” he said, taking a big breath of air. “I need to do this.” He sat there a few moments longer, eyes closed, body shivering even though it was a fairly balmy 40 or so degrees, which after this winter seemed like the tropics. Gary and Travis were busy having a snowball fight, oh how I wanted to join them.

"Do you think we should maybe try this at another time?" I asked Justin. A cold chill wind buffeted my back, although I think the chill was more internal than external.

Justin opened one eye. “She's least active during the day. This is our best chance to go unnoticed.” Unnoticed under Eliza's watch? I didn't share in the optimism.

Justin seized up, his entire body going rigid. I grabbed him, fearful that he was going to topple like a redwood tree.

"Found her,” he meted out.

"Wonderful.” To those of you that might possibly find this journal having not read the previous three, here is just a brief moment of explanation. ‘Wonderful’ in this context is primarily meant as a term of sarcasm. I in no way relished any more contact with Eliza than was absolutely necessary. “And?"

"Not yet,” he said stiffly. “It's not like there's a set of directions.”

“Sarcasm returned.” I didn’t know it was even possible but Justin seemed to stand even more ramrod straight. Gary caught a snowball with his ear hole as he turned to watch.

"Uh oh,” Justin said.

"Uh oh is bad Justin, what's going on? The last time I said uh oh I had… yeah, I think I'll just hold on to that thought.” Even under the heavy concentration, Justin was able to spare a moment to give me a sidelong glance. I smiled weakly.

"Whoa, I thought she felt me. It's good now though. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this connection without her feeling me though. And I'm still no closer to reaching out to Marta.” "Forget it then. There's no sense in giving her a heads up about us especially with no upswing.” Justin looked as if he was just about inclined to agree, “Wait… wait… she's there!!" he said excitedly.

All I could figure was that it was Eliza. I damn near panicked and shoved the shot in his sternum.

"Marta?" Justin asked. “It's me, Justin,” he said touching his chest. “I can't stay long, but we're coming to help. Where are you?"

Travis, Gary and I were now in a semi-circle watching the birth of a potential new means of communication. Is this what it was like when Edison invented the telephone? Talk about a Smart Phone!

"We're on our way, stay strong!" Justin said beaming, “Hold on, my dad has one quick message for Paul.” Justin relayed the message exactly as I had given it to him even if he now wore a panicked expression on his face. “Dad, she's coming! Hit me!"

I was momentarily lost in the reverie of marketing the new telecomm age, but that quickly changed as I watched elation turn to fright in the span of a blink. I plunged the needle in and the fear in him receded slowly, but the taint of evil took much longer to leave. He spent the majority of that day huddled in the back seat with a couple of blankets on him. Eliza needed to be dealt with quickly.