The End Has Come and Gone

Eliza and Tomas Interlude

"I am intrigued, brother,” Eliza said coolly. “Why is it that you would allow our enemies to converse?" she asked as she arched an eyebrow. She feigned indifference but it was clear her brother had upset her.

"Does it not make the task at hand easier if they are all together?" Tomas asked.

"Perhaps, my brother, but I do not yet know if I trust you.”

Tomas smiled as he walked away. That smile lay somewhere between conniving and triumphant. Even Tomas did not know to whom he had given the benefit when he allowed Justin a moment to communicate with Marta.

CHAPTER TWENTY - Alex and Marta

Marta's arm shot up as she grabbed Alex' forearm. “They're coming!" she said excitedly.

‘She's gone,’ Alex thought sourly. ‘She's finally lost it.’ Alex was wondering how he would be able to live out the remainder of his days without her.

Marta watched the sadness in her husband’s expression as it traversed across his face. “No,” she said tenderly. “Mike is coming!" she said softly but excitement punctuated the words.

"Oh Marta, you cannot know this,” Alex hitched. It was one thing to witness the destruction of one's body, a completely different form of torture to watch one's mind disintegrate.

"The boy who was scratched,” she said as she wet her fever dried lips.

"Justin?" Alex asked.

"Yes, Justin,” she answered, putting her head back on the pillow. “He says that we are in danger and that they are coming to help.” Alex had a look of astonishment on his face.

"He says that he, his brother, Mike, and Mike's brother are coming here and that we should not go anywhere.” "I do not know what to believe,” Alex nearly cried.

"Believe me, dear husband,” Marta said as she fell back into a much more peaceful sleep.

Alex did seventeen laps around the store alternating between outright joy and terror, never becoming fully comfortable with any one thought. He was on the far side of the store on his eighteenth lap when he heard Paul and MJ coming back from their expedition. He was met with stares of concern as he ran down the center aisle to meet them.

"Everything alright?" Paul asked, scanning the warehouse for any signs of trouble. “Is Marta okay?"

"Mike's coming!" Alex rushed out. He was all out of breath and covered in a sheen of sweat, the exertion of his power walk showing.

"Catch your breath buddy and maybe start from the beginning,” Paul suggested concernedly as he escorted Alex over to a chair.

MJ already lost interest and was pushing his shopping cart full of electronics to the desk section for assembly.

"Hey, maybe work on improving that low battery indicator,” Paul said to MJ before turning back to Alex. MJ was too deep in thought to catch the slight.

"Marta says that Justin spoke to her, and that Mike is heading this way,” Alex reported, looking at his friend. It sounded much less sane when spoken out loud and to one that had not witnessed the event.

"And she's sure it was Justin?" Paul asked, not willing to believe just yet.

Alex nodded.

"And she was sure of Justin's intent?" Paul asked. He didn’t say it, but they were both thinking it. When they parted company with Mike, Justin was already feeling the effects of Eliza’s power and was slipping further away every day. It did not seem that the elapsed time could have done him better. The exact opposite was more likely the case.

"Paul, she looked happy after she 'talked' to him.” "Far as I know Alex, Justin was not born with the ability to speak psychically. I think that's Eliza's specialty.” Alex bowed his head. “But why, Paul? Why bother?"

"To keep us off guard, maybe just to raise our hopes so she could be there when she smashed them. I don’t know, who can tell what such a malignant mind might find worthwhile.” Paul's thoughts ran deeper and darker. 'If,' and Paul truly believed that was the case, 'If Justin was now an agent for the enemy, that meant that more than likely Mike had not made it to Maine .'

"If Justin is one of them,” Alex said, verbalizing Paul's thoughts, “then Mike is dead.” Paul's knees suddenly felt weak, and he sat down next to Alex. A torrent of memories flooded through his senses, from the first time they met, through high school, college and ultimately until they parted. “I'll miss you my friend,” Paul said to the heavens. A more pressing thought came to the fore. “We've got to leave,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I'll start rounding people up,” Paul said as he stood up. Alex still had his head in his hands. Even false hope hurt when it was ripped from your soul, like a fish hook through a cheek.

Erin was walking down the aisle way when Paul stood. “Hi baby,” she told her husband, glad to see that he was safe. “Marta woke up for a second,” she told Alex. He turned to see if it should be anything to be concerned about. “Now this may sound weird, but I'm only repeating what she said.” Paul and Alex looked expectantly at her. “All right here goes. ‘Dad wasn't sure if Paul is still with you guys, but if he is, ask him what he thought of Pete Townsend's piss.'"

Paul damn near choked on his laughter. “Mike's alive!" he said, pumping his fist in the air.

"How… how do you know?" Alex asked, not quite yet willing to grab onto the thread of promise.

"Inside joke,” Paul said beaming.

"Referring to…?" Erin asked.

"Uh,” he stalled, “College, window pane… acid," he coughed out. “A case of beer and some unbelievable amounts of laughter.” "That doesn't really explain the reference to the Who's lead guitarist’s urine,” Erin said quizzically.

"Didn't you catch the part about the acid?" Paul said, still smiling.

"Fine,” Erin said, "but some day you are going to fill me in.” "And this isn’t a trick?" Alex asked.

"No way,” Paul said, “There's no way Mike told any of his kids about that night.”

"Please, just tell me that it had nothing to do with that man's piss,” Alex fairly begged.

Paul started laughing again. “No, no, nothing like that… well kind of… but not what you’re thinking. We were talking about Pete Townsend and how he probably had fans who worshipped his piss.” Alex had a blank stare, but Erin walked away. She decided she'd heard enough. “Trust me,” Paul said slapping his friend on the shoulder, “It's hilarious when you’re tripping your trees off.” "I'll take your word for it,” Alex said, “So we're staying then?"

"I guess for now, this place is a little bigger than I'd like it to be, but as far as defending against zombies our only real concern would be the front door. We picked up some canned goods while we were out, so food will be a non-issue for a few days. What the hell, I say we hunker down for a bit, recharge our batteries, and let Wonder Boy over there finish up his zombie stopper,” Paul finished off by pointing over towards MJ.

"Will she let him?" Alex indicated April, who was nearly tripping over her tongue as she hovered around MJ.

"It's kind of funny the 180 he's done since he first laid eyes on her. The more she talks the less interested he becomes. April has yet to figure that equation out. She rambles on like a meth-head at a rave. All that beauty and not an iota of brain to go with it,” Paul laughed.

"Meth-head at a rave? That gives me a headache just thinking about it. I like the idea of resting for a few days. I don’t, however, like the idea of my wife being the human equivalent of a cell phone. And I'm having a hard time reconciling how close in proximity Tomas' message was to Justin's.” "It does make for some interesting pondering, I'll give you that. But I'm telling you Mike would no sooner tell his kids about his drug experiences than he would tell his wife about his sexual exploits.” "Oooh, I get your point.” Alex cringed just thinking about how that conversation would go do with his own betrothed. He inadvertently covered his testicles.

"Yeah, pretty much just like that,” Paul said, catching the involuntary motion.

"We wait then.” Alex rose from his chair and headed back down the aisle to where his wife was resting.

Paul headed back to the front doors. “I'll keep a watch out,” he told Joann, who was all too happy to let him.

"Storm's brewing.” She pointed up to the blackening shroud of clouds.

"Sure is,” he told her. ‘And I don't think it’s the only one,’ he thought. ‘Hurry up Mike.’

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE – Talbot Journal Entry 10

I drove most of that day alternating between looking at the road and readjusting my rear view mirror to keep an eye on Justin. This was a dangerous game we played with a lethal enemy; it was the equivalent of playing with a Black Mamba and seeing if we could inject the anti-venom before the neurotoxin had an opportunity to stop the beating heart. Justin noticed me looking on occasion when he wasn't resting. I saw no sign of the duality from before the shots, but he still did not look well. The expense of that call might not have been worth it, even AT&T in their heyday didn't charge that much.

"I'll be fine, Dad,” Justin said as he smiled weakly. “And stop looking at me, you’re kind of giving me the creeps.” "All right, but you let me know if you need anything,” I told him as I adjusted the mirror back to its intended view of the road behind me.

"Who is Easter Evans?" Travis asked.

"What?" I asked him back.

"The sign right there says welcome to Virginia, home of Easter Evans,” he clarified.

We almost passed it by, it was your standard State sign, but painted very neatly below it was ‘Home of Easter Evans.’ This wasn't your standard issue graffiti, someone had taken painstaking detail to make this look as professional as possible, and I didn’t like it. Anyone that thought themselves important enough to make sure everyone knew about them was not anyone I wanted to know.

"I don’t like it Mike,” Gary said.

"It's just a sign,” I said, half convincingly.

"Yeah, so is that.” He pointed to a much different ‘sign’ a few hundred feet further down the road. Hanging from a highway exit sign were the bodies of three people.

"What does that sign say?" I asked, squinting my eyes to try and get a better look. I knew it wasn't going to be anything good. I mean it wasn't going to say, ‘These were very bad people that did very bad things.’

Gary pulled out a small pair of binoculars. “Sinners, it says sinners.” Well, maybe I was wrong. It actually did kind of say what I thought it might. Now the question was what kind of sins did Easter Evans think were hanging offenses. You would have to step very far out of bounds with me to get that type of response, but who knows if Easter might be of the ilk that thought chewing gum was a hanging offense.

"I think I would like to go around Virginia ,” Gary said conversationally as he put the binoculars back in their case.

"Great idea, can't afford the time delay though,” I told him.

"Figured you'd say that,” as he put his seatbelt on.

Travis took the lead from his uncle and did the same.

"Could you get Justin's?" I asked Travis as I strapped myself in.

"Kind of like a Bible Belt.” Gary tugged on his harness to make sure it was secure.

I drove slowly as we approached the bodies hanging above us. I hoped that they were zombies, that would almost make sense. Not that the zombies cared, it wouldn't be much of a deterrent for them but it would somehow still make sense. I stopped the truck within a few feet of the swaying dead people, one of which looked like a woman, or was merely a victim of crows dining on its tenderloins. I walked completely around looking for head wounds.

The bodies were bloated and blackened from exposure to the elements but they were still intact enough to tell that there were no gunshots to any of these poor souls’ heads.

"Mike, any reason why you wanted to stop? This isn't really a photo-op,” Gary stated nervously.

"Was trying to see if they were zombies or not.”

"And?"

"Not so much.”

"Even more reason that we should probably get going.”

"My sentiments exactly,” I told my brother.

"Still planning on going through Virginia?" he asked.

I didn’t answer him as I put the truck in drive.

It wasn't five minutes later that we became the victims of a rolling blockade. Cars, trucks, vans and SUV's poured in from the off ramps on our right and left. Trucks that were bigger and cars that were faster, and all of them were packed with Easter's true believers. Apparently Easter thought very well of arming his flock so when the first car pulled up alongside and a mutton chopped man pointed to the side of the road, I saw no way out that didn’t involve a lot of carnage, a great amount which would occur in our truck.

"Turn the truck off,” came Mutton's voice as he pulled alongside. “If you could be so kind as to hand the keys to Brother Wilkinson, I would greatly appreciate it.” "Well he sure sounds nice,” Gary said. “I'm thinking West Virginia would have been a lot better state to go through though.” "I think I would have to agree with you,” I said as I handed over to the keys to the guy who I could only assume was Brother Wilkinson. A small platoon of cars and trucks completely encircled us. The scene in the Godfather with Sonny at the toll booth was going through my head. I could only hope that these people had good aim. I didn’t want to dance around like a marionette as I was riddled with bullets.

"Now friend,” Mutton started up again. “I would like for you to put all of your weapons outside of your truck.” Gary was imperceptibly shaking his head in the negative. “I'd rather go out like the Bon Jovi song.” I looked at him questioningly then asked, “What? ‘Livin’ on a Prayer?’"

"No dumbass, ‘In a Blaze of Glory.’”

"Great.”

"Dad, what are we gonna do?" Travis asked, not nervously, but if we were going to start shooting it needed to be sooner rather than later.

The people outside were starting to tense up also. If anything was going to happen it was within these next few crucial seconds. I took a second to look at Justin's peaceful sleeping face, at Travis, and then my brother. “Not this time guys.” "You sure you know what you’re doing Mike?" Gary asked me with a false smile on for our onlookers.

"Of course not,” I told him softly. I opened my door slowly; fingers on triggers applied an ounce more of pressure. “Nobody get happy fingers on us, I'm putting our guns outside.” "Hold,” Mutton said through a strained smile.

Within another minute the four of us were up against the car and getting a more thorough pat down. I felt it was good news that they hadn’t just opened fire.

"All clear, Father Easter,” Mutton said as we were allowed to turn from our ‘assume the position’ stance.

A stately man of about 60 came out from one of the cars in the back; it looked like a Caddy but I didn’t have the best angle. He was dressed all in black with a hat which was in direct contrast to his shock of white hair and beard. He looked like any pastor might down in the South, almost affable, but his eyes belied him. His true nature he could not hide, his eyes burned with what? Insanity? Rage? Tyranny? All of the above?

"Good day citizens,” he said politely as he approached. “What kind of man be ye?" He asked Gary .

"I'm not sure of the answer, sir,” Gary told him honestly.

"Well!" Easter boomed. “Do you walk in the light of the Lord or do you not!"

"I would like to think I walk in the light,” Gary told him.

Gary tensed as Easter placed his hand on Gary 's chest. I didn't know what was happening but I didn't friggen’ like it.

"Pious!" Easter shouted.

"Praise be to God!" His followers shouted.

He next touched Travis and repeated the same word, followed immediately by the chorus.

"And you?" he said as he got so close I could smell his tobacco laced breath.

"I have strayed from the path on occasion, but only to see what lay in the shade. Always was I within the reach of the light.” "Praise be to God brother, it is better to have lost one's way and found the path back to righteousness. It shows true character.” Easter placed his hand on my chest. I felt damn near the same sensation when I first picked up Eliza's locket. A small current of energy coursed through me. His hand stayed there moments longer than it had on Gary and Travis combined. He looked me in the eyes before he spoke. “I see that you walk with one foot in the light and one foot in the dark, Mr. Talbot.” "How do you know my name?"

"Be quiet son. I am divining your nature. You have a darkness in you that you have warred with valiantly to keep at bay. I think that someday you will lose this battle, but for now, I will grant you the chance to keep fighting. Pious!" he shouted.

"Praise be to God,” rang out around us.

"Can we go now?" I asked Easter.

"Perhaps,” he said, eyeing Justin suspiciously, “The boy is not well?" It was phrased as a question but the answer was evident.

Justin nearly fell backwards as did Easter when the divining touch was made.

"Seize them!" Easter said as he struggled to get his breath. “This one is marked!" Mutton and two other men closed in.

"Wait, please!" I shouted before the situation spiraled even further downhill. “He's my son, he needs help.” "Nothing that a short rope on a tall tree won’t cure,” Brother Wilkinson sneered.

"Easter, he's just a boy,” I pleaded.

He had not yet fully recovered from his encounter. “And yet he is stained deeply. He cannot continue to exist. He is an abomination!"

"You yourself just called the three of us pious men. Would we so willingly align with the darkness?"

"Evil can take on a great many forms. Most cannot see it until it is too late and it has led us very far from our path. It can bring even the mightiest among us to our knees.” A bunch of “Amens” and “Hallejulahs” rang out.

"What if we,” I said, pointing to Gary, Travis and myself, “as men of righteousness, what if we are using the evil within him...” Justin's face sagged, I felt sorry for bruising his feelings but our literal necks were on the line. “…to serve a higher purpose.” I don’t think we had won anyone over, but Easter was at least pondering my suggestion.

"You three may go forward,” Easter said, "and I will attempt to exorcize the demons from the boy. If I can, he will be allowed to live among us until you return or he wishes to go after you.” "And if that doesn’t work?"

"He swings,” Easter answered bluntly.

"What if we don’t go?" Travis asked. “He's my brother.”

"You will all suffer the same fate as Eliza's pet,” Easter said, motioning to Mutton to round us up.

"Then just leaving is out of the question?" I tried one more time.

"I would no sooner let loose a scorpion in a baby's crib and hope it did not strike,” Easter said over his shoulder as he walked away.

"That’s a ‘no’ then?" I asked. Mutton smacked me upside the head.

"Should have left when you had the chance, veil walker. I've never seen Easter give anyone the chance to go with a taint of darkness in them.” He shoved me forward but not menacingly.

"Well that's me, always the uninvited guest, first to come, last to leave.”

"Boy, are you sure that you’re right in the head?" Mutton asked.

"He's my brother,” Gary said. “He's always been a little like this.” Travis nodded in agreement.

Mutton looked us over. “Really wish you three hadn’t come this way,” he said, not including Justin who was now being led in a different direction. “He’ll be fine for now, Easter will do what he promised, but after…"

He let it lie.

We were driven back down the off ramp and within a few minutes we came to a stone building structure with a large ornate sign that read ‘Robert E. Lee Middle School .’ I looked over at Mutton.

He shrugged, "It's our town hall slash prison slash housing. It's easily defendable, all of the windows have metal grating over them.” I understood defendable. We were led up the two first floors. We passed the gamut of human suffering, from hollow eyed victims to the sunken defeated. This was the last harbor in which their drowned souls could seek refuge. Some would recover, some would fade away. Mutton opened a locked door which led us up a small set of wooden steps. At the top was another door and I didn’t need the sign to realize this was the supply closet, it smelled of bleach and mimeograph solution. It was a very nostalgic smell and it instantly brought me back to my grade school days when the biggest drama of the day was when Billy Allen stole my lunch dessert. I should have kicked his ass.

"Go on up now,” Mutton motioned. “Don’t cause any trouble and none will be brought to you.” "Mutton…” I started. “Umm…?"

"The name is Talisker,” Mutton/Talisker said.

"Talisker, who is Easter Evans?" I asked. I truly expected to hear how the man was the second coming of Christ himself wrapped around a crap load of Praise Be to Jesus and maybe a Can I Get a Witness, with a side dose of some serious pontification.

"He used to work within these walls,” He answered me. “Before the wrath of God was unleashed.” I could understand a principal taking charge in a moment of crisis, it was almost a natural progression in lieu of any other formal type of government.

"He was the janitor,” Talisker finished up, completely shattering my thought process. The look on my face must have been amusing, “Yup, that's pretty much what we thought at first. But the man had an uncanny ability to organize us when everything was falling apart.” I momentarily thought of Jed. Would I even be here now if it wasn't for that man?

"Easter fought house to house to gather the pious,” Talisker continued. “My first words to the crazy old man covered in blood on my doorstep were ‘Fuck Off.’ He smiled and told me that he thought I'd say that. Then he placed his hand on my chest and my doubt and worries disappeared. I grabbed my wife and kid and we've been here ever since. My house burned down that night. If not for Easter, my family would be dead,” The stoic Talisker looked away for a second as he composed himself, “Seventy-seven houses we fought our way to before the zombies got so thick I swear we could have stepped on their heads to get back here. I won’t say that the zombies made a path when Easter Evans walked towards them, but it seems to me that they really wanted to be somewhere else when he was around. Unfortunately, his influence only spread so far and the rest of us had to fight our way back. Some fell, most lived. None of us would have made it though if not for Easter. He's a good man that just might have been elevated to greatness due to the end of times.” "What of the three people we came across that were swinging from a highway sign?" I asked Talisker, looking for some sort of weakness in the armor he had placed protectively around Easter's character.

"The Bowdoin brothers, always were petty thieves. Mostly shoplifting and vandalism. I believe that one of them did time for stealing a car, nothing overly serious though.” "Did they not fit into Easter's view of a Utopian society?"

Talisker did not rise to the bait, if he even noted it at all. “About a month ago, Easter came to me and told me to get three strong men with tight mouths. We had an errand to perform. I didn't question the man. We drove a couple of miles out of town. When he told me to park and that we'd walk from there, I shut the truck off and got out. A mile later we were on the front porch of the Bowdoins’ run-down house. “Take them alive,” he told us, “they must atone for what they have done. They must first face God before they are eternally damned.” I was scared, I had no idea what we were getting into. Easter had turned around and was looking up to the sky, his bible clenched in his hands. Tears streamed down his face. I kicked the door in, probably could have leaned on it and it would have broken open it was so termite infested. Damn near fell into the living room but I recovered quick enough. The first of the Bowdoins, Les, came running from the kitchen. He had no drawers on, but so far no law had been broken as far as I could tell. How a man wants to dress or not in his own home is no concern of mine. Felt somewhat bad as I used the butt of my gun to drop him to the ground.” Talisker's full tone, easy demeanor and his honesty made for a very captivating story.

"And then his other two brothers, Donny and Lyle, came running from the kitchen. But the funny thing, at least that was what I thought then, I'd change my mind soon enough, was they were also without trousers. I was thinking that it just wasn't warm enough to be running around like that, and I mean technically we were still at war. Who the hell wants to get caught with their talliwacker hanging out?"

I laughed, I agreed. “When I die I want it to be with a gun in my hand, not my penis.”

"I like you Mike,” Talisker chuckled.

"How does everyone know my name?"

Talisker continued on with his narrative, disregarding my question altogether. “The three guys with me quickly rounded up the other two brothers. Easter told them to 'make them unconscious, that they did not deserve to see the light of God's day.’ Donny almost died that day when the black flashlight Red was carrying crashed down on the top of his skull. His legs flopped around like a puppet controlled by a palsy victim. The batteries flew out as the metal casing ruptured from the assault. 'Alive!' Easter shouted at Red and then Easter placed his hand on the man's head. Now, I'm not saying he healed Donny, but those legs stopped flopping around. What came next was the worst thing I had ever seen in my life.” "Talisker, I don't think I want to know.”

"You don’t want to know,” He answered honestly, “But I can see it in your eyes, why am I blindly following a man who a few months ago was barely making a living wiping up kiddy puke in the cafeteria and cleaning toilets, so now I'm telling you. There was a boy, maybe seven, maybe eight, too tough to tell. They had him tied to the stove and they were using that boy in ways that go against all the laws of man, nature, and the Bible.” Talisker began to cry now, silent tears leaking down his face unnoticed. “And in between them taking their turns on the boy, they would burn him. It looked to be mostly grease; the boy was just all burned skin and blood. He died in my arms the second I released his bonds, almost as if he had been waiting for sweet release. I cried more that day, I believe, than I have my entire life. Even as my hands bled as I dug the grave, I cried. I wept the entire walk back to the truck and almost the entire ride into town. Easter calmed my tortured soul as we headed home. He said some things can never be forgotten, and they shouldn't. But there comes a time when we need to move on, that God had told him we have more to do. I have a heaviness that I will hold in my heart until the good Lord takes me from this life and lets me enter into the next, but for now I will do all that it takes to rid the world of the blackness that has descended among us.” "Damn, Talisker.” What argument did I have against the man at this point?

"When we got the Bowdoins back into town, we gave them a trial. They were completely belligerent, ranting about their rights to do as they pleased. Shouting that it was the end of the world and who gives a rat’s ass about one little boy and besides someone else had told them to do it. If I had been allowed to bring my gun in that day, I would have just shot them all dead and hoped that God would forgive me. When it was all over and the verdict came down as guilty, none of them showed any remorse. It was never about the boy's rights, it was always about their own self-serving needs. They started swearing and threatening to kill everyone in the courtroom. Easter had a couple of the bigger guys restrain Donny. Easter then walked up to the man and placed his hand on his head. He then told the two guys holding Donny to let him go. At first Donny shrugged them off and then it was like someone had taken a 220-volt live exposed wire and shoved it up his asshole.” "Which he would have deserved,” I threw in for good measure.

"Which he would have deserved,” Talisker echoed. “He stood so rigid, I thought Easter must have stopped his heart. He looked like a plank of wood, and then he arched over backwards so that his face was pointing straight up into the sky. I damn near shit a brick when Donny uttered just one word and it was a question. “God?” And as I stand here and tell you today, blood began to fall like tears from Donny's eyes. His brother Les started screaming that Easter had poisoned his brother and that he was gonna kill everyone here and then rape their rotting bodies. Donny heard none of it as fat globs of blood began to pool on the ground. Besides Les' ranting, the rest of the room was quiet. Oh, we were all standing and watching, and I've got to think that everybody was as scared as I was. Donny then stood straight back up and slumped back into his chair. Les asked him if he was alright. How Donny saw anything I don’t know, his eyes were burnt. Where there should have been his blue irises were now just red burned husks. And no, it wasn't blood covering them up. The entire eye was the color of a cinnamon ball like you used to get in the gumball machines. ‘I've seen God,’ Donny told his brothers, ‘and he isn’t the loving and forgiving kind, he's a vengeful and demanding God.' I think Les and Lyle were now beginning to see the errors of their ways. Lyle started running. He didn’t get too far with leg irons on and all. It was the same thing when Easter touched Lyle's head. Within a minute he was next to Donny, they were completely subdued. Donny was crying normal tears this time and Lyle just kept mumbling how sorry he was. Les was going nuts, swearing that Easter had better not lay his poisoned hands anywhere upon him. Then he did something that even Easter wasn't prepared for. Les began to say the Lord's Prayer in reverse. That courtroom darkened and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Easter might have faltered for half a heartbeat, but he recovered and slammed the heel of his hand into Les' head. The room immediately flooded with a light a hundred times brighter than I think we should be able to see and not go blind. It was like a super bright flashbulb, it was that quick. Les broke his back, he was flung so violently backward. He lay on the ground as he gazed upon his maker. He did not cry or beg for forgiveness. He seemed to want to go to the one upon whose allegiance he had sworn. We hung them that day.” I didn't know what to say, how do you dispute what the man witnessed?

"There's some canned goods up in the far corner,” a much more morose Talisker told us as he motioned for us to go through the door before he shut and locked it.

"Do you buy it Mike?" Gary asked as he rummaged around in the box until he found something that sounded good to his palate, a can of Mandarin oranges, “I mean, you’re the cynic and all.” "Well, he believes it, that's for sure,” Travis said in a subdued voice.

"Mass hallucination?" Gary asked.

"I hate that term, that's a Government term if I ever heard one. They invented that to cover up any number of eyewitness accounts of something they didn’t want people to see,” I said. “I'm more inclined to believe in Les' theory.” "Poison?" Travis asked.

"Really?" Gary asked, so perturbed that he dropped an orange in his lap.

"It's a possibility for sure, but the event as explained by Talisker seems just as real of a possibility.” Gary stopped, his hand mid-way to his mouth with the orange.

"I've been witness to a lot of events recently Gary that I can’t explain,” I told him bluntly.

He thought about it for a moment longer and then finished the action of bringing the succulent fruit to his mouth.

"Either way, I'm not sure where that puts Justin,” I said.

"Or us.” Gary smacked down another morsel.

"Any more of those?" Travis asked, heading over to the box.

"How can you guys eat?" I said as I paced the room.

"Easy, we're hungry,” Gary answered.

Travis nodded.

By the time Talisker came to get us a few hours later, I had polished off two cans of oranges and one of pears. My stomach grumbled from all the fruit, might as well have eaten a three-alarm burrito for all the fireworks that were going off in my plumbing. I was going to make a great impression when I started releasing some of the internal pressure, so to speak.

We were not led to a classroom, but rather what was once more likely the teacher's lounge which had now been converted into Easter's living abode. I was relieved we weren't on trial, but not quite comfortable. We were still waiting to be judged and by ultimately Easter’s sole authority.

Justin seemed to have had better accommodations than us. He was sitting on the couch, a half-eaten sandwich and a small bag of chips off to his side on an end table. He even had some comic books on his lap and a blanket wrapped around his legs.

"Comfortable?" I asked him, relieved to see that he was alright.

"Not so bad,” he said with a sincere smile. I could still see a sense of nervousness etched in his features, but he was unharmed and that was a good way to be.

Easter came in through another door that attached to the cafeteria. “Welcome,” he said as he spread his arms. "Please sit. That will be all Talisker, thank you.” Talisker nodded once and walked out. He did not go far, however. I could see his shadow in the frosted windowpane.

“Ah, Mr. Talbot, I can almost see the wheels spinning in your head. You're wondering if you should overpower me and tie me up, or take me as a hostage until such time that you can safely let me go.” He caught me off guard but I recovered quickly. “Well, you pretty much got everything right until the part where we 'safely' let you go, as you put it.” "I feel that I should almost be intimidated,” Easter said with a jovial laugh. “Perhaps a few months ago I would have believed you.” "What changed, Easter?" I asked, truly wanting an answer.

"I can tell you before the End of Times came I was not a religious man. I had perhaps been in a church a dozen or so times in the last twenty years and those times were either for weddings or funerals. I did not see much sense in worshipping a deity I could neither see nor understand, I guess would be the correct phrasing. An omnipotent being that was threaded through all of our lives absolutely made no sense to me. I understood the comfort others got from His perceived presence, but that was as far as it went. Something happened the night the zombies came. It altered me in ways that I have not come to understand quite yet. That there is a God is no longer of doubt to me, that He is not the kind forgiving God of the King James version I find troubling, but I do not question His will.” "So you are merely a vessel? So if my son is not deemed to be 'saved' you will rid him of his life as you will ours?" I asked angrily.

"You were given the opportunity to leave of your own accord when you found that you were traveling with one that is marked. When you chose not to go, I believed that as free beings you wanted to be with him. Evil can be blinding in its own right.” I was livid. “Justin is not evil!" I spat.

"Sit, Michael,” Easter said calmly. “I know this, but he has evil in him.” I could not argue with that. I was well aware of that fact.

"If the boy were evil, we would not be having this conversation,” he said, his back to me as he poured a cup of tea. “Head still churning with thoughts of escape I see,” he said as he turned back around.

"Busted,” I told him. “And how do you know my name?”

"Easily,” he said without hesitation or doubt. “It is stamped on your soul. Shall we begin?"

"And if what you are doing here should fail, do you think I will idly stand by as you prepare to do harm to my son or the rest of us?" I asked him openly.

"I am trying to help you,” he said as he walked over to the sink. I watched as he applied a liberal amount of disinfectant soap to his hands before he scrubbed them vigorously and washed off the residue in a small flood of water. “I wouldn't want anything untoward to get on the boy.” "So much for the poison theory,” Travis said.

"One final time I will ask you Michael,” Easter said.

"What about my son and my brother?"

"Their will is theirs to do with as they wish… right now.”

"Not a chance, Mike,” Gary said.

Travis had a look of steel set in his eyes. “No, Dad.”

I turned to Easter. “If Travis leaves this room?"

"He would be welcome to stay or leave at any time he saw fit,” Easter said as he pulled up a chair next to the couch Justin had been reclining on since the conversation started. “There was a mild sedative in the milk I gave him, whichever way this goes it will not be pleasant for him,” Easter explained as he pulled the blanket up from Justin's legs and covered his chest.

"Alright, one more scenario,” I stated. Easter waited patiently. “Travis leaves the room, this thing with Justin does not go well. Gary and I fight our way out of here. Maybe we make it, maybe we don't.” "Yes, yes Mike, Travis would still be welcome.”

"Dad, I'd rather take my chances with you,” Travis pleaded.

"But your leaving is not a chance, Travis. I believe Easter, no matter his inner convictions, to be an honorable man and would do as he said here.” "Thank you, I think,” Easter replied mildly.

"Dad, he's my brother.”

"And he's my son, as are you. I cannot, I will not put the both of you in harm's way if it can be avoided. If this does not work out, do not do anything. Do you understand me? I can tell you’re listening but the set of your jaw is telling me a different story.” "I will do what I can,” Travis promised, but in which direction did the promise lie?

He shut the door slowly. With one final glance back, he looked at me like I had just told him Santa wasn't real AND that the fat man that played him at the mall had earlier that day also pissed in his cheerios. It was a withering assault; his mother had taught him well.

"Go!" I yelled through the door when I didn’t hear his footfalls echoing down the hallway. I heard a fairly good attempt at deception steps. “Not bad, now do it for real.” "I'm telling Mom,” he muttered.

"God, please, I hope that you do,” I said in a soft prayer.

"Didn’t make you to be a believer,” Easter said.

"When I perceive it to be for my benefit, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt,” I told him.

"Then you might want to start praying now,” Easter said as he placed both his hands on Justin's chest.

I did, too. Hypocritical? Sure, but when you're playing Texas Hold'em and all you’re holding is a ten high, what can it hurt?

Easter looked over at me, fat droplets of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. His mouth became a thin line, almost imperceptible as it got lost in his white beard, as he began to speak: “The evil within this boy will relinquish its right upon his being.” "Have you done this before?" I asked Easter. His forearms rippled from the strain he was feeling.

"This darkness has a strong hold. And I know Talisker told you what I used to do before. I've seen vomit that looked possessed and children that probably had small demons inside them, but I have never before tried to exorcise a demon. I never had much reason to believe in the men of the cloth, although I played one on television.” "Seriously!?" I asked.

"No, boy!" Easter said sternly. "Did your momma drop you on your head? Now stop asking me questions while I'm trying to work.” "I think I actually saw her do it on more than one occasion,” Gary said.

"What?" I mouthed, not wanting to disturb Easter.

"Drop you on your head. I think I saw her do it more than once,” Gary finished.

"Do… you… mind!" Easter said under some heavy duress.

Gary and I both pointed to each other like third graders in trouble but at least neither of us spoke this time.

"Come forth!" Easter shouted, "so that I may see who I cast aside!"

I was thinking that wasn't such a good idea. Better to just kick her out before she had a chance to realize what was happening.

"Who dares to tinker with my pet?" came out of Justin's mouth but it was not his voice. I had heard the same arrogant tone once before coming out of Durgan's mouth.

The locket hung around my neck. The chain stayed relatively body temperature, but the skin where the locket made contact with my chest began to burn from the cold.

Easter tried to remove his hands from Justin, but in less than the blink of an eye Justin grabbed his forearms in a strength that was being intensified through supernatural means. The room was cool but Easter looked like he was baking under the Sahara sun. Easter pulled for all he was worth to get away. He might as well have been super glued to Justin. Justin was now sitting up and staring intensely at Easter.

"Charlatan! What kind of two-bit magician are you?" Eliza asked Easter.

"Let me go, the power of Christ compels you!” Easter shouted.

"The power of Christ? Your God is a false prophet to whom I will never bow down,” Eliza answered menacingly.

"Then who do you worship?" Easter asked her. I thought that we all knew the answer to that, but Eliza surprised us once again.

"Why myself, of course,” she said slyly. Eliza turned Justin's head to scan the rest of the room. “Michael, so good to see you again. I sense that you possess something that belongs to me, although what it is I cannot determine,” she said with a sneer. “Ah, and who is that with you, he bears a family resemblance, a brother perhaps? Is it not good to be reunited with family?" She asked, obviously sticking a dagger in my already broken heart with the loss of Tommy.

Easter was frozen. A look of sheer terror creased his features. Myself, I was ready to run. Eliza had a way of making me feel like a jack rabbit and she wasn't the sly fox, she was the rabid wolf, so big was the difference in my perception of her.

Gary seemed the least disturbed by the situation. “So that's Eliza?" he asked me. I could barely nod in reply. “Yeah, she's a mean one,” he said solemnly.

"You think?" I gritted out.

"And what of this man, Michael?" Eliza asked as turned back to Easter. “I fear that he means you harm.” "And that bothers you somehow?" I asked her incredulously, not believing that we were having such a conversation.

"That death befalls you is of a main concern of mine. That it is by my own hand and in my own way is of the utmost importance. What good would it be if I did not first destroy everything that was dear to you, and then crush the broken shell of your existence? And do not be flippant with me again, Michael, I can easily turn Justin against himself. Would you like to watch as I make him tear his own eyes out?"

"Wait Eliza, we will have our confrontation!" I told her, putting my hands up. I hoped she would take heed of my words and not hurt Justin.

"What of this man!” she spat, shaking Easter's still form. “He calls himself a Holy man, but he is a trickster. His wizardry lies in chemistry and staging.” "How has he reached you then?" Gary asked.

"Michael, I grow weary of this encounter,” Eliza said, ignoring Gary 's question. “He will not let you go. I can easily stop his beating heart and be rid of him.” "We are prisoners, if you kill him, they will kill us,” I told her.

"If only the revenge was not going to be so sweet, I could be rid of you now. What do you propose?" Eliza asked.

This was surreal, I was talking tactics with Eliza. "Can you make him answer questions?" I asked her.

"All men have a way of answering truthfully when I threaten to rend their genitalia from their body and make them eat it. Only once did I have to completely follow through. He died choking.” She actually let out a small laugh at the remembrance of the event.

"Easter,” I said. “You need to answer me truthfully, do you understand?" He nodded jerkily. “Eliza is not one for idle threats.” He gulped once. I took that as an affirmation of my words. “What is really going on here?"

"God…" he began. Justin/Eliza grabbed Easter's manhood in what I could only imagine was a vise-like grip by the way he reacted. “I was…" he labored to speak. “I am a chemist and … and…" I think Eliza was squeezing harder just for the sheer cruelty of it. “And an electronics hobbyist.” "But yet you’re a janitor at a middle school?" Gary asked disbelievingly.

"I… I… I got burned out.” He vomited from the pain.

"He lies,” Eliza said coldly. “I would like to crush his reproductive organs now.”

"Wait,” Easter said, trying to yell but not having enough breath to do so.

"Eliza, could you please ease up so that he can talk?”

"I will do so, but for the last time Michael, if he lies again, I will crush what I hold in my hand and you will have to do what you can to honor your promise of our final meeting.” "Fair enough,” I told her.

Easter bent forward slightly as Eliza let up somewhat.

"This is it Easter, you tell the truth like a man or die as a eunuch,” I cautioned him.

"I like to be around children,” he said. “I'm disgusted with myself. I've never done anything but I wanted to,” he cried.

"So you set something up with the Bowdoin brothers,” I said, linking the pieces.

He looked up at me wondering how I got that information. His head bowed as he answered, “I couldn’t go through with it. And by the time Talisker got there with his men they had gone too far. I did not want them to harm the boy.” "Why take them alive?" Gary asked, “Didn’t you risk them exposing you?"

"They did not know who they worked for. I had contracted them to do this before the zombies came. It was all set up through chat rooms and dummy email accounts.” "How long did they have that boy?" I asked with disgust.

"Weeks at least, perhaps as long as two months,” he dispensed.

"Sweet Jesus,” Gary choked, covering his mouth in fear that he might make an involuntary discharge.

"I did not know that they had gone through with it,” Easter said in defense. “Not until right before I sent Talisker to get them.” "Well that makes you a friggen saint doesn’t it?" I yelled at him.

Talisker pretty much crashed through the door. “What is going on?" he said, drawing his gun. I had a suspicion that he might start firing first and wait for the answers later.

"Tell him to stop, Easter,” I said.

I watched as the squirrelly man started to weigh his chances. Apparently so did Eliza as she redoubled her efforts on his what now must be considered his mushy privates at this point.

"Put the gun down, Talisker,” he wheezed. Talisker did without as much as a beat of hesitation.

"You're going to want a seat for this,” I said as I pushed him the chair I had originally been sitting in.

Easter spent a moment to retell the sordid depraved tale. Talisker looked like he was the one getting nut punched.

"But what of the trial, the bleeding eyes, the visions of God?" Talisker asked, not believing that the savior that walked among them was a devil dressed in black.

"Hallucinogens, the power of suggestion and Anistreplase,” Easter said breathlessly.

"The pious tests?" Talisker asked, grasping for straws.

"Taser leads in my gloves. Please make her stop,” Easter begged me.

"What of the zombies not attacking you? There has to be some truth in there somewhere?"

"Certain sound oscillations seem to have an effect on the undead. I discovered it quite by accident.” "Now that's some information we could use,” I said excitedly.

The screaming that pierced the room next was inhuman, maybe even inhumane if it wasn't being uttered by the creature known as Easter. Eliza had crushed his testicles. It would be hours, maybe days before he was in a state of mind that could help us with the sound machine he had mentioned .

I will never know how Easter said what he said as he writhed in agony. But the words or at least the vast majority of the message is transcribed below.

"Is animus has haud inherent macula salvifico unus vos have largior super is, ut libri of revelations civitas, vos have haud vindicatum in is animus quod mos relinquish totus vox prurigo."

Talisker stood up and placed the barrel of his pistol against Easter's head and blew his brains across the room.

"He was in misery. He was speaking jibberish,” Talisker said. “And he betrayed me, he betrayed the entire community.” He wiped his free hand across his eyes. “And no one else needs to know.” I had my hands halfway raised, fearful he would turn the gun on the rest of us.

"You are all free to go,” Talisker said as he approached the door.

"Wait,” I said. "Can we look for this machine that he says can repel the zombies?"

"You will leave now,” he said, not leaving any room for doubt that we had no other options in the matter. I heard his melancholy footfalls as they faded down the hallway, and then what had to be Travis' as they rapidly approached.

"Well that was entertaining,” Eliza laughed. “You have your other son with you I see,” Eliza commented as Travis ran in the doorway.

"Dad?" Travis asked.

I held up a hand to hold off any further questioning.

"It amazes me how malleable the human mind can be to the power of suggestion.”

"Eliza, what did you do?"

She laughed. “I have given you your way out and maybe rid the world of a small piece of evil, or a small piece of light.” "I will kill you, Eliza.”

"Perhaps Michael, only the great enemy of mortality will tell. Since I have been banished from this host, the next time we talk will be face to face.” With those last words she released Justin.

"Holy crap,” Justin said as he looked at the slumped over body that was Easter Evans. “What happened?"

"We either took part in a great good or a great evil,” Gary explained briefly. “Let's get out of here before we figure it out.” Talisker was true to his word. Our truck and all of our belongings were waiting outside of the school building. Nobody was in sight as we got in and drove off. We were ten miles out and the whole scene just kept playing over and over in my head like a movie on auto rewind.

"Justin, how did Eliza come out past Doc Baker's shot?" I asked.

"Mike,” Gary cautioned.

Justin looked from his uncle to me. “Easter drew her out.”

"Mike, enough,” Gary said forcibly.

That was not normally Gary's role, but I deferred to it.

We drove through the remainder of Virginia without incident and in silence.

"He wasn't wearing gloves when he touched my chest,” I said aloud.

"Mike, I will kick your ass!" Gary shouted.

"You were in the Air Force, how is that going to happen?” I mocked him. He held up one finger right under my nose. “All right, all right,” I told him, more than willing to let it go at this point.

Extra Journal Entry: I stopped at a Barnes and Noble store a few hours after our encounter with Easter and grabbed a Latin to English translation dictionary. I knew it was Latin, seems that only very holy people or very evil use the language anymore. Looking back, I wished I had just left good enough alone. Below is a rough translation of the words he spoke the day Justin was freed from the shackles of Eliza's hold.

"This soul has no inherent stain except for the one you have bestowed upon it, as the Book of Revelations states, you have no claim on this soul and will relinquish all rights to it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO – Tracy, BT and Meredith

"Who do you think Easter Evans was?" Meredith asked.

BT opened one eye to look at the state sign. “Don’t know, but he must have lost his social standing because they crossed it out.” "Or his life,” Tracy said.

"You didn’t need to go there. I was trying to keep it light,” BT said.

Tracy smacked the big man's arm. He immediately sat up. Arm smacking was her signal for danger. “You do know those rings hurt every time you do that, right?"

"Mike used to say that. I always thought he was being a baby.”

"Probably got nerve damage,” BT said as he rubbed his arm.

"BT look,” Tracy said, pointing to a large caravan of trucks, cars and motorcycles.

"They all have their headlights on like a funeral procession,” Meredith said, as they came up on the last vehicle in the line. The young woman in the car was most definitely crying and paid absolutely no attention to Tracy as they passed on by. Different car, same results. A white hearse led the long line of vehicles. A man with mutton chops drove the car, a grim set of determination on his face. They noted that of all the occupants in the cars, he was the only one that did not shed tears.

Tracy punched the accelerator to be rid of the reminder of the fate that awaits us all, although, most likely in this day in age without as much pomp and circumstance as the man in the back of the hearse was receiving right now.

"Mike you think?” BT asked, jabbing his thumb behind him in the direction of the hearse.

"Cause that? Naw,” Tracy said unconvincingly.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE – Paul and Alex

Paul was moments away from getting someone to replace him on watch. It was MJ's turn, but the man had not stopped working on his zombie box in the last four hours. Movement caught Paul’s eye as he swung back around to look out the large dual glass doors.

"Zombies it’s always zombies,” he said softly. “Zombies!" he yelled to alert the rest of the group.

"How many?" Alex asked, hauling half their arsenal to the front of the store.

"I'd say roughly all of downtown Asheville,” Paul said as he moved away from the doors. “MJ come on, we've got to get some heavy stuff in front of these doors.” MJ looked up, smoke from his battery operated soldering iron swirling around his head. In his haste to help he inadvertently put the still hot iron down on his unfinished and delicate circuit board. Paul moved over to an oak chest and hutch set that together easily weighed in excess of three hundred pounds. Moving it was extraordinarily easy over the tiled floor as the three men used their adrenaline testosterone fueled muscles to get it going.

"Wait,” Alex said as they pushed it up against the doors. “If we moved it this easily won’t the zombies be able to also?” "We've just got to keep stacking stuff here until it becomes impossible,” Paul said, already moving on to the next closest item, a butcher block kitchen table that was on clearance because someone had seen fit to drag a key across the surface and mar the finish, deeply in some places.

The thud of the first zombie impact pushed the hutch almost a half inch away from the door it had just been placed against.

"Uh oh,” MJ said, looking at the spider web of broken glass that emanated from the collision zone. “Guys, we'd better move faster.” "What the hell are you talking about?" Alex asked him, “You’re not even moving.”

"The glass is breaking,” MJ pointed out.

"Come on!" Paul urged as he pushed the table into place. “Let's get that book case!"

The thuds kept coming, but each one was of a slightly less jarring impact as the zombies began to run into their brethren that had reached the doors first. Within half an hour, the small ten foot wide hallway that led to the doors was stuffed with more contents than would fit in a standard U-haul truck.

"That’s going to hold them?" Joann asked Paul anxiously.

"It never does,” he told her.

"Maybe we should figure out how to get on the roof,” was Alex's reply to Paul's words.

"Good call,” Paul said, clapping him on the back. “Joann, can you keep an eye on the doors while me and Alex check out the roof?"

She nodded tersely.

"Dammit!" MJ yelled, his sweat soaked back to the trio.

"You alright?" Alex asked.

MJ turned towards them and held up a circuit board with a soldering iron clearly infused with the green plastic.

"Can you fix it?" Paul was concerned. The sound box had saved them once and there was no reason to think it couldn’t do it again if MJ could get it to work.

"I can’t fix this,” MJ said in disgust, pulling the iron away from the plastic casing. “I can rebuild it but I lost all that time.” "Then why are you wasting more time talking about it?" Joann asked.

"You know, not everyone likes a New York attitude,” MJ said to her as he sat back down and began to get the pieces he needed out of his Radio Shack bags.

"I can help,” April told MJ.

"I'd rather you watch the door with Mouth over there,” MJ said peevishly.

April stomped away and Joann laughed. “I think I got under his skin,” she said to Paul and Alex.

"Whatever gets him working,” Paul said. “We'll be right back. Grab a gun, if we hear a shot we'll stop whatever we're doing and be here as quick as we can.” Mrs. Deneaux walked up the main passageway, cigarette in hand as if she were on stroll through the streets of Paris, grabbing a small revolver as she walked past the weapons Alex had deposited on the couch in his haste to help rearrange the furniture.

"You know how to use that thing?" Joann asked her.

"Don’t be silly, I was the State Champion in 1964,” Mrs. Deneaux replied, yellow tobacco stained teeth showing in her attempt at a smile. It looked more like a dog getting ready to strike with her teeth clenched that tightly together.

"That smile looks kind of painful,” Alex remarked.

"Go and find us a way out of here.” She motioned them off with the wave of the gun.

"Got another cigarette?" Joann asked.

"Oh honey, of course I do, but I'm not sharing,” Mrs. Deneaux said as she took another long drag, making sure that the majority of exhaled smoke went in Joann's direction.

A narrow cement staircase led to a locked door which ultimately led to the roof. Paul lined up his gun to remove the lock.

"Crazy one, what the hell are you doing?" Alex asked his friend in alarm.

"I'm opening the door,” Paul answered with a look to match Alex’s for the question asked.

"You're shooting at a metal lock attached to a metal door encased within a narrow landing surrounded by cement, but you don’t see anything wrong with what you’re doing?"

"Dude, I'm just trying to open the door, I've seen this done a hundred times.”

"Those were movies Paul, make-believe stuff.”

"Do you want me to get MJ?" Paul asked, a little hurt that his try was being rebuffed.

"First things first,” Alex said as he turned the lock.

"Wouldn’t have thought to do that,” Paul said as he stepped out into the muted sunshine. Black ominous clouds hung overhead and the stench of the dead wafted up from below. “Shaping up to be a wonderful day it is,” he joked in a fake Irish brogue.

"Damn,” Alex said, looking up at the sky while simultaneously holding his nose.

"Come on, let's see what we're dealing with,” Paul motioned as he stepped away from the doorway.

Alex placed a small piece of slate between the door and the jamb, just in case.

"Good call,” Paul said looking back at his friend.

Alex gave him a thumbs up with his free hand, not yet willing to take in any more breaths than he had to. They were still a good twenty yards from the edge when they began to see the outer fringes of the enemy below, with still more making their late entry into the fray. And yet they kept marching forward, like lemmings to the abyss.

"Wow,” Alex stated. “Zombies don’t really care so much about personal space, do they?"

Paul doubted that if it began to rain any of the water around the zombies would touch ground. Zombies were packed tighter than Legos snapped together. This brought ‘close' to a whole other level. “Do you think they might just crush themselves to death?” "That would be great, but it would be better to heed the advice of my Mee-Maw.”

"I'm waiting,” Paul said as Alex got lost looking at the wall of moving death below them.

"Oh she used to say, ‘If the shit hits the fan, unplug it before it gets all over the place.’” Paul thought about it for a moment. It had a ring of truth to it but he couldn’t see how it fit the present situation, “Any chance you could elaborate?"

"I never knew what it meant either; it's just something she used to say. How many you think there are?" Alex asked looking back down.

"Five, six hundred, probably be a thousand in another hour.”

"Escape?"

"Not by the truck that brought us here,” Paul pointed. It was nearly consumed by the sea of zombanity that surrounded it. “Let's go see what's going on at the back of the store.” "Who parked it that far away?" Alex asked a little miffed.

"MJ parked it, but I should have known better,” Paul said.

Alex shook his head. "No sense in slipping in spilled milk.”

"Another Mee-Mawism?" Paul asked.

"What's wrong with that one?"

"Nothing. Come on, let's see if there’s still a way to get out of here which doesn't involve sleeping on the roof.” "Yeah, especially since it looks like the heavens are going to open up.”

Shots rang out from the front of the store. Paul and Alex ran for the doorway and made a quick descent down the stairs. Had they waited a few moments more and gone to the far edge they would have noticed that it was still clear of zombies and they could have made a hasty retreat. That fact would radically change over the next few hours.

Joann was firing blindly into the stacked furniture, wood splintering as bullets crashed into table legs and hutch casings. Mrs. Deneaux sat idly by smoking another cigarette.

"What's going on?" Paul shouted as he ran up the aisle way.

Joann was firing blanks by the time he got up to her. He placed his hand on hers to remove the empty weapon.

"Joann?" Alex asked, catching up.

Her eyes were stretched wide in fear. “The… the furniture is moving,” she cried.

"Yes,” Mrs. Deneaux said between puffs. “So she thought it worthwhile to kill the divan.”

Paul and Alex both looked at Mrs. Deneaux harshly. She didn’t care. “I think she may have gravely wounded the lounger also ,” she went on with a dry coated rasp.

The movement was almost imperceptible; the strewn furniture pile vibrated slightly as if a semi passed close by. Paul's attention was drawn back to the front when a couch cushion landed at his feet.

"MJ, how much longer on your wonder machine?" Paul asked.

MJ hadn’t even looked up at the sound of the shots being fired less than fifty feet away.

"MJ!" Paul shouted.

"What! Can't you see I'm working!" he shouted back, still not looking up.

Paul walked over towards his work station. “Listen, I understand dedication, I really do. But we've got a situation here. How much longer do you think this is going to take?"

MJ finally looked up and noted the concern in Paul's features. MJ's face sagged as he spoke. “Possibly forever with what I have here. I fried some vital components that I don’t have replacements for. Is there a chance we could make another run out to Radio Shack?" he asked hopefully.

Paul shook his head, leaving no doubt in his answer.

"Alright, there's still an outside shot I can do it with what I've got, but it's not going to be as powerful.” "Fifteen foot gap between us and them?" Paul asked optimistically.

MJ shook his head.

"Ten maybe?" Paul asked, grasping at straws.

MJ's head hadn’t stopped moving from the previous question.

"Dude, how much then?" Paul asked in alarm.

"Three feet max,” MJ answered with a sickly smile.

Alex had come up and was listening to the whole exchange. “That's less than a few inches at most from an outstretched hand.” "Yup,” MJ said apologetically.

Paul's stomach got queasy. “And you're only talking three feet from the transmitter of that box, with all of us huddled around that thing, that three feet is gone.” "Hadn't even thought of that,” MJ said, removing his protective goggles.

"Well,” Alex said grasping on to another hope. “What if he finishes it, we move the furniture, and place it by the entrance so that the zombies will stop trying to get in?"

"I like the idea in theory. But first off he isn’t done, and if the furniture is moving I've got to believe that they have already broken through the doors. We could be speeding up our demise instead of holding it at bay.” "Paul, I do not want to get trapped on that roof,” Alex said. “Sure it's spring and all, but it's still cold at night and it looks like it's going to rain.” "And yet that is the choice before us.”

"That sounded very Mike-like,” Alex said with a sick grin of his own.

"Yeah I liked that, I've been working on it. Listen, while we've got time, let's see how much warm stuff we can get up on the roof and if they have any types of sales banners we can use as tarps to keep the rain off.” Joann was still watching the pile as if she expected an evil leprechaun to pop out at any second.

"How did Mike do this s tuff ?" Paul asked aloud. Alex looked at him questioningly. “You know, keep everyone in line. Get them to doing stuff as opposed to blanking out,” Paul said as he pointed to Joann.

"He's got crazy eyes,” Alex said jokingly, “He made us more afraid of him than the zombies.” "You might be right. Joann, come on, let's grab April and haul some stuff upstairs. Mrs. Deneaux, you alright watching the door by yourself?" Paul asked the old bat.

She waved him off with her cigarette laden hand. “And I'll be sure to put the lounger out of its misery,” she cackled.

“Hilarious,” Paul mumbled as he walked away.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR – Talbot Journal Entry 11

"Gary, slow down,” I told him.

"I'm not even going fast,” he answered back.

"Something's not right, slow down,” I said, sitting up a little bit in my seat to get a better view.

"We've been through this Mike, you do not have Spidey sense,” Gary said with a smirk.

"STOP THIS TRUCK!" I screamed. He damn near threw me through the windshield as he slammed on the brakes. The truck came to a fishtailing halt.

"Happy? You woke the boys.”

Justin and Travis were both removing their faces from the front headrests.

I quickly got out of the truck, rifle at the ready. Our front tires were literally resting on the front edge of a spike strip.

"Damn,” Gary said getting out of the truck. “You saw that from way back there?"

A rifle shot rang out from the tree line fifteen feet away on the driver's side. Gary jumped over the hood and deposited himself on my lap. The boys were out the door before the echo of the shot was complete.

"I take it that was a warning shot!?" I yelled.

"It's twenty feet at the most, how could I have missed?" came the disembodied voice from the trees.

"You could have been prior Army,” I shouted back. Why do I provoke? I don’t know, we all have character flaws, but why do mine seem to always have the potential to get me killed?

"That's funny, just so happens that I am.”

“Always with the snappy line,” Gary admonished me.

"Semper Fi,” I yelled back.

"You don't say? A lot of people know that slogan.”

"Okay how about, ‘this is my rifle, this is my gun, one is for killing and one is for fun.’” "Better,” the voice said. "But Full Metal Jacket is a personal favorite of mine.”

"Alright, how about this, the unofficial Marine Corps motto.”

"I'm listening.”

"Lie, deny and counter blame.”

"Fine, I believe you to be a jarhead now but that sure as hell doesn’t make us friends.” "But maybe we shouldn't be enemies either. What do you want?" I asked.

"That should be obvious, we want your truck. Our car broke down a few miles ago and this walking crap is for the birds.” "Now I know you're an Army dog and all, but what makes you think we carry four spare tires around with us?"

"Well, hadn't really thought it out until you said that.”

"There's gotta be ten thousand cars in the general area, why take ours?"

"Well we DID think of that,” he said defensively, “but we keep coming across these hives of zombies and if you get anywhere near them they get real hungry real fast.” "Been there, done that!” Travis shouted.

"Gary, hold my rifle. I'm standing up! I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t shoot me.” "I'll do my best.”

"Comforting.”

"Don’t worry we aren’t the Air Force,” the voice said mockingly.

"Hey!" Gary said as he stood up. “I was in the Air Force! It was a very honorable branch of the military!"

"Don't get your feathers ruffled, friend,” the voice said apologetically as its owner emerged from the tree line, rifle in one hand off to his side.

"How many of there are you?" I asked as Gary handed me my rifle and I placed it over my shoulder.

"Four,” he answered. “Two on this side and two on the other. Yeah, you were pretty much goners.” All of the people came out of the woods looking like they had just come from a camouflage expo.

"It's not what you think,” our initial contact person stated. “All of us know about camouflage but we're not those crazy survivalist types.” "You say that as if it's a bad thing,” I told him.

"Yeah, I guess there's nothing wrong with being alive,” he mused, “This whole thing started while we were in cami’s so we figured we should stick to what works. We were up in the hills, a place called Oak Ridge Hollows, it was a company sponsored paint ball event. Hell, we were having a good old time, drinking beer, barbequing, shooting our bosses multiple times with paint balls.” ‘Oh, what I wouldn’t have done to have been able to do that,” I thought wistfully.

"And this one guy, Sully, he starts getting sick. I mean violently. It was shooting out his mouth and his ass. I could see his trousers stained in crap and blood. I just thought the fat bastard was getting sick from running around all over the place. Most exercise he probably ever got was when he squatted on the shitter and made a toilet baby. Somebody thought to call an ambulance, but hell, we were forty minutes out of town, it was going to be a wait. So everyone kind of sat in their cars or branched off in small groups. A few were with Sully, but you didn't need a medical degree to figure out that he wasn't going to make it. I'd seen guys in combat with limbs blown off that looked better than he did. He died twenty minutes before the ambulance even got there. That was kind of the end of the event.” "Yeah, I could see how that would put a damper on things,” I told him.

"You from Boston?" he asked.

"Yeah, the accent gives it away,” I told him.

"No, it’s the sarcasm, had two guys in my unit from Southie. Their accents were a little thicker than yours and just about everything was 'Wicked Pissah.' But the sarcasm man, they just never let up.” "Yeah, that sounds just about right for Southie boys.”

"Still, I was pretty sad when their Hummer got blown up. The camp lost a lot of color when they moved on.” I took my hat off to pay my respects.

"Anyway,” he said, trying to pull himself away from that unhappy thought, “You remind me of them.” "Yeah, but in a live way right?" I said to him.

"Yeah, but in a live way,” he reiterated. “So a bunch of people start heading home. I mean, what the hell else could they do? But Sully was in my department and for some misaligned sense of duty I figured I should stay with him. My girlfriend here Cindy, Cindy Martell and my buddy Jack O'Donnell and his girlfriend Perla Tirado, we all stayed behind with most of the bosses. Me and Jack were sharing a smoke a few feet away when Cindy came up the large entryway to the playing field, she and Perla were leading the ambulance in. I threw my cigarette down and started walking over to where Sully was and by now it was dusk. The red and blue lights of the ambulance were making everything dance. I looked down to the cigarette wondering if Jack had laced it with anything because Sully was up and the fat bastard was eating, he was eating Lipstein. I mean literally gnawing through his neck.” I don’t know why he thought I needed extra explaining. It wasn't like I was going on the faith of his words alone.

"I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, but all I had on me was my paint ball marker. I started running towards the scene, pelting Sully with yellow and green balls. He didn’t even look up as blood spewed out of the side of Lip's neck. The other higher ups had just taken off, left their own to die. Jack comes running up beside me, asking me what the hell I'm doing,” "Thought I was going to puke,” Jack said succinctly.

"Yeah, that's the usual state of affairs when you first come across them,” I said to him, sharing in his pain.

"I guess I finally pissed Sully off when I nailed him in the eye. He dropped Lip and started heading my way. I kept pulling the trigger but what was the use. Jack pulled me out of there.” "We were in Fallujah together,” was all Jack said, and that really summed it up. Looking out for your buddies was the main thing you did in combat.

"I don’t know what happened to Sully,” our 'host' said. Cindy wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, remembering the events of that night. “So that's about it, the four of us have been on the run ever since. Oh yeah, and my name is Brian, Brian Wamsley.” "Dude, I don’t need last names,” I told him.

"Is it because you don’t know us well enough and if we die you can keep yourself emotionally distanced from us that way?" Perla asked.

"Perla,” Jack said. “We don’t know them at all, I'm sure he has his reasons.”

"It's pretty basic reasoning actually,” I told them. “I'll just never remember them.”

Cindy laughed. “Yeah, the 80's were a great time. So what's your story?"

I gave her the super stripped down version that did not contain Eliza or Tommy, and even that was a pretty far-fetched scary tale. Friggen’ hate when I give myself the shivers.

"So now you’re going to try and get to your friends?" Perla asked.

"That's the idea, we think they might be in trouble,” Gary said.

"How would you know any of this?" Brian asked suspiciously.

My story had gaping wounds that you could drive a Mini-Cooper through. I had watched knowing exchanges passed between Jack and Brian. I didn’t have time to appease their suspicions.

"Listen, I've… we've got someplace we need to be,” I told the foursome. “I will be more than happy to drive you somewhere until you get a set of your own wheels and then we've got to go,” I told Brian directly, basically telling him that I was done answering his queries. We owed each other nothing and I was holding good to that.

"What if we went with you to this rescue?" Jack asked, “And then you helped us find some wheels.” "Listen, everyone here knows that I didn’t tell you half of the truth.” Gary nodded, I smacked him in the arm. “What's going on with the zombies is horrible, but being around us is not something most would want to do willingly.” "Yeah, we're sort of trouble magnets,” Gary said.

"That's one way of saying it,” I added, agreeing with Gary .

"We're in,” Brian said with conviction.

"You speak for everyone?" I asked him.

"We're thrill junkies,” Cindy said as she hopped into the back of the truck.

"I don’t think you’re getting it,” I said.

"Ooooh, zombies,” Perla added, throwing her hands up in the air. “Dammit, I think I chipped a nail,” she fake whined as she climbed into the truck bed.

"Jack,” I said grabbing his arm. “This is no joke.”

He looked me straight in the eye. “Nothing better to do. Can we go now?"

I let his arm go. “I thought I was nuts,” I muttered as I climbed into the driver's seat.

"Oh you are,” Gary said wisely. "But apparently you’re not alone.” "Comforting,” I said as I was about to put the idling truck back into gear. “Gary , we're just about the same height but I've got to adjust the damn seat every time. Why do you like to drive with your knees in your face?"

Gary shrugged.

"DAD!" Justin yelled.

I jumped. “Boy, you almost made me crap myself. What's the matter?"

"Spike strips!" he yelled.

"That would have sucked,” I said as I got out of the truck to remove the pointy bars.

"Whoa, that would have sucked,” Brian said as he looked over the edge of the truck bed.

"You want these things?" I asked him, holding them up.

"Not so much.”

I tossed them as far from the road as I could so that some other unsuspecting traveler would not find their forward progress hampered by them. It wasn't nearly as far as I would have hoped, and leave it to Travis to let me know.

"Nice toss Curt,” he mocked from the back of the cab, referring to the great Red Sox pitcher Curt Schilling.

Tracy would kill me if she had seen this, but I flipped him off. He laughed as I went to make sure the strips were off the roadway.

"Zombies!" came the shout.

"Well, forget the strips,” I said as I got back into the truck and got going, “Speeders,” I said looking into the rear view mirror. “I hate speeders.” "We would have been screwed if I hadn't remembered about the strips,” Justin said boastfully.

"Yeah, you definitely deserve a pat on the back for that one,” I told him. We would have been FAR better off dealing with the twenty or so that were following than the hundreds that were in the process of surrounding the furniture store, but then again I hadn’t a clue what we were driving into so I forged ahead.

Brian tapped on the glass window that separated the crew cab from the truck bed. Travis slid it open.

"So how far to the rendezvous point?" Brian shouted to be heard over the sound of the wind and the road.

Gary pulled out the Atlas and tried to get a bearing from our surroundings. “Damn,” was the only thing he said.

"Did we pass the exit?" I asked him.

"Not yet, but if Brian hadn’t of asked we would have.”

"You’re the navigator, you’re supposed to be watching out for this stuff.”

"Well, technically, I'm still supposed to be driving.”

"Yeah, well, that was before having your knees all up in your face nearly hindered your view of the roadway and you almost gave us four flats.” "That’s one way of looking at it I guess. About an hour,” he turned to Brian to answer the original question.

My stomach began its internal churning, bile mixed with acid. Oh boy, yum! I didn’t get flashes of images for my prescience, no, nothing quite so noble. I got to feel like I was going to either throw up or crap myself when I felt like we were getting into some trouble.

"Brian!" I yelled. He stuck his head through the small window. “You sure about this?"

"About what, Mike?" He asked. “Listen, you guys are the first folks we've run across in a long while that I feel even remotely comfortable around. That you guys are risking your lives for your friends says a lot about your character. We're in for a while Mike, and unless you prove me wrong, who knows man, maybe you'll be stuck with us for the long haul too.” He pulled his head back through, satisfied that he had spoken his peace.

"Brian!" I shouted again to stop him from completely extracting himself from the cab’s window. I pointed my ringer over my shoulder right at him. “Do not EVER say that I did not give you fair warning.” He laughed. Travis closed the window as Brian got his head out.

"I don’t think he gets it, Mike,” Gary said seriously.

"He's gonna shoot me when he does.”

"I've got a feeling it'll be Cindy you have to worry about,” Gary warned, turning back from looking at the passengers in the truck bed.

"She does look like she knows how to use that thing, Dad,” Travis piped in.

"Just tell me when we get to the exit and feel free to keep your opinions to yourselves,” I told them. Of course they wouldn’t listen but I might get at least a ten minute respite.

It ended up being more like five.