Zombie Fallout 5: Alive in a Dead World (4 page)

I was going to comment on how good someone,
who only a few short months ago hated firearms, was now loading a
clip. But then, the reason of why she was so proficient at this new
skill struck. I would rather she remained inept than have to deal
with this walking abortion we’re calling life. I reverted to, “Yes,
dear.”

Chapter Three – Mike Journal Entry
2

I
actually did not feel bad when Tracy, the boys and the rest left
because I knew what we were doing was right and it felt good. We
would finally make a stand, sort of. No more retreating and firing
blindly over our shoulders as we ran for our lives. We were taking
the fight to her and it gave me goose bumps just thinking about
it.

“This is a great set-up,” Brian said, coming
up to me as I surveyed the highway below us. “Plenty of clear
firing lines and ample opportunity for escape.”

“You ever killed a human?” I asked without
turning.

“I’ve killed dozens of zombies,” he
responded.

“I didn’t say zombies,” I told him, now
turning to look him in the eyes.

“What are you talking about Mike?” he asked
with a “what the hell?” expression.

“I’m asking have you ever killed an
air-breathing human with thoughts, feelings and a hope for the
future before? In the Army?”

“More times than I’d like to count,” he told
me solemnly. “Why?” he asked cautiously.

“Well, not that I consider the stupid
bastards that hooked up with Eliza to be much above the zombies,
but she has at least a hundred or so human sympathizers that help
move her horde around and give her nourishment when she runs a
little low on fresh stock.”

“Are you shitting me, Mike?” Brian said,
looking like he was getting a little green around the gills.

“Not at all, and those are the ones I want to
target.”

“I wasn’t sure what to expect with this, but
I guess this wasn’t it. I was really kind of expecting a giant mob
of zombies to be coming down the highway and we would just let gobs
of lead fly.”

“Oh, we’re still going to let gobs of lead
fly, just a different target than you were expecting.”

Brian walked away, maybe now regretting his
decision to stay behind, but I was glad he was here.

“How much time do we have?” BT asked, sitting
on the rear hatch of one of the new trucks Ron had given us. New in
years, not in looks.

Ron was going to be pissed. The one he had
given me had been blemish-free; this one looked like we took it
through an industrial flaying machine, whatever that would entail.
Bowling ball-sized divots creased the hood, the moose damage nearly
lost. Well, that was one positive.

“Are you putting on new socks?” I asked him,
shielding the sun from my eyes.

“Yeah, Brian gave them to me. They’re real
nice.”

“They make socks in your size? I just figured
you used old canoe covers.”

“Have I told you lately how funny I think you
are, Talbot?” BT said, muscling his left sock over his foot,
stretching it well beyond its capacity.

“You’ve got those things stretched so wide,
they look like fishnet,” Gary said as he walked by to set up a
tripod with a spotting scope.

“Two Talbots, half the fun,” BT roared.

To answer your question, we’ve got maybe two
days,” I told him, turning back to the roadway. I was almost able
to see the leading edge of the evil that was coming.

“You know, I love me some good plinking, but
don’t you think we should maybe up our arsenal a little?” BT asked
as he put his shoes on. The image of BT wearing fishnet stockings
gave me a smile that I made sure to hide before I turned to talk to
him.

“Yeah, the Big 5 didn’t pan out quite like I
had hoped. If this one is dry, it’s a good chance that everything
in this vicinity is pretty much tanked.”

“So I hate to ask, but what’s your plan?”

“You’re not going to like this,” I told him
honestly.

“Again with the shockers today.”

“House to house.”

“What! Are you insane, Talbot?” Wait, don’t
answer that. I’d rather not know the answer. You know that’s a good
way for us to get our heads blown off.”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Deneaux
said. She had been resting in the front seat. “I’m nearly out of
cigarettes.”

“Great! I’ll grab the Camels under a hail of
fire!” BT yelled.

“That would be wonderful, dear,” Mrs. Deneaux
answered him in all seriousness.

“You two deserve each other!” BT said,
pointing between Mrs. D and me.

Deneaux winked at me. I was two parts amused
and one big part scared shitless.

BT stormed off, digesting my words.

“He’s very dramatic for such a large man,”
Mrs. Deneaux said, looking at his retreating back.

“I thought I was the only one that didn’t
think before they spoke,” I laughed.

She “pahhhed” at me, but she had a merriment
in her eyes that I had never seen before from her. Strange times we
were living in.

Chapter Four – Mike Journal Entry
3

“Hello occupants of this house!” I shouted. “We are friendly!”

“Very convincing,” BT said sarcastically from
the front seat of the truck. I didn’t want him to come out. Just
the sheer size of the guy made him look like hostility
incarnate.

“I’m trying to establish a repertoire, BT,” I
yelled to him.

“Bullshit, I bet you can’t spell the word and
probably don’t even know what it means.”

“I most certainly know what it means,” (He
was right on the spelling part though.) “You’re a pain-in-the-ass,”
I told him.

“Hurry up and get your ass shot at, will you?
I need to get out of this truck. My leg is starting to cramp up on
me,” BT said.

“Hi occupants.”

“What are you? Junk mail?” Gary asked.

“Really?” I asked my brother, who was
standing next to me, looking at the windows to see if any of the
drawn shades moved.

“I just think that you could use a more
personal touch,” he suggested.

“Give it a go,” I told him.

“People of Seventeen Georges Road!” he
shouted.

“Much better,” I told him. He nodded in
agreement.

“We are here looking for supplies, only from
unoccupied homes. If you are home, please let us know and we will
move on to the next house. We do not wish any sort of
confrontation. Again, we are only looking for supplies,” Gary
finished.

It sounded reasonable, but would anyone
believe us? I wouldn’t, I’d be thinking they were looking for
people. I’d no sooner open my door for strangers than I would a
pack of zombies. This was more dangerous than taking Eliza head-on,
yet here we were on both counts.

“I think I saw the shade move,” Gary said to
me, I think he was full of it, but we turned around and addressed
the next house.

“People of Eighteen Georges Road,” Gary
said.

“How much time did you say we had?” BT asked,
stepping out of the truck.

“Oh, will you shut up that racket!” the
person from Seventeen Georges Road said. “Been trying to sleep in a
little bit and then you band of idiots comes traipsing through the
neighborhood. Should have brought one of those stupid ice cream
trucks with the music going too!” he yelled out from his front
screen door.

He stepped out and appeared to be in his late
fifties, early sixties, plaid pajama bottoms, old brown slippers,
and a threadbare terry bathrobe, that had filled more than one
moths belly. The perfect picture would have been if he’d had a pipe
in his mouth and an over-under shotgun in his hands. Both elements
were noticeably missing.

“What do you need!?” he yelled. “The sooner
you dolts get what you want, the sooner I hope you’ll get out of
here.”

I was a little dumbfounded. It was not often
these days when I got berated. Shot at? Sure. Dressed down? Not so
much.

“Damn! I thought Deneaux had crotchety all
sewn up. She’s got nothing on him,” BT said. Then he sheepishly
turned around, realizing that Deneaux was only a few feet away. “No
offense,” he said to her.

“None taken,” she said as she stepped from
the cab. “We need cigarettes,” she yelled right before she began a
coughing fit I was sure would dislodge a hot, blackened lung from
her thin chest.

“Plenty of those,” Crotchety said. “More than
I could smoke in this lifetime. Never smoked before, but when I was
in that empty convenience store, it seemed like something I wanted
to start. Smoked one of them damn things when I got home and
realized I couldn’t stand them. Didn’t really see a need to bring
them back.”

Mrs. D was already on the move.

“I’ve got some food, but I’m not in the
sharing mood. Plenty of other houses you can get that from.”

“Sir, we don’t need any of that, we’re
looking for guns and ammo.” I told him.

“What do you need that for?” he asked in all
seriousness. I thought he was dead panning a killer joke.

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked him when he
was still looking at me for an answer.

“I have never carried a gun, so I saw no
sense in starting now. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those
bleeding heart liberals; just always afraid I’d kill myself
figuring out how to use them. I have a knife, but I only use that
to cut open packages of stuff.”

“Wait,” Brian said, not believing a word he
was hearing. “You’re telling us that you’ve survived all this time
not having to shoot or kill anything?”

“Oh, I didn’t say that I didn’t kill
anything. About a week back, had this mean old raccoon trying to
get into my basement, threw a brick at him, but he didn’t get the
message. Took two slugs with the shovel before he finally
died.”

“You’re…you’re playing with us, right?” Brian
asked, still not believing a word he was hearing.

“I don’t know you from Adam, son, and I’ve
never been known to play.”

Mrs. Deneaux pushed past the man and into his
entryway.

“They’re in the cabinet in the kitchen next
to the fridge,” he told her, pointing back into his house. A few
seconds later, I could hear what could only be described as a cow
getting its milk-fattened udders caught in multiple mousetraps, it
was that unsettling.

“Is that Deneaux?” Gary asked, placing his
hands over his ears.

“I guess she found the cigarettes,” Crotchety
said.

Brian was shaking his head, walking around in
small circles. He was mumbling to himself. “No guns! The world is
caving in on itself and this crazy old bastard doesn’t even have a
gun.”

“What’s wrong with your friend?” Crotchety
asked. “He looks like he has distemper.”

Deneaux pushed past the old man, her arms
stacked high with cartons of varying smokes. She looked like a
schoolgirl that just got a fully paid shopping spree to the
mall.

“He’ll be fine,” I said. “Would you happen to
know where we could get some guns then? So that we can be on our
way.”

“You look like you’re planning trouble,”
Crotchety said with scrutinizing speculation. “I don’t like
trouble. It tends to get people killed.”

“Listen, old man!” BT bellowed. “See this man
here?” BT said as he placed his hands on my shoulders. “If trouble
were the rarest element on the planet, my good friend, Michael
Talbot,” BT tousled my hair for effect, “would have the entire
market cornered.”

“Thanks, man.” I appreciate that.

“No, this man needs to understand. If trouble
were a fine thread, Mike could weave it into a three piece
suit.”

“I think he gets it.”

“No, I’ve got one more.”

“Fine, go ahead.”

“If trouble were a drop of water, Mike could
fill a swimming pool.”

“Oooh, that was the best one,” Gary said.

“Hilarious, guys.”

“And you stay with him. Why?” the old man
asked.