“Did you get laid?” BT asked in my ear.
“What are you, fifteen?” I asked him back.
“Sorry, man, even while you were looking at the zombies you’ve got this shit-eating grin on your face. I was just wondering if you were now shitting out gold pieces,” he said referring to my failed love making attempt way back at the Big 5 sporting goods store.
“Even if I had gold pieces coming out of my ass, I wouldn’t offer you any.”
“I knew you did!” He smiled, pointing at me.
Tracy took that inopportune moment to show up at the doorway. “You get me in trouble and I’ll toss you over this railing,” I told the big man.
“We’re cool, man, we’re cool,” he said as he smiled at Tracy and went in.
“What’s that about?” Tracy asked as I went in.
“BT thinks I owe him some money,” I told her.
“What would he do with it?” Tracy asked as she followed me into the room.
“Gloat…laugh…probably both.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about?”
BT popped his head into the living room from the kitchen. “Ooh, Tracy you’re hair is a mess do you need a brush?”
“Fuck,” I mumbled.
Tracy spun on her heel. “You told him?” she accused me.
“He guessed,” I said, throwing my hands up. Like what was I supposed to do?
“I hope you enjoyed it because that’s the last apocalyptic sex you’re going to have!” she said as she left the room.
“Man, that’s why I’ve never dated redheads,” BT laughed. “Don’t sweat it she’ll get over it.”
“I didn’t do anything for her to ‘get over’, that was you remember?”
“Oh yeah, sorry about that!”
“Hey, Mike, could you see if the zombies are moving away?” Ron’s voice drifted down from the attic.
I went over to the window. “I’ll be damned, they’re walking into the fire.”
“Mad Jack’s magic box,” BT said as he came up next to me. “He’s been working on a giant one. We got it mounted on the roof.”
“Holy crap, what’s the range?”
“Just about the fire pit,” BT said.
“Wow.” I walked to the door leading up to the attic. “That’s a roger on the zombies, they are now deep-fat fried.”
“That’s gross, Mike, but thanks,” Ron said looking down from the top of the stairs.
“Was that gross?” I asked BT.
“A little bit.” He held his finger and thumb close together.
“Huh, I didn’t think so.”
“You going to apologize to Tracy now?”
“What, are you fucking nuts? I’d rather go outside. Wait, why do I have to apologize? You’re the one that did it.”
“Admitting fault is the first step.”
“One would think that someone who speaks the words would understand their meaning,” I told him.
“Oh I see what you’re doing there. It won’t work, I’m smarter than you.”
“Great, Joe IQ, got any ideas about our friends out there?” I asked him.
“Well, the magic box works great, but I can’t imagine Miss Congeniality is just going to stand by and wait us out,” BT said, getting serious for the moment.
“Miss Congeniality, that’s some funny stuff, can you imagine Eliza in a beauty pageant?”
“I can’t even imagine her trying to smile. Not enough Vaseline in the world to keep that upper lip from sticking to her blood-coated teeth, and God help the contestants if she didn’t win.”
“Stop, man, or I’m going to lose it, I keep picturing her in a sequined gown parade waving to the audience.”
We might have gone on for a little while longer if not for the sound of an explosion outside. I ran to the sliding deck door, I had no sooner slid it open when a round lodged itself deep into the stucco next to my head. BT pulled me back with enough force that I could probably sue him for whiplash damages. Another couple of shots were taken, but without a target in sight they soon stopped. I scrambled over and grabbed my rifle.
I told BT thanks and crawled out the door, effectively hidden by the metal plating lining the railings. I wondered if, from the gunman’s angle, he could put any rounds underneath me. There was no metal there. I looked through the gun slot cut into the metal. I could just see the section of fencing that had been shredded with a hand grenade. Zombies were pouring in—that was bad enough—most were stopping at the end of the pit of their own forced volition or were being involuntarily pushed into the spikes and fire by their brethren as they all fought for limited space. They, however, were not my first concern, I could see the hunched over forms of men trying to stealthily make their way, threading through the zombies.
The explosion had been to make an entry point and the rifle fire was to keep us from seeing their advance. Eliza was making her move. “Trouble,” I told BT, who was on his hands and knees at the doorway to the deck.
“You don’t say?”
“More than usual, okay, smartass?” I asked him back.
“Fine, what’s going on?”
“I can’t tell how many, but we definitely have men coming. Get everyone on alert, we got a few minutes—the number of zombies is actually working in our favor. They’re having a hard time getting through.” I watched a few moments longer. I had counted at least six—possibly seven—men coming our way. I crawled back inside and waited for the troops to rally.
It didn’t take him long, the explosion had done most of the work. Absent were Ron and Mad Jack—who were still tweaking, the box, and sadly Erin, a kind-souled person who had not deserved the loss of her husband and my best friend. I shook my head; I could not afford to go down that dark path.
Then it hit me. “Where’s Deneaux?” I couldn’t stand the woman, but anyone that could shoot the balls off a moth was someone I didn’t mind having in a firefight.
“Maybe God finally called her up,” Nancy said in seriousness.
“No, that would imply he wanted her there,” I told her truthfully.
“The mean lady left,” Angel said right before BT was going to go down to her room and check.
“What?” I asked, spinning to look at the youngest amongst us.
“She stole one of these,” Angel said, pulling a vial out of her pocket, “and then she said we were gonna get what was coming to us. She went downstairs, and then she crossed the yard and left.”
My eyes grew wide. “The basement! BT, Gary…come on. Dad, get a couple of people on each entry point. Do not go outside, they have the exits covered.” I was halfway downstairs by the time I had finished giving my orders.
The basement was how you figure most basements should be in a scary movie: pitch black and dank. I knew where the basement door was; not by sight, but by memory. I set up my defensive position behind a small knee wall that semi-hid a top loading freezer. I heard BT moving around, then Gary came down. The two seconds of blinding illumination as he turned on the lights almost had me in hysterical laughing, but first things first. “Gary, shut the damned light off,” I told him.
“I can’t see anything though,” he said as he snapped the switch into the off position.
“Yeah, and now none of us can, except for the giant blob of yellow in front of my eyes,” I told him.
“Sorry,” he added as he ‘oomphed’ by his foot or shin striking the freezer hard.
“How many times have you been down here?” I asked.
“He keeps moving it.” Gary found a spot behind a stack of MRE boxes.
I figured he should be safe; those meals would be dense enough to stop a tank round.
“I’m sure,” I told him as he settled in. “That’s a hell of a spot you found yourself there,” I said to BT.
“It’s all I could think of.”
“Get over here, man, you hiding behind a lolly column is like an elephant hiding behind a street sign.”
