success.
“What’s going on BT? Can you see anything?” Alex asked.
“Yeah, damnedest thing. They pulled back about hundred feet or so, and they are just sitting there looking at me.”
“How many?” I asked. ‘Please say, two maybe three PLEASE!’
“Two maybe three…hundred.”
‘Well that’s what you get for wishing, how many times my mother told me to be more specific when I asked for something.’
“They’re just kind of standing out there in a loose semi-circle. Guys I wouldn’t want to bet my life on it but they look like they’re waiting for something.”
“Or somebody.” I finished.
“Mike what if the zombies at the window were just a distraction?” Alex asked me. A new thought furrowing his brow.
It took me a quick second to get over the initial shock of how many zombies we were actually contending with. “How so Alex?”
“I mean we knew they couldn’t get to us and I think they knew they couldn’t get to us, but they sure did keep us away from the windows.” Alex stated. “That sure would keep us in the dark to how many of them were out there.”
“Or they were just stalling us.” I said. These new developments were coming faster than I could recognize them.
“What’s going on Mike? You seem to know more than you’re letting on to.” Alex asked.
“Not really Alex, it’s just a feeling I’m getting. I don’t have any ‘knowledge’ but all the same I think the quicker we get out of here the better off we’re going to be.”
Alex kept looking at my face hard, trying to glean some inkling to what I was feeling. There was nothing there to give him.
“Brendon can you hit the zombies from here?”
“Shit yeah Mike, its a hundred feet. I used to shoot gophers at a hundred yards back in Missouri.”
“Take a shot every few seconds, so that they don’t get any crazy ideas about coming back. Apparently the thought of dying again doesn’t sit well with them. Jen you ready for round two with the door?”
She stomped out her cigarette and nodded grimly.
“BT how much help will you need pushing our causeway through the door?” I asked.
“Seriously Talbot?” BT answered looking at me like I had asked him if he could cut up his steak by himself.
“Fine BT, but we’re not going to have a lot of time for you to build up a head of steam and get that thing going. The fucker’s got to way half a ton.”
“You worry about protecting my ass. I’ll get this to the truck.”
“Alex I want you to put on as many clothes as you can and still be able to move, including gloves.”
“Why don’t I just make a run for it, they’re a hundred feet away I only have to go six, I’m not Speedy Gonzalez but shit a tortoise would like those odds.”
“I’ve got a feeling Alex that as soon as we open that door that they’ve got a surprise for us.”
“Yeah this plan just gets better and better.” Alex answered as he grabbed a pair of sweat pants that he had been using as a pillow.
“See, hang around with me for a few more weeks and you’ll be able to pass as a New Englander, no problem.”
Alex grumbled something in Spanish, it had to be swear words and a colorful variety too because his wife was trying to shield her kids ears.
Alex looked like a sumo by the time he was finished, I thought it might be better to roll him to his destination. The killjoy didn’t see the humor in my revelation and he let me know in no uncertain terms. We positioned the bars by the door. BT rolled his neck in a large circle in preparation. Jen had her hand on the handle. Alex was dripping sweat as he waited tensely for the shortest sprint in human history. Brendon kept the zombie crowd at bay. Travis and I positioned ourselves on either side of the door to lay covering fire when and if needed. The plan was ready and it looked pretty damn good on paper, if I do say so myself. Too bad the paper wasn’t of the toilet variety, because the plan went to shit in a hurry.
“Ready?” Jen asked everyone.
‘No.’ I nodded.
The door swung open and hell came through. (Actually all hell broke loose, but poetically the last sentence sounds way better. I might be fighting for my life but it doesn’t mean I can’t go for the dramatic overtones.) My hunch proved to be true, much to my chagrin. Why do my hunches always involve the negative? Couldn’t I have ever had a hunch about the winning lottery numbers? I could have been waiting out the apocalypse in my gun turreted castle somewhere in the mountains of Vail. As soon as Jen stepped clear of the door, the first of the zombies tried to gain entry. I can only figure that they were hiding against the exterior wall just in the event that we would open the door. There could be no other explanation. Travis’ shotgun roared I immediately found myself covered in a visceral mixture of bone and brain. The salty, metal taste of blood drained down my throat. I would have puked if I had had enough time to really comprehend what was happening. The zombies Brendon was ‘holding’ at bay broke for the opening in our defenses as soon as the first of their brethren hit the ground.
The bars started their slow arduous journey forward. A couple of things stuck out immediately. The first was the disgusting taste of raw innards as they made their way down my gullet. The second was that the bars weren’t moving nearly fast enough to beat our adoring fans to the truck. The third and possibly the most important was the quarter inch high threshold that was about to become a major roadblock. BT had managed to get the bars to within a foot of the doors and he was gaining momentum. Through it all Travis’ gun roared as he kept our attackers at bay. As soon as BT hit that threshold those bars would stop and then we’d be sunk, the door to the building wouldn’t be able to close and we would have actually built an awning for our guests to arrive in before they dined. We were all about ambiance at Club Chez, home of the delectable jellied brain.
“PULL IT BACK!” I screamed.
“I can do it Talbot.” BT grunted.
“Dad I’m out!” Travis yelled. “Look out!” I had turned to yell at BT when I looked over to Travis, the terror in his eyes, told me all that I needed to know. My time on earth was measured in seconds. Jen’s pistol destroyed what little hearing remained in my right ear. If she had fired her shot any closer she could have made a lead earring for me. The world around me was reduced to the bitter smell of smoke and the incessant ringing in my ears. Travis seemed to be yelling something. I couldn’t hear it. BT had completely ignored my plea. Jen, I think, was still shooting her pistol but by now all I could hear was a distant crack, like maybe somebody was slapping a baby’s ass two rooms away. I had a second or two to decide what to do, although there was no real choice, so it was basically like when my wife would ask me to do something. She would ASK because it was the civilized thing to do, but I didn’t really have the choice of NOT doing it.
Before BT completely sealed off the door, I stepped outside and through the outer edge of our make shift ‘A’ frame. BT looked at me like I had gone insane but give credit to him he didn’t stop pushing. The leading edge was, at the most, three inches from the threshold by the time I got a good hand hold on the bars. It was at this point I was probably the most thankful that I suffered from the affliction known as ‘survivalism’ because I was almost completely sure that the world was going to end badly, one way or the other. I had stayed in relatively decent shape over the years. I had done miles and miles of cardio and tons and tons of weight lifting (obviously I’m talking cumulatively). I wouldn’t be able to beat BT in an arm wrestling competition even if I used both arms and a leg, but there was an underlying strength there that might not be obvious on first notice. I bent slightly at the knees and thrust up like I was Superman trying to leap a tall building. The resulting effect wasn’t nearly as cool as seeing the man of steel jump. Something felt like it splintered in my back. Red pain flared out, wrapping around the base of my skull. The pain was all consuming. All my other senses were lost. The world turned scarlet as I fought against the laws of gravity. My heart pumped in overdrive. Adrenaline flooded every fiber of my being. The curtain of ruby parted slightly as I strained upward. The bars moved a fraction of an inch or my ankles collapsed, either way something was giving.
The bars had cleared the threshold!! I might never walk erect again, perpetually going through life dragging
