"You saw the muzzle flashes of guns?" Paul asked, now perking up a bit.
"Yeah, over by the roadway there was like five of them and they were pointing up in the air.” "Like a signal?" Alex asked Paul.
"It's gotta be Mike,” Paul said with a relieved grin.
"Oh, not that insufferable one,” Mrs. Deneaux said, but no one paid her much attention.
"Who else would signal their whereabouts with a legion of zombies around?" Paul asked rhetorically.
"Yes, that does sound like Mike,” Mrs. Deneaux said, but not in a complementary way.
"And you’re sure the guns were pointed in the air?" Paul asked Eddy.
Eddy looked at Paul the same way he had at MJ only seconds earlier.
"Alright, alright, I get it,” Paul said, a true smile now creasing his features.
Alex grabbed Paul's arm and pulled him out in to the burgeoning rain storm. “Listen, hope is a powerful thing and right now even mine is surging, but what is Mike going to be able to do if it really is him?” "Don’t know,” Paul said still smiling, “but he isn’t going to let us rot up here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX – Talbot Journal Entry 12
We drove a few more miles away from the furniture store than we probably had to, can you blame me? We came across a few zombies that were still making their approach to the siege. Some were so completely damaged, the fight no matter which way it went would be long over before they ever made it. Jack and Brian shot a few of the Johnny and Susie come-latelies, I didn’t have the stomach for it. I've been over and over this. I know they're not humans and never will be again, but they were once. I f they aren't bothering me, then I'll return the favor. Although wouldn’t that be pretty crappy if I went out and got bit by an ankle biter? That's irony right? And why am I asking my journal? Which is basically like asking myself. Which actually is something I do regularly. But enough of this internal musing.
The old apartment building was a four floor, low-rent-looking tenement but it looked weather proof. Some bullet holes dotted the lower level, as if a small battle had been played out here, but maybe if we were lucky it involved something more mundane like a drive by shooting. No lights shone in the windows, either candle or lantern. We'd have to take our chances that any occupants still in the building would not feel the need to bother us in whichever hovel we borrowed for the evening.
Perla started heading right for the front door like she owned the place.
"Uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I told her.
"Why?" she asked, looking a little perturbed.
Screw this, I can get into trouble with my own woman quick enough, I didn't need to go looking for it. Jack was busy grabbing some gear out of the back of the truck when I walked up on him. “Jack,” I said. “I would consider this an urban combat environment, wouldn’t you?"
He nodded his head, “Yeah, so?"
"So would you send one of your team in alone and not even locked and loaded?"
"Perla? Again? The woman isn’t happy enough with our present threat level, she always feels the need to up it.” He hastened away from the truck to a defiant Perla who was now opening up the front door. “STOP!" he yelled.
"Oh stop Jack, you're always thinking the worst,” Perla shouted over her shoulder.
"Do not move! I can see the trip wire from here!" Jack yelled.
“Everyone away from the door!" I shouted.
"Jack, I heard a click,” Perla cried. “What do I do?"
I could see her shaking and I was fifteen feet away behind the truck. Tracy, the boys and BT were by my side.
"You ever do demolitions?" BT asked me.
"Hell no,” I told him, not taking my eyes from the doorway. “I like to blow things up, not the other way around.” "What the hell is the other way around?" BT asked me. “Unblowing? Is that a word?"
"Perla, what exactly do you see?" Brian asked.
“There’s… there’s a silver wire leading to a little box and the… the box has a red light on it,” she stammered out.
“Claymore mine?” Cindy asked Brian.
“Not with a light on it,” he answered her.
“Did she say there’s a light on it?” I asked from the relative safety of the truck.
Brian was about mid-way from us to the door way. “Yeah, you know what it is?”
“No, but I’ve got an idea,” I told him.
“Talbot?” BT and Tracy said in startled unison.
“It’s all good,” I said, walking over to Brian and then past him.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked with alarm. And who could blame him? His girlfriend was a motion away from potentially becoming wet dust.
“I got this,” I said, putting up a hand.
“I hate when he does this,” Tracy said.
“I heard that,” I told her.
“You blow yourself up Talbot, and I’m never going to see if you can crap out gold pieces,” BT yelled, and then clarified that it was an ‘inside joke’ when Jack, Brian, Cindy and even Perla looked over at him.
I placed my hand on the door right above Perla’s, making sure to match her pressure before I spoke. “Run,” I said calmly.
“Are you sure?” she asked, so wanting to bolt but not willing to trade my life for hers.
“Do you see any reason why the two of us should make final arrangements tonight?”
She took off, and within two seconds was in the arms of her boyfriend. She was sobbing uncontrollably. “He… he sacrificed himself for me,” she cried.
“Mike, what are you doing?” Tracy asked with concern. She was pretty sure I knew what I was doing, but not entirely convinced. I winked at her reassuringly and she folded her arms grimly. There would be hell to pay later, her eyes promised me.
I was much more sure of myself when I had been walking towards the door than I was now that I was potentially holding a bomb at bay.
“I… I don’t know how to thank you,” Jack was fairly crying now.
“You could find me a beer,” I told him as I looked over all of the workings of this trap.
“You got it man,” Jack said, wiping salty droplets from his face. “I’ll always dedicate a beer to you.” “No, that’s not what I meant,” I said as I pushed the door all the way open. I watched everyone go into duck and cover mode. The ‘trip wire ’ which was actually an antenna was attached to an old school boom box.
“How did you know?” Cindy asked.
“Never came across a bomb yet that announced itself,” I told her.
“That’s it?” my wife yelled. “You bet everything on a little red light! How many bombs have you come across in your life?” Man she was pissed, see how easy I can get into trouble?
“No time, Tracy. This thing still has juice so somebody was here recently and they know they have company, and just because this wasn’t a bomb doesn’t mean they don’t have something much more real.” All I had done was delay the inevitable. She would remember this long after the mountains had crumbled to the sea. “Just keep piling them up, don’t you Talbot,” I said under my breath. Hey, I was a good 54% sure that thing wasn’t a real bomb.
“Why did I feel the need to leave Maine and follow your crazy cracker ass again?” BT asked irately as I came back to the truck.
“Apparently you felt that I was a little more sane than the Talbot collective,” I told him as I patted him on the shoulder and grabbed a few more ammo magazines.
“I was going to go to King Soopers that day,” BT said wistfully.
“Huh?” I asked him.
“That day when you came into the Safeway store. I had planned on going to King Soopers the night before. In fact, I had gone but they were all out of buttermilk.” “Buttermilk?”
“Yeah, I like buttermilk pancakes in the morning and I make them from scratch.”
“Well aren’t you just the Galloping Gourmet,” I told him as I stuffed my cargo pockets with more gear.