Tracy’s face froze as she saw the sheer look of terror flit across my features.
“What’s the matter?” she shrieked.
I scrambled to gain purchase.
I distantly heard Tommy. “Coke’s fine, Mr. T!!” he bawled, reacting to my dread.
I was in a nightmare. I couldn’t move fast enough, the ground was sucking me down. Gravity became a fiend. I weighed too much to move effectively. My feet were slipping and sliding on the area rug, but I finally gained purchase. Unfortunately, once I hit wood I had too much thrust and slammed into the wall as I turned left into the hallway. I heard more than felt the snap of impact as I dislocated my shoulder. The pain was blinding, the pain was clarifying. I was soaked in sweat running down the small hallway that connected the living room to the kitchen. By now everyone in the house was close on my heels, trying to discover my intentions. I made it to the kitchen. Now I had to make a hard left through the family room so I could finally make it out the back door. The gore on the soles of my sneakers made it nearly impossible to get traction on the linoleum. I moaned, a deep and mournful sound. Travis was half in the house holding the screen door open with his left hand, seeing my whole comedy of errors.
“Holy shit, Dad! You alright?”
“No swearing!” Tracy scolded him.
And now I did sob, some from the pain but mostly in relief at the sight of my son. “Zombies in the garage!” I mustered before my tunneling vision rapidly began to close.
“Holy shit!”
“I said no swearing!” I heard from a million miles away.
I awoke about ten minutes later, according to Nicole.
“Brendon set your shoulder back,” Nicole said. Concern crisscrossed her face.
I sat up waiting for an explosion of pain to rip through me; I was grateful for the moderate throbbing that met me instead.
“Travis?” was all I could manage as I tried to break through the cobwebs that spidered through my thoughts.
“I’m fine, Dad,” I heard from the other side of the kitchen counter.
Tommy had taken up nearly my entire field of view. “You alright, Mr. T? You know you still smell bad right?” Tommy said as he tried his best to put on a brave face.
"Help me up big guy.” As I extended my hand out, he almost pulled that one out to match the left as he launched me to my feet. I swayed for a moment as my blood did its best to catch up with my movement.
Tracy was at the kitchen table, head in her hands, fresh tears staining the tablecloth.
“You alright Hon?” I asked as I stayed close to Tommy, using him as a balance beam.
“Just relieved.” She looked up, I knew it was more than that, of course it was, but what was the point of pushing it.
“What are the chances that anybody grabbed the garage remote out of the car?” I looked at everybody, including Nicole and Brendon. I was that desperate. Everyone slowly shook their heads in negation.
I’ll be right back,” I said as I headed to the front door. “I just want to tell Jed to expect some noise.”
I could hear shuffling in the garage but it was damn near impossible to ascertain their location. Who’s to say that one of them wasn’t right up at the door waiting for some unsuspecting person to stick their arm through. It would take me less than two seconds to open the door, grope wildly for the garage door wall switch, and then pull the door shut. But how long would it take a zombie in waiting to bite on my arm? I put on three sweaters, a heavy parka and a set of work gloves, so unless these zombies had fangs I should be able to do what needed to be done without becoming infected. My hope was the added bulk wouldn’t burden me too much. I did not want to sacrifice speed.
“Dad, do you want me to go with you?” Nicole asked as I headed out the back door. “I could cover you with…with a gun,” she added.
I looked down at her trembling hands. A palsy victim would have been appalled. “Um no, I think I might be safer if you stayed in the house.”
She looked both hurt and relieved.
“I love you sweetie,” I said as I pulled her close and kissed her forehead.
Justin came with me, standing right outside the closed back door, rifle not aimed yet but at the ready. Travis, Brendon and two guards from the bus gate who came to help finish off this mission, waited about ten feet to the side of the garage in the alleyway. I walked over to the garage entrance and took a couple of heavy breaths in preparation, listening one last time to see if I could make out the zombies’ respective locations in the garage. I glanced over to the kitchen window. Tracy and Nicole were looking out, watching. Tommy’s bulk in the background was unmistakable. The tension of this moment was lost on him, as I watched him playing with one of Travis’ old toys. I looked again, and crossed the yard, passing Justin. Before he could ask the question that was on his mind, I walked back in the house. Nicole and Tracy both stared at me in confusion. I walked over to Tommy. “Hey buddy, whatcha got there?” I asked.
“A spaceship!” he said with a sparkle in his eyes.
“Where’d you get that spaceship?” I asked.
He seemed to like this new game. “It was on the floor of Mrs. T’s car,” he answered.
It must have been flung off the visor with all the impacts the car had been through.
“Do you think I can borrow your ‘spaceship’ for a minute?” I asked.
“Yeah no problem, I figure it’s yours anyway, I found it in your car,” he answered.
“Thanks buddy.” I grabbed the garage remote and headed out the back gate to get rid of our unwanted guests.
The six of us were lined up in a row. We knew they weren’t going to come out sprinting, but we were all poised as if that was exactly what was going to happen. This didn’t ‘feel’ right. All the zombies we had killed so far had been a kill or be killed scenario and we hadn’t known any of them. This just seemed like cold-blooded murder. I don’t think a court in the land would convict me of killing a dead person though. This was much more personal, Jo(e), was, had been my neighbor. I had drank beers with her and talked sports and yeah, even women. (It had been a little strange to talk to a woman about what they found attractive in another woman.) I was staring down the gun sights of my M-16 about to kill someone that I considered more than an acquaintance. Goddamn it, I considered her a friend! That inconvenient truth wasn’t going to make it any easier.
“Now remember,” I said to everyone. “We wait until they come out of the garage before we start shooting.” (I didn’t want anyone putting a hole in my Jeep.)
Everyone nodded in agreement. Killing in the heat of battle was one thing, lying in wait and calculating death was a whole different story. The garage door rumbled up. We didn’t have long to wait, both of the zombies had been lurking by the door. Whether they had heard us, or more than likely smelled me, it didn’t matter. They walked out the door and into a hailstorm of fire and lead. The scene was a staccato burst of fire and shadow. The strobe light effect disoriented me. It made everything appear as if it was happening in slow motion. Jo(e)’s right arm was literally blown off. I watched in fascinated horror as the bits of bone and tendons flew in an arc, the wild flashing light highlighting their ascent and then rapid descent. And yet she still came forward. Merl, as I was to later learn his name, didn’t make it a foot out of the garage before Justin had put a 30-06 round through his belfry. Merl’s head swelled to twice its normal size trying to make accommodations for the bullet. When his noggin blew, it looked like someone had placed an M-80 in a watermelon. That was the simile I held onto, it allowed me to sleep at night.