Zombie Fallout (29 page)

I ended up attaching wood to both sides and after some serious pep talking to myself I braved another walk on the wild slide. Most of the play was gone so the swaying was kept to a minimum. At one point I even let go of the handrail; I was feeling a little saucy. Still, I didn’t want anybody on this thing unless they were completely aware of their surroundings. My next bold move was to place duct tape over both light switches, the one at the foot and the head of the stairs, to keep them on twenty-four seven. This also wasn’t going to win me any brownie points with the wife but at least I’d be able to see her coming when she went to push me down the stairs. I got Travis and quickly departed the scene of my crime. It would be for the best if I wasn’t there when Tracy decided to kill me.

Work around the wall was frenetic to say the least. Whatever Jed and Alex had told the workforce to incite them had done its job all too well. Alex had decided that it would be wise to begin the project on the shorter gate sides. His reasoning being that the zombies would look for the natural openings. He had split up his workforce into two equal parts and sent them on their tasks. He was constantly driving from end to end to supervise the progress. The idea was simple enough to implement and ingenious in its design. The problem was materials. Ideally 1 inch thick metal plating (roughly 4 feet by 8 feet) attached to the wall, braced with train track thick metal support beams welded to another footer plate with 1 foot spikes driven into the ground was the optimum set up. The strengthening pylons were spaced 8 feet apart from each other. Alex had only enough of the metal plating and supports to alternate with the less strong wooden supports and only on the sides with the gates. The long walls that were on the west and east sides were all going to be supported by 1 inch thick plywood and 4 by 4’s, still a formidable defense but not nearly as imposing looking as its metal cousins. Propping the RV was proving difficult; if even a modicum of pressure was applied the roof began to buckle. This troubled Alex but with time short and work to be done, this was a problem he would have to work out later.

The biggest concerns Alex fought with all day were the gates. They were by nature the weakest points of defense but because of pressure from the residents his hands were tied on how well he could bolster them, because whatever he put up to stop the zombies had to be able to be moved in a hurry in case of a mass exodus. What people weren’t understanding was that by that point there would
be
no mass exodus. Just like the song says, ‘Nobody gets out of here alive.’ It was like the roach motel in theory, if the zombies get in, the people don’t get out. But folks wanted to hold onto that hope, even as asinine as it was. They were putting themselves in MORE danger by being so pigheaded. That was why I was working so hard on my exit strategy.

CHAPTER 18

Journal Entry - 16

I found Alex up in the southeast corner. I had only known this man for a few days and I already considered him one of my closest friends. Funny how that happens. I’ve known some acquaintances my entire adult life and I wouldn’t go to their weddings unless there was an open bar. Alex and his family had made such an impression on me he was rapidly climbing up the charts to those few who I would take a bullet for. Dramatic I know, but Marines think of these kinds of things.

“Hey Alex, how’s it going?” I asked as I clapped my hand on his shoulder.

He turned to look, a scowl on his face. “Could be better, Talbot. I could have more laborers, more material and some engineers, other than that just peachy.” Then his demeanor changed, a grin split his broad face. “Heard about your home decorating.”

I was floored, I know news travels fast especially within a closed community but this is nuts. Then I discovered my culprit. Tommy meekly waved as he hefted the two hundred pound plating into place as if it weighed nothing more than its wooden counterpart.

Alex saw who I was looking at. “I wish I had fifty of him. The kid is strong as an ox.”

I smiled back at Tommy as he held the plating in position with one hand while with the other he fiddled around in his pocket until he was rewarded with a Three-Musketeers bar.

“And he works for minimum wage,” Alex laughed.

“Alex,” I started in a serious tone. “That’s part of the reason I came to find you.” I spent the next few minutes telling him about my exit plan if everything went south. I also, to no avail, tried to get him to move closer to my house.

“I can’t move,” he bemoaned. “My wife finally feels safe. She has just stopped screaming in her sleep and she has some new friends that live around us. I know that they also provide a constant source of well-being for her. Mi amigo, I’m not even sure if what you have told me will work, although it’s a start. Ladders you say? Sounds about as safe as your sledding stairs.”

He shrugged. “What can I tell you, the walls should be fine once the stanchions are up. It’s the gates that are going to be the problem. Short of putting up a wall, I don’t know.” He shrugged again with the truth of what he left unsaid.

“That’s all the more reason you should either move in with me or at least next to me,” I told him.

Alex was no martyr. He had no desire to go down with the ship, his family meant everything to him. When it finally dawned on him that he was embarking on a doomed endeavor he wanted to rethink his choices.

“I will talk to Marta tonight.” His sickly smile did not produce much confidence.

I placed my hand again on his shoulder. “Alex, you have to do more than talk to her. You have to convince her.” His skin tone wasn’t recuperating. “Listen, her friends are welcome to move too. We’re only talking about a tenth of a mile away at most. This isn’t a coast-to-coast thing.”

My arguing wasn’t winning him over. He saw the logic in what he needed to do. It was just convincing his better half about this. His wife had always been ruled by the heart and not the head. “All right, all right, I’ll back off, for now. Just tell me where you need me and Travis to work.”

Alex’ shoulders slouched a bit in relaxation. He would talk to his wife, just not at the moment.

The day was cold, the work was hard. It was uneventful except for the occasional hammer hit to thumb, and no they weren’t all mine, I only did it twice. I was barely able to contain my tears the second time. The support beams had been completed on the two shorter gated sides and we had finished a good third of the east wall without anything too exceptional happening and just like that it changed. The alarm arose from the North gate. People began shouting. I hadn’t heard any shooting yet so I figured things were still somewhat all right. Like every other looky loo, I left what I was doing mid-swing, probably a good thing. I think I was lined up for a third hit on my throbbing appendage and this time the tears would have spilled. This would have been considerable entertainment for Travis. I’m sure he thinks I don’t have tear ducts. The makers of the Hallmark commercials would be happy to know that I do, but I’m not telling anyone. There was a group of sixty or seventy people at the gate by the time I got there. That was a good quarter of our population. I would’ve figured everyone would have been here but then it was nice to realize the gate guards and the tower guards hadn’t left their posts, plus there were still a considerable number of folks who were just plain traumatized. Some so much so that they didn’t even come out to get food, it had to be delivered. I meandered my way up to the front trying to figure out what was going on. There were no zombies or human invaders that I could see. I was wondering if someone had inadvertently hit the alarm. It wouldn’t be the first time. Luckily this hadn’t yet fallen under the boy who cried wolf syndrome, yet.

I had made it up to the front of the crowd and curled my fingers around the chain links. My fingers tightened as I saw what had aroused the natives. Standing in the field across from our little community was what I can only describe as the harbinger of doom. It was the symbol of everything that was wrong with the world right now. It was death incarnate. It was the four horsemen of the apocalypse all rolled into one package. It was the woman zombie that had killed Spindler. At one time she was some daddy’s little girl, all pigtails and Sunday dresses. All sugar and spice and everything nice, all Barbie and Ken playhouse. Now she was the crux of all that was evil. She stood in that field two hundred yards away and still the closeness of her chilled my heart. Her tattered clothes swayed in a nonexistent breeze as if she created her own tempest of atrocity. The crowd which had been loud and alarmed grew as quiet as I had. The pall of impending doom disquieted us all. The only sounds were of clothes rustling together as each person tried their best to gain a better vantage. Some had seen enough. They peeled away, possibly to tell others that the boogieman was real and he was a she. The guard at the gate had half raised his weapon to take a shot but seemed to have frozen mid-decision. He looked like he wanted to leave with some of the others; I couldn't say I blamed him.

When the zombie pointed at us my breath caught in my lungs. I felt as if a frozen ice pick had been thrust into my chest. Cold blood radiated out from that phantom piercing. I had the distinct feeling she was pointing at me, but wouldn’t all humans look the same to a zombie? I mean, I don’t think I could tell one cow from another. They all taste delicious to me. I’m not saying that we were cattle, but to a zombie we are, right? I found myself slowly moving back and to the right, almost subconsciously. Sure, I had a history with that thing but that didn’t mean I wanted a future. I mean at least with her, it, whatever. Even from this distance her outstretched arm with her straight as an arrow index finger followed my slow retreat. Un-fucking-fortunately this did not go unnoticed. The damn guard, who should have immediately shot that abomination, visually followed the line of sight of the zombie’s finger.

“Talbot?” he turned and looked at me. “She’s pointing at you, I think.”

I stopped, frozen for a moment, hoping that she would drop that accusatory pointer. She didn’t. The guard grabbed my arm and pulled me back to the fore. I was sweating and shivering at the same time. It was not a pleasant sensation.

“That’s a zombie, isn’t it?” he asked. I hadn’t found my voice yet, it was locked away somewhere in shock and awe. “But how could it be, for chrissakes she’s pointing, ain’t no zombie can point. Right? But I can smell her from here. And the way she moves, she ain’t human.”

I don’t know who he was talking to. I hadn’t even acknowledged his existence yet. My concentration was centered on her, it. My attention became so focused, I don’t know if it was a trick of the light or she was magic, to this day I still haven’t figured it out. The only way I can describe what happened next was as if my consciousness was pulled to within a few feet of her. Her pointing became a gesture of ‘come here,’ something which I could tell was a difficult maneuver for her considering the rigor that had to have set in. That finger being able to curl and unfurl made her grimace in concentration. She mouthed the word ‘come.’ I was thankful that this was only my consciousness and not my true presence. I could see her breath and it had nothing to do with the cold. Every impulse screamed at me to flee, but I was even more compelled to go.

“Open the gate,” I told the guard. The voice didn’t sound like my own, it was distant and small, so much so he looked at me to see if I had even spoken. Or maybe he had heard me but thought I was out of my gourd.

“Open the gate,” I said with a little more force, but still this wasn’t much above a whisper. At least I knew he had heard me because he responded.

“No way, man.”

Awesome, I thought. I guess I don’t have to go and meet my waking nightmare. I wanted to kiss the guard, even though he wasn’t my type.

“Dad, where are you going?” Travis asked in alarm.

I could no more respond to him than I could control my motor skills. Why was I climbing over the fence? What is wrong with me? Two decades of smoking pot did this to me. I should have listened more carefully to those reefer madness movies. They seemed much more relevant at this moment. Why wasn’t this asshole guard trying to pull me off the fence? Dick wad! Fortuitously, or unfortuitously, the razor wire had not been in enough supply to cover the fenced gates, this was made up for with more armed personnel but that fact was not going to stop my ascent. I literally sat on the fence for a moment, semi-safe haven of normalcy on one side, crazy disastrous immoral face of all that is unholy on the other.

“I’m going to get mom!” Travis yelled, hoping that this inherent threat would awaken me from this possession. It didn’t.

If it wasn’t for the cold protrusions of the top threatening to pierce my favorite unmentionables I might have stayed there for a significant amount of time. I climbed down. As I began to walk away the guard thrust a small Smith and Wesson .38 caliber pistol through the gate.