Travis nodded.
“Is your dad here?” Paul asked as hope surged in him. If anyone could get his wife and him out of this jam it would be Mike. The guy had a penchant for getting out of tight jams, the Marine Corps had only added to that legacy. When Travis shook his head no, Paul was dismayed. “How many of you are there?”
Travis held up four fingers. Paul couldn’t imagine that Mike would send his boys alone to get him. He prayed that Mike hadn’t died trying to save him.
“Where’s your dad?” Paul asked. Travis shrugged his shoulders. There was only so much the boy could answer with body movements, but the fact that he didn’t look too upset told Paul volumes.
“Any ideas?” Paul asked. Travis again shook his head no.
“I’ve got an idea,” Brendon said from below. Travis held up one finger and mouthed ‘Wait One’. Paul was left to ponder what this meant as Travis ducked back down off the fence.
“You three wait here. When the coast is clear get Paul and Erin and get back to the car,” Brendon said as he began to move back towards where they had come from.
“Any chance you could be more specific?” Travis asked to Brendon’s back, but he was already out of earshot of Travis’ whisper.
A few moments later Travis got his answer. Brendon thought valor was highly overrated as he hesitantly walked out into the middle of the junction between Wheelspoke Avenue and Lacey Street. ‘Couldn’t it have been something a little more noble, like OK Corral Place and Okinawa Way?’ he muttered to himself. At first, not one zombie took notice of the interloper. Brendon had aspirations that maybe he was somehow invisible to them. However, when he cleared his throat as if he wanted to reap attention in a loud auction house, he was rewarded beyond his wildest dreams. A zombie no more than twenty yards away turned to look at this newest nutrient food bag. The lone zombie started its hunt. Brendon felt like a fox about to be released. Although his body was moments away from bolting, his mind was holding steady. Pulling one whole zombie away from the fray was not the distraction Brendon was looking for. He aimed his gun in on the unaccompanied zombie and neatly removed the mass of its head from the rest of its offending body with a loud explosion. Most of the zombies were so tightly packed in around Paul’s house that turning around was an industrious undertaking. It was only after a fair portion of the zombie crowd had peeled off to pursue this new quarry that the rest were able to swing into a position where they could see what the fuss was all about. In the rudimentary works that passed as thoughts in the zombies, the dinner bell had been sounded. ‘Meat for me’ would have been the vocalization of their thoughts if that were a possibility.
“Hey zombies! Dinnertime!” Brendon yelled in encouragement as he punctuated his point with some well-aimed shots.
A few zombies went down, a couple even stayed down, but it was the typical drop in the bucket. Brendon did not immediately turn and run as more and more zombies took note of his presence and began to come at him. He laid down shots almost on top of each other. If Travis hadn’t known better, he would have thought Brendon had somehow obtained a fully automatic weapon with that rapid rate of fire. Brendon was holding his ground as best he could, only falling back a step or two when he should have been running as if hell itself were chasing him. In a few more seconds his window of escape would close but he was trying to get most, if not all, the zombies to come his way. Travis had knocked out a knothole in the fence and was just about to lay down some suppressive fire to help him, when Brendon finally understood he could not hold his ground anymore.
“That wasn’t much of a plan,” Travis said to Tommy. Tommy nodded in agreement.
Justin looked through the hole and noted that although it wasn’t much of a plan, it had worked to near perfection. Travis and Justin could count on both their hands the remaining zombies. Of those that were left, Erin was doing her best to dispatch most of them. But unless the zombie’s brains had somehow migrated to their feet, she wasn’t doing much good. Most of the zombies that were left would now have a pronounceable limp, but they wouldn’t be able to collect disability insurance any time soon. Travis, Justin and Tommy walked through the front gate, the Mossberg and the Winchester blazing hellfire. If the zombies were capable of any other thoughts besides ‘meat,’ they would have known to leave this place of re-death so they could salvage what remained of their ravaged bodies in order to attack at another time. The last zombie had fallen long before Travis and Justin stopped firing. It took Tommy’s gentle hands on their shoulders and a couple of words to get their attention; they had been deep in the grip of battle fever.
“I found another Pop-Tart,” Tommy said as he flashed the foil bag in front of Travis’ eyes.
Justin turned to Tommy. “Were you whistling?”
Tommy grinned. “Yeah, it was the theme from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.”
Justin laughed. But the killing fog had not cleared from Travis’ eyes. It took a giant bear hug from his godfather that threatened to cut off his oxygen supply to do the trick. Erin came out next; she was busy reloading her pistol.
“Holy shit boys, it’s great to see you!” As Paul pulled Justin into the growing mass hug, Tommy stood to the side with his hands clasped behind his back, casually kicking his left foot into the ground. He looked like a puppy in a pet store window.
“I don’t know who you are, kid, but get your ass over here,” Paul said with a beaming smile, doing his best to stretch his arms across the three of them. Erin completed the circle on the far side.
“My name’s Tommy,” Tommy said happily with his face buried in Justin’s back.
“Boys, I’d love to stay like this a while longer but I want to get the hell out of here,” Paul said as he disentangled himself from the conglomeration. “So what’s the plan?”
Justin and Travis merely looked at one another. Paul sensed their uneasiness.
Travis spoke first. “Well, you… um, kinda know as much of the plan as we do.”
“Oh crap, we’ve got to get back in the house then,” Paul said apprehensively.
“Paul, we can’t. We’ve only got enough supplies for a day or two at most,” Erin reminded him.
Paul’s stress level was as stretched as high as it could be. Justin spoke before it snapped.
“Our truck is at the end of the street. Brendon should be back in a couple of minutes. As soon as he gets here we’ll head back home.”
Paul and Erin looked longingly back at their home, confident in the fact they would never see it again. “All right, let’s get going,” Paul said as he wrapped his arm around his wife.
A few moments later everyone was huddled around the car. Tommy was the sole occupant. The rest stayed outside in an uneasy silence. It seemed more prudent to be able to leave in a moment’s notice rather than be imprisoned in the SUV. Only Tommy felt otherwise.
“Maybe we should get your car, Uncle Paul,” Justin said. The waiting was plainly beginning to unnerve him.
“Not such a good idea,” Paul answered. “I coasted home on fumes the night before this all happened, I would have gone to your place before we got surrounded if I had thought to fill the damn tank. I just figured I’d have all the time in the world to do it.” Just as Paul was done rebuking himself, a single shot rang out. It sounded distant. Everyone swung in the general direction of the sound.
“That was Brendon,” Justin surged toward the noise.
“The captain is back!” Tommy yelled from the backseat.
Paul looked questioningly before Justin answered sheepishly. “Captain Obvious, you get it?”
“Oh,” Paul forced a strained smile. He appreciated the humor, just not under the present circumstances.
Another solo shot rang out. This one was definitely closer, but still no sign of Brendon. Justin was about to speak but Paul saved him the trouble. “Yeah it does sound closer.”
Time slowed to match the shuffle of a zombie. The group fervently waited for something, anything to happen. They were rewarded a few moments later with the compensation of a rapid three round burst.
“Shit, that was close,” Travis said as he jumped a bit.
“You swear?” was all Paul could think to ask.
Travis grinned like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Not in front of Dad.”
