Zombie Fallout 19, page 1
ZOMBIE FALLOUT 19: UNEARTHED
A MICHAEL TALBOT ADVENTURE
ZOMBIE FALLOUT
MARK TUFO
Copyright © 2022 by Mark Tufo
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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CONTENTS
Prologue
1. Mike Journal Entry 1
2. Mike Journal Entry 2
3. Mike Journal Entry 3
4. Mike Journal Entry 4
5. Bt
6. Azile
7. Mike Journal Entry 5
8. BT, STENZEL, DALLAS, GARY, and LYDIA
9. Mike Journal Entry 6
10. Mike Journal Entry 7
11. TOMMY (Future)
12. Mike Journal Entry 8
13. Mike Journal Entry 9
14. Mike Journal Entry 10
15. AZILE (Future)
16. Mike Journal Entry 11
17. Waylay
18. TALBOTSODE #1
19. TALBOTSODE #2
20. AUTHOR’S NOTE
About the Author
Also by Mark Tufo
Untitled
PROLOGUE
Fuck me, that took a lot longer than I thought it would. Somehow Wesley had got into my stash of journals and fingerpainted across the majority of them. I thought about just writing over the paint but in some places there was a distinctive brown color and as far as I know, he doesn’t have any brown paint. If you want to connect the dots, go for it. I decided I’d look elsewhere for writing material. You wouldn’t think I’d need a reminder about what was going on, but it’s been three days since I wrote anything down, and I drink!!! A LOT!!!!!! I figure a bunch of exclamation marks makes it look like I’m exaggerating and having some fun with that fact. So, okay, we’ll go with that. Right. So, we’re heading to Africa for a mission that is looking pretty crappy, and my star player, “One-bullet, One-kill” Stenzel, is looking to get traded to a better team. I’d just come from a meeting with Eastman and was heading to the cafeteria to see BT. Now that we’re all caught up, back at it.
1
MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY 1
“Do not ruin this meal for me!” BT bellowed from across the chow hall as he saw me approaching. “I know that fucking look, Talbot!”
Lots of confused stares from those seated around and more than a few guffaws that turned suspiciously to coughing when I scanned for the originators. Didn’t usually have a captain getting yelled at by one of the enlisted, even if I was dressed like I owned and operated a Tiki Bar at some third-rate resort.
“What are you talking about?” I asked when I was closer, trying to make myself less of a spectacle.
“That look! That ‘I have something shitty to tell you, but secretly I’m excited about it,’ look.” He was shoveling in the beef and gravy offering as fast as he could, hoping that what I was going to tell him wouldn’t turn his stomach.
I sat down across from him.
“Spilf it,” he mumbled through half-chewed meat product.
“I’m waiting until you’re done.”
“That bad?”
“It ain’t great.”
He wrapped one arm around his tray and lowered his head closer to the food like he was worried I was going to take it. As if. I’d seen a documentary on how aggressive grizzly bears are upon awakening from hibernation and having their breakfast. I chose to keep both my arms attached, because BT was worse.
“When?” He was still huddled over the tray.
“Twelve days or so.”
He left it there for a few bites, digesting that piece of information along with lunch. “Where?”
“Africa, Nigeria specifically.”
“In July?”
“That’s exactly what I said. Most of the trek will be traveled by boat.”
“They got the bio-fuel working?”
“Why is it that I don’t know what happens on this ship?”
“They have announcements every morning about important news and events going on. If you could drag your drunk ass out of bed early enough, you’d know everything I know.”
“Is there like a newspaper or something? I could read it in the shitter.”
“Yeah, the whole back of the ship is devoted to a printing press and enormous rolls of paper.”
“Seriously?”
“This is my captain, people!” He looked around as he pointed at me with his fork.
Most were now actively avoiding our conversation.
“They do a closed-circuit newscast. See that giant television over there?”
“I didn’t realize it was capable of playing anything other than Robin Hood, that Kevin Costner one.”
“They do seem to play that one a lot. But no, every morning they have a newscast. It’s semi-professional looking, but you can tell that the male host has crippling stage fright. He sits rigid in his seat, and the only time he looks up from his notes into the camera appears to be by mistake, like he accidentally made eye contact with a psychopath at a bar. And the flopping sweat doesn’t help. He’s constantly dragging his sleeve across his head. Best part of the show, my opinion.”
“You made a distinction...so how’s the female co-anchor?”
“It’s Major Dylan, she’s a natural. Looks like she could have been working in a major market. My guess is they’re going to can Lieutenant Ochre, and he’ll be thrilled about it.”
“Ochre? What kind of name is that?”
BT shrugged. “Okay, so the rest of the details.”
“Boating twenty-plus miles, humping out eleven miles total, retrieving hard drives.”
“The catch?”
“Intel says it’s clear.”
“So we can expect an unknown number of hostiles?”
“Fairly guaranteed.”
“Importance of the target?”
“Remains to be seen, but some high-tech stuff that could help in the vaccine is my guess.”
“Your take?”
“Why would you want my cynical spin?” I asked.
“Humor me.”
“I don’t find anything funny about it,” this I told him in all seriousness. “More dangerous shit, our lives on the line, a questionable outcome, and benefits that may or may not be realized.”
“When do you think karma is going to agree we’ve finally paid our dues?”
“I wish I knew. I’m filling in the rest of the squad at seventeen hundred in their quarters.”
“I’m going to get some more food now, and you’re going to leave me in peace.”
“What are you, a hobbit?”
“What?”
“Second breakfast?”
“Go now, Mike.” He stood. With him towering over me, I figured this might be the best time to leave.
“Just let everyone know about tonight.”
He nodded.
2
MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY 2
I laid out what I knew to the squad. I had a difficult time gauging morale, considering most of them were a few sheets to the wind, including myself. I had a knot in my stomach due to Stenzel’s conspicuous absence. Another development I wasn’t overly keen on was the budding romance among my soldiers. Rose and Kirby along with Walde and Reed spent more time ogling each other and foot flirting than paying attention to me. This didn’t bother me so much at the time; with the way of the world, finding love where you could was a good thing. My concern was for when we were out in the field. The feelings they had for each other could jeopardize others, not to mention themselves. If their significant other was in trouble, would they abandon their post to help? I know I would if it was Tracy, not sure why any of them would be different.
As I was wrapping up and letting everyone get back to what they were doing, Stenzel walked in, she had a look of surprise like maybe she was hoping I would have already finished and departed.
“Sir.” That was it as she headed for her bunk.
I nodded and left it at that. As much as it was going to be difficult to watch her go, she deserved the life she wanted, and I wasn’t going to guilt her into staying with us.
I got rip-roaring drunk the next day, hoping, I suppose, to scrub my mind clean for what was to come. Then the next two days were followed by abstinence and a bout of the shakes that could be attributed to nerves, but was more likely the effects of alcohol withdrawal. We had a family dinner the night before, Justin invited Dallas and Travis brought over his quote / unquote new friend, Emma. She was pretty, a redhead. I thought about pulling him aside and asking him if he were sure about dating one of that particular hair color but wasn’t sure if he would see it for the joke it was. It was a great dinner of spaghetti, garlic bread and meatballs that I was hoping were made from beef, but sometimes it’s better not knowing. They tasted good, that was all that mattered.
A lot of laughs, gentle ribbing and love, just what the doctor ordered. Although some Percocet would have been nice too, and a drink or seven. No matter what BT said, I did suffer from pre-mission jitters. I felt like my ability to lead was diminishing as rapidly, as my odds of coming out of these missions alive and intact.
The rest of the vacation passed quickly, never seemed like enough time to spend with those I loved. Before I knew it, departure day had come. I crawled out of bed at four a.m., doing my best not to disturb Tracy. Just because I had to be up at that unholy hour didn’t mean she needed to be.
“How much time do you have?” Her hand had reached out and grabbed my leg.
“Half hour. You want some coffee?”
“I was thinking something a little stronger.” I was not expecting the hand to the crotch. Perfect aim, considering the room was pitch black.
I replied with, “I um.” Suave, I know, but I was in the middle of swallowing my tongue. “No” was not an answer I was going to be able to offer, especially not after a few quick tugs.
“I didn’t think you were going to show,” BT said as I came running down the hallway.
“Sorry, I got pulled into something unexpected.”
“Uh-huh. Can’t imagine what that could have been. Your buttons are fucked up.” He turned and started shouting orders to the squad.
I fixed my buttons then did a quick count, not surprised that the resultant number was ten team members. “Let’s mount up.”
BT tapped my shoulder and pointed down the hallway I’d just come from. Stenzel was heading our way.
“You sure about this?” I asked her.
“I don’t know, but the thought of all of you going out there without me didn’t sit right.”
“Harley.” I squared off with her and grabbed her shoulders. “You’re all in or you’re not. I won’t think any less of you, especially not for trying to better yourself with a good job.”
“I’m in sir, I’m in.” She held my gaze.
“Okay, okay, great to have you here.” I turned to tell everyone to head out.
“Hey, what about me? Can I get a better job?” Kirby asked.
“I’ll let you know when a crayon eating position opens up,” Stenzel barbed.
“They have those?” he asked Rose.
“Oh sweetie, for you I’m sure they’d make a job,” she told him.
“Can we be done with this chicanery?” Gary asked.
“Chicanery?” I asked.
“I found a word of the day calendar. I need to work as many of them into normal conversation as I can.”
“Chicanery means to use trickery for financial or political gain,” Tommy told him.
“Doesn’t fit then?” Gary asked with pursed lips.
Tommy shook his head.
“Debauchery?” Gary was reading off a small notebook he’d pulled from his pocket.
“Closer, but no,” Tommy told him.
The boat ride, although short, was excruciatingly loud. The monotonous drone of the engine routed right past our ear protection; the deep bass rumble conducted straight through the bones of my skull and drilled specifically into my brain. I was tempted to tell them we’d walk back when we exited. It wasn’t until we were a quarter mile down river that the decibel level became acceptable.
“Fuck me.” BT had pulled his head gear off and was rubbing his ears, he wasn’t the only one.
With all my misery focused on the noise, I’d not considered just how hot it was, and even then, not immediately. It was when I looked at everyone else, at the copious amounts of sweat pouring off them, that it dawned on me.
“All right, I want everyone to kill a canteen of water right now.” Tommy was muling a five-gallon jerry can; I wanted everyone to hydrate then refill, thus lightening his load, though it was most likely negligible weight for him.
Grimm downed his the fastest and ended up puking it all back up. He looked pale; not sure if I’d missed it when we’d embarked, or if the water and heat had got to him.
“You sick?”
“He might have the flu,” Kirby said.
“Booze flu?” BT asked.
“Don’t think so. He’s been sick for the last two days,” Kirby finished.
“Are you kidding me? Grimm, what the fuck, you shouldn’t be out here,” I told him.
“I’m okay.” He was still bent over, long strings hanging from his mouth. When he stood he looked like he’d just come out of the tear gas chamber. His eyes and nose were red, plus he was leaking snot like a drainage pipe at a chemical plant that wasn’t all too worried about EPA standards. How did I miss that?
“Rocket One, this is Aldrin. I’ve got an astronaut that needs an evac.”
“Aldrin, this is Rocket One!” She had to shout to be heard. “How severe, sir? We’ve got aliens on both shores. They’re following us; we come back we’ll be bringing them right to you.”
“Shit. Grimm, we’ve got to double-time for eleven miles. Without hesitation, I need to know if that’s something you can do. No male ego, no Marine Corps bravado shit, just the truth.” On the best of days, Grimm was our weakest cardio link, somehow even worse than my brother. I didn’t like how this was starting.
“I’m good.” It sounded more like a gag than a response.
“Roger that,” I told him and our ride. “Who else knew?” Got a lot of averted gazes. “Okay, let’s go. Grimm, you’re in the lead. Kirby, you’re his crutch.”
The first mile was typical Grimm, on the slower side, but steady. As we hit mile two I needed to make a decision.
“Hold up,” I told the squad. I had to confront BT, as he looked like he wanted to chew through nails. Maybe it was the crippling heat, but he was as angry as I’d ever seen him.
We shut off our comms and moved to the side, away from the squad.
“Stupid fucking kid. Mike, he’s jeopardizing everyone here. He should have known better.” We were the ones talking, but he was looking over and past me to the person who had irked the living shit out of him.
I completely agreed with him, I did. But we were in the field now, and as the leader of the squad, I had to take the disfunction I had and make it function. “We’ve all fucked up, BT, especially at that age. He wanted to be here with his fellow soldiers. It was his loyalty that placed him here, well, that and some stupidity, but he did it out of his desire to help. He’s here now, and we’re stuck with him. What do you think we can do about it?”
Funny how when you shift the responsibility of an individual onto another, the stance they take can change.
“Stupid motherfucker. Slower than a parked car.” He pointed at Grimm then he spoke to me, having calmed considerably. “I suppose we find him a secure location, leave him there with a guard and pick him up on the way back.”
“Tommy.” I waved for him to come over. “Can you tell us where we’re at?”
Kirby was helping Grimm sit, Rose was getting him some water. The jog and the heat had taken everything out of him, if the way he needed assistance was any indication.
“We’re here, just outside of this commercial area. Might be a good place for him to hole up. I could take him there, stay with him and wait until you come back. It’s the obvious choice,” he answered. I kept looking at him, wondering if he was reading my mind.
“Another two down from an already light squad,” the thought spoken aloud. Tommy was a difficult asset to leave behind, but in a jam, he would be Grimm’s best hope of survival. “Help me put the water jug on.” It wasn’t so much a can, as it was a bladder. It shrunk as the liquid was dispensed, thus helping with the overall size, and keeping the sound of sloshing water at a minimum.
“Want me to carry it?” BT offered.
“No, there’s plenty of other stuff,” I told him.
Tommy took off his camo top. He looked like a survivalist’s wet dream; his entire chest and back were covered in filled magazines, two deep.
“Jeesus,” Kirby whistled. “He’s like an action hero, Machinegun Man.”
The water had been somewhere around forty-two pounds, and the magazines at a pound each had put just his extras at somewhere around eighty pounds, hardly a blip by Tommy’s standards, but now that load had to be passed through the squad. We were traveling somewhat light, but it wasn’t like we were strolling the countryside in shorts and t-shirts. We were already carrying somewhere near sixty pounds each before piling extra on.
