"Better than most," I told her. My heart thudded a little heavier when I saw that big rig crest over the top of a small rise.

"It's a truck, Mike," Azile said, looking over towards the trees.

"Hold steady," I told her, the trucker had already seen us. He flashed his lights, if we bolted now it would look mighty suspicious, although 'suspected' is better than dead. Now I was looking over at the tree line.

The truck was slowing as it approached. It stopped about twenty feet away. "That rig back there yours?" he shouted, sticking his head out from the window.

"Hers!" I pointed to Azile. She did not look pleased that I had singled her out.

"Run into a bit of trouble?" the trucker asked.

"Flat tire," I told him.

"Is that right?" he asked back.

"We're running late for an appointment, is there any chance you could help us out?" Azile asked.

The driver switched his gaze from me to Azile, but keeping me in his periphery due to all the weaponry I was carrying. "That's funny 'cause I'm a little late, too...had some truck trouble and had to stop and get a quick fix on."

What were the odds? I thought. I was going to give it a shot. "Listen, we need to get to a particular thing in Maine, or we're going to be in a world of hurt."

I watched as recognition lit the man's face up. "Well fancy that, I have an engagement in Maine also. I just need to make sure we're playing for the same team, you can never be too careful."

"Never too careful," I reiterated when I saw the barrel of his rifle resting on his dashboard.

"We had a shipment of guns and food," Azile said. "Kong gave us directions to a place in Maine where we were supposed to deliver them. If I don't at least show up and tell him what happened he'll think I stole the stuff."

The man's face softened when he heard Kong's name. "Kong isn't the most forgiving man, are you sure you don't want to just start walking the other way?" The driver asked.

"I'm his niece," Azile said, "he might be mad but he'll understand."

"What about him?" the driver asked.

"He's my porter."

"Funny," I said under my breath.

"Come on, you both can tell me what happened when you get up here," the driver said as he reached over and opened his pa.s.senger door.

A large orange tabby was staring me straight in the face as I went to climb into the rig.

"Oh, don't mind him, I picked him up back in North Carolina. He was just wandering around. He climbed up into the truck and now he's convinced he owns the place," the driver said, smiling as he reached under and picked the cat up.

The cat hissed violently as he did so, but it was looking squarely at me. The cat remembered me. Good, I thought, he'll know why I'm cutting off its air flow when I get the chance.

"Take a little longer," Azile said as she brushed past.

"Can we put some of the rifles in the back?" I asked the driver.

He looked at me strangely. "You may have been carrying food and weapons, not me."

Then I realized it, his trailer was jammed full of zombies. "Yeah, I'll just hold on to them," I told him as I handed the weapons up to Azile, truly hoping that one would accidently discharge and take out the d.a.m.n cat.

"My name is Jake Fitzgerald, most folks just call me Fritz," he said, extending his hand.

I nearly froze, remembering the last person I'd known with the same moniker. I recovered smoothly enough, I hoped. I wasn't an actor. "Mike, Mike Tal...isman." I was figuratively fist-palming my forehead. I had nearly given the man my true name.

I could see Azile's slight head shake as she realized what I had nearly done. Fritz hadn't seemed to catch my error as he was getting the truck rolling. "Nice to meet you, Mike, it'll be great to have some company. What happened to your rig?" Fritz asked, looking into the back where the sleeper was.

"Someone was shooting at us, must have hit a fuel line. They took off once we started returning fire," Azile replied, trying to be as least descriptive as possible.

"Man, looks more like a bomb went off," Fritzy laughed.

"You'd think," I half laughed, keeping an eye on him to see if he was fishing or not. He didn't seem to be.

"Have you tried this little vial thing out yet?" he asked as he pulled a small bottle wrapped in an ornate piece of silver jewelry out to show us.

I clutched my shirt as if I had one underneath. "Not yet. Not sure I want to, either," I told him.

"I get you, I mean the only way you could, would entail being face-to-face with a zombie and I don't want to do that. Already been close enough a few times, no desire to do it anymore and willingly. Besides, Kong said he tested it and it worked, his word is good enough for me. And if it does work it's worth what we're going to do."

"Do you even know?" I asked him.

"Well I know that Eliza woman has a personal vendetta to settle, that's about it."

"So you signed up with her not caring the consequences?" I asked.

"Why should I?" he shot back. "As long as I gain from it, that's all that really matters."

"f.u.c.k everyone else?" I asked.

"Basically. I don't know why you're getting all judgmental on me, you signed up for the same d.a.m.n mission," Fritzy said indignantly. "You know, I've known Kong a good many years now."

s.h.i.t. Alarms started going off in my mind's early warning detection system.

It must have for Azile, too, she pressed the barrel of an as yet unseen weapon-at least to me-up to Fritzy's head.

"Yup I figured, he never once did say anything about a niece. I'm getting hijacked by my own pistol," he said, looking over slightly at the revolver. "Well isn't that wonderful."

"Is it the name?" I asked aloud, but to no one in particularly.

"Huh?" Azile and Fritzy asked.

"I haven't had much luck with people named Fritzy or similar sounding anyway," I told them. "Stop the truck."

"Pretty please," Azile said as she pulled the hammer of the pistol back.

"You gonna shoot me now?" he asked nervously as the big rig came to a halt.

"No, something much better," I told him.

By the time Azile was putting the truck in gear, Fritzy, his vial and that stupid f.u.c.king cat were neatly tucked away in the trailer with a few hundred zombies.

"Should have just shot him," Azile said. "It would have been more humane."

"He was going to wipe out my family just because. f.u.c.k humane."

We could hear him screaming for mercy occasionally, then some heavy duty sobbing. A few times I thought I heard some serious hissings from a cat, but that just may have been wishful thinking on my part.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR.

The Deck Tony was on the deck rea.s.sembling one of his rifles after a thorough cleaning when he heard the shot. He grabbed another rifle to go investigate. The rest of the family was trying to get some sleep as he did his watch. At first, he thought that perhaps someone was up and decided to take out a little frustration on the zombies, but when he turned the corner and saw that one of the spotlights was out he knew what was happening. The other side had decided to fire back.

He dipped down below the edge of the railing which had been lined with half-inch steel plating, trying to see if he could possibly figure out where the shots were coming from. Travis came running out when he heard the shots. Tony's cries of warning were intermingled with the sound of the rifle shot as Travis went down. Tony stood and peppered the location where he had seen the muzzle flash, then he ran back to his grandson.

"I've been shot, Pops," Travis said. "It hurts so bad." His teeth were chattering between words.

"What's happening?" Nancy asked, coming towards the door.

"Get down!" Tony yelled. "Help me get Travis back in."

Help was coming in droves now. BT was next, he quickly traversed the length of the room and grabbed Travis as Tony kept them covered.

Nancy swept everything off the kitchen table as BT placed him gently down.

"Hurts so bad, BT," Travis said, his eyes clenched shut, tears of pain attempting to push through.

"It'll be alright," BT said stroking the boy's head.

"Nancy, get some towels, water and a knife," Tony said as he put his rifle down. "And then get his mother."

BT looked over at Tony with concern.

"I...I'm so cold," Travis said. "I could use a shot of whiskey for the pain."

BT ran over to the liquor cabinet as Tony cut Travis' shirt off. "Well De Niro you're not," Tony told him. He grabbed the bottle from BT, popped the top off, and took a long pull. "That's for not being careful," he told his grandson, "and this...well this is for scaring the h.e.l.l out of me." He poured a fair amount over Travis' wound. Now Travis' howls of pain were real.

"Jesus H. Christ, what the h.e.l.l are you doing, Tony?" BT shouted, throwing his hands to his head, unsure what to do. "The more time I spend with the Talbots, the more I feel like I'm the sanest person in an insane asylum, but at that point what difference does it make?"

Tracy was now at the entry to the kitchen. "Tony?" she asked, her one word question turning her face ashen white.

"He'll be fine, bullet went in and out. I, on the other hand, probably suffered a heart attack." Tony sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs while taking another pull from the whiskey bottle.

"Mom, it hurts so bad," Travis said, reaching out with his arm from the undamaged side.

The bullet had caught him underneath the shoulder; it was a flesh wound that had already stopped bleeding for the most part.

"Oh, Travis," Tracy sobbed, grabbing her son.

Tony pressed the bottle up against his head. He hated the fiery liquid, but he thought it might be the only thing that would quell the panic of nearly seeing his grandson cut down. More shots had been going on as the rest of the clan gathered in and around the kitchen. Slowly but steadily, the compound was going dark as the spotlights were taken out.

Tony took one more pull. "Ron," he said as he stood, "they're getting ready for some sort of offensive, I can feel it, we're going to need a couple of more people out on duty. Everyone needs to make sure they stay below the lip of the railing. Shut off unessential lights in the house and get Travis down to the safe room at least until he gets patched up." He was trying his best to walk the fine line between allaying Tracy's fears and making sure the boy didn't feel like he was being left out.

Mrs. Deneaux was already on the deck sitting far enough back that the gunmen didn't have an angle on her. "How is the boy?" she asked Tony between cigarette puffs.

"He'll be fine, caught him under his shoulder."

"Fortunate. I don't believe Tracy could take another loss, she's like that candy that's all hard on the outside and soft on the inside."

"Better than hard and bitter all the way through," BT said as he was almost crawling to get his bulk through the doorway unseen.

"Debatable," Mrs. Deneaux said as she took humor from BT trying to make himself appear small. "You look like a bear trying to fit through a doggie door. Wake me before dawn, will you, Tony?" She asked before putting her cigarette out and closing her eyes.

"Why before dawn?" BT asked Tony as they settled in on the other side of the house.

"Any force that has wanted to catch its opponent at their least alert always attacks right before dawn," Tony told him, sitting with his back against the plating.

"And the old bat knew that?" BT asked sitting next to him.

"She's probably employed the tactic numerous times herself," Tony said smiling.

"Man I see so much of Mike in all of you," BT said sadly. "It's like he's not really gone."

"If only that were the case," Tony said.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE.

Mike Journal Entry 14 It was after three in the morning when we finally pulled into Searsport.

"Now what?" Azile asked.

"I'd rather just ditch the d.a.m.n truck, but we're still ten miles out. However, if we get too close, they'll hear us coming and if we stop then and don't show up they'll get suspicious. How many of those driver's would recognize you?" I asked, the beginning of an idea forming in my head.

"Kong, Horatio, and maybe four or five others. Why?"

"I think we play the odds."