Zombie Fallout 22: Bridging the Gap

By Mark Tufo

Strength dwindles as the Talbot tribe make their trek into the Darien Gap, sixty miles of broken highway and inhospitable terrain through the sweltering Central American wilderness. Stinging from their recent losses, the group is forced to sleep suspended in trees to avoid the hordes thriving there, but that brings only a temporary, miserable reprieve.

Pursued by the relentless Brazilian Army, they become entangled at the mercy of yet another military faction. Alliances are few and far between but making it on their own, constantly menaced by both men and monsters makes advancement towards home increasingly unlikely.

Of course, any human diversion puts the Zombie races at an advantage, and their physical and mental evolutions provide an unending stream of terror. If only the Americans could recruit a gutsy new company to fight alongside them...perhaps an unlikely force, noble, brave, and...shipwrecked?

Follow the Squad on their trek homeward as they fight their way through the perilous jungle gauntlet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Tufo
• Release date: Mar 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215246504

Mark Tufo

Mark Tufo was born in Boston Massachusetts. He attended UMASS Amherst where he obtained a BA and later joined the US Marine Corp. He was stationed in Parris Island SC, Twenty Nine Palms CA and Kaneohe Bay Hawaii. After his tour he went into the Human Resources field with a worldwide financial institution and has gone back to college at CTU to complete his masters. He lives in Colorado with his wife, three kids and two English bulldogs. Visit him at marktufo.com for news on his next two installments of the Indian Hill trilogy and his latest book Zombie Fallout

Book preview

1

MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY 1

The Darien Gap sucks! We’d made it to the near edge of the untravellable wasteland. That was the way I saw it anyway. Supposedly it was some pristine wilderness paradise untouched by man, land, blah blah de fucking blah. I preferred my land touched. Experienced land knew enough to have a Dunkies and a Texas Roadhouse, preferably a bar or two. I was coated in sweat, swatting away mosquitoes the size of dachshunds. There was a highway, then there wasn’t, and it made no sense to my industrial-minded self. If I needed to drive somewhere, there should be a complete road; it made perfect sense to a spoiled American. North American—spoiled North American. God we’re so egocentric. But instead, we went from a four-lane divided highway to dirt, like, instantly. Like the road workers had called it a day and went the fuck home for all eternity. (Sorry. I was just pissed about the whole thing.) A part of me couldn’t wrap my head around what I was looking at, or what Major Dylan’s book had said. I had it in my mind that we would get here, and the whole thing would be a joke, a ha ha to the stupid tourists. It wasn’t. Or it was, but one of those cosmic ones, and those were the least funny of all.

The path we were faced with didn’t look horrible, but I was sure it would deteriorate rapidly to something a mountain goat would have difficulty navigating at points. Slopes covered in slippery moss, the fording of brown rivers, pushing through thickly brambled vegetation, skillfully making adjectives out of nouns.... Brutal rainstorming, flashflooding, insects, hungry predators. In terms of stubbornness, I’m on the far side of the bell curve, maybe not the most obstinate, but far from easygoing. I was feeling as if I’d met my match in this trail. I looked over at the animals, the kids. We couldn’t do this, not on foot. Tommy could easily carry double his weight, but we’d all be pulling carts loaded with animals, kids, or supplies. For a few miles, it might be doable, but sixty, over some of the most treacherous land? Not without some casualties. And we’d already lost so much.

Nope, was all BT said as we stared ahead.

I agree.

So plan B?

I already have Tommy, Dallas, and Sergeant Sommers out looking for a boat.

And if they don’t find one?

I knew where he was going with this. I wasn’t quite ready to tell him I would consider Colombia my new home. It wasn’t so much that it wasn’t the States, although, okay, that still played a part. But places were just places now, there were no borders or nationalities. But finding a suitable climate was still going to factor in, and sticky and muggy were so far down my list as to be non-existent. I needed to go north. I wasn’t built for this tropical jungle bullshit.

We’ll worry about that if it happens.

Mike, I hate to say it, bud, that’s more likely than not. What are you planning on doing? Because I know you, you’ll do the undoable just to do it. We could get used to this place, Bermuda shorts, Hawaiian shirts, fruity cocktail beverages on the beach as we look out over the water at the beautiful sunset. This he said while in the process of killing three monster mosquitoes and one biting fly. It was hard to shout the praises of a place as you were attempting to keep from being bled dry.

I don’t know. I must have had pleading eyes.

Can’t let it go, can you?

Contact! Stenzel shouted. She’d been standing on top of an abandoned semi, could have been abandoned when its highway gave up, way before the apocalypse. We all turned her way; we looked like Meerkats alerted to hawks. She pulled her binoculars down. Four tanks. This she directed at me.

I was about to ask her if she was shitting me, even though I was aware that would have been a horrible prank.

I, uh... I was frozen. We had three people out that we weren’t expecting back until tomorrow at the earliest, and we hardly had the ways and means to fight what was sure to be close to a hundred soldiers. I was about to ask: how did they find us? But there was no answer to that question that could possibly matter. I mean, I had a good idea, wasn’t like we’d kept our destination a secret. If they’d come across any of Miguel’s people I don’t think they would have suffered so much as a snapped rubber band’s worth of pain before giving us up, and why shouldn’t they? I looked at the way the tank was traveling and at the only avenue of escape available to us.

Talk about forcing a hand. It’s like you plan this shit, BT said angrily. All right, everyone grab your stuff. We’re heading in! Get the kids and the animals in the carts! Let’s go! he bellowed.

Caught me, I said sourly. I think this shit up at night rather than suffer demons in my sleep. We were a slow caravan with a scant ten-minute lead. Rose!

On it, sir.

If there was anyone who could widen our margin it was her. People tended to shy away from large explosions.

Stenzel, get in the tree line, find a spot that will afford you three or four shots, enough to get their attention. Justin, you watch her back.

We were so far down in military personnel that I’d reluctantly had to press my kids back into service. Both were eager to join; it was me who had all the reservations.

Everyone else, you heard the big man, get moving! It was unnecessary, as everyone was already on the go, but as a commander, it’s important to hear yourself issue orders. We’d barely gone a tenth of a mile into the gap when Stenzel’s first shot rang out, then another. This was followed by an apocalypse-worthy barrage of return fire. I was thankful our path had dipped down somewhat, as we could hear a few bullets thread the needle and zip on by, just above our heads. Once that hail of fire died down, Stenzel shot twice more, sparking another barrage, though this one more subdued. The opposing commander, realizing their supplies weren’t infinite, had ordered a much smaller response. His or her next command would be to order people forward. Weird that in battle people could be more expendable than the ordnance.

Justin and Stenzel came running down the path at a full tilt. They’ve stopped for the moment. It’ll be a few minutes before they feel pressed to check it out, Stenzel informed me.

Good job you two. Fall in with the rest.

Did you do this shit? BT asked.

What are you talking about? I was busy looking behind for soldiers and up ahead to make sure nothing fell out of the wagons being pulled.

Manifestation.

"I read The Secret once, but if I remember correctly that had more to do with getting things you wanted, a mate, a job, more money, shit like that. I must have missed the chapter about being followed by a murderous bunch of dildos."

You know what I mean.

I don’t. I was getting a bit peevish. We were on the brink of yet another very serious and deadly confrontation, and I didn’t have time for a theoretical conversation, especially one where I was somehow the bad guy.

You want to get back to Colorado in the worst way possible, and you weren’t going to let something as small as sixty miles of hellscape get in your way!

I may have been peevish, but BT was on the edge of anger.

I love you, brother, but maybe it’s time you stepped away. If you think for one fucking second I somehow wished we’d be forced into this shit storm, then you don’t know me at all.

He softened a bit, but I didn’t get the feeling it was by all that much. He looked on the verge of wanting to deck me. Maybe not consciously, was what he offered.

"Yes, I’m like Rand from the Wheel of Time series, what was he, Ta’veren or something? I make the world bend to my will. You nailed it. Only, if that were the case, this would be a road, or better yet, we’d be on a plane, or even better still, the fucking zombies would have never come and the worst thing I would be worried about would be a door ding from an errant shopping cart at the grocery store."

He stepped away, moving quickly to be with his family. I felt somewhat bad for the vegetation he was stomping into the ground. I could only shake my head and wonder what the hell that was all about. Five minutes later the sound of an excessive boom washed over us. It seemed Rose’s surprise had been tripped. I could only hope we’d offered enough dissuasion for the Brazilians to give up and go home. We had a deadly sniper and an explosive expert, plus, like BT said, we were now enmeshed in one of the least desirable locations on the planet. What could they possibly accomplish by pursuing? The only answer was more death, and I couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to chase that. Why chase something that comes for us all?

I was thinking about having everyone hold up and sending a scout back to see if they were still following. Maybe they had left to lick their wounds, and there wasn’t any reason to force this trek. I didn’t want to go too far in because we’d left three people behind. Reuniting in this jungle would be difficult. I decided the pack should keep moving, and I would head back, see what I could see. If it was safe, it wouldn’t take overly long for me to catch back up and give the all-clear. It would be a wasted day, but we could turn around and again wait for the trio to get back. No harm, no foul, for us anyway; the Brazilians had been bloodied and badly. I wasn’t a fan of striking preemptively, but we already knew this enemy’s intentions. The finality of death weighed heavily. Wasn’t it possible that those in the tanks were defectors and had chosen to align with us? Odds were slight, but not non-existent, unfortunately we’d already closed the door on a potential treaty.

We were on the only road, such as it were. It was more possible this was an expeditionary force that had nothing to do with us, were merely out seeking supplies or territory, and just happened to fall in behind us. Didn’t like that train of thought. People just out trying to gather food or medical supplies and we shot them down. Thinking like that wasn’t going to do me any great wonders, physically or mentally. What I had to take into account was the ninety-eight percent chance they had indeed meant us harm; the odds were so greatly stacked in that favor that I couldn’t afford to be reactionary, this world didn’t allow for it. If you missed your chance to strike, you were immediately put at a loss, and there were no do-overs. Hitting first and hitting hard was the best course, and often the only option.

Our lives mattered more to us than theirs did, for right or wrong, there it was. If protecting me and mine meant the end of them and theirs, then it wasn’t a question of would I. Even without fully knowing their intentions, it had to be done. I would curse my thought process the entire way back.

Stenzel, I’ll be right back.

She arched an eyebrow.

I’m heading back to see if they’re following.

You’re the captain, sir.

I knew what she was implying, captains didn’t do reconnaissance.

I’ll be right back.

Sure thing, sir, she said as she fell into step with me.

In fairness, I hadn’t ordered her to stay with the group, and now that I had the company, I decided to keep it. She would have my back, and her presence would keep me from the circular thoughts of killing those who hadn’t merited it. I almost asked Stenzel if she felt guilt; not sure what that would have accomplished other than making someone else miserable. I’m not saying Stenzel was devoid of feelings, but in a conflict, she went about her business in, well, a business-like manner. What more could I ask for? Just because I needed a team of dedicated therapists didn’t mean I should expose anyone else to that.

I figure they’ll figure it out on their own, but I made an arrow with bullet casings atop the truck.

Right there, that’s what I was talking about. While the rest of us were dealing with overloads of adrenaline, Stenzel had the presence of mind to give the others a clue as to our whereabouts, and that after having taken out a couple of what I hoped were combatants. We got close enough that we could smell the burnt cordite of Rose’s explosive. I would imagine if we got closer, we would have seen uprooted trees and the twisted figures of a clutch of men. I was fine with our locale. It had been silent when we first hunkered down, and it made sense anything with two and a half brain cells would have departed for far less noisy and dangerous points. Then, just when they figured the coast was clear, they came back. Birds had been chirping, crickets were making that strange leg-rubbing noise that I found humorous. Reminded me of my days when I was a kid and had worn new corduroys to school. That fssst, fssst, fssst sound as the grooves in the pants scraped together. I suppose I was too young for it to have been considered a mating call, but it did garner attention. Surprised I didn’t start a fire in my crotch when we would play kick ball at recess. Running around the bases, fssst, fssst, fssst.

The forest had gone silent.

You see them? Stenzel asked.

I had not. That’s what happens when your mind rambles decades away. I picked up the unfortunate point man; he did not look happy. After having witnessed the death of more than a few of his comrades, he had to be expecting that his lifespan was being counted down in seconds. Those he was blazing the trail for were much further back—I figured they didn’t want to be anywhere near a new blast zone, should one occur. Stenzel had raised her rifle, she was aiming in on the five following.

Hold up, I told her when I saw another group. They were staggering their waves. We could bloody them, but they were going to make it difficult for us to bleed them.

The point is going to be here soon.

They’re too close. I’ll take him, you do what you can to that second group. I want them to be as scared to pursue as we can possibly make them. We retreat before they can marshal up and start cutting down the vegetation with bullets. I did a count down with my fingers from three to one. At one, I aimed in at the extremely close, less than fifteen feet away, point man. He had been startled and turned toward us the moment he’d heard Stenzel’s rifle fire. He was still reacting to the loud noise when I punched a hole into his heart. He was just a fucking kid. If he was in his twenties I would have eaten my hat. He didn’t say anything as his eyes glazed over and he fell first to his knees then dropped the rest of the way to the ground, landing on his face. Stenzel had taken down three people while I’d been fixated on the one.

We’ve got to go, sir. She tapped my shoulder and we were running. Wasn’t too long that a steady volley was sent to where we’d been. That would again delay those following, but they weren’t going to stop. Every death would spur them further. Maybe not those on the front lines, pretty sure they’d had enough of this conflict, no, it would be the leaders behind forcing them forward. Those piteously devoid bastards who wanted medals bathed in the blood of others pinned on their chests. They would push their people mercilessly. That was my take anyway, could have been reading it wrong. But that kid had looked scared, like he wanted to be anywhere but chasing others through the Darien Gap. By all rights, he should have been home playing Xbox or trying to work up the nerve to ask out his crush, or even getting ready for his shift at a fast-food joint. Now, though? He was scavenger food. I had little doubt his body would lie where it had fallen until it was picked clean and the bones scattered. I wondered how difficult it might be to circle around, find their leader, and end his dismal existence for sending people into this jungle deathtrap.

We’d slopped through the muddy trail for close to a mile when I had Stenzel hold up. It had narrowed quickly. When we’d first set out, the trailhead was large, easily big enough to accommodate a tank. It had not taken long until the path had shrunk down to what it was now, a muddy strip hardly bigger than a game trail. I suppose at one time this had seen, maybe not a lot of foot traffic, but a steady-ish stream. Enough that the ever-creeping jungle would have been kept macheted at bay. Taming this place had never been an option; I think had they cut a road here it would have been swallowed up in a few years, at best. I hated the feeling of being closed-up like the jungle was squeezing us. It was weird to be outside and still feel claustrophobic.

Sir? Stenzel was wondering why we weren’t still running.

I’d like to set up another trap.

Here?

Couldn’t blame her questioning my missive, sightlines were for shit. By the time the person on point came into view we’d almost be able to shake their hand, and to top it off, we’d not be able to do anything against those trailing.

This is a delaying tactic. If we have to do this the entire way until the other side, then that’s what we’ll do. Our group is going to be moving far too slowly.

We’re going to need more supplies, was all she said in response to that statement. We were going to pull a sixty-mile controlled retreat. BT would have had a few choice words at the notion; I was glad I was with Stenzel.

No time like the present, I told her.

When we caught up to the group I was not at all thrilled with how little they had advanced, but I kept that to myself, as folks looked exhausted and miserable. It was hot and humid and the bugs were threatening to fly off with people. Berating them for their lack of speed wasn’t going to win me any points, nor would it move them any faster.

Did they stop? BT asked.

Not hardly. I was angry at the entire situation.

What’s the plan? he asked.

Stenzel and I are grabbing some supplies and we’re going to plague their every move.

His lips compressed. He didn’t like it, that was fine, but he could get in line behind me because I didn’t like it either.

Yeah, I know it’s for shit, I’m just hoping someone on their side gains their wits and turns the fuck around and then we can hop on a boat. And just so we’re clear, bud, I’m pretty sure we’re dealing with a bull-headed commander who would rather have his entire force wiped out than retreat.

Wonderful. I’ll keep them moving.

If you can squeeze any more speed out of them do it. At some point, even though their leader might be thicker than a post, he or she is going to figure out there are only two of us, and rush our position. When you see us come running back it’s going to be too late.

God, do you remember when we used to bitch about being on a boat?

Who knew that was going to be the highlight of the apocalypse? I told him.

He shook his head. Stay safe, brother. We bumped fists.

Always.

As if, he sniffed. Sorry about earlier.

I nodded.

Stenzel handed me a filled backpack, then adjusted the one she was wearing. Ready when you are, sir.

Fuck, I muttered. Let’s go.

We jogged for a bit, the straps digging into my shoulders. I should have checked the contents, felt like I was lugging lead bars around. At around a half mile we stopped for water and it was a good thing we had. If we’d continued we would have run straight into the point people. They’d changed tactics, placing more soldiers up front. The jig was up. They knew we were a small assault force and were going to try and overpower us.

Should have picked up our brass, Stenzel whispered as we moved five feet off the path, melting neatly into the jungle. I don’t know how there could be more bugs than we’d been dealing with, but that was the case. That high-pitched buzzing in the ears, the irritation in the eyes and nose as they flew into them, and then those little fuckers that settled in for a blood meal. It was an excruciating segment of Hell to be bitten, know you were being bitten, but could do nothing about it lest you expose yourself to the enemy. I could feel a conga line of the little fuckers drilling taps into my neck. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Stenzel was dealing with the same thing, but somehow she was able to find a void, a safe withdrawal point where those external irritations didn’t touch. She had her rifle up and was aiming in. I, on the other hand, had gritted teeth and thought about pinning my right hand down into the ground with a knife through the center to keep it from flying up and smashing the little bastards.

I was going to take out my frustration on those poor individuals walking straight toward us. It was a line of kids, not kids kids, but young, too young. None had hit mid-twenties and they looked terrified. The thing was what it had always been: if we didn’t kill them they would kill us. There was no middle ground. I would have loved to have jumped up and said BOO! so that they’d go running back home. That would not be the case. Oh, one, maybe two would run, the other three would riddle my body, and I never liked riddles.

Sir? Stenzel had to whisper.

I nodded. I didn’t have time to raise my head and she was already firing. I still had my safety on. Probably a lifesaving maneuver on my part, and I didn’t mean for the Brazilians but rather for Stenzel and myself. Incredibly, between Stenzel’s first and second shot, I heard something—or rather someone—moving through the woods. They’d been expecting us to attack and had people in the woods, mirroring the movement of the people on point, and once the action started they would converge on the shooters. I clicked off my safety and spun in time to see a very surprised woman less than five feet away. She had scratch marks on her face from where the thick vegetation had smacked against her as she ran, a little bit of blood leaked from those wounds, but it was nothing in comparison to the hole I put in her chest.

Bullets were coming in from all angles. I immediately went from a kneeling position to prone, as did Stenzel. I don’t know what training the Brazilian recruits went through, but it wasn’t enough. They’d put themselves in a crossfire situation. The soldiers in the woods on our side, on the opposite side, and the point soldiers all fired at the same time. None of the groups had a lock on our location and seemed only to be firing on those who were already shooting. Stenzel and myself were hunkering down, riding the storm out as best we could, keeping a watch should anyone try to ferret out our position. Heard two or three people cry out from wounds before a cease-fire was called. At least, that’s what I suppose cessar fogo meant. Seemed a safe enough bet, considering all went quiet except for the calls for medicos.

We couldn’t move; they were all around us. Some had even got ahead of us during the chaos that had ensued. There was the running of many boots headed down the path to the injured, meaning most, if not all, of the three platoons were going to congregate by us, and we couldn’t do a damned thing except pretend to blend into our surroundings. The camouflage clothing was going to help with that, but we were far from invisible, and with an on-edge hyper-vigilant force, the odds weren’t stacked in our favor. And if just one of them wandered off the path to take a piss…

I wondered if they would shoot us immediately, take us prisoner, or maybe use us as bait to lure more of the group out for a rescue. Figured this was an instant execution type of deal. The ground beneath me was suffering micro-earthquakes as my heart slammed into it. I was thinking the ants around me had to be wondering what the fuck was going on. This was going to end up on their evening news. Localized earthquakes cause a partial collapse of tunnels in conclave three, terrorist termites to blame, film at eleven.

Then, just when I figured all was lost and it was going to be time to go out in a hail of bullets, the Brazilians grabbed their wounded and retreated as quickly as they’d come, and not just the newbies to the scene but all of them, the soldiers on point and all of those in flanking positions. I mean I figured they’d left too, heard some of them leaving, it was impossible to tell if they’d all left due to the thick cover of the jungle. Stenzel and I looked at each other but said nothing; there could still be some of them out there. We withdrew as quietly as we could. We didn’t get shot at, so I figured we’d done a fair job of extracting ourselves unseen.

Thought we were done for sure, Stenzel said. That statement didn’t have quite as much emotion as it should have when faced with one’s demise, but it was the most I’d seen out of the woman in some time. Near-death experiences tend to do that to people. Are we heading back to fight?

No, not doing that anymore. Them picking the field of battle almost cost us. It’s our turn to choose.

I don’t know whether she agreed or not, but she didn’t offer any disapproval, and I’d told them continuously to speak up if they didn’t like something, that our squad wasn’t a dictatorship. I’m sure they knew that, but it wasn’t very often that anybody except BT called me out on my plans. I suppose you just figure the person placed in the lead knows what they’re doing. Maybe that was the easy way to soldier, but it was far from the case most of the time. We moved in the direction of our people. When we got back to where they’d been, I was happy to see that they were long gone, and then when I realized they were long gone, I got a healthy dose of anxiety. No way to win in that scenario. I saw a hill not too far off and decided that was going to be our next ambush point. It didn’t look overly daunting from where we’d started, but that changed as we approached. A thin ribbon of a trail had been carved into the edge. It wouldn’t be a deadly fall if one were to slip off, but there was potential for an injury. I figured there were more than a few thorny plants down that embankment as well, and getting back up onto the path would not be easy through the wet plants. Everything was soggy here. To our right we went up, it was steep, not rope steep, but there were times we needed vegetation assistance.

Good lines of sight from here, Stenzel said when we got about halfway up the fifty-foot-tall knoll.

We’re going all the way.

Can I ask why?

I figure you just did. But here’s the reasoning. Soldiers on the whole are going to take the path of least resistance, and there’s no reason to think they’re not as tired as we are, if not more so. If they come a quarter of the way up I’ll be surprised.

Then what was wrong with halfway? she grunted as she pulled on a vine for some help.

When the bullets start flying is this what you want to be doing as we try and get away?

Ah, good point. This must be why the cook always gave you the biggest piece of pie at chow.

He gave me the biggest piece of pie because I was supplying him with cigars salvaged from our raids.

We all carried those crates at one point or another.

Not my fault you didn’t ask what I was doing with them.

I think I need to get myself commissioned.

Don’t do that. You have so much talent; get yourself into the civilian world where you can get properly compensated for that expertise. The private sector is where the big bucks are always going to be.

You just don’t want pie competition.

I like my pie, Stenzel, don’t take this from me.

With no little amount of effort, we found ourselves atop micro-Everest. I thought that was a funny comparison until I realized that, much like the much larger cousin, this slope was also going to be covered with bodies soon. Then any humor I’d found was quickly drained away. From our superior vantage point, we could see them coming. They were spread out, five in the middle on the path, at least three farther downslope and four upslope, although, as I thought, as they got closer to the hill they pulled in tighter where it was moderately easier to walk, grouping up very nicely. It would have been great if we’d had an RPG. I’m sure if their commander was anywhere near the front he would have had them separate. Even a decent NCO would have had them stop bunching. This told me all I needed to know: these poor slobs were the sacrificial lambs.

Perfect shots lined up, Stenzel whispered, although we were so far out of earshot anything short of shouting right at them wouldn’t be overheard.

Plan B.

Sir, it would help if we’d gone over this previously and I knew specifically what Plan B was.

Somewhere in the back of that clusterfuck are the leaders. I think they deserve some of what we have to offer instead of continually sending other people into our bullet buffet.

There’s an appeal there, but how many of them are we going to allow to pass? And what if the leaders are back at the tanks waiting for information? It won’t be long until the ones that walk on by us catch up to our people.

As much as I had a thing for killing the ass wipes forcing our hand, Stenzel was right. I couldn’t risk the group for what sounded a lot like a vendetta, even if I did believe that killing the officers would send the rest of this force packing.

I’d swear if I wasn’t so pissed. The point group was already out of sight and the second wave of targets were coming into view, the third wasn’t far behind.

There are more of them on the peripheries.

"They’re not screwing