'Til Death Do Us Part (30 page)

“
That
’
s kind of funny. Was that supposed to be?
”

“
That was the intention.
”

“
Don
’
t lose your bracelet or you have no proof how long you
’
ve been in line. That happened to me once
,
but my friend Scooter was able to get me a ticket.
”

For a moment I was too wrapped up in my neurosis to grasp wha
t the hell he was talking about,
then it dawned on me he was referencing my earlier sarcastic comment. That
’
d teach me for being a wise-ass.
“
How you doing
,
Trip?
”

“
I’m a
little tired
,
Ponch. Probably shouldn
’
t have taken the rest of those valiums.
”

“
What? You took them
,
too?
”
I asked
in a panic
.

“
Yeah
,
this shit makes me nervous too
,
brother. Maybe I
’
ll just take a small nap.
”

“
No, no, no,
”
I said rapidly.
“
No naps, you can rest when we get out of here.
”

“
I
’
m really tired.
”

“
I can
’
t stay in her
e
much longer.
”
I started to scramble for thoughts and
then it hit.
“
W
e
’
ll miss the show
,
man.
”

“
Oh shit, the show. I don
’
t want to miss that! What if they play
Fire on the Mountain
!
”

John redoubled his efforts and along we crept, I was starting to push a fairly significant amount of rocks ahead of me soon I would have created an impenetrable wall. A couple would occasionally slip past and catch. One stuck fast in the small of my back, the pain was excruciating as it was forced down onto my spine
. J
ust when I didn
’
t think I could take it anymore
,
a small rise in the rocks allowed it to move down where it got neatly stuck between my ass cheeks.

“
Great it
’
s not bad enough the whole world has gone to hell
,
but now I
’
m being rock raped.
”

“
I see daylight! Hey
,
man
,
where
’
s the show again?
”

“
Shit!
”
I said through gritted teeth as the sharp rock finally rolled off me and down the back of my legs.

“
Where?
”
John asked again.

“
Where do you want it to be?
”
I asked as another rock tumbled over my makeshift plow, that one drew blood as it nicked the top of my forehead. But at least it had the graciousness to keep on going.

“
Red Rocks would be nice.
”

My heart panged at the remembrance of the place I had been to so many times before.
“
Yes it would, Red Rocks it is
,
Trip.
”

“
Fuck yeah
,
I haven
’
t been there since
‘
78!
”
he replied,
adding,
“
I
’
m out.
”
With so little inflection I hadn
’
t even put the pieces together.
“
Hey
,
Poncho
, wait…
that
’
s not your name.
”

“
Don
’
t worry about it
,
you
’
re close enough.
”

“
It gets a little tighter
,
then you
’
re free.
”

“
T
ighter than the last place I got stuck?
”
I asked. One does not understand the full magnitude of a claustrophobic
’
s biggest fear until you are living it. I was packed in so tight that I could not take a full breath, I could not move forward or backwards.

“
Yup
,
definitely tighter.
”

“
Just get me out,
”
I begged.

“
Uh-oh,
”
h
e said
,
then didn
’
t say anything else.

“
John...John the Tripper? Trip
!
”
I was yelling as loud as I could with the limited amount of oxygen I had to work with.

“
Shhh
,
man, there
’
s some freaky people around, and it looks like they want to cut in the line.
”

“
Zombies, there
’
s zombies? Of course there is,
”
I said quietly so that only I could hear.
“
Get me out of here
,
man
,
and I
’
ll help you hold our spot.
”
I could smell the stench of zom
bie as it wafted down the shaft.
My
visi
on was dimming around the edges.
I was in real danger of blacking out. Who knows
,
maybe that would be better.

I could hear some scuffling up ahead and John must have forgotten we were tethered as I was pulled quickly ahead
six inches;
my cheek bled as it was raked against a rock. The hole I was in was narrowing even more
the
further up
I went.
I had to turn my head to the side to be able to fit through.
T
hen
, as I was about half
way through the narrow
gap, my movement stopped.
My
head was canted to the side and the valium had completely worked through my sys
tem.
I was fucked
and
in a full on panic. Terror ripped through my body as I lay immobile. My neck was starting to scream in protest
at
the direction it was forced to be in. My shoulders were on fire and my chest was shuddering
while I
tried
to pull in more air. A sardine had more room in its final tin resting place than I had.

“
John
,
help me
, man,
”
I said on the verge of tears. Nothing.
“
Please,
”
I begged.

I began to jerkily move forward, it didn
’
t feel right
,
but
at this point
I didn
’
t care if zombies had improved their motor skills and were now reeling me in like a hooked tuna. My ass was lodged in the
tunnel,
but at least I could now move my head and finally see the light at the end. Actually
,
I
could see a small sliver of sky—
which was comfor
ting—
yet I could not move to get any closer. From the tips of my fingers to the lip of the edge couldn
’
t have been more than
six feet—
or the way I was stuck, thirty miles.

“
Get your own tickets!
”
I heard
John screaming from a distance.

We were no longer tie
d together.
If
he were to
die, or
more likely forget I ever existed, I would surely die here.

“
Pussy,
”
I said aloud.
“
You talking to me? I
’
m fucking cracking up, that
’
s what I get for hanging with John too long. Aren
’
t you like half Drac now? More like a quarter and what
’
s that got to do with anything?
”
Right now it had everything to do with everything.
“
You
’
re strong
,
Talbot, stronger than you should be. Fucking dig deep
,
Marine!
”
I screamed.

I pulled my arms in so that I could start to toss the rocks in front of me out of the hole
.
After
a few missed attempts
,
I had them all out. Just that added bit of space comforted me, that or I had finally decided to pull my fate out of the hands of a man aptly named John the Tripper. I turned my hands outward
,
and with my finger tips
,
sought to seek purchase
on the solid ground ahead of me.
Simultaneously,
I placed my feet against the wall and then I pulled or pushed as the case m
ay be. Nothing! I was straining;
every muscle I could use in the fight to freedom was being
exerted to its maximum.
Still
nothing
…
then a sliver.
I moved no more than a hair
’
s width
,
but I fucking moved! I redoubled my efforts.

Pebbles scrabbled past as I wiggled, writhed
,
and shook my way forward. I hadn
’
t moved more than six inches and I was bathed in a sweat that had a hard time
finding a release from my lard-
caked body. I felt at least one fingernail rip free from its moorings, I didn
’
t stop to mourn its
loss
,
and I
pressed on. Occasionally I could hear John
’
s screams
,
but the rush of blood through my ears made it difficult to ascertain how near or how far away he was.

My entire bod
y was through the small channel.
It
wasn
’
t exactly voluminous where I was
,
but comparatively speaking
,
it was the damned Grand Canyon. O
kay
,
maybe more like Brice Canyon, but a canyon nonetheless. My finger tips were at the edge, I gripped
it
and heaved
.
I fell out like a bowling bowl from the bottom of a defective carrying bag (with a solid thunk if the analogy wasn
’
t clear enough
)
.

I stayed on the ground for a moment, reveling in my victory. I had completely torn of
f
the fingernail on my left index finger
.
T
he rest would take expert ministrations from a team of Asian pedicurists to get back to something acceptable and I didn
’
t give one shit. I stood up and winced as I
placed my hands over my head—
this time to shout,
“
I
’
m free!
”

John wa
s at least a hundred yards away he was back
pedaling as two deaders with outstretched arms
were almost within grasp. I couldn
’
t tell from this distance what it was, but something tripp
ed the Tripper and down he went.
The zombies were nearly upon him.

I ripped off my tin foil hat and as I screamed it, I thought it.
“
COME TO ME!
”