The Buzzard Zone

by Kelly, Ronald

  Their voices echoed off the high walls and the cavernous ceiling of the elegant chamber as they talked and laughed. The ten sat at one end of the long mahogany table, warmed by a crackling fire in the huge fireplace. Nell, Kate, and Enolia had prepared a meal that the Vanderbilts themselves would have approved of: canned summer squash, tomatoes, and green beans, as well as large slabs of country ham cut from one of the dozen that hung from the ceiling of the huge pantry. Stone-milled flour and cornmeal had proved the ingredients for buttery yeast rolls and cornbread muffins. For dessert they had hot cobbler made with canned blackberries and peaches.

  “So,” asked Levi, “have you two been living here by yourselves since this whole thing began?”

  Michelle and Melissa looked at each other and laughed. “Yes. To tell the truth, you could say we practically grew up here,” said Melissa. “Our father was the head curator at the Biltmore. He was a history professor at the University of Arizona in Tucson until we were seven years old. After our mother died of breast cancer, he left the college and we moved to Asheville, where he took the curator position here. He was one of the most knowledgeable men in the country on the Vanderbilt family, the estate, and its history. But away from here he was different. He was something of a survivalist, you might say. He felt that someday something would happen that would put an end to normal existence as we knew it—a nuclear war, viral epidemic, or something like that. As it turned out, he was right. But I don’t think even Dad would have thought one tiny bug as big as a grain of sand would be the catalyst that brought civilization to the brink of extinction.”

  “When we were nine, he started making preparations,” Michelle said, continuing the story. “He instructed us in the use of various kinds of assault weapons, and had us trained in hand-to-hand combat and martial arts. He also began to stockpile previsions—weapons, ammunition, food, water, medical supplies—and secretly stashed them here in the main house.”

  “How did he manage that without making the staff suspicious?” asked Jem.

  Melissa smiled at the boy across the table and, blushing, adjusted her glasses self-consciously on the bridge of her nose. “Being the head curator, he would pack the supplies in wooden crates marked as antiquities and ship them here. There are rooms on every floor of this house that are unfurnished and pretty much serve as storage areas. He would have the crates moved there by the maintenance crew, where they would sit, completely forgotten… until we needed them, years later.”

  Nell regarded the twins sympathetically. “And what happened to your father? You don’t have to tell us, if it’s too personal.”

  A mutual sadness shown in the girls’ faces at the thought of what had happened. “Dad passed away of a massive stroke two weeks before the shit hit the fan,” said Michelle. He looked toward Nell apologetically. “Pardon the language, Mrs. Hobbs.”

  “That’s quite alright, dear. Go on.”

  “We were getting ready to move back out west, to live with an aunt in Mesa, Arizona, when the infestation hit full force,” she continued. “People started to turn and those who didn’t took to the road or had to stay and fight the Biters. We knew what we had to do; stick to our father’s plan. We armed ourselves, took Dad’s keys, and came here. We were surprised to find the property abandoned. You would have thought someone would have seen the potential in using it as a haven against all this madness, but apparently no one did… not even the ones who owned the estate or those who worked here. Since then, it’s pretty much just been me and Lissa holed up in here.”

  “Oh, people show up every now and then,” Melissa told them. “But we don’t let just anyone in. We can pretty much tell when someone is on the level or bad medicine. Well, most of the time we can.” She dropped her eyes for a long moment, staring at her plate as she picked at her food. When she looked up, her face was grim, devoid of her usual cheerfulness. Her eyes studied the dark wood and elaborate stonework of the dining room. The glow of the hearth extended only so far, leaving the rest of the room in deep shadow. “No one ever stays very long. This place is dark and depressing… oppressive. After a while it starts feeling like a prison instead of a refuge. Then they pack up and leave, and it’s just me and Chelle again.”

  Conversation turned to other things as dessert and coffee was served. Afterward, they left the table and headed toward the winding staircase in the great stone foyer.

  “You can take your pick of where you want to sleep,” Melissa told them, leading the way with a candelabra. “There are two hundred and fifty rooms in this house and thirty-five are bedrooms. The guest bedrooms are on the second and third floors, while the servants’ quarters were on the fourth.”

  As they started toward the stairs, Michelle spoke up. “Mr. Hobbs… can I talk to you for a sec?”

  Levi nodded. He turned to his wife. “You go on. I’ll catch up in a minute.”

  When the others had gone, Levi regarded the teenager curiously. “What can I do for you, young lady?”

  “Since you seem to be the leader of the pack, I figured it’s you I should deal with,” she said. Her eyes grew somber and unwavering. “My sister is a sweet person… got a heart of gold and is smarter than I’ll ever hope to be. It seems like she was blessed with cotton candy, unicorns, and rainbows, while I ended up all barbed-wire, piss, and vinegar. It’s the way we’re different. She’s trusting of folks and a little naïve, while I’m coarse as a cob and naturally suspicious as hell.”

  “I’m certainly not going to fault you for being suspicious,” Levi told her. “You and your sister have a right to be… us just showing up out of nowhere, barging in and upsetting what you’ve got here. If I were in your shoes, I’d likely do the same.”

  “I want to trust you,” said Michelle. “I really do… more than you know. But we’ve gone through this before. And it ended badly.” The girl hesitated and then continued. “We had visitors a month and a half ago. Two men and a woman. They seemed nice and normal at first. Then I sensed how things really were. The woman was scared shitless of those men, hardly said a word and had bruises and burns on her arms and neck. Claimed the bruises came from fending off a Biter attack. Maybe… but zombies don’t smoke unfiltered Camels, so that didn’t explain the burns.

  “They were with us for nearly a week. Lissa was happy for the company, but I knew things were turning sour. The men were watching us too much. They started making lewd comments and talking among themselves out of earshot. I could see in their eyes that they wanted us… badly. And after they were done, they’d want us out of the picture for good. I tried warning my sister, but she said I was being paranoid. I thought maybe I was. I tried to see it her way. I really did.”

  Levi could see the hurt in the girl’s face, hear it in her voice. “What happened?”

  “One night, after supper, Lissa went to the library for a book. The men followed her, while the woman distracted me, acting like she’d tripped and twisted her ankle on the stairs.” Michelle grew silent and closed her eyes, shuddering. Levi could see a hint of tears seep beneath her dark lashes. “They cornered Lissa and tried to rape her. By the time I got there… they already had her… panties… off.” When she opened her eyes, the tears flowed freely. “Mr. Hobbs, my sister is the only good thing I have in this shitty, messed-up world, and I will do anything in my power to protect her. Anything.”

  Levi didn’t want to, but knew he had to ask. “And where are those men now?”

  “Buried in the woods out back of the stables,” she said, wiping her cheeks with the palm of her hand. “We asked the woman to stick around. I couldn’t really blame her. What she’d done, she’d done out of fear. She stayed for a couple of days. Then we woke up one morning and she was gone. I have no idea where she went… or if she’s even alive.”

  “Michelle, we’re not like that,” Levi assured her. “I swear to God we’re not.”

  “I know. I’m a pretty fair judge of character. I can tell that you are decent folks. But on the slimmest chance that you’re not�
� that you’re something other than you claim to be… well, I just wanted to let you know where I stand. And what I’m capable of.”

  “I appreciate your honesty,” he told her. “And, to tell the truth, if it came down to protecting me and mine, I’d do the same.”

  Michelle smiled. The gesture was sincere, as though a load had fallen off her shoulders. “Thanks for hearing me out, Mr. Hobbs.”

  “Levi,” he corrected.

  Her smile broadened. “Levi, then.” As an afterthought, she extended her hand. “Good night… and welcome.”

  “Much obliged.” He reached out and took what was offered him. Her hand was small in his grasp, but firm and strong. It reminded him of Nell’s, capable of tenderness, but sturdy, not afraid of hard work and adversity.

  And not afraid to do the unthinkable if absolutely necessary.

  Chapter 26

  Levi and the others adjusted well to their new home.

  Although they were unaccustomed to the elegant surroundings that the Biltmore provided, most were mountain people in one way or another. The Hobbs had lived in the lofty foothills of the Smokies, while the Tauchees had dwelt amid the peaks of the Carolina Appalachians. The Blue Ridge Mountains provided a familiarity that put them at ease and one that would provide the sustenance and materials that they had enjoyed—and relied on—back in the regions they had been born and bred in.

  They also took on individual responsibilities to do their part in keeping up the estate, a job that Michelle and Melissa had done alone for three and a half months. Nell and Enolia did the cooking and cleaning, while the elder Hobbs also tended to the rose garden and the surviving plants around the huge glass and brick conservatory. Tyrone drew upon his knowledge of farming to assist Nell in raising produce like tomatoes and other vegetables in the glass-paned greenhouse, using kerosene heaters to provide warmth on the frigid November nights. He also helped with security for the main house and the surrounding grounds, along with Melissa, Kate, and Jem.

  Levi, Avery, and Billy took advantage of the dense forests that surrounded the estate. Using the tools of their trade, found in some of the outbuildings of the property, they harvested the timberland for firewood—the Biltmore did possess sixty-five fireplaces—and for fortifying the barriers that the twins had already put in place at the massive windows and French doors that graced the mansion from one end to the other. They also hunted and fished, finding healthy, uninfected wildlife, such as deer, rabbit, turkey, and pheasant in the woods and pastures, and trout, crappie, bluegill, and catfish in the mountain streams—waterways that had escaped contamination from the tiny black insects that had poisoned most of the earth’s freshwater and saltwater sources.

  Michelle acted as the unofficial head of the estate, scheduling chores and security shifts, and did a little bit of everything, including working timber and hunting alongside the men. Part of her interest in such things was to genuinely help out, but Levi suspected a large amount was to provide some good-natured competition to Avery and knock his rambunctious son down a few notches. More than once the boy had stomped, red-faced, back to the main house, outdone by the pretty brunette in cross-cut sawing, deer hunting, frog-gigging, and a dozen other activities he prided himself on being an expert at.

  The two girls seemed to be genuinely grateful for their new company and the contributions they made. In turn, the Hobbs, Tauchees, and Tyrone Jackson were glad to finally be off the road and able to settle in one place for a while.

  One week led into another. Gradually, suspicions faded and emotional bonds were built and solidified among those who lived and worked together. More and more, what they had formed within the remote confines of the estate began to resemble what had once been known, before the death and devastation of the Infestation, as community.

  Jem opened the door leading to the main hall’s outer balcony. It was four o’clock in the afternoon, but the sun was already on the verge of setting.

  His watch wouldn’t end until eight that night, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the solitude of being by himself. He always had—hiking, reading, whatever. He was more at ease with himself than anyone else. In that way he was totally unlike his twin brother, who always seemed to require an audience for his grandstanding and bullshitting.

  When he saw Melissa standing at the balcony railing, a lump formed in his throat and his pulse quickened. He swallowed dryly. “Hey.”

  Startled, the girl turned at his voice. He couldn’t tell for sure, but she seemed to react in the same, fumbling awkward way as he. They always did when they crossed paths.

  “Hey yourself,” she said, leaning her rifle against the balcony railing. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose nervously, a habit she only seemed to display when he was around. “Here for your shift?”

  “Yep.” He looked around the balcony, which stretched the width of the central building’s third floor. If trouble came, they were loaded for bear. Various hunting rifles and assault weapons stood at intervals along the railing and the corners of the platform. Billy and Avery had even removed the .50-caliber M2 machine gun from the roof of the Humvee and mounted it on a grounded tripod on the stone parapet that overlooked the rectangular lawn below. The next time a pack of Biters showed up, they would be able to mow them down in a matter of minutes, instead of picking them off one at a time.

  The two stood there silently for a minute, before Jem spoke. “Ma’s fixing a good supper tonight. Chicken and dumplings.”

  Melissa seemed surprised. “Now where in the world did your mom find a chicken?”

  “Over at the farm at Antler Village,” he said. “She found two or three of them. Kinda scrawny, but healthy enough, and not full of those dadblamed bugs.” He shuffled his feet and looked down at the Armalite in his hands. The AR-18 had been his personal weapon since Frank Gentry had up and disappeared on them. “Well, you can go now, if you want.”

  The girl gave him a false pout. “Trying to get rid of me?”

  “Uh… no!” Jim stammered. “Of course not.” His mouth was as dry as cotton. “I… I like you being here.”

  Melissa hesitated and then walked across the balcony toward him. “I don’t mean to be rude… but does that hurt?”

  Jem blushed. She was talking about the left side of his head. The missing ear and the burn tissue from Abe’s torching of the parasites. “It’s still a little tender… but it doesn’t hurt. Most of the nerves are dead, I reckon.”

  She lifted her hand toward his face, but stopped in mid-reach. “Sorry.”

  He couldn’t believe that he actually did it, but he took her hand and guided it toward the ugly mass of scar tissue. It was soft and warm between his fingers. His heart pounded like a jackhammer. “No. It’s alright. Go ahead.”

  Gently, she touched the side of his head, running her fingertips from his temple to the nape of his neck. There was nothing sexual about her attention, only heartfelt curiosity and concern. Just having her standing there, scarcely a foot away, made him a little lightheaded.

  “What happened?” she finally asked.

  Jim told her about the wildlife ambush on the park road to Cherokee, of the zombie possum attack and his brother’s only course of action to prevent him from infestation. He also told her how Abe had set his head on fire to kill any lingering parasites that might have been transferred through the bite. The only thing he didn’t tell her about was the despair he suffered afterward and his misguided brush with suicide, before Billy Tauchee had relieved him of the Magnum pistol and saved his life.

  “That’s frightening,” she said, pulling her fingers away from the scarred flesh. “I bet you were scared half to death.”

  Not one bit! I can handle that kind of thing. That was what his brother would have said in his swaggering, boastful way. Instead, he said “I was absolutely horrified.”

  As she lowered her hand toward her side, he caught it and held it. She didn’t pull away. “Can I ask another question, Jem?”

  “Sure.”


  “Did you, uh… have a girlfriend… back in Tennessee?”

  He felt sick to his stomach. She just had to ask that, didn’t she? “Yeah. Sort of.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Sarah.” The thought of her was as fresh and raw as an open wound.

  “Is Sarah… is she still…?”

  “No,” he said flatly. He left it at that. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her what he done to her with his father’s gun on that awful night beneath the oak tree. “How about you? Any boyfriends?”

  “Me?” she said, as if in shock. “Chelle has always been the boy-crazy one. She’s had two or three. Actually, I thought her and Avery would have hooked up by now.”

  “Really? I doubt that very much. They hate each other’s guts!”

  Melissa grinned. “No, I don’t believe so. I think they’re so much alike that they can’t help but rub each other the wrong way. Both are bound and determined to prove themselves and get the upper hand. They’re both perpetual show-offs with a dash of asshole thrown in for good measure. Sort of the polar opposite of you and me.”

  “But I wasn’t asking about Michelle, was I?” he said. “So, tell me? Boyfriends?”

  She ducked her eyes shyly. “No, not me. I guess I never found the nerve. To be honest, I’m a terminal nerd if there ever was one.”

  Jem clasped her hand tighter. “Well, hello, Miss Nerd. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Mister Dweeb.”

  They both laughed at the lame joke, then grew silent.

  “Well, I guess I better get to work,” he told her. He tried to release her hand, but she refused to give it up that easily.

  “I tell you what,” she said, “why don’t I bring you up a plate after supper and keep you company for a while. That is… if you want me to.” Her hazel eyes looked up at him, questioning.

  Before he could even think about it, Jem bent down and kissed her. He half expected her to pull away and slap the fire out of him. Instead, she leaned closer. Although it couldn’t have lasted but a few seconds, it felt like it lasted forever… in a wonderful way.