Z-Burbia Box Set | Books 1-3 [The Asheville Trilogy]

by Bible, Jake

  “So they better have less than that,” Charlie replies.

  “Good math, genius,” Greta smirks.

  “Shut it, you two,” Stella says. “Not in the mood.”

  “None of us are,” Critter says. “Ain’t nothing worse than the bickering of siblings. My mother used to smack me and Hollis upside the head every time we started in on each other.”

  “That explains a lot,” Stella says.

  Critter doesn’t respond. Damn, she really doesn’t like the guy.

  “There,” John says, pointing ahead and above us.

  We see taillights take a turn and then they are lost. But at least we know we’re on their trail.

  “Why do you think they’re heading for the Parkway?” Stuart asks. “And why Charlottesville?”

  “That’s the new capitol,” I reply. “It’s the seat of the US government, whatever that may be.”

  “Sounds like you learned a little while you were gone,” Stuart says.

  “Where’s Captain Leeds?” Charlie asks.

  “Looks like we done forgot someone,” Critter said. “We going back or is he expendable since he’s not family?”

  “Oh, just shut up, you old coot,” Stella says.

  “That’s the best ya got, missy?”

  “Not now,” Stuart says. “Jace? Where is Captain Leeds?”

  John looks back at me and can instantly tell by the look on my face what happened.

  “He didn’t make it, huh?” John asks.

  “No,” I reply, “he didn’t.”

  “Was it a good death?” Stuart asks.

  “How can any death be good?” Stella asks.

  “There are some better than others,” John says. “Trust me.”

  “It was the best death possible,” I say.

  “Care to elaborate on that?” Stuart asks.

  “No,” I state flatly, “not right now.”

  “Fair enough,” Stuart nods as he takes a seriously sharp curve.

  We all rock into each other and I feel the SUV’s tires slide some. This isn’t going to be fun when we hit the parkway and only have a guardrail between us and several hundred feet of open air. Hey, maybe the trees will catch us and we’ll only fall fifty feet. One can only hope.

  “Back, back, back!” John yells as Stuart rockets past the turn.

  “What? Where?” Stuart yells, slamming on the brakes, putting the SUV into reverse.

  “I see them!” Charlie yells, pointing towards red lights between the trees.

  Stuart speeds backwards and cranks the wheel hard as we get back to the turn.

  “A little heads up would have been nice, Jace,” Stuart says, putting it in drive and moving ass.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I was coming down last time. And it was light out. Couple big differences.”

  “Excuses, excuses,” Greta says.

  “Damn, you’re just busting balls left and right tonight,” Charlie laughs.

  “Getting drugged and kidnapped brings out the snark in me,” Greta says.

  “I thought just waking up did that?” Charlie replies.

  “Stop,” Stella says.

  The kids shut up.

  And then we are at the Blue Ridge Parkway. And one shitty decision: right or left?

  “You see them?” Stuart asks, craning his head back and forth. “I don’t.”

  “Charlottesville is north, y’all,” Critter says. “Ain’t hard to figure out.”

  “Unless he’s going to Atlanta,” I say. “Which he could be too.”

  “Atlanta?” Stuart asks.

  “Another long story,” I say.

  “Hold on,” John says and hops out of the SUV. He sweeps the area, always ready for Zs, and steps out into the middle of the Parkway. “Turn off the headlights!”

  Stuart turns the headlights off, plunging everything into pitch darkness. Pre-Z the glow of Asheville city lights would have provided some illumination, if slight. But, post-Z there’s nothing, just pure darkness. We all lean forward, trying to get our own look.

  “There!” John says. “Charlottesville!”

  He hurries back into the SUV and Stuart is turning and speeding north before he even has the door closed. Doesn’t even faze John.

  Stuart presses the accelerator pedal all the way to the floor. Or at least that’s what it feels like as we are shoved back into our seats. I’d love nothing more than to just close my eyes and wait for it all to be over as we take curve after curve at speeds I’m pretty sure are not safe on the Parkway. Or safe on any road, really.

  “How close do you need to be?” Stuart asks John. “What’s the range on that thing?”

  “The range is shit,” John replies. “But at least the stability sucks.”

  “Great,” Stuart says. “I’ll get as close as possible. I highly doubt Mr. President can outrun a marine on the open road.”

  “Even though I root Army, I won’t argue with that,” John says. “I don’t think the man did military duty in any branch. Pretty sure he was in construction.”

  “So don’t get in a game of bulldozer chicken with him,” I say. No one responds. “You know, like in Footloose.”

  “Jace,” Stella says, “not now, honey.”

  “Fine. Whatever,” I sigh. “I thought it was funny.”

  I have to say that during the day the Parkway can be intimidating, let alone at night, what with the sharp curves and constant change in elevation. Oh, and there are the tunnels. Yep. Tunnels. Like the one we’re coming up on now.

  “Hold on,” Stuart says. “John?”

  “On it,” John says, rolling down the window. He settles the M4 on the side mirror, trying to steady it as much as possible.

  “On what?” Stella asks then belches. “Sorry. I get car sick.”

  “Well ain’t that just wonderful,” Critter says. “We coulda dropped ya off, ya know? Ain’t no cowardice in sittin’ this one out.”

  “Stop being an idiot,” Stella says.

  “Lost cause, ma’am,” Critter laughs. “Been tryin’ my whole life.”

  The tunnel is freakishly dark. It’s like driving in ink made of rock. The only evidence there is a world is by catching the sheen of water on the sides of the tunnel. Otherwise, you’d just think you were driving into nothing. Good thing Stuart’s at the wheel. Bad thing is that he hasn’t slowed down. Not. At. All.

  “Ohhhhhh, shiiiiiiiiiiiiit,” Charlie and Greta say at the same time as we take one last turn in the tunnel.

  I’d laugh, but I’m too busy keeping the piss in my bladder and not all over the seat. Would suck to piss myself. Especially with Critter in the SUV. Jeez, he’d tell everyone and then I’d be called Piss Pants or Piss Seat or just Pissy. Critter’s good that way.

  Not that Long Pork is any great thing.

  “There,” Stuart says as we shoot from the tunnel.

  John leans out the window, his eye to the sight. How he can track anything at night, I have no idea. It doesn’t look like a night scope is on that rifle. Maybe he’s tracking by the tail lights? But they keep disappearing as Mondello takes the curves just as fast as we do. But then John is a trained sniper. He’s the man.

  Two shots and we all hold our breath as we come around the next curve. Nope. Mondello is still going. We see his taillights speed away.

  “Fuck,” John says. “This piece of shit isn’t worth, well, shit.”

  “Nice oxymoron,” Charlie says. “Shit not worth shit.”

  “He’s a genius like my dad,” Greta says.

  “Thanks,” Charlie and I answer at the same time.

  “Hey!”

  “Wait a minute!”

  “Dial it back, sweetie,” Stella says to Greta. “They’re sensitive.”

  “Can you catch them?” John asks Stuart.

  “I’m trying,” Stuart replies. “But looks like this asshole has some training.”

  “He probably got some from the private contractors,” John says. “They will train clients in defensive driving and w
eapons. Makes their jobs a little easier.”

  “It’s making my job a little harder,” Stuart says. “And where’s the pick up on this thing? I thought they put supped up engines in these vehicles?”

  “They also armor them with some heavy duty plating,” John says. “Adds weight and reduces speed.”

  “Just give me a Humvee, any day,” Stuart says.

  “There,” John says and leans back out the window. He fires once, twice, three times. “FUCK!”

  “How do you know you missed?” Charlie asks.

  “I missed, trust me,” John says. “I need a different rifle.”

  On a whim, and since I have nothing better to do, I look in the very back cargo area. There isn’t much room since the extra seats are up (which Critter and I occupy, thank you very much), but there’s enough room for something interesting.

  “Holy shit,” I say, reaching back for what I find. Then the rear window explodes and reinforced glass shatters all over me. “HOLY SHIT!”

  “Well, ain’t that a kick in the dick?” Critter says as he holds his hand to the back of his shoulder. “Looks like I caught something.”

  “Oh, God!” Stella cries as she turns and looks.

  I glance over at Critter and see that the bullet that took out the back window also went clean through Critter’s shoulder.

  “Ah, crap,” I say, ripping his shirt in half. “Hold this on there. Tight.”

  “Headlights!” Stuart yells. “Looks like we’re the meat in a shit sandwich.”

  “Lame analogy,” Greta says.

  “Get down!” Stella shouts at Charlie and Greta. “And stop being a snarky twat!”

  I feel the heat of a second bullet and then a third whiz by my head as I try to reach what’s in the back.

  “I thought the windows were fucking bulletproof!” I shout. “How’d they shoot out the back one?”

  “Probably AP rounds,” John yells.

  “So what’s the fucking point of any of this shit?” I yell back. “Might as well not reinforce anything!”

  “That’s one way to look at it,” John says. “But does help with your average crazies.”

  “I don’t think average crazies exist anymore,” I say. “It’s all uber crazies these days.”

  The windshield cracks as another bullet enters the SUV.

  “Fuck,” Stuart says. “I caught the ricochet.”

  “You gonna make it, gunny?” John asks.

  “Just a nick,” Stuart replies. He sees the look John gives him. “Honest. I’m not gonna pass out and send us over the side.”

  “Okay,” John says then turns and takes aim. “Everyone may want to close their ears. Oh, and get the fuck down.”

  He barely waits for us to do either of those things as he opens fire. Even with my hands pressed to my ears it’s so fucking loud! I’m willing to bet most old soldiers are stone fucking deaf. I’ll be deaf in about ten seconds, I do know that.

  John stops and we all wait, then when we know it’s clear we sit up and look behind us. We wait...wait...wait...fuck! Headlights. John curses and ejects the magazine so he can throw a fresh one in. He pulls back the slide and smiles.

  “One more time, folks,” John says. “Cover your ears and get down.”

  We do. He shoots until the gun clicks empty. Again, we wait then pop back up and look behind.

  Waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...

  “I think we- Shit fuck!” I yell, turning to John. “You sure you know how to use that thing?”

  “Fuck you, Long Pork,” John says, replacing the magazine.

  The headlights behind us are gaining quickly. I see muzzle flashes and shout, “Get down!”

  Everyone does, but it doesn’t matter. The bullets weren’t for us, they’re for the tires.

  “Fuck!” Stuart yells as he struggles to keep control of the SUV.

  I know what a run flat wheel is. It’s reinforced with a band of steel covering the rim so that if the tire is shot out the vehicle can still keep going. I used to watch a lot of Discovery Channel. In theory, run flats are great. Especially during the day. On an open, flat, wide road.

  Not so much on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

  Stuart keeps struggling, but then a second tire is shot out and it’s goodnight, Irene. The SUV fish tails and for one second, I’m pretty sure we’re going right over the edge. But Stuart is able to twist the wheel and send us the other way. Right into the side of the mountain.

  The impact is insane. You know those slow motion crash test dummy videos? Yeah, that. Time completely slows down and it’s like I’m watching every single molecule, broken down to its atoms, flying by me as we slam into nothing but rock. Everyone strains their seat belts then bounces back, slamming into their seats.

  Glass and metal protest then break and tear. Shards slice my cheeks, my forehead, my arms, and my neck. I hear screaming, but have no idea if it’s mine or someone else’s. Probably both. Pretty sure we’re all screaming, but I’m also close to deaf from the gunfire and the big crashing and smashing, so who fucking knows.

  The SUV careens off the mountain and rolls backward, spinning completely around. Oh, hey, look...now we’re heading for the edge! Fucking joy of joys.

  I watch in horror as the SUV slides closer and closer and closer and OH, FUCK WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!

  But we don’t. We hit the guardrail and crumple it, the nose of the SUV teetering over the edge. I can feel blood flowing from the hundreds of cuts I’ve sustained. My hands come away bloody as I feel myself to make sure I don’t have any serious injuries. Not that bleeding like a stuck pig isn’t serious, just not broken bone or ruptured spleen serious.

  The headlights are getting closer.

  Shit.

  “Crawl out the back,” Stuart says as he unbuckles and carefully pushes himself into the back seat, helping Charlie and Greta climb over to me. “John? You cool?”

  “As a mother fucking cucumber,” John says. “Right behind you.”

  I crawl out of the broken back window and help Stella and the kids out onto the shoulder of the road. Stuart helps Critter out since he’s pretty fucking banged up and dazed. I’m guessing he’s losing a lot of blood from that shoulder wound.

  “What the fuck?” Stuart says as he climbs out, looking from the back of the SUV and then to me. “That would have been nice to know about.”

  “I was trying to tell everyone when all the shooting and the crashing happened,” I say. “I’m guessing John can use that?”

  “Use what?” John asks as he gets to the way back seat and looks into the cargo area. “Holy shit. Yeah. I can use that.”

  “Use what?” Charlie asks.

  “The big gun we crawled over to get out,” Greta says. “How have you not been eaten yet?”

  “Kids,” Stella warns. “Shut the fuck up.”

  Stuart gets the tailgate open and John is just one big smile as he pulls the very large gun out of the SUV. His smile gets even bigger as he sees the box of magazines that go with it.

  “Fucking Barret M82 or Army XM107, if you want to get specific,” John says. “Whoa, wait, this is the upgrade. A mother fucking M107A1! Hell yeah to the might of the .50 caliber, bitches!”

  John doesn’t even hesitate, just walks out into the middle of the road, lies down and sets the rifle up. He pulls back the slide, secures the rifle against his good shoulder, which, lucky for us, is his shooting shoulder, takes aim and fires.

  HOLY CRAP THAT THING IS LOUD!

  If he’d shot that inside the SUV our eardrums would have burst.

  We watch as the approaching headlights (plural) turn into headlight (singular). John laughs then squeezes off three more rounds. Then giggles and fires a fourth. We see sparks and fire erupt from under the hood of the SUV and the vehicle swerves to the left, slamming into the mountain. But unlike our fun-filled thrill ride, it just smashes and doesn’t bounce back.

  John repositions the rifle and opens fire until the magazine is empty. As he’s busy r
eplacing it, gunfire comes from inside the SUV and we all hit the ground. Stella covers the kids with her body and I cover her with mine. Stuart drags Critter over around our SUV as bullets kick up dirt right next to them.

  “Fuckers,” John says then unloads the new magazine.

  There’s a couple screams and then the enemy fire stops. We all wait, our heads still down.

  “Clear?” Stuart asks.

  I take a peek and see John still aiming at the SUV. He’s put a fresh magazine in the rifle, but he holds his fire.

  “John?” Stuart calls out.

  “Hold,” John says. “Sniper senses are tingling.”

  And he’s right as bullets crack the pavement next to him. He shoves up to his knees and grabs the rifle, crouch running his way over to the SUV.

  “Get better cover!” John shouts at me. “Jesus fuck, Long Pork! Move your family!”

  I scramble up and help Stella and the kids find cover by sliding over to the side and ducking behind a row of rocks set to help reinforce the guardrail. We get there just in time as bullets shatter parts of the rocks, sending chunks flying into the air. Stella and the kids are screaming as the gunfire continues. Yes, I’m screaming too.

  “I can do this all day, fuckers!” Cowboy shouts from the enemy SUV. “You even peak that rifle out and I’ll send a round straight down the barrel, sniper boy!”

  “Gonna run out of ammo some time!” Stuart yells. “Then we come for you!”

  “Not likely!” And just to make a point he unloads on us again.

  “I think he’s the only one left,” Charlie says to me, barely heard over the rifle fire.

  “Your point?” Greta asks.

  Charlie does point, into the darkness to our left. “If we get around there we can come at him from behind.”

  “There’s no place to go,” Stella says. “It’s just rock and a cliff.”

  “No, there’s a ledge,” Charlie says. “See? You can just make it out.”

  “Great,” I say, knowing whose job it will be to make that trip. “Keep him talking and focused this way.”

  “What the fuck are you thinking?” Stella says. “I do not see a ledge.”

  More gunfire and chips of rock shower down on us.

  “I have to do this,” I say. “Mondello is already way ahead of us. We can’t just wait here.”