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

by Bible, Jake

  Stella grabs my arm, pulling me close to her. “She’s gone, Jace. He took her. Even if you stop this guy, we have no vehicle. We’re walking home as it is. You think we can run and catch up? Are we going to hitchhike to Charlottesville? She’s gone.”

  She’s right. I know that. Elsbeth is long gone by now. But Cowboy isn’t. If I can’t save Elsbeth, or at least be a member of the saving party, then I’m going to put a fucking bullet in Cowboy’s brain. He’s got it coming. The fucking asshole has really ruined the past couple days for me.

  I kiss Stella hard then slip from her grasp, focusing on my feet and hands. Well, hand. My broken one isn’t much help other than to steady me and help keep my balance. As for the gripping? Yeah, not so much.

  My toes are wedged against the rock and I shuffle slowly, inch by inch, carefully making my way to the curve of the road beyond. Did I mention the shuffling slowly? Damn right. Not even my whole feet fit on the ledge and I have to press my chest against the rock to keep from tumbling backwards. Not my favorite thing in the world. But, at least it’s so fucking dark that if I make the mistake of looking down I won’t see anything. Not that I’m looking down, no fucking way, I’m looking directly at the rock while I pray to every deity, including the Flying Spaghetti Monster, to get me safely to the other side.

  And...I make it. Barely. My right foot slips just as my left hits solid ground. I start to slide, but grab onto the guardrail in front of me. I hold my breath; pretty sure Cowboy heard the little squeal of terror that escaped my lips. When the gunfire comes, I’m pretty sure I catch every single bullet.

  But I don’t.

  He’s still firing at the SUV. I’m able to crawl under the guardrail, keeping my belly to the ground. Arm over arm, I wiggle myself across the road, stopping every couple of feet to make sure I’m not spotted. There’s really no way Cowboy can see me. The light from the muzzle of his rifle is blinding in the pitch darkness of the night.

  Just a few more feet. Five. Four. Three. Click.

  “Hey, Long Pork,” Cowboy says.

  Even in the dark, I can make out the outline of a 9mm pointed at my head.

  Fuck.

  “Didn’t think I would just ignore my surroundings, did you?” Cowboy asks.

  “I was kinda hoping you would,” I say. “My whole plan really hinged on it.”

  “How about you crawl your worthless ass over to me?” Cowboy asks. “I could use the company.”

  Double fuck.

  Chapter Nine

  “I have your precious Long Pork here!” Cowboy shouts, the muzzle of his 9mm pressed to my temple as Cowboy stands us both up. “Bring that .50 caliber out, will ya? Just set it in the road, nice and gentle.”

  “Fuck you!” John shouts.

  “JOHN!” Stella cries. “Do it!”

  Stuart and John’s voices carry over to us, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. I’m pretty sure it must be something like, “We can’t let Jace die! He’s the best guy in the whole wide world!” Or maybe, “Oh, that Jace. Always getting into trouble. That scamp. Well, better just do what the crazy Cowboy wants and then he’ll let Jace go!” Right? Yeah, sure, that’s what they’re saying.

  “Go fuck yourself, you piece of merc shit,” John says. “The second I show my face you’ll blow it off.”

  “Mrs. Long Pork?” Cowboy says. “Yoohoo! I could use your assistance. You seem to have a more rational grasp on what’s about to happen if sniper boy doesn’t comply with my orders. Are you listening, Mrs. Long Pork?”

  “My name is Stella,” Stella says, “and yes, I’m listening.”

  “Stella, don’t!” Stuart cries. “Whatever he tells you is a lie!”

  Cowboy fires up into the air then jams the scalding hot muzzle against my temple. The pain is excruciating and the smell of my flesh burning is almost as bad. Stella and the kids both start screaming, calling for me.

  “I’m fine!” I shout. “I’m fine!”

  “And if you’d like him to stay that way then I suggest you listen,” Cowboy says. “Are you listening, Stella?”

  “I said I was, you fucking cocksucker,” Stella growls.

  Oooh, I know that growl. She’s really pissed. The problem is, I don’t know who she’s more pissed at: Cowboy or me. I know I’m going to catch some serious shit for getting caught. There will be months of “I told you so.” Of course, I have to get out of this alive. If I do, I will gladly, and I do mean gladly, take the “I told you so’s. Living in embarrassment is better than dead in...well, better than dead.

  “This is what you are going to do, Stella,” Cowboy says. “You will come out from your hiding place and slowly walk over to that SUV. You will relieve that fucking sniper of his weapon and you will then slowly walk it into the middle of the road. There will be no sudden movements, no tricks or plans. All you have to do is set it down and back away. Got it?”

  “Then what?” Stella asks. “Then you let Jace go?”

  “No, then I start walking with your hubby in tow,” Cowboy says. “I will be walking back to Asheville. You will not. All of you will stay right where you are, you won’t follow, you won’t move a muscle, you won’t even fart. I catch a hint of stank gas and I blow his head off and toss him over the edge. Are we clear?”

  “When will you let him go?” Stella asks. “I’m not doing this unless you actually plan on letting him go.”

  “I’ll let him go once I feel secure,” Cowboy says. “That could be a long while. It’s gonna be quite the hike back to Asheville. I’m thinking you folks should just get comfortable and maybe not move until noon tomorrow. Sound good?”

  “No!” Stuart yells. “See Stella? He has no intention of letting Jace go. You do this and he’s dead.”

  “You don’t do it and he’s dead,” Cowboy says, pushing the 9 against my temple even harder, making me cry out. “I will guarantee that. Sure, you have no idea if he’ll live once I’m all secure in my safety. But wouldn’t you rather risk it and help me out than not risk it and listen to the sound of your husband’s brains splattering against the side of this SUV?”

  “I’d rather none of that happen,” Stella says. “That’s what I’d fucking rather.” I hear the shifting of gravel. “Fine. I’m going to get that rifle and do what you ask.”

  “Good girl,” Cowboy says.

  “Fuck you,” my wife responds. “But if you think you can just get away, you’re a fucking idiot. You hurt him and I will track you down, mother fucker.”

  Cowboy starts to laugh. It builds and builds until I think he’s going to stop breathing.

  “Oh, man, oh, wow,” he says, finally able to get control of himself. Don’t’ get me wrong, it’s not like I can make a move. Cowboy is a fucking professional. Even during his little laugh fest he kept that 9 firmly against my temple. I’m just glad he didn’t laugh too hard and accidentally pull the trigger. “Damn, Long Pork, that wife of yours is something else.”

  “Yeah, she is,” I say. “I’m fond of her. I’m really fond of the idea of spending the rest of my life with her.”

  “Stella, think this over,” Stuart says.

  “I’m not giving this to you,” John says.

  “You have other guns,” Stella snaps. “Give me the fucking sniper rifles, John!”

  “Oh, yeah, toss those other guns out too, will ya?” Cowboy says.

  “That wasn’t the deal,” Stella replies. “You have to stick to the deal!”

  “Do I? Do I really?” Cowboy asks, laughing again. “I’d really like to hear what your reasoning is, Stella. Tell me why I have to stick to the deal? Why exactly can’t I switch the deal as I see fit?”

  Stella is silent.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Cowboy says. “The other guns.”

  “Please,” I hear Stella beg of Stuart and John. “Please just give Jace a chance.”

  There are some mumbled words and I wait; it’s all I can do. My fate is in the hands of two soldiers and my wife. Not really my ideal situation,
but I gotta just roll with it. Shit happens. Serious mother fucking shit happens in the apocalypse. It’s good to remember. I should learn to do needlepoint and put that on a doily or something. What the fuck is a doily anyway?

  “There,” Stella says, “the rifle is in the middle of the road.”

  “And those other guns we spent so much time renegotiating about?” Cowboy asks.

  “Screw you,” Stuart calls out.

  “Dammit!” Stella shouts. “Give me the fucking guns, Stuart!”

  The strain in her voice nearly breaks my heart. How could I have been so stupid to bring my family with me? We should have just driven them off to safety. I have risked everything, put everyone in danger, to chase after a canny girl. Yes, she has saved my ass plenty of times; yes, she’s one of the most trusting people I know; yes, I hurt her badly when I betrayed her back at the Grove Park; yes, I owe her.

  But my family...

  Is she worth their lives? No, she isn’t. And I’m a fucking fool for thinking so.

  “STUART!” Stella screams. “GIVE ME THE MOTHER FUCKING GUNS!”

  Cowboy chuckles at this. It takes all of my willpower not to strangle the fucker. Even with the pistol pressed against me, I still think, just for a stupid split second, that I can take him. I’m actually about to go for it, willpower be damned, but then I hear the clatter of metal on asphalt.

  “Done,” Stella says. “No more guns.”

  “You sure about that, Stella?” Cowboy says. “I have a very sensitive trigger here. I’d hate to stand up and start walking away and find out you’re wrong. That would just make me mad and when I get mad I start squeezing things.”

  “Like that trigger,” Stella says. “Yeah, I get it. You can knock off the cheap bad guy lines, ok? I’ve seen this fucking movie, dickhead.”

  “Damn,” Cowboy snorts. “I like you, Stella. You are one tough broad.”

  “What did I say about knocking off the cheap lines? One tough broad? What, were you raised on black and white gangster movies?”

  “Get up slowly,” Cowboy orders me.

  He grabs my left arm and yanks it up behind my back, making me stand up with him instantly. He yanks even harder when we’re standing and I cry out.

  “Jace!” Stella calls.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I say. “Just establishing who’s in charge, is all.”

  “That would be me, right Long Pork?” Cowboy asks, his sour breath hot against my ear. “Say it.”

  “Yes, Cowboy, that would be you,” I say, regretting it instantly. The pain in my arm shoots into my shoulder and it feels like he’s ripping me apart.

  “I’m sure I warned you about calling me that already,” Cowboy says.

  “Did you? You probably did,” I reply, gasping. “Sorry, Mr. Jameson, sir.”

  “Don’t lay it on too thick,” Cowboy says. “Mr. Jameson is just fine. No need for the sir part.”

  “How nice of you,” I say as we start to walk backwards, away from the SUV.

  “I have him right in front of me,” he calls out. Which he does. If Stuart or John still have a weapon and try to take a shot in the dark they’ll nail me first. “You all just stay put. What time did I say you could come looking for him?”

  “Noon,” Stella replies, “tomorrow.”

  “Exactly,” Cowboy says. “Not a minute sooner.”

  “How are you gonna know?” I ask. “I’ve always wondered that. Why do villains tell people to wait for an hour or two? How will you know they don’t come looking at like 11:30 or 11:45?”

  “Because maybe I’ll be waiting down the road,” Cowboy says so only I can hear. “Maybe I’ll snap your neck and get comfortable. Just wait until that gutsy wife of yours comes walking down along. Put some bullets in the heads of those soldiers and have my way with sexy Stella. How is that for an answer?”

  “Not really liking that answer,” I say. “Can we forget I asked the question?”

  “Maybe,” Cowboy says as we get further and further away. This guy is pretty good at walking backwards. I, on the other hand, am using every skill I have not to trip on my own feet.

  “Maybe?” I ask. “Can’t do better than that?”

  “I don’t know,” Cowboy says. “The more I think of it, the more I like that idea. Kill you, get some rest, wait and rape your wife. I’ll make your kids watch too.”

  I start to struggle at that, but he pulls my arm up even harder and I feel it pop. Well, I feel more than it just pop as I scream. Yeah, he dislocated my fucking shoulder.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he snarls, flipping me over his leg and down onto the ground. In one motion he shoves my arm back into the socket then yanks me up by it and we’re back where we started. Just with a fuck ton more pain. “I can do that to you all night long. Want to test me?”

  “No,” I gasp. “No...that’s fine.”

  “Then keep still, Long Pork. Make this easy for me and I make it easy for you. I’m not the fucking villain here, just a guy hired to do a job.”

  “But your boss is long gone,” I say. “Why bother?”

  “You think Mondello is my only boss?” Cowboy laughs. “You think this is just about him? Yes, I was hired by the guy, but there are bigger fish than him. I fuck this all up and I’m dead, Long Pork. I’m zed food. Mondello is a fucking bureaucrat, that’s it. He knows rules, procedures, and shit like that. He’s happy playing President. And I’d be happy playing Secret Service, but I’m not an idiot.”

  “You sure?” Pain! “Sorry, kidding, kidding!”

  “Don’t,” he says. “Mondello is a means to an ends, just like Foster was. I keep climbing the power ladder until I hit the top. That’s when I find my real boss. Whoever that is.”

  “You don’t know?” I ask. “You’re talking about the Consortium, right? The power players living in Atlanta?”

  “That’s them,” Cowboy says. “And no, I don’t know who the top dog in that pack is. They keep their cards close to their chests. As far as I know, he or she could be part of my crew. Wouldn’t that be a fucking hoot?”

  “Yeah, I highly doubt that,” I say.

  “Me too,” Cowboy says. “Just proving a point.”

  “What point? You already said you don’t know. You don’t have to prove that. And even by saying what you said you aren’t proving it. There’s no way I can actually know if you are lying or not. You should really-”

  Pain!

  “Shut up,” he says.

  I do. Quickly. And stay shut up for a long while until he stops walking.

  “What? Why did we stop?” I ask.

  “Shhh,” he warns. I shhhh.

  We listen for a long time, but hear nothing.

  “Good,” Cowboy says. “Looks like your wife kept the men in line. She always been a ball buster like that? Or did she come into it after Z-Day?”

  “I wouldn’t call her a ball buster,” I say, “but, yes, she has always been like that.”

  “Damn,” Cowboy laughs, “doesn’t take a big brain to figure out who wears the pants in your family.”

  He turns us around and we get to walk in a normal forward fashion finally. I’m glad since walking backwards was just awkward, especially with my arm jammed up between my shoulder blades. After a few yards, Cowboy eases up and lets me go.

  “Don’t think I can’t still rip that arm off,” he says, “because I can. You won’t get more than two steps before I make you scream like a little girl. Got it?”

  “Got it,” I say. “I do. Seriously. All got and shit.”

  “Man, there is something wrong with your mind,” Cowboy says. “You’re like those smart ass punks I used to kick the crap out of in high school. That happen to you, Long Pork? You get the crap kicked out of you a lot?”

  “No, not really,” I say. “I had a good time in high school.”

  “Right,” Cowboy chuckles. “Sure you did. I’ll bet you had a shitty time in high school and are just one of those losers that has invented some pretend life you’ve told
your kids. Is that it? You tell your kids you were part of the popular crowd? Make them think their daddy wasn’t the total loser that he actually was?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask. “Where did this come from? Who cares what I was in high school?”

  “You brought it up,” Cowboy says, giving me a little shove from behind.

  “No, I didn’t!” I protest. “You brought up high school. You asked me if I was one of the smart asses that got his ass kicked by bitches like you.”

  “Oh, right,” Cowboy says. “And then you lied to me.”

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “Say what you want,” Cowboy says. “Doesn’t change the fact that you were a loser. Still are. Can’t even protect your family right.”

  “Fuck you!” I yell and whirl on him. Then keep whirling as he pistol whips me across the face. Said face smashes into the pavement and my nose explodes in pain. Hot blood pours from it as I struggle to get up, but I’m pushed down by Cowboy’s foot in the middle of my back. And then the muzzle of his pistol is against the back of my head. Awesome.

  “You figure out how stupid that was?” he asks.

  “I’m getting the picture,” I say, blood coating the back of my throat. I spit a bunch out and nod. “Yeah, that was stupid.”

  “You going to play nice?” Cowboy asks. “Because, frankly, I don’t have to keep you alive.”

  “Then why are you?” I ask, slowly, cautiously, getting to my feet.

  Cowboy shrugs. “You’re alive because I’m still working the angles of this scenario.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means I won’t put a bullet in your head until I know for sure that I don’t need you,” Cowboy says. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Funny,” I say. “You know, I don’t mind going back and waiting with my family while you decide. Seriously, I don’t.”

  “Now look who’s being funny,” Cowboy says, shoving me down the road. “Keep walking, Seinfeld.”

  We walk for a few more minutes, making our way slowly down the Parkway. The road is more than a little creepy as tree branches sway in the slight breeze and dry leaves blow across the road. With no moonlight to see by, every shadow looks like a Z ready to grab us when we pass. Turns out they’re really just rhododendrons. But scary rhododendrons.