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

by Bible, Jake

  The table is silent.

  “Y’all think because I laugh and joke that I’m not taking everything serious,” I continue. “Well, you’re all fucking wrong on that.” I hold up my hand, cutting off Big Daddy’s protest. “You’re just going to have to deal with the language, BD. This isn’t the Farm. This is real fucking life. Got me?”

  We lock eyes and he nods.

  “Good. And no disrespect meant. I just want all of you to know just how serious I am now. There are other groups out there. Big groups, groups that have taken over entire cities. It is only a matter of time before they begin chopping this country up into territories. Before they lay claim to what they think is theirs.

  “Where do you think the Consortium is going to start first? Here. Right here in Asheville. For all the reasons Mondello gave me and more. Big Daddy has been right from the start, we need to rebuild Asheville and we need to do it fast. We have maybe a year to get things up and going, or at least enough that we won’t have to start from scratch every time something goes wrong.”

  “That’s a lot to ask,” Stuart says. “Do we have enough resources to begin?”

  “We have more than enough resources,” I say. “This city is nothing but resources waiting to be collected. Empty houses and buildings, vehicles, and weapons. We’re in a temperate climate with a natural defense system of mountains surrounding us. We can grow what food we need, there’s wind, solar, hydro, and geothermal energy. Not to mention a natural gas system that seems to be doing fine, despite a set back or two.” I look at Lourdes and Edgar. “We have new faces and new numbers to add to us. And who knows what Critter has hidden in his holler.”

  “And none of y’all will ever know,” Critter smiles, “unless ya need to.”

  “See?” I grin. “Critter’s on board in his own way.”

  “I know I’m new and many of your people don’t trust me and my people,” Lourdes says, “but we can offer a lot. I have men that did tours in Iraq during the rebuild. They’ll get the water and sewer systems fully up and running. Maybe even the electrical grid.”

  “There you go,” I say. “And thank you, Lourdes. I’ll be sure that Carl comes and talks with your guys about that. He set up the grid at Whispering Pines.”

  “This will take a lot of manpower to pull off in the time frame you’re talking about,” Platt says.

  “I believe Edgar has that covered, right?” I say.

  “Yes, I think so,” Edgar says, clearing his throat. “Those that have stayed say they will do whatever they need to, to earn their keep. No one wants to be sent back out there. It’s not safe.”

  “It’s barely safe here,” Brenda says, staring right at Stumpageddon.

  “Safer than out in the open,” Edgar says. “Trust me. I spent over a year running from place to place with my family. We were hunted by Zs as well as people. I have done horrible things to keep us alive. I don’t want to do those things anymore; I don’t want to be that person. And I can confidently say I speak for everyone else on that. Asheville is way better than being on the road.”

  “Labor taken care of,” I say. “And you have defense, Platt.”

  “What about Lourdes and her crew?” Critter asks.

  “I’m security,” Lourdes says, “that’s our specialty, not defense. Just like in Iraq and Afghanistan. We make sure everyone gets to their jobs safely and stays safe doing them. I’ve already drawn up a roster of eight teams. That should be enough to cover the work crews that go out, no matter where they go.”

  “Which means Platt will lead defense,” I say, “making sure any outside element doesn’t overtake us.”

  “Which is fine in theory, Jace,” Platt says. “But now we do run into a manpower issue.”

  “Stuart?” I ask, nodding to him.

  “With Edgar covering labor, that frees up everyone that was on my Whispering Pines defense team,” Stuart says, “plus, I believe Big Daddy has some candidates.”

  “I do at that,” Big Daddy says, “more than a few. Not everyone is cut out for farming. Some are just good at fighting.”

  “I can throw in some of my boys,” Critter says, “they’ll like playing soldier.”

  “Plus you’ll have access to inside information,” I smile. “Just saying.”

  “And I ain’t disagreein’,” Critter nods.

  “This...this...this is not what was voted on,” Brenda Kelly says. “I will not have Whispering Pines be a part of this.” She stands up, her chair falling over as her ample thighs smack it. “You can say you are rebuilding Asheville all you want, but it won’t be official. Not if I have my say.”

  “Which you won’t,” I say. “Sit down, Brenda. There’s more you need to hear.”

  “I will not be ordered to do anything by you,” she snarls. “You are not-”

  “SIT THE FUCK DOWN!” I roar at her. She takes a step back, trips over her chair, and falls on her ass. “Good. That’ll work.”

  I get up and stand over her, making sure she can see Stumpageddon very clearly.

  “I have not been idle these past two weeks and neither has my wife,” I state. “While you’ve been busy playing at leadership, Stella has actually been doing the work. And tomorrow it will be made official.”

  “Wha...wha...what?” Brenda stutters.

  “Tomorrow, there will be an HOA vote,” I say, “in Whispering Pines, not out at the Farm. Big Daddy, Master Sergeant Platt, and PC Torres will oversee the caravan and make sure it is safe. We will meet in Whispering Pines and have an official vote for a new Board Chairperson. You are welcome to join, but don’t feel like you have to.” I lean in close; close enough to see the tiny beads of sweat forming in her quite visible moustache. “And no matter how much you sputter and whine, it will be official. Are we clear?”

  I hold out my hand to help her up, but she just stares at it.

  “I think we are,” I say as I turn and sit back down. I smile at everyone and then look from Platt to Lourdes. “We were going to take a tour of the key facilities your people are inspecting, right? Then unless anyone else has more to add, I’d like to get the fuck out of this place and feel some fresh air on my face.”

  “Wear a jacket,” Stuart grins, “it’s cold out there.”

  “Thanks, man,” I say. “I’ll wear a toga if it means leaving this place.”

  Everyone gets up and says their goodbyes as they go their separate ways, ready to start their various tasks and duties for the day.

  “Jason? Can I have a quick word?” Big Daddy says.

  “Sure, what’s up?” I ask.

  He laughs and pats me on the shoulder. “Quite a bit, young man. Quite a bit. That was some speech.”

  “I just said what needed to be said.”

  “No, no, I understand that,” Big Daddy says, looking off at Brenda as she hurries out the front door. “But maybe you can tone it down just a hair. That woman is insufferable, but she’s also dangerous. You aren’t giving her enough credit, Jason. Don’t underestimate her.”

  “I don’t, BD,” I say, “trust me. I’ve had to deal with that woman for years.”

  “True, true, but that was a different time,” Big Daddy says. “And even in these few years of this living nightmare, I think you’ve only scratched the surface. I’ve been watching her, studying her. Always good to know who you may be up against.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “She’s smarter than you know,” Big Daddy continues, “and she’s sneaky. Like a weasel that keeps stealing eggs from the henhouse no matter how secure you think it is. She still gets in there and ruins things.”

  “I know,” I nod, “Stella has been saying the same thing.” I sigh. “Okay, maybe I went a little too far.” I wave Stumpageddon about. “But then life has gone a little too far, know what I mean?”

  “I do at that,” Big Daddy says. “I just wanted you to know where I stand.”

  “Thank you,” I say, shaking his hand. “And please don’t hesitate to tell me again. I sometimes n
eed reminding.”

  “I’ve noticed that too,” Big Daddy laughs.

  “Ready, Mr. Stanford?” Lourdes asks, body armor on and her rifle resting in the crook of her elbow.

  “It’s Jace,” I say, “please.”

  She nods at me then nods towards the front door and starts walking. I follow and Platt catches up.

  “Not going for diplomacy these days, are you?” Platt states.

  “No time,” I say.

  “As a career soldier, I would agree,” Platt says. “I’ve seen useless diplomacy waste valuable time. But also as a career soldier, I have to disagree. There is a place for it, Jace. You’d be wise to study where and when that place is.”

  “You and Big Daddy rehearse this?”

  “Could be,” Platt says. “What we are about to undertake is complex in the best of times. Now? Post-Z? It’s mindboggling.”

  “We’ll tackle it one step at a time,” I say. “That’s all we can do.”

  “I agree,” Platt says as we get to the Humvee waiting for us, with Lourdes at the wheel. “Let’s just hope we don’t trip too much while taking those steps.”

  Platt takes the passenger seat and I hop in the back as we roll out. Just in two weeks, the area around the Grove Park Inn has been secured and the needed repairs have begun. We weave through a system of barricades before getting out to the road. Lourdes nods at the armed guards manning the entrance/exit.

  “Quite a system,” I say. “You’ve improved on it.”

  “We need it,” Lourdes says. “We aren’t just talking about zeds now. We have people to contend with. The barricades help slow vehicles as well as create choke points for zeds. With the amount of people living in the Grove Park, it is a ripe target for both.”

  “How many people are living there?” I ask.

  “Most of Whispering Pines,” Platt says. “That’s a few dozen. Edgar gave me a count this morning and we have 150 laborers staying on.”

  “Count my crew of fifty and that’s a lot of warm bodies,” Lourdes says. “That kind of concentration will attract zeds.”

  “And it’ll attract those survivors in Asheville that haven’t come out of the woodwork yet,” I add.

  “Precisely,” Platt says. “We almost have the Grove Park locked down tight. Then we move on to the water plant and power plant. Which is what we’re going to look at today.”

  “What about Whispering Pines?” I ask.

  “We’re going to leave that up to your new Board Chairperson,” Platt says. “Best to keep some semblance of democracy.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I say.

  We work our way through Asheville, our eyes watching the shadows between buildings, always alert for an attack. I finger the grip of a 9mm Glock that Stuart gave me. He says it has decent stopping power, but won’t be too much to handle with only, well, one hand. My only problem is getting used to my left hand as my primary. Dr. McCormick says that I’ll adapt quickly.

  Zs are here and there, but the numbers aren’t huge, even when we hit the center of town. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of the fuckers shambling around, but not enough to present a problem. We drive around those we can and drive over those we can’t. Just no hordes to deal with.

  Which is fucking fine by me. I’ve had my fill of Z hordes for a while. Stumpageddon has too.

  “According to city records,” Platt says, “Asheville has three water treatment plants, 40 pump stations, and 32 reservoirs.”

  “Jesus, seriously?” I ask. “That’s a lot of infrastructure.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Lourdes says, turning down Hilliard St., “and I’m taking you to my guy to talk about it.”

  Platt laughs.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Look at you,” he laughs some more. “You don’t find it ironic that you killed the President of the United States, and now you’re being chauffeured around like you’re his successor?”

  “Yeah, I totally find it ironic,” I smile. “Want me to drive?”

  “Not particularly,” Platt says. “Not sure you’ll have the response skills needed.”

  “Stella can’t tell me to put both hands on the wheel anymore, at least,” I say. “So I have that.”

  “It’ll be hard to change music on your iPod while driving too,” Lourdes says.

  “Good one,” I laugh.

  “Here we are,” she says as we pull up to a guarded chain link gate. Two men roll it back and we drive through, parking next to a beat up looking trailer.

  A large black man, not fat, but large, like twenty feet tall and about six feet wide, comes out of the trailer, his hand up in greeting. Okay, he’s maybe closer to seven feet, but the fucker is tall.

  “Joseph Tennant,” the man says, offering his hand as I get out of the Humvee. “Call me Joe T. Everyone else does.”

  “Jason Stanford,” I say. “Call me Jace.”

  “Will do, Jace,” he smiles. It’s a warm smile, genuine. But knowing that he’s part of Lourdes’s crew means I won’t ever underestimate him. “Care to see where we’re at so far?”

  “Please,” I say.

  He walks around the pump station and points out the various parts. I’ll be honest and say most of it goes in one ear and out the other. I should be paying more attention, but there’s one problem: pain. I’ve been trying not to admit it, but losing an arm hurts. I have some painkillers I can take and they’re in my pocket, but I’m saving them for when it’s really bad. Dr. McCormick warned me not to get dependent and also that they are scarce, so use them wisely.

  We check things out and Joe T explains that he did six private tours in Iraq and specialized in infrastructure security. In order to keep that infrastructure secure, he had to know what was vital and what was not. He basically taught himself hydro-engineering. Nice.

  As we come to the end of the unbelievably detailed tour, Lourdes lays out the plan.

  “I have three man teams going out to each of the 40 pump stations,” Lourdes says. “They have instructions from Joe T on how to make sure they’re shut off.”

  “Shut off? Why?” I ask. “Isn’t the point to get the water turned on?”

  “It sure is, Jace,” Joe T says, “but how many people do you think thought to turn their faucets off as they were escaping zeds? Or how many pipes have busted and toilets started leaking over the years? We turn it all on at once and we’ll flood this city and the whole system will collapse.”

  “Right. Got it,” I nod, “one step at a time.”

  “Exactly, my man,” Joe T smiles. “We’ll start here, learn quite a few things, then take what we learn and apply it to the rest of the stations. It won’t be fast, probably take a couple years to work our way through every single one, but we’ll get there.”

  “So you’re here for the long haul?” I ask. “No reason to bail and head back to Charlottesville?”

  “My reasons died in Baltimore,” Joe T says.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” he nods. “But now I’m here and a good thing too, because y’all can use me.”

  “True dat,” Lourdes says, slapping Joe T on the back. “We’re off to Lake Julian now. Have you heard from Shumway?”

  “Yeah,” Joe T laughs, “he’s been busy.”

  “Zeds?” she asks.

  “Oh, yeah, plenty,” Joe T says. “Whatever it is about power plants, they seem to attract zeds like flies on shit.”

  “They do? You’ve seen it at other places?” I ask.

  “Every place,” Lourdes answers. “It’s weird.”

  “Then let’s go lend a hand,” Platt says, then looks at me. “Sorry.”

  “What?” I ask then look at my arm. “Oh, don’t worry, Stumpageddon doesn’t care.”

  They all stare at me for what seems like a very long time.

  “What? What did I say?”

  “Dude, did you name your stump?” Joe T asks.

  “Yeah,” I nod. “He has lots of names, but I settled on Stumpageddon, Lord of All St
umps.”

  “Dude,” Joe T says, shaking his head. “That is fucked up. And awesome. But mostly fucked up.”

  “White folks,” Lourdes laughs.

  “Kiss my white ass,” Platt says. “Don’t lump me in with Long Pork.”

  “Ah, man,” I sigh. “I thought we’d dropped that nickname.”

  “Not if you’re going to call your stump Stumpageddon,” Platt says. “And don’t expect me or any of my team to address it as such.”

  “You will all kneel before Stumpageddon!” I announce, raising my truncated arm.

  “I like this guy,” Joe T says. “I like you.”

  “Right back atcha, Joe T,” I say. “Now, where to next?”

  “Lake Julian,” Lourdes says. “The power plant.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I say.

  We get in the Humvee and Lourdes steers us back to Biltmore Ave. Heading south we see more and more Zs. Close to the train tracks, where Biltmore turns into Hendersonville Rd, we get stuck. A large horde has gathered and decides that surrounding our Humvee is a fun way to spend the day. I close my ears while Lourdes stops and Platt opens a top hatch and unloads on them. Using the mounted .50 caliber, part of the supplies Lourdes and the PCs brought with them, Platt mows down row after row of Zs.

  He drops enough that Lourdes can get the Humvee moving again. Undead crunch under the tires as we cross the train racks and get through Biltmore Village. I look to my right and see the entrance to the Biltmore Estate.

  “Stop,” I say, “stop the Humvee.”

  “We can’t stop right here, Jace,” Platt says. “We just got clear. We’ll be surrounded in seconds and have to start all over.”

  “What is it?” Lourdes asks. “What do you see?”

  “I don’t know,” I say as we keep going. “I thought I saw someone by the Biltmore.”

  “It was a zed,” Lourdes says. “Or maybe a stray survivor. We’re gonna be stirring them up as we search the city more.”

  “Yeah, could be,” I say. But I don’t think so. The way the person looked wasn’t like other survivors. He or she, I couldn’t quite tell, looked...clean. But it was a ways off. I’m probably not thinking or seeing clearly because of the pain.