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

by Bible, Jake

  It’s a long drive down to Lake Julian and the power plant. We have to stop twice to get clear of Zs, and then a third time to refuel. Lourdes already has caches of fuel stashed throughout the city so her teams don’t get stranded.

  By the time we get to Lake Julian, my arm is on fire. I keep wanting to wring my hands together, but I can’t, even though I feel my other hand. That phantom limb syndrome? Yeah, it’s real. It wakes me up at night sometimes, the feeling like I have both arms still intact. Pretty much half my day is spent trying to scratch an itch that isn’t there. It’s infuriating.

  “You good?” Platt asks as we get past the power plant security and pull up in front of the main offices. “You’re sweating and it’s 45 degrees out.”

  “All good,” I smile.

  Platt and Lourdes exchange looks.

  “Come on guys, I’m fine,” I say, “just tired. It’s my first day out and about. Cut me some slack.”

  “Where’s it at on the scale?” Lourdes asks.

  “What scale?”

  “The pain scale,” she says. “I know a little something about amputees. You just lost your arm two weeks ago. You should still be in bed resting. Or at the very least chilling out on that giant back porch at the Grove Park. Not out here.”

  “Now you decide to tell me this?” I laugh.

  “I told Platt back at the Inn, but he said it was useless,” she replies. “You’d just fight and whine and still come with us.”

  “I don’t know about the whining,” I say.

  “I do,” Platt says, “you would have whined.”

  “Well, we’re here now,” I say, “let’s have a looksee.”

  The Lake Julian power plant is a coal-fired power plant, which I knew, but can be converted to natural gas with some work. A lot of work. Okay, I’m not doing it justice. It will take a metric fuck ton of work to convert the power plant. In fact, as I stand and listen to the man Lourdes put in charge of the conversion, it sounds like it could be like building the thing all over again.

  His name is Albert Shumway and he’s as short as Joe T is tall. This guy borders on being a Little Person. But holy fuck is he cut. It’s 45 degrees out and the man is wearing a tank top, showing off muscles that are on top of muscles and bullying the muscles they’re on top of. Crazy to look at.

  “We have maybe one third of the parts we need to start,” Shumway says. I quickly learn he does not like to be called Albert or Al. Shumway or go fuck yourself were his exact words, I believe.

  “Only a third?” I ask. “Where do we get the rest?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he replies, “at the power plant store? Do you mind popping on down there and picking me up eighteen new couplings for generator three? That would be swell, Mr. Stanford.”

  “It’s Jace,” I say, “and I get the point.”

  “Do you, Mr. Stanford?” Shumway asks. “Gee, great, now my problems are solved. Because you get the point.”

  “Shumway,” Lourdes warns, “stop being a dick.”

  “Why? Because this guy killed Mondello?” Shumway laughs. “Isn’t that called a presidential assassination? Shouldn’t he be hanged for that?”

  “There were extenuating circumstances,” I say. “Like the fucker needed to die. So I fucking killed the fucker with my bare hands.” I look at Stumpageddon. “And, oh, look! I lost one in the mother fucking process, you GOD DAM FUCKING OOMPA LOOMPA ON FUCKING STERIODS!”

  “Okay, we’re done for the day,” Platt says, grabbing me by the shoulders as I close on Shumway. The short fuck doesn’t even flinch. I’ll give him that. “Come on, Jace.”

  “What? Are we done here?” I ask, glaring at Shumway. “I haven’t seen the chocolate river yet! Or the everlasting gobstoppers! Aren’t you going to sing me a song with a hidden lesson, you ORANGE FUCK!”

  “He’s not orange,” Platt says, “you’re just pissed. And tired. And I’m going to have to deal with your wife when I get you back. She didn’t want you to go either.”

  “She’s not the boss of me,” I say as I collapse into the backseat of the Humvee, my arm throbbing and throbbing.

  “Seriously?” Platt says.

  “Okay, she is the boss of me,” I say. “But I can go where I want when I want.”

  “Seriously?” he says again.

  “Shut up,” I frown. “Take me home, Jeeves. I’ll be late for tea.”

  “You are one crazy fuck,” Lourdes says. “No wonder you’ve survived this long.”

  I don’t really remember much of the ride back. There was some shooting and some yelling and then a bit of speeding through the streets as we dodged around quite a fucking herd of Zs. But then we’re at the Grove Park Inn and it takes all of my strength to get from the Humvee and up to the suite.

  The next thing I know, Stella is shaking me awake.

  “Jace? Baby? Wake up,” she says, “we have to go to Whispering Pines.”

  “Already?” I ask. “But I just got back.”

  “That was fourteen hours ago,” she says. “You slept through everything.”

  “That explains why my bladder hurts and my belly is growling,” I say. “I need a piss and some food.”

  “They taste the same here,” Greta says. “Someone needs to learn how to cook around this place.”

  “The food is fine,” Stella says.

  “I could do better than these hacks,” Greta replies.

  “Then go do better,” Stella snaps.

  “Really? Can I?” Greta asks.

  “You go for it!” I say. “And while you’re at your new career, how about you rustle me up some ham and eggs?”

  “Dad, I’m not going now,” she says.

  “Then you are worth nothing to me,” I say. “Begone! Stumpageddon commands it!”

  “Oh, God, not this again,” Greta says and walks out of the room.

  “Stumpageddon will not tolerate your insolence!” I shout after her then look at Stella. “Is she coming with us?”

  “No,” Stella says. “Thank God. She’s been a brat all morning.”

  I get up, get dressed (with some help) and follow Stella downstairs. Quite a few of my fellow Whispering Pines homeowners are waiting for us. Most of them haven’t seen me since I’ve come out of quarantine and I get a few friendly smiles, but mostly just cautious nods as we get loaded up in the caravan and head out.

  The way to Whispering Pines has been cleared since I last drove it. I don’t know who was in charge, but they did a great job. No cars or debris block the road, and we only have to take out maybe a dozen Zs. Nice. Jace likey.

  Julio is waiting for us at the main gate into Whispering Pines and he waves us through, then makes sure the gate is secured before hopping on one of the vehicles for the ride up to the Church of Jesus of the Light.

  “Preacher Carrey isn’t having a fit over this?” I ask.

  “Oh, he is,” Stella says, “but Julio and Elsbeth had a chat with him and he calmed down quickly.”

  “Does he still have all of his fingers and toes?” I laugh.

  “It was touch and go, but, yes, he still has all of his fingers and toes,” Stella says.

  We get inside and walk to the large meeting room we used to use for all of our regular HOA meetings. Preacher Carrey isn’t anywhere in sight, which is nice, but Brenda Kelly is front and center, which sucks. She’s busy talking to the other members of the Board, but stops when she sees us. In her waddling way, she stomps over to us.

  “I just want to go on record and say that this vote is not legal under the covenants of the HOA,” Brenda says. “Elect whomever you’d like, but it will not be binding. Once the residents realize their mistake, you can bet I will take my position back immediately.”

  “What? You think you’re going to lose, Brenda?” I smile. “That’s not a very positive attitude, now is it?”

  “You can go to Hell, Jason Stanford,” she snaps, turns, and waddles away.

  “You handled that well,” Stella says.

  “I
thought so,” I nod. “Shall we take our seats?”

  We do and wait as the residents staying at the Farm show up. By the time everyone is settled I have to grit my teeth against the pain. Fucking Stumpageddon! Always turning on me at the most inappropriate times. Bastard.

  “I call this meeting to order,” Brenda says, “under extreme protest.”

  “Noted,” someone on the Board says. Fuck if I care who. My arm hurts.

  “This irregular meeting has been called to elect a new Board Chair,” Brenda says. “So I’d rather not drag this out forever. If you’d like to put forth a nomination, then please stand and do so now. You are welcome to nominate yourself, but you will need a second.” Her eyes lock on me. I wave Stumpageddon at her. I think she gags a little.

  “You ready?” Stella asks me. “Jace, can you do this?”

  “I can,” I nod. “I’m fine. I’m ready. Let’s make this happen.”

  I stand up and clear my throat. I hurt like a mother fucker, but for this I can push the pain away. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.

  “As a resident of Whispering Pines, I’d like to nominate,” I say, “my wife, Stella Stanford.”

  Brenda’s eyes go wide. “You...what?”

  Yeah, she wasn’t expecting that.

  “I second,” Stuart says.

  “Me too,” Melissa says.

  More voices add to the seconds. I guess they become thirds and fourths and shit?

  “Fine,” Brenda says, “Stella Stanford has been added to the list of nominees. Is there anyone else?”

  The room is quiet.

  “Okay,” Brenda says, “then I’d like to officially nominate myself. Who will second?”

  The room is quiet.

  “Excuse me? I am nominating myself. I will need someone to second the nomination. You don’t have to vote for me. It’s just common courtesy.”

  The room is quiet.

  Brenda loses her shit.

  “People! I have served you well for years! If not for me, many of you would be dead! I deserve, I EXPECT, A SECOND! SOMEONE WILL STAND UP RIGHT NOW AND SECOND MY NOMINATION!”

  Nope. Not happening.

  “So what now?” I ask.

  “WHAT NOW?” she screams. “NOW...NOW...now...now...”

  “Damn,” Stuart says, “she’s broken.”

  “Now...,” she says as she sits down, “we vote.”

  “Do we need to?” one of the Board members asks. “There’s only one nominee?”

  “I know that!” Brenda snaps. “But votes must be recorded. So we vote.”

  We vote. Stella wins.

  Brenda doesn’t say a word, just gets up and walks outside. The room cheers.

  “I’m so proud of you,” I tell Stella. “You’re gonna rock this job.”

  “Well, Whispering Pines has needed a leader that can keep you in line,” Stella says. “Brenda sucked at that.”

  “Hey,” I smile. “I’m always in line.” I wince and my smile falters. I try to recover, but Stella just purses her lips.

  “How bad is it?” she asks.

  “Not bad,” I say.

  “That’s a lie,” Stella says. “See, I’m already better at the job. I know when Jason Stanford is lying. That skill will come in handy.”

  “I’m not sure I like where this is going,” I say.

  “Hey, Jace,” Julio says, coming up to us. “Stella, congrats.”

  “Thanks, Julio,” she smiles. “What do you need?”

  “I need your man here,” Julio says. “We have a surprise for him.”

  “Surprise?” I ask. “Dude, I don’t think I need any surprises today. Not sure I’m up to it.”

  “Oh, you’ll be up for this,” Julio smiles. “Come on.”

  We follow him out of the meeting room and down the hall to a room Stella used to use as a classroom for the kids. Waiting inside are Platt, John, Dr. McCormick, Stuart, Melissa, Reaper, and Elsbeth. They are all standing in front of something with smiles on their face.

  “What?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

  They step aside and my jaw drops.

  “What...the...fuck?” I say, stunned by the sight.

  On a long table are over a dozen prosthetic arms of various sizes, shapes, uses. Some have regular hands, some have hooks, there’s one with this crazy pick axe looking thing. Holy crap.

  “Are those for me?” I ask.

  “No, sweetie, they’re for me,” Stella says. “Go look.”

  I do. I walk right over to them and have a good look. A good, hard look. A good, hard look at the reality of who I am now. I look and look at the plastic and metal before me that is supposed to replace what I’ve lost. The tears that stream down my cheeks are hot.

  “Oh, baby,” Stella says as I break down into sobs. “Oh, shit, Jace.”

  “Dude, we thought you’d dig them,” Julio says.

  “They’ll help,” Stuart says.

  “Give him some space, people,” Dr. McCormick orders, “this is all very traumatic.”

  “Thanks,” I say, wiping at my eyes, my chest hitching. “Really. Thank you. This is great.” I take a deep breath and smile through the tears. “Just makes it more real, is all. I’m good. Seriously. This is pretty cool. Especially that one.”

  “It’s used for mountain climbing,” Reaper says. “Melissa and her scavengers decided to have a peek inside an orthopedics office. There was a whole shop set up with tons of this shit. Don’t like these? We’ll be able to build anything you need.”

  I look at Reaper and smile. “Wait? Anything?”

  “Jace, what are you thinking?” Stella asks.

  “You know what would make Stumpageddon really happy?” I ask aloud.

  “God, I hate that name,” Platt says.

  “I don’t know what it means,” Elsbeth says.

  “What, dude?” Julio asks.

  “Stumpageddon needs his own Bitch,” I say. “That’s what Stumpageddon needs.”

  “Dude,” Julio smiles. “Great idea. Holy fuck.”

  “What is he talking about?” Dr. McCormick asks.

  “That’s what he called his bat,” Stuart explains, “The Bitch.”

  “It was my bat first,” Elsbeth says, “then I gave it to him. He lost it. You lost it.”

  “I did,” I say, “but maybe we can build a better one?”

  “Wait a minute,” Dr. McCormick frowns, “your arm cannot take the stress of that, Jace. Not for a long time.”

  “Well, that’s what physical therapy is for,” I say, “we’ll start small and work up to it.” I look at Reaper and can tell he’s way into it; so is Julio. “You’ll help, right? Train with me until I am one bad ass mother fucker with Stumpageddon and The Bitch. Ha! It’s like a bad seventies porn movie. Stumpageddon and The Bitch!”

  “So cool,” Julio says, “and you could have other ones with blades and shit! Oh, and maybe we can rig a slingshot to the end!”

  “Awesome,” I grin, “thanks, guys. This is pretty fucking sweet.”

  “Good,” Stella says, kissing me on the cheek, “you talk about your toys while I go back and talk to the other residents. I know there are going to be a lot of suggestions people have kept bottled up for years because of Brenda. This isn’t going to be easy.”

  “Have fun, baby,” I say. “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”

  “We can’t stay too long,” Platt says. “I want us back at the Grove Park by sundown. Easier for security.”

  “Works for me,” I say as the excitement of it all starts to wear off. And the pain kicks back in.

  I thank everyone personally as they leave. Julio, Reaper, Stuart, and Elsbeth, stay behind as I pick up each of the prosthetics.

  “This one is sexy,” I say, holding a very realistic looking arm. “If ya know what I mean.”

  “Dude,” Julio says, shaking his head.

  “What? What is he talking about?” Elsbeth asks.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Julio says.r />
  “You two coming back to the Grove Park tonight?” I ask. “You’ve been staying here like the whole time.”

  “We’re all staying here,” Stuart says.

  “What?” I ask. “Winter is almost here, man. You can’t stay at Whispering Pines, there aren’t any houses yet.”

  “Preacher Carrey has graciously given his okay for a few of us to bunk here,” Stuart says. “Especially when he found out that the alternative was being left alone all winter long.”

  “We’re going to keep working on the fences,” Julio says. “It’ll be hard as the ground freezes, but that will also slow down the Zs.”

  “The goal is to have the deck and stairs built before January,” Stuart says, “and then we’ll rebuild the main gate the right way. As it is now, it can stand up to Zs, but not to people.”

  “Especially if they have heavy vehicles,” Julio says.

  “I want to get that dump truck of yours moved down here,” Stuart says, “make it part of the system. Nothing like a few tons of metal to deter attackers.”

  “My dump truck?” I say. “I have no claim to that.”

  “I know that dump truck,” Elsbeth smiles. “It’s where I found Long Pork all curled up and crying with those pink pajamas on.”

  “First, I wasn’t crying,” I say. “I wasn’t! And second, those were yoga clothes, thank you. I’m pretty sure they were Juicy Couture, so no making fun.”

  We all look at each other for a second then burst out laughing.

  “I still hate you for making me wear those,” I say to Stuart.

  “I didn’t put a gun to your head,” he says, “you could have just stayed naked.”

  “Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen,” I say.

  We BS for a few minutes more, but they can tell I’m getting tired and the pain is too much.

  “Come on,” Stuart says, “let’s find your wife. Someone needs to get you back and tuck you into bed.”

  “I’ve been in bed for two weeks,” I protest, “I don’t wanna go back. You can’t make me.”

  “You only have one arm,” Stuart smiles, “I can pretty much make you do anything I want.”

  “Oh, thanks for rubbing that in my face,” I say, fake crying. “You’re mean.”

  “That doesn’t sound real at all,” Elsbeth says, “even I know that.”