by Bible, Jake
“Come on,” Stuart says, “we’ll make sure the prosthetics get packed up and taken back to the Grove Park for you.”
“I can play fashion show later for Stella,” I say.
“I don’t want to know,” Stuart says.
We start to leave, but I can see Elsbeth is hanging back.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Can I talk with you?” she asks. The others look from me to her then leave. Julio waits a second, but Elsbeth nods and he goes too.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I, uh, want to make sure you aren’t angry,” Elsbeth says.
“Angry? Why?”
“Because I am staying here with Julio,” she says. “And not at the fancy place with you.”
“Really? No, that’s totally cool,” I say. “You can stay where you want, El. You’re a grown woman.”
“But you and Stella and the kids are family,” she says. “Aren’t I supposed to stay with family?”
“Not forever,” I laugh. “And you’ll still be family. Families spread out all over the place. It’s normal.”
“But we don’t live in normal,” she says.
“True,” I nod, “but you’re only going to be a couple miles away. We’ll see you lots. And I’ll be coming and going from here with Stella to check on progress. It’s all good. You stay here with Julio. Live a little.”
“Live a little,” she says quietly. “Yes. I will.”
“Good,” I smile. “Then we’re good?”
“We’re good,” she says. “But not done talking.”
“Okey doke, what else is there?”
“Me,” she says.
“Yeah...not following you.”
“I want to talk about me,” Elsbeth says, “about where I come from.”
“Oh...that,” I say. I had been wondering when the subject would come up, but I didn’t want to push.
“The president man said I am special,” Elsbeth says. “He said that I was part of something. He didn’t know it about me until the Foster lady gave away the secret.”
“Secret? What secret?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know,” Elsbeth says. “President guy says there was a school here in Asheville. That Foster taught there. She was an instructor? Instructor, yeah.”
“A school? What kind of school?”
“I don’t know,” Elsbeth says. “The president guy wouldn’t say anymore. He told me he didn’t have details, but had heard rumors because he was big chief of home security.”
“Secretary of Homeland Security,” I say, “before he was President. Although I don’t really consider him that.”
“Right,” Elsbeth nods. “He said there was a school here and a special program for special girls like me.” She shakes her head. “He says that’s why I fight so well.”
“He said all of that while he was driving? When he escaped with you onto the Parkway?” I ask.
“Yes,” she nods, “and when I punched him and tied him up. He said more then. But while he was driving too.”
“Did he say where the school was?” She shakes her head. “Did he say how many other girls there were?” Another head shake. “Shit. This is crazy. Maybe Platt knows something about it?”
“Maybe,” she shrugs. “Will you ask him?”
“You don’t want to?”
“No,” she says, “he’s mad at me because I quit and didn’t want to be on his team. He just yelled too much. My pa yelled a lot too. I don’t like it.”
“Yeah, no problem,” I say. “I’ll ask him soon.”
I watch her closely and smile.
“It’s going to be fine, El,” I say. “This isn’t a bad thing. It’s good. You’ll get to find out something about your past.”
“I thought I knew my past,” Elsbeth replies. “I thought I was Pa’s daughter and I was canny and that was it.”
“But that’s not it,” I say, “and thank goodness. You are more than all of that. I’ll help you find out what that more is, okay?”
“Okay,” she nods. “Thank you, Jace.”
I’m a little stunned that she didn’t call me Long Pork.
“Uh, yeah, you bet,” I smile. “That’s what family is for.”
“Yes it is,” Stella says from the doorway. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I agree.”
“I’ll fill you in later,” I say. “If that’s alright with you, El?”
“Families share,” Elsbeth states.
“Exactly,” Stella says. “Now how about we go back to the Inn and share the official news with the kids?”
“Sounds great,” I nod.
“You coming, Elsbeth?” Stella asks.
“Naw, she’s staying here with Julio,” I say.
“No, I’m coming,” Elsbeth says, “for tonight. Then I’ll come back. I want to see Greta and Charlie.”
“And they want to see you too, I’m sure,” Stella says. “Then let’s get going. Platt is getting fidgety about the time.”
I walk out of the Church with Stella on one side and Elsbeth on the other. Even with only one arm, I’m a pretty fucking lucky guy. I have what many in this day don’t, I have family. And a future.
And a really cool selection of arms for Stumpageddon.
Sweet.
THE CONVOY LEAVES THE Church and splits off as they hit 251. The Grove Park half turns right, while the Farm half turns left. The Farm half travels down Hwy 251, also known as Riverside Dr, and comes to Pierson Bridge. As they slow to turn right onto the bridge, a shadow detaches from the bottom of one of the trucks and rolls to the drainage ditch, staying low and still until the convoy is over the bridge and long gone.
The shadow, a young woman, gets up and brushes herself off, starting on her long walk home. She stays to the side of Riverside, off in the cover of the brush and trees, ever mindful of the night sounds that have descended on the area. She avoids the few Zs she comes across, staying still and silent as they shuffle past, and continues on her way.
A couple hours, and several miles later, she comes to a curve in the road, cut into the landscape by the Swannanoa River. Making sure she is unobserved, even though no one would be out at the early morning hour, the young woman fords the river at a specific point, coming up the other side onto another, smaller road.
This road, the smaller one, meanders through a vast estate, once the home of American royalty then later turned into a destination for tourists and history buffs. She walks for another mile or so and cuts across a wide field that would have been planted with corn, but is now planted with a different crop.
Zs.
The young woman weaves her way through the hundreds of Zs that fill the field. If one didn’t know the secret, they would think she is crazy, but she knows exactly where to walk and what turns to take through the mass of Zs. They reach out for her, and she ducks under rotten arms when she gets too close, but she doesn’t worry about being pursued. Why? Because this truly is a crop of Zs, planted in place by large, steel stakes. The stakes, two feet long, go through the Zs’ feet and deep into the ground, holding them where they are, giving the illusion of a horde of Zs for anyone that makes it onto the estate.
Finally, after crossing the field and making her way through dense woods of pines and oaks, the young woman comes to a grand house, America’s largest home: the Biltmore.
“Churned,” a woman’s voice calls out from the shadows.
“Fresh daily,” the young woman responds.
The shadow voice, another young woman of similar build and age, steps forward and hugs the first. “Any trouble?”
“No,” the first says, “I saw her clearly this time.”
“It’s her? She’s one of us?”
“Yes, for sure,” the first says.
“Good, I’ll go tell her.”
“No, I want to do it,” the first says. “I found her and I found our lost sister. I’ll tell her.”
“Okay,” the second says. “They’re in the basement showing off.”
More young women, eight of them, are sitting on the floor of the basement room, towels in front of them, blindfolds on, all hurrying to assemble the parts before them on the towels.
“Time!” one of them yells, ripping off her blindfold and holding up the reassembled pistol.
“Two point three,” a ninth young woman says from the wall, a stopwatch in her hand. “Not bad.” She looks up and sees the two arrivals. “There you are? So?”
“She wants to tell her,” the second says.
“I found her, I get to tell,” the first says.
“Then tell her,” the wall woman smiles. “She’s over there watching the games.”
The first young woman, the one that rolled away from the caravan and walked all the way to the estate, hurries over to a pedestal in the corner. She gets on her knees and smiles at the thing set upon it.
“I found her,” she says, “I found our lost sister. She’s with those people from that neighborhood. And the soldiers and others. She must be so lost without us.”
“Is she their prisoner?” one of the others asks.
“No, I don’t think so,” the first answers, never taking her eyes from the pedestal. “Isn’t that wonderful? That I found her. We’ll be sure to bring her back here, to our new home, so you can see her. You’ll like her as much as you like us. And she’ll love it here.”
“Yeah.”
“For sure.”
“I know I do!”
The young women all hug and smile, glad for the good news. The first turns back to the pedestal and smiles at the thing.
“Once we are all together again, then we’ll do what we’re supposed to,” she says. “Just like you taught us. We’re all so glad I found you, Ms. Foster.”
The young woman turns back to the others, happy to be home, happy to be with ones she can trust. The thing on the pedestal just watches, unable to move, unable to do anything but want and need. There is a focus to the thing that it had even during life. And that focus waits; waits for the moment one of the delicious young women will make a mistake and get too close to it.
For the head of Ms. Foster is hungry. So very hungry.
Z-Burbia 3: Estate Of The Dead
Jake Bible
Copyright 2021 Jake Bible
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
Z-Day.
“Echo Team set?”
“Set.”
“Bravo Team set?”
“Boots down and ready.”
“Just say set.”
“Set.”
“Cadillac Team set?”
“Set.”
“Alpha Team is in place,” Foster says. “On my mark we take the facility. Keep it tight and go for body shots. We don’t know who is hostile and who is just caught up in this. The job is to rescue the targets, not kill the staff.”
“Roger.”
“Roger.”
“Copy that.”
Foster holds up a fist and then three fingers. She drops one, two and three.
“Mark. We are a go!”
Her Alpha Team of private military contractors, decked out in black body armor and night vision goggles, M-4s to their shoulders, rush to the side door that their point man just blew. Foster, a woman of average height and build, but with piercing, ice blue eyes behind her goggles, pivots left then right as she is the first through the door. She steps left and the teammate behind her follows and steps right. They clear the room and keep moving.
Over their radio coms, they hear more doors being blown, then gunfire as one of the Teams makes contact.
“Report!” Foster shouts.
“Three security guards are down,” Joseph “Joe T” Tennant, commander of Echo Team, responds. “But we have more coming.”
“Position?” Foster asks as she moves from the first room and into the second. The rooms are paneled in faux wood with thrift shop desks and file cabinets pushed up against the walls. Foster knows the facility cost millions to build and wonders where that money went.
“We are in the west corridor,” Joe T replies. “This place looks like a set from the ‘70s. I thought we were going up against high tech and shit. I see nothing but a Rockford Files set here.”
“It’s a front,” Foster says. “Stay alert and keep moving. Look for the way below.”
The Teams came in on foot, knowing a helicopter drop would have alerted their target to their presence. Hiking through two valleys, they came upon the unassuming modular building tucked up against the hillside in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Foster knew it was only the entryway to a facility much larger that was burrowed below or into the hillside itself. Recon intel had shown her that.
But it hadn’t shown her how to get into the main facility where her targets were being held.
“This is not ideal,” Hank Zorn, head of Bravo Team, says. “We are being led like rats in a maze.”
More gunfire erupts over the com. Then voices shouting and a large explosion rocks the facility.
“Who was that?” Foster cries, as she starts sprinting from faux paneled room to faux paneled room. “Was that our demo?”
“Negative!” Joe T yells. “Cadillac Team is down! I repeat! Cadillac Team is down!”
“Shit,” Foster grunts as she comes around a corner and face to face with Zorn. “What the fuck?”
“This is messed up, boss,” Zorn says as the rest of his Team come up behind him. “Are the fucking walls moving?”
“Shit,” Foster says again as she looks at the floor. She can see the gouges and scuffs made by heavy objects. Heavy objects like walls. “Mother fuck. They are moving. We’re being played! I want gloves off, people! Blow these fucking walls and shoot to kill!”
“Hello there, friends,” a voice crackles over speakers set into the ceiling. “It was only a matter of time before you came for us. The 1% of the 1% don’t like it when their lineage is threatened. I was going to return the young ladies, with some modifications, but it looks like you have pushed my hand on this. I hold no guilt over my actions. Deep breaths and good byes.”
Mist starts to flow down from holes next to the speakers and the Teams react by yanking off their goggles and pulling on facemasks.
“Gas,” Foster says. “Nice.”
Two explosions shake the building and a high-pitched wailing fills the air.
“We have access, boss!” Joe T shouts over the com. “Heading deeper into the hillside.”
“Location?” Foster yells.
“Fuck if I know!’ Joe T replies. “We just started blowing walls until we got through! Compass says we are facing northwest.”
Foster turns that way and points at the wall. Two men strip adhesive from four explosive packs and jam them against the wall. Everyone takes what cover they can, arms wrapped over heads, faces tucked between knees.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The wall is almost vaporized and Foster finds herself staring into the shocked and bleeding faces of several lab techs. Some stand there staring at the private contractors, others lay sprawled across the stainless steel floor or the lab tables that are knocked askew. No one moves as all eyes are on the rifle barrels and the soldiers for hire that pour into the room.
“The girls!” Foster shouts. “Where are the girls?”
A woman starts to speak, but then her eyes bulge and pink foam flows from her mouth. She convulses and drops, blood dripping from every orifice.
“Fuck! The gas!” Foster shouts.
More techs fall, their bodies b
eing dissolved from the inside out. But others finally find their feet, turn and bolt to a sealed Plexiglas door at the far end of the room. Alpha Team beats them to it.
“Key this open, now!” Foster orders one of the techs. The man, hands shaking, barely gets the code in before his eyes roll up into his head, the whites now a dark red as the capillaries burst.
She pushes the body out of the way and moves forward as her Team starts shoving techs through the door behind her. She is in a long, steel-walled corridor, her rifle to her shoulder as she walks carefully towards an airlock at the opposite end. Zorn tells the techs that haven’t died to shut the fuck up, but no one listens. Foster ignores the chaos, knowing her people have her back, and focuses only on the airlock. The wheel in the center begins to spin and she stops, takes a knee, and prepares to fire.
“Hold,” Joe T says over the com as the airlock swings wide. “It’s me.”
The size of a small mountain, Joe T’s deep chocolate skinned face smiles behind his mask as he nods to Foster.
“Didn’t have to take a knee for me, boss,” Joe T says. “A simple curtsey would have done.”
“Fuck you,” Foster says as she gets up. “You find them?”
“I think so,” Joe T says. “But it won’t be easy.”
Foster follows him as he turns and starts to jog back to his Team. She does a quick head count and sees that he’s only at half strength.
“You got hit hard,” she states.
“No shit,” Joe T responds. “Some of the security guards can shoot. The ones that couldn’t set off charges.” He points to a large vault door. “I’m guessing we go in there.”
Music fills the air around them to the tune of “Wheels On The Bus,” but with very different words.
“We kill the soldiers because they hate us, they hate us, they hate us,” the song echoes everywhere. “We kill the soldiers because they hate us, they all must die.”
Men behind Foster start to scream and the com is filled with cries of pain and surprise.
“What the fuck?” Foster says as she spins about to see the techs left alive going completely berserk on her men.