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

by Bible, Jake

  “Fuck,” Reaper says, “he’s not breathing.”

  Stella cries out and lunges for him, but I hold her back but it takes every last bit of strength I have, strength I thought was lost forever.

  Reaper and Dr. McCormick begin CPR and they work on Charlie furiously.

  “Hold on,” Critter says as he cranks the wheel and takes us down an off-ramp. “Just a little more to go.”

  We speed onto a rural highway and I soon lose track of the twists and turns we take. In a matter of minutes we go from the interstate, and a semblance of civilization (what’s left of it), to the middle of nowhere. Critter takes one last turn and hits the brakes, sending up a two-story cloud of dust that settles over us all.

  Before us is a row of pickups and off-road vehicles. Men run towards the haul truck and before I know it, Reaper and Dr. McCormick have Charlie down off the truck and into the bed of a pickup. Without saying a word, or waiting for us, the pickup takes off up a dirt road and is lost from sight.

  “Charlie!” Stella yells, reaching out for him. “Charlie!” She then buries her face in my chest as Critter steps from the cab.

  “Come on,” Critter says. “I’ll drive you to my holler. I know the short cuts. My guys will get the rest of the folks back there squared away.”

  “He wasn’t breathing,” Stella sobs. “Oh, God, Jace, he wasn’t breathing.”

  Chapter Ten

  Detonation Day plus ten.

  “There’s not much I can say,” Critter frowns as he addresses the group of people that sit by the newly made graveyard. “Lost some good folk, we did. I lost some men I’ve known for twenty some years. Lost some friends I just met only a couple months ago. Young, old, healthy, sick... didn’t matter, God done took them up into his arms.”

  Critter wipes at his eyes and gives the crowd a shy smile.

  “I ain’t the sentimental type, but I do know what love is,” Critter continues. “And there weren’t a person living or dead that I loved more than my brother. He was there for me my entire life, he was. Even when I was a young hellraiser, doin’ everythin’ in my power to get tossed in jail, Hollis was there. He’d bail me out and even try to talk my daddy out of beatin’ the holy tar outta me. Didn’t work none; Daddy liked beating the tar outta folk, especially his boys.

  “Hollis was not that man. He was fair and kind and filled with God’s love. And filled for a love of his family. His boys, and his baby girl, he loved more than God, I think. He’d have never admitted it, but if push came to shove, I’m pretty sure Hollis Fitzpatrick would have clocked the Almighty Himself if it meant protectin’ his kin.”

  There were many nods of agreement and several loud sniffs and sobs.

  “I’ll miss that man. And I know I ain’t the only one. Godspeed, Big Daddy. Time to run the big Farm in the sky. I’m sure they could use yer help.”

  Critter wipes his eyes again and takes his seat with the rest. Melissa reaches out and grabs his hand, putting it to her lips. He smiles at her and puts an arm around her shoulders. Behind him, his nephews lean forward and each give him a pat. Critter looks back and gives them a nod then scans the large crowd.

  “Where’s Long Pork and Missus Long Pork at?” Critter asks. “They didn’t come?”

  “Charlie,” Stuart says from the other side of Melissa.

  “Oh, right,” Critter nods.

  Stuart stands up and takes a deep breath and walks to the front of the crowd.

  “I guess, being the senior military man here, I get to say some words about Master Sergeant Platt,” Stuart begins. “I didn’t know him as well as I would have liked, but I did know what a true hero that man was. We’ve all heard the story from Antoinette about his sacrifice. I promise that sacrifice won’t go to waste. Before I go on, I want to remind you of the meeting later tonight. I hope y’all can attend. We don’t have a lot of time to work things out so every bit of input is appreciated.”

  Stuart looks out and sees several nods, but also a lot of scared and skeptical faces.

  “So, Master Sergeant Platt. Where do I start? Oh, I know. There was this time, just after Jace blew up Whispering pines...”

  I SETTLE ANOTHER BLANKET across his chest, making sure he stays warm as he just lies there, still as a corpse.

  Jesus, what a fucking thing to say. Where the fuck did that come from? If Stella had heard me say that she’d have cut my nuts off right then and made me take it back while knocking wood with said castrated handful.

  He’s not a corpse; my son lives. Although it has been touch and go.

  After Critter’s men got him up to the holler, Reaper was able to stabilize him. Between Reaper, Dr. McCormick, and a man that lived in the holler and used to be a veterinarian, they got the metal out of Charlie’s chest. It took fifteen hours and nearly drained the whole holler of blood. I’m pretty sure there are still people only half full walking around.

  I sit down and settle into the chair, trying to get comfortable. Which isn’t easy since Stumpageddon is still wrapped tightly to my body. I have to have the dressings changed once a day so the shoulder can be drained. Bits of fractured bone still squeeze out of the drainage holes. Yeah, it’s pretty fucking gross, but I’m alive, so I have that going for me.

  Stumpageddon? His fighting days are done. I’m going to have to put Mr. Spikey to rest. Dr. McCormick doubts I’ll regain any mobility in my shoulder. In fact, she’d like to take the rest of the arm off. I told her I’d think on it. Why ruin such an enjoyable experience like having pieces of bones squirted from bloody holes? I need to savor those moments just a bit longer.

  “He’ll wake up,” Elsbeth says from behind me, pulling me from my stupid thoughts. She drags a chair over and turns it around, sitting down with her arms folded over the back. “He’s tough like his mama.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “No, I mean it. I’d rather he be tough like her than weak like me.”

  “You ain’t weak, Long Pork,” Elsbeth says. “Just not so bright sometimes.”

  “That’s what they tell me,” I say. “You go to the memorial?”

  “For a minute. I didn’t stay long,” Elsbeth says. “The others did. They’ll say goodbye for me.”

  “You don’t want to say a few words about your fallen sisters?”

  Elsbeth shrugs. “Don’t know what to say. I didn’t know them, the ones that died. They weren’t there then they were then they weren’t.”

  “And you didn’t want to say anything about...Julio?” I ask. “You guys were lovers.”

  “Same thing,” she says and snaps her fingers. “There and gone.”

  “That’s life,” I say, looking at my son’s peaceful face. “One day there, the next day gone.”

  “Where’s Stella? Greta?” Elsbeth asks, looking around. “They weren’t at the funeral, neither.”

  “Asleep,” I reply. “Stella was in here all night again and Greta hasn’t been sleeping so well lately.”

  “She having the scary dreams?” Elsbeth asks.

  “Yeah. She wakes up screaming and calling Charlie’s name. She says all she sees is a helicopter chasing him then, when it finally reaches him, the rotors chop him all up.”

  “That is scary,” Elsbeth nods. “I have one with a tiger and a chainsaw.”

  I look at her and raise an eyebrow and she just shrugs. We sit there for a while, watching Charlie’s chest slowly rise and fall.

  “Listen,” I start, “we need to talk about your mother.”

  “No,” she states flatly.

  “Yes,” I insist. “The planning meeting is tonight and we’ve already lost ten days. Your mother isn’t going to let it all go. She’ll come after us.”

  “She can try,” Elsbeth says and shrugs again. “I’ll be here.”

  “She’s your mom,” I say. “Don’t you want to find out why she’s in charge of the Consortium? Don’t you want answers?”

  “I have answers,” she says, tapping her temple. “And they’re mine.”

  “No, they aren’t
,” I snap. “This is bigger than you, El! We need to know what you know! I’ve talked with all of your sisters, or whatever they are, and they’ve given me as much as they know.”

  “No, they haven’t,” she says.

  “What do you mean? You think they’re holding back information?”

  “Yes,” Elsbeth says.

  “Why? Why would they do that?” I ask.

  Elsbeth stands up and starts walking away. “Why? Because that’s how we are made.”

  I grab her wrist and pull her back. “Made? What the hell are you talking about? See! This is the shit you have to spill!”

  “You don’t spill shit,” Elsbeth says, looking at my hand, which I remove from her wrist, then looking back at me. “Spilling shit would be a mess.”

  I watch her for a second then smile. She smiles too.

  “El, I love you like family...”

  “Because I am family.”

  “And in a family you have to be honest. You have to trust. If family is for nothing else, it’s at least for that.”

  Her face changes a million times, as she fights the emotions waging war inside her. She starts to speak, stops, starts again, stops, takes a deep breath and starts.

  “Dad?” a weak voice rasps. “Hey...”

  “Charlie?” I ask, turning from Elsbeth, unsure I even heard his voice. I tend to hear a lot of voices in my head these days, so I never quite know.

  “Yep,” he grins without opening his eyes. Then he frowns. “I don’t...feel...so...good.”

  “I’ll get Stella!” Elsbeth says.

  “No, get Reaper and Dr. McCormick!” I shout after her as she runs from the room. “Then get Stella!”

  “I’m...really...thirsty,” Charlie says.

  “I don’t know if I can give you water,” I say. “I’d hate for you to spring a leak, Rambo.”

  Charlie frowns and his eyes flutter open. He squints against the light and looks over at me. “Rambo? I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means,” I say as I grip his hand, “that you’re a motherfucking hero, bud. I’ve heard all about what you did. Everyone has. They were going to put up a statue to you if you croaked.”

  “They were?” he asks.

  “No, not really,” I laugh. “Who has time to make a statue?”

  He smiles weakly. “You sure I can’t have some water? My throat hurts.”

  “Then stop talking,” I say. “Save your voice for your mother.”

  On cue, Stella rushes into the room and I have to hold her back and keep her from grabbing Charlie up in her arms. She calms down and puts her hand across his forehead.

  “Oh, my sweet baby,” she says. “My sweet boy.”

  “Hey, bro,” Greta says from the doorway.

  “Where’s Reaper?” I ask. “Elsbeth was supposed to get him first.”

  “She told me you said that,” Stella says, taking time to give me a death glare. “We’ll talk about that later.”

  “Can’t,” I say, “got a meeting tonight. Sorry.”

  “Asshole,” she smiles.

  “A sexy asshole,” I smile back.

  “Are you two trying to make him sicker?” Greta asks as she shoves between us and leans down and gives Charlie a kiss on the forehead. “Welcome back.”

  “How long was I asleep?” Charlie asks.

  “Ten days,” I say. “Scariest ten days of our lives.”

  “Scarier than after Z-Day?” he asks.

  “Way scarier,” Stella says. “So don’t ever fight helicopters again, you hear me? Leave that to the professionals.”

  “There are professional helicopter fighters?” I ask. “How do I get in on the gig?”

  “You’d never get hired,” Greta says. “You’d be more like a helicopter clown, get it? Like in the rodeo?”

  “Yeah, I get it,” I frown, “thanks.”

  “Excuse me,” Reaper says, “can I sneak in here?”

  We move quickly and let Reaper do an examination of Charlie and his wound. It takes about a billion minutes past forever, but he finally turns to us and gives a smile.

  “I was able to inflate his lung, and it sounds like it’s holding strong, but he’s not out of the woods yet,” he says. “We’ll see how he does when he’s up and about.”

  “How long will that be?” Stella asks.

  “Not sure,” Reaper shrugs. “I don’t have enough experience to know. Maybe a week or two?”

  “We don’t have that kind of time,” I say quietly.

  “Why?” Charlie asks.

  “Never you mind,” Stella says, “you worry about getting better.”

  She looks at me and is about to speak when Gunga comes running in.

  “Uh, Mr. Stanford?” he says.

  “Gunga, call me Jace, please,” I reply.

  “Sure, fine,” he nods. “I think we need you outside. A couple people want to say some words about Brenda Kelly and well, it’s getting kinda ugly.”

  “Jesus,” I mutter and follow Gunga outside.

  We make our way through trailers and walkways, down stairs and ramps, until we are walking into the open valley below all the dwellings secured to the cliffs. I have to catch my breath and steady myself before marching up to the crowd that is busy yelling and shouting. I see Stuart trying to break it up, but he’s overmatched by the majority that are spitting curses back and forth with an almost equally vocal minority. Critter is just standing aside smiling, of course.

  “Hey!” I shout. “HEY!”

  Heads turn and they see me coming. Everyone slowly stops yelling, but they are far from calmed down. I walk to the makeshift podium and look each of them in the eye. Which takes fucking forever.

  “Someone wants to say some words for Brenda Kelly?” I ask.

  There are nods and grunts and a few shouts (for and against) and I have to hold my hand up to get it chilled again.

  “Fine,” I say, “I think all the dead deserve some last words.”

  Everyone, to the last man and woman, is stunned. Guess they didn’t see that coming.

  “Brenda Kelly was an intolerable bitch,” I start, “but she was also one hell of an administrator. Despite being evil to the bone, she did get us through those first few months back at Whispering Pines. I know many of you only met her after coming here to Asheville with Mondello, but let me tell you she wasn’t always a disagreeable troll.” I laugh. “Well, yeah, she was. But that’s beside the point. What really matters is that, in her own warped way, she cared about Whispering Pines and its residents. She honestly did. She worried about them and she fretted about them and she did everything in her power to make the place as secure as possible. Sure, that power warped her walnut brain, but that’s what power does.”

  There are a few grumbles, but they let me continue.

  “Deep down I don’t think Brenda liked who she had become, even before Z-Day, and she overcompensated for that. I’m just pop psychologizing here, but I think that’s the root of it. She backed herself into a corner, which only got worse post-Z, and she didn’t know how to get out. She had a lot of hate and anger and that was her go to when pushed to the limit.

  “But in the end she did work her ass off for the people she represented. She gave a crap about her responsibilities and duties. As crazytown as that woman was, you couldn’t call her a slacker. She was devoted to making sure some semblance of society survived.”

  The crowd is silent except for a few coughs and sniffs.

  “And that’s what it’s all about, right?” I ask them. “Making sure some semblance of society survives? It won’t ever be the same as pre-Z. That’s not possible. But it can be good. Well, as good as we can make it. That’s why I need every single one of you to be at the meeting tonight.”

  There are some groans.

  “No, no, I’m serious. Brenda would be at that meeting, you know that. Big Daddy would be at that meeting, you know that too. But this isn’t about leaders, this is about lives. Your lives. We need your input, we need
your thoughts, we need you.”

  I nod and walk away from the podium.

  “Be there, please. We don’t have much time. We never have.”

  DETONATION DAY PLUS eighteen.

  “I don’t like it,” I say, “it leaves us defenseless.”

  “Thanks,” Stuart says as we sit around the tables that have been pushed together for our last meeting before evacuation. “Way to make an old man feel special.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it,” I reply, leaning back in my chair and looking at the other faces that have joined us in Critter’s “saloon” to go over the final plans before we leave in two days. “I just meant that with Cassie and the sisters off on their mission, we’ll only have Critter’s men, John, Reaper, and Elsbeth to help protect us between here and Kansas City.”

  “Lourdes and her PCs will meet us along the way,” Buzz says. “Soon as they scout ahead. Supposed to wait for us just past Knoxville.”

  “My guys are ready,” Critter adds. “Plus you have my other nephews, not to mention my niece.”

  “And it’s not like everyone else hasn’t seen some type of combat,” John adds. “Hell, your kids can fight like the best of them.”

  “Charlie isn’t fighting shit,” Stella says from my side. “He’ll be sitting in a backseat with a book.”

  “With a rifle across his lap,” John says. “The kid can shoot. You don’t take down a chopper like he did without natural ability.”

  “He got lucky,” Stella says.

  “Then he has that on his side,” John says. “Just proves my point.”

  “I don’t think it does,” Stella frowns.

  “Okay, okay, we’re getting off point,” I say. “What I’m trying to get across is most everyone is shell shocked. I don’t know how much fight they have left and we have hundreds of miles to cover through a fucking zombie wasteland. I’d prefer if the sisters stayed with us.”