Z-Burbia 2: Parkway To Hell

by Bible, Jake

  “Okay,” John says then turns and takes aim. “Everyone may want to close their ears. Oh, and get the fuck down.”

  He barely waits for us to do either of those things as he opens fire. Even with my hands pressed to my ears it’s so fucking loud! I’m willing to bet most old soldiers are stone fucking deaf. I’ll be deaf in about ten seconds, I do know that.

  John stops and we all wait, then when we know it’s clear we sit up and look behind us. We wait…wait…wait…fuck! Headlights. John curses and ejects the magazine so he can throw a fresh one in. He pulls back the slide and smiles.

  “One more time, folks,” John says. “Cover your ears and get down.”

  We do. He shoots until the gun clicks empty. Again, we wait then pop back up and look behind.

  Waiting…waiting…waiting…waiting…

  “I think we- Shit fuck!” I yell, turning to John. “You sure you know how to use that thing?”

  “Fuck you, Long Pork,” John says, replacing the magazine.

  The headlights behind us are gaining quickly. I see muzzle flashes and shout, “Get down!”

  Everyone does, but it doesn’t matter. The bullets weren’t for us, they’re for the tires.

  “Fuck!” Stuart yells as he struggles to keep control of the SUV.

  I know what a run flat wheel is. It’s reinforced with a band of steel covering the rim so that if the tire is shot out the vehicle can still keep going. I used to watch a lot of Discovery Channel. In theory, run flats are great. Especially during the day. On an open, flat, wide road.

  Not so much on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

  Stuart keeps struggling, but then a second tire is shot out and it’s goodnight, Irene. The SUV fish tails and for one second, I’m pretty sure we’re going right over the edge. But Stuart is able to twist the wheel and send us the other way. Right into the side of the mountain.

  The impact is insane. You know those slow motion crash test dummy videos? Yeah, that. Time completely slows down and it’s like I’m watching every single molecule, broken down to its atoms, flying by me as we slam into nothing but rock. Everyone strains their seat belts then bounces back, slamming into their seats.

  Glass and metal protest then break and tear. Shards slice my cheeks, my forehead, my arms, and my neck. I hear screaming, but have no idea if it’s mine or someone else’s. Probably both. Pretty sure we’re all screaming, but I’m also close to deaf from the gunfire and the big crashing and smashing, so who fucking knows.

  The SUV careens off the mountain and rolls backward, spinning completely around. Oh, hey, look…now we’re heading for the edge! Fucking joy of joys.

  I watch in horror as the SUV slides closer and closer and closer and OH, FUCK WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!

  But we don’t. We hit the guardrail and crumple it, the nose of the SUV teetering over the edge. I can feel blood flowing from the hundreds of cuts I’ve sustained. My hands come away bloody as I feel myself to make sure I don’t have any serious injuries. Not that bleeding like a stuck pig isn’t serious, just not broken bone or ruptured spleen serious.

  The headlights are getting closer.

  Shit.

  “Crawl out the back,” Stuart says as he unbuckles and carefully pushes himself into the back seat, helping Charlie and Greta climb over to me. “John? You cool?”

  “As a mother fucking cucumber,” John says. “Right behind you.”

  I crawl out of the broken back window and help Stella and the kids out onto the shoulder of the road. Stuart helps Critter out since he’s pretty fucking banged up and dazed. I’m guessing he’s losing a lot of blood from that shoulder wound.

  “What the fuck?” Stuart says as he climbs out, looking from the back of the SUV and then to me. “That would have been nice to know about.”

  “I was trying to tell everyone when all the shooting and the crashing happened,” I say. “I’m guessing John can use that?”

  “Use what?” John asks as he gets to the way back seat and looks into the cargo area. “Holy shit. Yeah. I can use that.”

  “Use what?” Charlie asks.

  “The big gun we crawled over to get out,” Greta says. “How have you not been eaten yet?”

  “Kids,” Stella warns. “Shut the fuck up.”

  Stuart gets the tailgate open and John is just one big smile as he pulls the very large gun out of the SUV. His smile gets even bigger as he sees the box of magazines that go with it.

  “Fucking Barret M82 or Army XM107, if you want to get specific,” John says. “Whoa, wait, this is the upgrade. A mother fucking M107A1! Hell yeah to the might of the .50 caliber, bitches!”

  John doesn’t even hesitate, just walks out into the middle of the road, lies down and sets the rifle up. He pulls back the slide, secures the rifle against his good shoulder, which, lucky for us, is his shooting shoulder, takes aim and fires.

  HOLY CRAP THAT THING IS LOUD!

  If he’d shot that inside the SUV our eardrums would have burst.

  We watch as the approaching headlights (plural) turn into headlight (singular). John laughs then squeezes off three more rounds. Then giggles and fires a fourth. We see sparks and fire erupt from under the hood of the SUV and the vehicle swerves to the left, slamming into the mountain. But unlike our fun-filled thrill ride, it just smashes and doesn’t bounce back.

  John repositions the rifle and opens fire until the magazine is empty. As he’s busy replacing it, gunfire comes from inside the SUV and we all hit the ground. Stella covers the kids with her body and I cover her with mine. Stuart drags Critter over around our SUV as bullets kick up dirt right next to them.

  “Fuckers,” John says then unloads the new magazine.

  There’s a couple screams and then the enemy fire stops. We all wait, our heads still down.

  “Clear?” Stuart asks.

  I take a peek and see John still aiming at the SUV. He’s put a fresh magazine in the rifle, but he holds his fire.

  “John?” Stuart calls out.

  “Hold,” John says. “Sniper senses are tingling.”

  And he’s right as bullets crack the pavement next to him. He shoves up to his knees and grabs the rifle, crouch running his way over to the SUV.

  “Get better cover!” John shouts at me. “Jesus fuck, Long Pork! Move your family!”

  I scramble up and help Stella and the kids find cover by sliding over to the side and ducking behind a row of rocks set to help reinforce the guardrail. We get there just in time as bullets shatter parts of the rocks, sending chunks flying into the air. Stella and the kids are screaming as the gunfire continues. Yes, I’m screaming too.

  “I can do this all day, fuckers!” Cowboy shouts from the enemy SUV. “You even peak that rifle out and I’ll send a round straight down the barrel, sniper boy!”

  “Gonna run out of ammo some time!” Stuart yells. “Then we come for you!”

  “Not likely!” And just to make a point he unloads on us again.

  “I think he’s the only one left,” Charlie says to me, barely heard over the rifle fire.

  “Your point?” Greta asks.

  Charlie does point, into the darkness to our left. “If we get around there we can come at him from behind.”

  “There’s no place to go,” Stella says. “It’s just rock and a cliff.”

  “No, there’s a ledge,” Charlie says. “See? You can just make it out.”

  “Great,” I say, knowing whose job it will be to make that trip. “Keep him talking and focused this way.”

  “What the fuck are you thinking?” Stella says. “I do not see a ledge.”

  More gunfire and chips of rock shower down on us.

  “I have to do this,” I say. “Mondello is already way ahead of us. We can’t just wait here.”

  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.”