Z-Burbia Box Set | Books 4-6 [The Road Trip Trilogy]

by Bible, Jake

  “How very unfortunate,” Kramer said. “That does not bode well for the survival of the human species.”

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked. “You’re supposed to be up in the haul truck?”

  “Oh, am I?” Kramer said. “I figured since my guards left that I was free to come out and see what all the commotion was.”

  We could hear Critter cursing and shouting. Then he joined our large group of looky-loos. His arms gesticulated this way and that as he frothed at the mouth.

  “YOU POSSUM ASS SUCKING MORONS!” Critter yelled at a pair of men that tried to duck away, but just weren’t fast enough. “YOU HAD ONE FUCKIN’ JOB! ONE JOB!”

  “Someone’s getting fired,” Greta smirked as she turned and walked away. “I’ll be waiting in the Explorer. Let me know when it’s time to get moving again.”

  “Come on,” Buzz said as he grabbed Kramer’s arm. “Back to your cage.”

  “You realize you are talking to a man with seven PhDs and over two thousand patents?” Kramer snapped. “I do not need to be manhandled like a child!”

  “Do you realize you are talking to a man that doesn’t care whether you live or die?” Buzz replied. “Personally,y your science crap doesn’t impress me. These days, all I need is God and I’m good.”

  “You’re one of those religious nuts, are you?” Kramer sneered.

  “Nope,” Buzz said. “Just a man of faith that has been tested again and again since the dead started to walk the Earth. And that faith has gotten me a lot further over the years than science has.”

  “You think science hasn’t helped...” Kramer started, but stopped when Buzz smacked him in the back of the head. Hard.

  “Save your breath,” Buzz said. “I’m not stupid. I just have room in me to believe in both faith and science. Try it sometime. You’d be surprised what worlds open up to you.”

  “Damn,” I said to Melissa. “Your brother has gone all guru and shit.”

  “Cram it up your poopchute, Long Pork,” Buzz called back to me.

  “Hey! I was giving you a compliment!’ I snapped.

  “Hard to tell with you sometimes,” Buzz replied as he basically dragged Kramer back to the haul truck.

  “It is hard to tell sometimes,” Melissa said from my side.

  We got up to the haul truck and Buzz forced Kramer to climb into one of the shelters while the rest of us walked to the side of the road where Stuart stood over a bleeding man that didn’t look like he had much longer to live.

  “Not highwaymen,” Stuart said as he nudged the guy with his boot. “At least not the ones Critter was used to. From what I got out of this guy, it sounds like new gangs were starting to move across the mountains.”

  “Gangs? What gangs?” I asked.

  Critter knelt down next to the dying man and ripped open is bloody shirt. The man’s chest was scarred by all kinds of crappy tattoos and burn marks.

  “Son of a bitch,” he sighed. “I didn’t think the idiots had the balls to come this far. Thought they’d always stay on the other side of Knoxville.”

  “Care to tell the rest of us what that means?” I asked.

  Critter stood up and shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked down I-40.

  “Cannies,” he said.

  We all waited for more, but Critter just kept staring at the road ahead of us.

  “I’m going to speak for everyone and say that we’re gonna need a little more info than that,” I said.

  “Well,” Critter replied as he turned his attention on to me. “It used to be that from Knoxville to Nashville it was nothin’ but cannibal gangs. They never came this close to the mountains because I kinda made it worth their while to stay away and they didn’t know the coves and hollers like us mountain folk do.”

  “Hold on,” Stuart said. “You knew there would be cannibal gangs and didn’t bother to tell us?”

  Critter shrugged. “I’d figured they’d wiped themselves out. Can’t be no survivors left for them to eat, so they had to have turned on each other by now. I guess some got bold and moved into the mountains looking for new food sources. Gotta give them credit for makin’ it this far.”

  We all just stood there, stunned by the revelation.

  “Okay, let’s put aside the fact you are an idiot, Critter,” Stella said. “How many gangs are we talking?”

  “Don’t rightly know,” Critter said. “There were about half a dozen last time I checked, but that was a couple years back.” He held up his hands before anyone else could speak. “Now, in my defense, I did tell Lourdes and her soldier folk about them. I figured if they were still a threat that Lourdes would have sent someone to tell us. When we didn’t hear nothin’ I assumed it was all good.”

  “Or maybe Lourdes and her people ran into some trouble and couldn’t get someone back to warn us,” I said. “That’s a possibility.”

  “Nah,” Critter said. “The canny gangs ain’t smart enough to take on Lourdes. They’d be a pain in the ass, that’s for sure, but ain’t a one of them got the skills that those PCs have in their pinky fingers.”

  I looked up at the haul truck.

  “There may be someone that can shed a little more light on this situation,” I said. “Can someone help me up into the haul truck?” I waved Stumpageddon and winced at the pain in my collarbone. “Can’t quite do it myself.”

  I WAS SWEATING PRETTY hard, and had swallowed a ton of pride, by the time I sat down across from Kramer in one of the shelters bolted into the haul truck’s bed.

  “You have the look of a man in need of information, Mr. Stanford,” Kramer grinned. “I’m glad to see one of you came to your senses and realized that I am here to help, not hurt.”

  “I’m not going to kid myself that that is true,” I said. “But maybe something you know can help, even if I suspect your intentions overall are far from charitable.”

  “Well, I admit they certainly are not entirely charitable,” Kramer. “That would be saying that I lack the motivation of self-preservation. I’d be a liar if I said I came to you fine people for other reasons than to just prolong my life.”

  “What’s on the other side of Knoxville?” I asked, done with the banter. “Critter says it used to be controlled by canny gangs. Is it still?”

  Kramer smiled and eased back into the plastic chair he sat in. “Control is such a subjective word. There are many degrees of control. Control of movement, control of one’s environment, control of those around you, self-control- all very subjective, indeed. One could argue that I control this conversation by having information you need, yet I am sure you would say you control the entire situation by keeping me captive. Which version of control dominates? Which one is supreme over the other? I am your prisoner, but you are at my mercy.”

  “You want to talk mercy?” Stuart growled as he stood by the door.

  “Ah, then the physical threats begin,” Kramer said, “which I cannot match. The tables turn and the position of strength is revealed.”

  “Is it possible for you to just answer my question?” I asked. “All your jabber, jabber, jabber is giving me a headache.”

  Stuart snorted.

  “Shut up,” I smirked. “I see the irony.”

  “Your question was what? If there are cannibal gangs to the west of Knoxville?” Kramer smiled. “That is easy to answer: yes.”

  “Okay, now we are getting somewhere,” I said. “Critter also believes they have probably eaten themselves down to nothing. Is that true?”

  “Down to nothing? Oh, heavens no, son!” Kramer laughed. “Those gangs are thriving! From a strictly anthropological view, I would say they are quite possibly the strongest culture I have seen sprout up from this nightmarish landscape. They have adapted as needed and taken that adaptation to new heights. No, no, no, Mr. Critter is quite mistaken. The cannibal gangs are far from down to nothing.”

  “Great,” I responded as I looked over at Stuart. “Not exactly what we were prepared for.”

  �
�We can get through,” Stuart said. “We may not have known we’d be dealing with thriving canny gangs, but we knew we’d be dealing with plenty of crazies. These’ll just be the first.”

  “Don’t underestimate them, Gunnery Sergeant,” Kramer said. “They are crazy, yes, but they are also not stupid. The ones that have made it this far in life are wily like any true predatory scavenger. They are like packs of hyenas. Get enough of them together and even a lion cannot scare them off.”

  “Fine,” Stuart said. “Then give us details. We need to know how many of them there are and where they camp out. Do they hunt at night? Do they hunt during the day? Are they armed or use vehicles? Or have they run out of ammo and fuel? Spill everything you know and you get to live another day.”

  “Gunnery Sergeant Stuart,” Kramer sighed. “You do not need to keep threatening me. How many times must I state that fact?”

  “I could give a fuck,” Stuart said. “Keep stating it all you want. I’m going to keep threatening you because I want you to know that you only have a future with us because I allow it to happen.”

  “How very democratic of you,” Kramer smirked. “I’m sure your fellow survivors would love to know that’s your attitude. Do they have a future as well because you allow them to?”

  “Blah blah blah,” Stuart said. “Just tell us what you know.”

  “Fine,” Kramer said as he coughed and tapped at his chest. “May I have a glass of water first, please?”

  “No,” Stuart stated.

  “My throat is parched and I could use something to...” Kramer started, but didn’t get to finish as Stuart moved forward and punched him in the nose.

  “Feel that blood trickling down the back of your throat?” Stuart grinned. “That should wet your whistle.”

  Kramer grabbed at his face as blood poured from around his fingers.

  “Dude,” I said to Stuart before I found a rag and handed it to Kramer, “now his voice is going to be all nasal and annoying.”

  “Your concern for my wellbeing is admirable,” Kramer said as held the rag to his bleeding nose.

  “How about this?” I asked. “You tell us what we need to know and we leave you alone for a while? I’d say after that sock to the face that’s a fair deal.”

  “There are a minimum of half a dozen cannibal gangs stationed outside Knoxville,” Kramer said.

  “But not all the way to Nashville?” I asked.

  “Not that I am aware of,” Kramer answered. “But I could be mistaken. The main corridor of death is the stretch of I-40 just past the I-75 junction.”

  “But not in Knoxville?” Stuart asked. “Why not stay in the city itself?”

  “They like the openness the road provides,” Kramer said. “Cities are too constrictive for them. Day in and day out their individual gang territories grow and shrink depending on their successes or failures in Cannibal Road.”

  “They have a name for it?” I laughed. “Seriously?”

  Kramer just grinned.

  “How have they grown?” Stuart asked. “You said they have grown and flourished? Considering they eat their recruitment base, how can that be possible?”

  “They prey on and eat the weak first, of course,” Kramer said. “Those they do not deem worthy to become a part of their twisted clubs. After that, it is a matter of staying in line. If a member does not follow the rules or decides they are more important than the good of the overall group, then they become the next item on the menu.”

  “So they fight and kill amongst themselves,” Stuart said. “I assume they also eat their enemies from other gangs.”

  “Oh, they certainly do,” Kramer said. “It’s a long tradition from the dawn of man. Eat your enemies and you gain their strengths.”

  “You also gain their maladies,” I responded. “It’s not exactly healthy to be a cannibal. Prions and all that.”

  “Yes, so very true,” Kramer said. “Those that subsist on human meat will eventually start to have serious cerebral and psychological stability issues. But not nearly as bad as say bovine spongiform encephalopathy. With cows, it spreads quickly, but with humans, it is more a case by case basis. Some go mad after only a few months of constantly consuming human meat while others last years without a single symptom.”

  “That means we could be dealing with people that are not only semi-sane,” I said. “But people that have years of experience hunting and catching humans.” I looked at Stuart and frowned.

  “Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing,” Stuart said. “I hope Lourdes and her crew stopped on the far side of Knoxville and didn’t try to scout ahead. They’re good, but it isn’t their home turf.”

  “They could already be canny chow,” I said.

  “Oooh, how unappetizing,” Kramer said. “I was going to ask for a bite to eat, but I think I’ve lost the stomach for it.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I replied.

  STUART AND I RELAYED all the information to the others, but it wasn’t like it made much of a difference. We didn’t have the fuel and resources to go around that stretch of I-40. Even if we did, who was to say that there wasn’t some other fucking hell waiting for us in a different direction?

  Nope, we were pretty much stuck on the path we had already set foot on.

  While Stuart and I had been getting info from Kramer, Melissa and her brothers had been going from vehicle to vehicle to make sure we didn’t have any other hijackings or stowaways. They actually found a guy hanging underneath a Chevy Blazer, but he was way too whacked out of his head to tell us anything useful.

  Pup and Porky Fitzpatrick found three vehicles that had sustained enough damage from the attack in the mountains that it was decided to move the supplies and occupants from those into other vehicles. We just couldn’t risk a truck breaking down when we needed to make up the time we’d already lost.

  It was a couple hours before we decided we were ready to push on and hopefully reach Knoxville before nightfall. We wanted to get as close as possible, but also have time to get everyone secure and our position fortified for the night. We could fit most people in the structures in the haul truck bed, but it was a squeeze and a lot of us would need to be out guarding the convoy anyway.

  Especially since we knew, we weren’t just dealing with Zs, but gangs of people that eat people. That’s never a fun surprise in the middle of the night.

  By the time we reached the outskirts of Knoxville, the sun had started to set and we knew it was time to call it a night. Stuart began barking orders, as did Critter. Between them and the Fitzpatricks, we had things pretty much squared away within an hour. A sentry schedule was put in place and we made sure there was a driver in every vehicle in case we needed to move fast in the night. They didn’t have to stay awake, but they did have to be ready to wake the fuck up and put the pedal to the metal if/when needed.

  I insisted that Stella and the kids get up in the haul truck, and I would stay with the Explorer. I may not have been in the best shape to drive long distances, but I could start the SUV and make some tracks if I needed to. Stella only agreed when Elsbeth said she’d hang with me through the night. I know my wife was not happy about it, but I could also see she was dead tired and the rest would be good for her. It was probably her need to sleep that really won out.

  The night was cool and clear as Elsbeth and I sat in the Explorer with the windows down and listened to the crickets and late peepers make their night noises.

  “Did you ever hear about canny gangs?” I asked her. “Did any members come into Asheville to check out the scene?”

  It was pretty dark, but I could still easily see the indignant look Elsbeth gave me.

  “What?” I asked. “It’s a fair question.”

  “You think because I was a canny that I knew all the cannies?” Elsbeth grumbled. “Is that what you think, Long Pork? That we all know each other?”

  “Well, no, but I thought I’d ask,” I said. “No need to get all defensive. It was worth a shot.”

  She was q
uiet for a while then sighed. “Yeah. We’d heard of there being gangs of cannies.”

  “What?” I nearly shouted. “You did? You made me feel like an asshole when the answer was yes? Not cool, El. Not cool at all.”

  “I can’t make you feel nothing,” she countered. “If you felt like an asshole then that’s your problem.”

  “Okay, I don’t want to fight about the emotional and psychological dynamics of assholery,” I said. “Just tell me what you know about the canny gangs.”

  “Not much,” she replied. “Pa came across a couple people here and there that would talk about the gangs. Sometimes, they were just folks that had come from far away and made it through without getting caught. Some were folks that escaped and some were actually from the gangs. Didn’t really matter what they said since it all turned out the same in the end.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “How’d it all turn out the same?”

  Elsbeth patted her stomach. “We ate ‘em.”

  “Oh...right,” I responded. “Stupid me.”

  “Yep. Stupid you.”

  We stayed quiet for a bit, but I just couldn’t let it go.

  “So you didn’t learn anything from any of them?” I asked. “Like how many gangs there were or how many people were in the gangs? They didn’t say where they came from? Like where they camped out or anything?”

  “Nope,” Elsbeth said. “They all just said the same thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Please don’t eat me,” Elsbeth replied. “It’s what everyone would say in the end.”

  “Yeah, I can relate to that,” I sighed as I thought back on my brief time as a captive of Elsbeth and Pa. “It’s really all you can think to say in that moment.”

  Apparently, Elsbeth found that funny. She started to giggle and laugh, and had to cover her mouth with both hands to keep from being too loud. Having known Elsbeth for a while, I just waited out the giggle fit.

  “You done?” I asked as she got herself under control.

  “I am,” she said. “That felt good.”