by Bible, Jake
“Dad!” Greta screams.
She sure does scream at me a lot.
I shove the last Z away and hurry to where my kids are stranded, their backs to the edge of the quarry with three Zs coming right for them.
“Move!” I yell.
The kids each dive out of the way, as I rush the Zs and give them a hard shove. The first two go flying out over the edge and down into the dark pit below, but the third twists and grabs onto my ankle before falling. My legs go out from under me and I find myself being pulled by the weight of the Z right off the edge of the quarry.
“No!” Stella rasps as she wraps her hands under my armpits and pulls. “You’re staying here!”
The Z still has a hold of my ankle, but a couple whacks with the lead pipe shatters its wrist and it goes falling down to join its friends. Except for its hand that is still gripping my ankle. Stella keeps pulling me until we are well away from the edge. She frowns at the Z hand, tears it from my leg, and then throws it off into the quarry.
“Thanks, baby,” I smile at her.
“Any time,” she says, her voice a throaty croak. It’s kinda sexy, really.
“I am so gonna make you talk dirty to me once we get away from this shit,” I say.
“Fuck you,” she smiles.
I get to my feet and scan the area. No Zs are coming at us, but there are plenty in the meadow doing a pretty damn fine job at thinning the canny population of Tennessee. Not that the cannies are losing, mind you. There are a good number that have the skills needed to take on more than their share of Zs. You could say that Z bodies are going down two to every one canny.
This means, now that I think of it, that the cannies are winning. That’s bad. I hate rooting for the Zs, but if given the choice between mindless killing and eating machines and killing and eating machines with minds, I’ll go mindless anytime.
You know what I mean. Shut up.
“Eat the shit and die, fucker killer fucker shit for fuck!” Elsbeth screams, bringing our attention back to our adopted member of the Stanford family unit.
No blades and no steel rods, Elsbeth and Barfly face each other, fists up, as they circle and look for their opponent’s weakness.
This is something I don’t see everyday. I don’t mean the senseless violence because I do tend to see that everyday. No, I mean that Elsbeth isn’t flat out winning. This is a woman that was not only brainwashed and trained to be an assassin, but she spent quite a few years as a canny herself. She knows how to fight and kill better than most elite soldiers do.
Or did. Not that there are a whole lot of elite soldiers left in the world. I think. I could be totally wrong since this is the first road trip I’ve taken in a long time.
Barfly comes in with a feint to Elsbeth’s right, but she refuses to fall for it and brings up her left arm as his real hook comes flying at her. That leaves her open for the headbutt. Bam! Elsbeth takes a shot to her nose from Barfly’s forehead. She stumbles back a couple of feet, but shakes it off.
“You suck, fucking asshole fucker fuck shit fuck shitter!” Elsbeth snarls.
Yeah, she learned all that from my kids. I’m so proud.
“Potty mouth, crazy chick bro,” Barfly laughs. “I like that. Why you gotta fight me, crazy chick bro? We’ve had some good times these past couple days, right? I treated you right. You even told me all about Long Pork. Why we fightin’ now, crazy chick bro?”
“Because I was playing you, stupid fucker shit fuck canny asshole fucker,” Elsbeth replies. “I told you all that stuff about Long Pork so if you found him you wouldn’t eat him. I figured you’d have a better chance tracking him down than me.”
She comes in fast with two jabs from her left then a killer uppercut with her right. Barfly’s head snaps back and we watch blood and teeth go flying into the air. He almost goes down on his ass, but he keeps his footing and just retreats back a couple steps to regroup.
“You fight sexy,” Barfly says through broken teeth and bloody snot. “I like sexy fightin’ crazy chick bros.”
“You like this?” Elsbeth asks as she sends a roundhouse kick right into his stomach. He doubles over and she leaps into the air, coming down with her elbow on the back of his neck. “Is that sexy?”
“She is totally flirting with him,” Greta says.
“Totally,” Stella agrees.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Charlie snaps. “How is that flirting?”
“You just don’t understand girls,” Greta says.
My son looks at me and I shrug. “Don’t look at me, dude. All bets are off in the apocalypse.”
Barfly grabs Elsbeth around the ankles and pulls, sending her slamming down hard on her back. We can see the wind is knocked out of her and we start to move forward to help as Barfly climbs on top of her again. However, we are blocked by a pair of cannies with chains.
Fucking cannies with chains! I hate chains!
“Move,” Greta snarls. “Now.”
“Better listen, fuckers,” Charlie says. “The bitch be loco, bros.”
The two cannies are both dressed in cutoffs like Barfly, but so short, I think I can see a package peeking out even in the gloom of night. They hesitate as Greta and Charlie start walking at them.
“Kids,” Stella croaks then reaches out, but her fingers find open air as our kids sprint right at the cannies. “KIDS!”
They both drop as the chains swing out where their heads should have been. They slide across the slick grass of the meadow and right into the cannies’ legs. Greta takes that opportunity to slam both fists into one of the cannies’ balls, making the man squeak like a mouse that’s been stepped on. Charlie doesn’t use the nutshot gambit and instead kicks out with both feet, shattering his canny’s kneecaps. The man screams and almost falls right on Charlie, but my son is able to roll out of the way.
Our kids get to their feet, pick up the chains, and then bring them down onto the skulls of the fallen cannies.
“I don’t think I’m okay with that,” Stella says, her hand finding my arm and giving it a painful squeeze. “Those are people, not Zs.”
Charlie and Greta keep up with the chain beating until all that’s left are two puddles of mush.
“I don’t think those guys are anything anymore,” I say. “They just got Bish Bashed by two teenagers.” I see her start to respond, but cut her off. “I know it troubles the fuck out of me too. We’ll be sure to sit them down and have a homicide talk if we live through this.”
“Thanks,” Stella says. “It’s important to keep up good parenting techniques even in the apocalypse.”
“You should totally turn that into a blog,” I say. “You can write different posts on old billboards as we flee this fucking hell and get our asses to Kansas City.”
“Incoming!” Charlie yells. “Behind you!”
Stella and I spin and see several shapes come from the woods at the side of the meadow.
“Shit,” I say. “They look big.”
That’s because they are.
All Fitzpatricks are big.
“Jace?” Buzz shouts as he and his brothers run up to us. “You’re alive!”
“So far,” I say as I tuck my pipe into my waistband and grasp his meaty hand. “And it’s good to see you guys!”
Stella goes in for the hugs and then we are left to stand there and stare at each other as the violence continues about us.
“So...what you guys up to?” I ask.
“Hey!” Charlie yells. “What the fuck, people?”
“Oh, right,” I say and then give my lead pipe a good swing. “We should save story time for later and get in this shit.”
Buzz and his giant brothers look out at the bloody chaos.
“Who are we fighting?” Buzz asks.
“Everyone,” Stella says. Buzz gives her a look at the sound of her voice. “Allergies.”
“You Stanfords and your smart mouths,” Buzz grins then surveys the meadow again. “Some of those are people out there. We’re su
pposed to kill them too?”
“We don’t have to,” I shrug and point at Barfly that is busy trying to choke Elsbeth. “We really just have to kill that asshole.”
“Shit,” Stella says, then starts to run towards Elsbeth.
But Buzz grabs her arm and pulls her back. He takes a radio out of his back pocket.
“You got me, John?” he asks into the radio.
“Crystal clear, brother,” John replies over the radio.
“See the Stanfords?”
“Yep. Hey, Stanfords!”
“Hey, John,” I say as I lean towards the radio. “How’s it going?”
“Not bad now,” John replies. “Been looking for you guys.”
“See that asshole choking the woman on the ground?” Buzz asks.
“I see him,” John says.
“He’s choking Elsbeth,” Buzz says.
I don’t even hear the gunshot, just see Barfly lurch to the side, half of his head gone.
“That’ll do it,” Buzz smiles. “Let’s go help our favorite killer.”
We all run over to Elsbeth and shove Barfly’s corpse off of her.
“El? Honey? Are you okay?” Stella asks.
“You ate a frog,” Elsbeth says as she rubs her purple throat. “I ate one two.”
“We can be frog sisters,” Stella laughs.
“No, we can’t,” Elsbeth says as Pup and Porky help her to her feet. “People can’t be frogs.”
“We can pretend,” Stella replies as she gives Elsbeth a huge hug. “It’s okay to pretend sometimes.”
“Can we pretend our way out of here?” Greta asks. “I think the cannies are winning.”
She’s right, the cannies are winning for sure. More and more of them are ignoring the few Zs left and focusing their murderous attention on us. It could be because we are the only ones not fighting. Or it could be because we have their leader’s nearly headless corpse at our feet.
“Bros! They killed Barfly, bros!” someone shouts. “Fucking get them, bros!”
Yeah, I think my latter guess is right.
The cannies not fighting Zs come right for us.
Stella picks up Barfly’s steel rod, which she finds at her feet, and gives me a smile.
“Trade you?” she asks.
I look at my lead pipe, then at the steel rod and smiles back.
“Fuck yeah,” I say. “Time to do some whacking with that thing instead of getting whacked by it.”
We switch weapons just as the cannies get to us. Stella jumps back as a canny tries to gut her with quite the impressive knife. He loses the knife pretty fast as the lead pipe destroys his hand.
Confident my wife can handle her ass, I focus on the canny in front of me. He’s a funny looking guy (not that there are any non-funny looking cannies in this fucked up world) with a long Mohawk pulled back into a pony tail. I don’t know what it is, but that fucked up hairdo really pisses me off.
This guy has a baseball bat with nails and glass jammed into the end. He takes a couple swings, but I easily dodge them. Then he jams the bat right at my belly and instead of jumping back, my feet get tangled and I fall right on my ass. He brings the bat down fast and I barely get the rod up in time to keep my face from being rearranged by nails and glass.
Now, not having two hands to grip the rod means that one end is totally not supported by jack shit. That end collapses under the attack and the bat slides down until it clears the end of the rod and smacks into the grass right between my legs. An inch closer and it would have shredded the fuck out of my cock and balls.
“Dude,” I snarl as I whip the rod around and smash it into the man’s right knee.
He screams and drops the bat as he grabs at his knee. The bottom half of his right leg is no longer lining up with the top half the way it should. Fucker shouldn’t have run into a steel rod with his knee. Stupid canny.
Another whack from me, and his screaming stops forever. I so Bish Bashed him.
I look about me, watching as the Fitzpatricks break more than a couple of cannies with nothing but their bare hands, which is surprising since I can see pistols strapped to their hips. But, hey, why waste bullets on unarmed foes when you can tear their fucking arms right out of their sockets?
Stella, covered in blood and holding a dripping lead pipe, rushes to me.
“Jace! Are you hurt?” she asks as she falls on her knees next to me, the lead pipe forgotten and her hands patting me here and there to check for wounds.
“Nope. All good,” I smile and grab her and give her a big kiss. “Ain’t nobody taking down Long Pork tonight, bro!”
“Don’t say that again.”
“Sorry.”
The sounds of men and women dying, and Zs moaning and groaning, come to an end and Stella and I are stunned to see that the fight is over as we get to our feet.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Buzz says.
“Hey, guys,” John calls out as he steps from the woods and hurries over to us.
“Hey, man,” I say as I shake his hand. “Thanks for the assist.”
“Anytime,” John smiles. “Just glad you all are...”
His words are stopped by Elsbeth’s mouth. She has him by the shirt with both hands and is going to town. I’d try to save you the graphic image and say that there isn’t any tongue, but that is obviously not the case.
“Wow,” Stella says.
“Get a room,” Greta adds.
“I gotta save your ass more often,” John gasps when Elsbeth finally lets him go. “Is there a frequent save program?”
“I don’t know what that means,” Elsbeth says, “but you and I can do it when we get someplace safe. Is that like a save program?”
“It certainly is,” John smiles then looks around at us. “I’m as stunned as you are.”
“I highly doubt that,” I say then sigh. “Damn, it’s good to be back with friends. Our new acquaintances weren’t exactly the warm and fuzzy types.”
“Hey, bros, don’t be mockin’ the Barfly, bros. Not cool, bros. Bros, bros, bros,” Charlie says as he crouches by Barfly’s corpse and makes the dead man’s arms wave about. “Not cool shootin’ me, bro.”
“Charlie, leave the cannibal corpse alone,” Stella says, then gives everyone a troubled smile. “I think he needs a hobby.”
“Are you guys it?” I ask. “Have you found anyone else?”
“We have almost everyone,” Buzz says. “Lourdes and her folks came and saved our asses outside Knoxville. We’ve been looking for you guys since. Still missing a few folks though.”
“Scoot’s gone,” I blurt. Good one, Jace.
The Fitzpatrick brothers all stare at me.
“Scoot? Really?” Gunga asks. “Are you sure, Jace?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I reply. “I watched it happen and there was nothing I could do.”
“Okay,” Buzz sighs. “You know where his body is? We’ll want to give him a proper burial.”
I swallow hard before answering, which basically has the same effect as me making a farting noise.
“What, Jace?” Buzz growls. “Where’s his body?”
“Back at the Cookers’ camp,” I say. “Probably packed in salt in the kitchen, if they have a kitchen. I never actually saw one.”
“They have a kitchen,” Stella says. “And I know where the bodies are.”
“Then show us the way,” Buzz says. He pulls out his radio again. “Lourdes? You there?”
“Right here, Buzz,” Lourdes replies. “What’s the situation? I heard you found the Stanfords.”
“We did and they are going to take us back to the canny camp so we can get Scoot’s body and any others they killed,” Buzz says. “We could use a lift.”
“Meet us at the rendezvous point,” Lourdes replies. “Sorry about Scoot.”
“Me too,” Buzz says. He tucks the radio away and takes a deep breath. “Come on, we’ve got a ways to walk to get to the Humvees.”
“Yay, more walking,” Greta says.
<
br /> AS MUCH AS I HATE HOW Humvees ride, considering they have all the comfort of a tin can on wheels, it sure is nice to know that I’m behind half inch armor plating with heavily armed men and women surrounding me.
Well, not really surrounding me since I’m thankfully crammed in the back of Lourdes’s Humvee with my family. Elsbeth is up front, riding shotgun as Lourdes drives and shoots questions at us a mile a minute.
“Middle aged sorority girls? Really?” Lourdes laughs. “That must have been something to see.”
“I could have done without it,” Charlie replies. “No need for my teenage brain to see shit like that. Miniskirts and half-tees are not meant for anyone over thirty.”
“Fuck you, kid,” I grin. “Your mom can wear all the miniskirts and half-tees she wants. I wouldn’t mind at all.”
“Gross,” Greta says. “Gross, gross, gross.”
“Grow up,” Stella smiles as she reaches for my hand. “How are you holding up?”
“Me? Peachy keen, baby,” I reply. “Nothing some serious sleep and a couple good meals won’t fix.” I lean up towards the front seat. “There is food, right? Please tell me you have a camp somewhere with food.”
“We have food,” Lourdes says. “Quite a lot, actually. And we have a secure camp about twenty miles west of here. We couldn’t...”
“Turn here,” I say. “Sorry to interrupt, but the Cookers’ camp is down this road a ways.”
“How far?” Lourdes asks.
“Maybe a mile?” I say. “Could be less. I wasn’t paying attention to that part as we fled.”
“It’s a mile,” Greta says.
“You sure?” Lourdes asks. “The more accurate the information, the better it is for my people.”
“What do you mean?” Stella asks.
“You are staying here,” Lourdes replies as she turns off the engine and steps from the Humvee. She ducks back in and points at Elsbeth. “El will watch you if she’s up for it.”
“Up for it,” Elsbeth replies as she stretches out and puts her hands behind her head. “Totally.”
“There will be a driver per vehicle,” Lourdes says, looking back at the line of four Humvees. “But everyone else is coming with me. We need to sneak into the camp, so we can’t just drive down the road. John is already heading that direction to give us a little recon, but considering all the dead bodies in that meadow, my guess is most of the camp came after you. Hopefully we won’t run into any trouble too hard to handle.”
