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

by Bible, Jake

  “So now we have their choppers and what?” I ask. “You left them all up there? What’s to say they don’t shoot us out of the sky when we return?”

  Elsbeth cocks her head, looks at me like I’ve just grown eye stalks, looks at Stella like why would she let me grow eye stalks, then looks back at me like she’s going to rip off my new eye stalks. For the record, I do not have eye stalks. This isn’t that kind of story.

  “Have you ever heard of a place called a jail, Long Pork?” Elsbeth says, talking really slow like I’m addled in the brain. Which, technically, isn’t far from the truth.

  “Yes, El, I have heard of jails,” I say. “So you locked them up in one? All of them?”

  “Not all of them,” she nods. “Just a few. Enough so she knows that if she messes with us again, her people die. Oh, and I locked up Kramer.”

  “She was really happy about that,” Audrey says.

  “I was really happy about that,” Elsbeth echoes. “He yelled at me almost the whole way I carried him into the cell.”

  “Why’d he stop yelling?” I ask.

  “He bumped his head,” Elsbeth says and shrugs. “Six times on the corner of a wall. He’s clumsy. He stopped yelling after that. Probably because he was asleep. He’s old, he needed the nap.”

  “I love you,” Stella says and gives Elsbeth a huge hug. “Only way I could love you more is if you’d made a video of it all.”

  “Sorry. No video,” Elsbeth replies as she steps away from Stella. She actually looks bummed she didn’t video the whole thing. “I can do it again for you when we get back. You can video it then. Might kill him though. But at least we’d have video.”

  “No killing Kramer,” Lourdes says. “He’s still useful.” She glances at me.

  “Don’t look at me,” I say. “I don’t want that asshole’s hands in my head ever again. I’d rather have Stinkler in there, even though I hate the man.”

  “Why you hate Stenkler so much?” Elsbeth asks.

  “It’s obvious,” I say.

  “Not really,” Stella says. “I’ve always thought it was because something went down back at the Tomb with that Lizard Jesus guy you are always talking about. Now, I’m not so sure. Why do you hate him?”

  “Never mind,” I say. “This isn’t the time. We live through this and I’ll tell you.”

  “We all set?” Audrey asks. “We have fuel in the choppers for four trips up and back. There’s enough fuel in Boulder for a few more trips, but not much. We’ll need to be fast and efficient.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Lourdes says and puts her hands to her mouth. “OKAY, PEOPLE! YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO! LOAD UP ACCORDING TO YOUR LOT NUMBERS AND LET’S DO THIS!”

  “Lot numbers?” I ask.

  “We drew lots to group folks together,” Stella says. “Wrote it down so we know who we lose if something goes wrong.”

  “Something goes wrong? What will go wrong?” I ask.

  My answer is a loud explosion outside the stadium.

  “They have tanks and RPGs, Jace,” Stuart says. “We’ll be flying targets.”

  “God dammit,” I swear. “I was just getting comfortable with this whole plan. Fucking RPGs ruin everything.”

  I’M IN THE FIRST GROUP of passengers. I guess they want to move my crippled ass as fast as possible so if things go south they won’t have to deal with me later. Stella says it was so I could help coordinate at the other end and start looking at Boulder and the fortifications already up, but I know when people want to get rid of me. I’ve had a lot of experience with it.

  The landscape is breathtaking as we fly over the Denver Boulder Turnpike on our way up the mountain to Boulder. It’s arid yet green due to the pines and firs and cedars that are everywhere. There’s the occasional clump of aspens and birches, which I thought I’d see more of, but I guess those are higher up in the mountains. Our route takes us over a couple of lakes, one of which is pretty good size.

  “What’s that called?” I ask as I point down at the lake. I get to be in the front with Audrey.

  “What’s what called?” she replies over the headset. “Be specific, Long Pork.”

  “That lake,” I reply. “Do you know its name?”

  “Yeah,” she says. “I saw it on a map. It’s Standley Lake.”

  “Stanley Lake? Like Stanley hotel up in Estes Park?” I ask.

  “Standley! With a D!” she shouts over the sound of the chopper’s rotors. Despite our headsets, it’s still really fucking loud. “What’s the Stanley Hotel?”

  “It’s where they shot The Shining!” I reply. “Or the interiors, at least!”

  “What’s The Shining?” she asks.

  I weep for the apocalyptic youth of today. But I don’t say that out loud.

  “Yes, you did!” Audrey laughs. “I forgot how fun you are, Long Pork! Good to be back with you!”

  “Oh, well, thanks,” I reply.

  I try to settle in for the rest of the ride, but the jostling of the chopper makes it hard. My shoulder hurts, my head hurts, my side and ribs hurt, my whole body hurts. And Audrey isn’t exactly the most graceful pilot.

  “But I’m a hell of a dancer!” she shouts and gives me a wide grin.

  “Sorry about the out loud stuff!” I yell.

  “Don’t worry about it!” she responds. “We all know you aren’t mean or cruel! We’ve got your back, Long Pork! Especially with Marcie digging on Chuck! He’s a cutie! A little young for me, but cute!”

  “Yeah, about that!” I yell. “How old is Marcie?”

  “She’s twenty-three!” Audrey says. “How old is Chuck?”

  How old is Chuck? I mean Charlie. How old is my son now? Eighteen? Is he eighteen? No, he’s not that old yet. Is he? Fuck. I don’t even know how old either of my kids are anymore. Hell, I don’t even know what year it is anymore. Time gets fucked in the zombie apocalypse and birthdays go out the window when you are running across the country for your life.

  We really need an official time keeper and historian for this place when we get setup. Keeping track of what has happened and what will happen is important if we plan on making a new life here. Once we survive. Yeah, survival comes first before we start making new desk calendars.

  We’re directly over the Denver Boulder Turnpike and there’s not much down there. Not much that hasn’t been burned down or looted. I see some buildings that used to be intact, but they’ve been stripped of their siding and look like husks of civilization. I’m so busy staring at the remains that I miss our approach to Boulder.

  “Long Pork! Pay attention!” Audrey yells. “You won’t get this view again for a while!”

  I snap my head forward and instantly regret it. The world turns sideways and I feel a hand grab my shoulder. My non-destroyed shoulder.

  “Long Pork?” Audrey yells, but not just to be heard. The concern in her voice is pretty obvious.

  “I’m good. I’m good,” I say.

  I straighten up and focus out the windshield. Boulder. We made it. Or I made it. Everyone else is still on their way.

  I first see the sprawl of ubiquitous suburban neighborhoods. It’s the West, after all. Yes, the East has suburbs, but the West perfected the concept. Spread out them citizens. Let them drive, drive, drive their way into the American Dream.

  “Okay, you can stop talking now,” Audrey says. “It’s getting old.”

  “Try living inside my head for five minutes,” I reply.

  We pass over the neighborhoods and I can see some barricades set up here and there at the ends of specific roads, but other than that, the place is not fortified. We get up over the University of Colorado and the place looks fairly intact. This is good. There are signs of heavy fortifications around some of the buildings, but nothing central. Nothing unifying this place as any type of sustainable sanctuary.

  Where the fuck did I bring my family? Where the fuck did I bring my friends and those that were looking to me to keep them safe? Whispering Pines was a million times more lock
ed down than this. This is one of the big settlements left in the country?

  At least there aren’t that many Zs. I can see some small groupings, but they can easily be handled. The big herds haven’t gotten up this way yet. I’m guessing the mountain road isn’t so easy for Zs to hike up. Not in the middle of winter when their limbs are stiff from the cold. At least the slow ones are stiff. The fast fuckers don’t have too much of a mobility problem.

  We keep flying and I look over at Audrey, confused.

  “Where are we going?” I ask. “That looks like the main area!”

  “Helipad at the hospital,” Audrey says. “It’s secured there.” She glances over her shoulder at the others in the chopper. Most of them are sick and wounded. “We need to drop you all off then start getting the rest up here ASAP. No time to sight see, Long Pork.”

  “I don’t want to sight see!” I exclaim. “I want to know what resources and facilities we have! I want to know if we can survive here!”

  “We can’t. Not how it is now,” Audrey replies. “But that’s why we have you! Gonna have to get that big brain back to work, Long Pork!”

  Awesome.

  THE HOSPITAL IS SECURED tight. And I do mean tight. So there’s that.

  The first person I see coming towards us as we land the chopper on the helipad is Amy. What the hell?

  “What the hell?” I shout.

  “She’s harmless,” Audrey says as the chopper powers down. She immediately jumps out and starts helping those that can walk on their own out of the chopper. “What are you waiting for, Long Pork? Get out!”

  “I need my wheelchair,” I say. “My strength is shit.”

  Audrey nods and reaches past a woman that is half awake. Or maybe she’s half dead. Almost the same thing. Audrey snaps open the wheelchair and comes around to my side, plopping it down in front of me.

  “Hurry,” she says and bails.

  “I’ll help,” Amy says, walking up to me, her eyes darting to Audrey. “Glad to.”

  “You aren’t just saying that so she thinks you’re not going to kill me, are you?” I ask as Amy reaches up and helps me into the wheelchair.

  “I kill you and I’ll be dead before the sun sets,” Amy sighs. “That’s been made very clear by your protector.”

  “My protector? Oh, Elsbeth. Yeah, she doesn’t mince words,” I say.

  The twins come hurrying out to help get everyone off the chopper and into the hospital. The cargo area is barely cleared before Audrey has the chopper powered up and lifting off. I glance at the sky, but don’t see a second one coming. It should have been right behind us.

  “Elsbeth locked up some of your people,” I say as Amy wheels me inside the hospital.

  “Yes,” Amy says, sounding less than pleased, but resigned to the fact.

  “And you don’t have an extra set of keys?” I ask.

  “I do,” Amy says. “But I’m sure she knows it.”

  “Oh, I’m sure of that too,” I say. The hospital is surprisingly toasty inside. “Nice place.”

  “Listen,” Amy says as she rolls me over to a set of couches and end tables that make up what used to be a waiting area. It now looks more like a crash pad, with blankets and pillows on the couches and boxes of supplies stacked here and there.

  “I’m listening,” I say.

  “Things started off wrong,” she continues. “I couldn’t trust any of you so I did what I had to.”

  “How many did you start off with?” I ask, ignoring her lame attempt at an explanation. Or apology. Whatever it is. “How many of you have died over the years since you have been holed up in Boulder?”

  “Close to three hundred,” Amy says. “We started with close to three hundred. We’re at eighteen now.”

  “Eighteen? Damn,” I say. “Starvation? Sickness? The Zs?”

  “All of the above,” Amy sighs and plops down on a couch.

  The pretense of being a leader is gone. She’s just a broken woman that has failed at keeping a broken situation from crumbling completely to dust. I get that. Not the woman part, but the broken situation part.

  “They’d still be alive if I hadn’t convinced them to leave,” she says quietly.

  “To leave? To leave here?” I ask. “You kicked some out?”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” Amy says and looks over at the wall, but I can tell she’s not looking at the wall itself. She’s looking back in time to that fateful decision that— “Who are you talking to? Are you talking to me?”

  “Oh, sorry,” I say. “I do that sometimes.” I point at my Frankenstein head. “I’m a little off my game these days. Internal becomes external and all that jazz.”

  “Okay,” Amy says. She sighs. “We were safe, but isolated. I decided we should leave. See what it is like out here. So we did. All of us. When we realized I’d made a huge mistake, it was too late. We couldn’t get back in. The system locked down and the protocols changed. It’s all gone downhill from there.”

  “The Stronghold,” I say.

  Her eyes widen then soften and she nods.

  “It’s all gone downhill for everyone,” I say. “You aren’t the only survivor pocket to get its ass kicked.”

  “But we’re the most important,” Amy says. “I had one job and I failed at it. I could have stayed. I could have kept everyone where we were and we’d know what’s going on with the rest of the world. We’d know what’s going on almost everywhere.”

  I lean forward. Things are getting interesting.

  “What does that mean? The rest of the world?” I ask. “What the hell are you talk—”

  I stop in mid-sentence as a far off boom reaches us. Amy looks towards the doors.

  “It’s started,” she says. “Already.”

  “What was that?” I ask.

  She gives me a funny look. “You don’t know?”

  “I don’t know much these days,” I reply. I shrug and wince. Ow.

  The sound of the second chopper landing gets our attention and we wait, two strangers, two failures, two people with a lot of blood and other peoples’ lives on our hands.

  The doors open quickly and Stella comes hurrying in with Greta and Melissa followed by a few of our people including Dr. Stenkler.

  “Jace,” Stella smiles then she sees Amy and the smile is gone. “Bitch.”

  Amy only shrugs.

  “What was that boom?” I ask.

  “That was Denver,” Greta responds.

  “It wasn’t Denver,” Melissa says. “It was our tanker truck and a few extras we left waiting for the Consortium. It worked a little better than we hoped.”

  “So...you blew up Denver?” I ask.

  Melissa looks at Stella. They both nod at me.

  “See?” Greta smirks. “I told you it was Denver.”

  “We blew up a good chunk,” Stella says. “Unfortunately, I think we blew up some of those kids too. They were the ones to set it off, so the Consortium couldn’t detect a trip wire or detonator.”

  “Kids?” Amy frowns. “You’re working with the crazies? You’re insane. They’ll turn on you as soon as they can.”

  “Don’t think there’s much left of them to turn,” Greta says. She looks around. “Nice hospital. Shitty location. Too far from the central area.”

  “Yes, we know,” Amy says. “We used to have more secured, but...”

  “She let everyone die,” I say. “It’s sad. It’s tragic. Boo hoo. But now we’re here to save her and her people. Yay! Go us!”

  “That was out loud, Daddy,” Greta says.

  “I know,” I smile.

  “You’re an ass,” Amy says and looks at everyone else. “He’s an ass.”

  “He’s also my husband,” Stella snaps. “Which means I’m the only one that can call him an ass.”

  “Thanks, babe,” I say.

  “Shut up,” Stella says. “Pay attention. The choppers are heading back to drop the chum on the army. Whatever is left of it. Once they are done with that then they are bri
nging everyone else back up here. We need to have a plan in place. We need to have an idea of how we’ll hold off the Consortium.”

  She’s looking at me.

  “Why are you looking at me?” I ask. “My brain is pudding.”

  “Yeah, we’ve been talking about that,” Melissa says. “Elsbeth has an idea on how to unpudding your brain.”

  “Unpudding my brain? Is that a thing?” I ask.

  “It involves Kramer,” Stella growls. “I said no at first, but El is right. It could work.”

  “Huh?” I frown. “Not following. Pudding brain is pudding.”

  “They want Kramer to use his hypnosis shit to focus your mind on how to beat the Consortium,” Greta says. “They want to get inside your pudding and fish out the tasty parts.”

  Amy shakes her head. “I’ve always hated pudding. I hate it more now.”

  “You want me to allow Kramer to willingly mess with what’s left of my mind? Are you fucking crazy?” I snap.

  “No choice,” Stella frowns. “We’ve done the math. They will get enough fighters up here to do some major damage. Especially since this place isn’t even close to locked down like how we thought it would be.”

  Fuck this shit.

  They all stare at me, waiting.

  “Oh, sorry,” I say. “I thought that was going to be out loud.” I clear my throat. “Fuck. This. Shit. Not happening.”

  “AH, MR. STANFORD,” Dr. Kramer grins as I’m wheeled up to his cell. “How are you, Jace? It is good to still see you alive.”

  “Is it?” I ask.

  “And speaking!” Dr. Kramer laughs and claps his hands together. “I was wondering if your speech centers would return to normal.”

  “I still talk out loud, so not so much,” I respond. “You’re a shitty brain surgeon.”

  “I’m an excellent brain surgeon,” Dr. Kramer says. “Amongst many other medical specialties. Unfortunately, the facilities I was forced to use with Dr. Stenkler, who is also quite accomplished, were, well, less than adequate. But, I believe you already know that.”

  “I don’t know shit anymore,” I say. “Which is why I’m here. I need you to dig out what shit I do still know.”