by Jake Bible
You will.
“How do you know?”
Because you’re a Stanford and we never quit.
She puts her head on my shoulder as we sit on my bed and watch the sun come up out my window. At some point I lie down and go to sleep. When I wake up, Elsbeth is gone. I don’t worry about where she is because I know she’ll be around.
***
Elsbeth and I sit together a lot when she’s home. We hang out on the porch every afternoon, the torturous stack of empty notebooks by my side. Silence is our thing. Elsbeth excels at it and I am learning. But that enigmatic silence is easy for her. For me?
I’m about to lose what little mind I have left.
Elsbeth finally sighs. “Here.”
I look at her and she’s holding out a piece of paper. I frown, but she shoves it at me.
I take it, unfold it, read it, and the world is back.
It says:blowfish carton toes.
My conditioning trigger words.
The blur whips into focus almost immediately and I cry out as memories flood back. They aren’t easy memories. There is plenty of pain, but it’s pain I embrace. It’s my fucking pain.
She smiles at me and stands up, kissing me on the forehead.
“Do what you do best, Long Pork,” Elsbeth says. “Tell our stories.”
She’s gone and I stare at the stack of notebooks.
I grab one up, open it, and set my pencil on the first line. It takes me a while to figure out where to start, but after a few minutes I know exactly how it begins.
People that move to a subdivision do so for only a couple of reasons. Ours were price and location. Great price for the size of the house and great location since it was just on the edge of Asheville, NC, down by the French Broad River. Once the dead began to walk the earth, the price didn’t matter so much anymore. It was all about location.
Chapter Twelve
She set the notebook aside and looked at the faces of the children seated before her.
“That’s it?” a girl asked. “What the hell happened to Jace? Did he live a long time?”
“He lived long enough to write these,” the old woman said as she patted the stack of carefully laminated notebooks next to her. “But it wasn’t easy for him. His mind fell apart fast. He wrote day and night for weeks to get it all down. Sometimes he wouldn’t eat, sometimes he would fall asleep in mid-sentence. It took a lot of people to keep him alive until he was done.”
“Then what?” the girl asked. “Did he just croak?”
The old woman laughed. “Jace Stanford just croak? Hardly. He knew when it was time and he wrote down his goodbyes. Then the son of a bitch walked out past the wall being built, sat down in the middle of a field, and started clanging pots and pans together until some Zs found him.”
“Wow,” a few of the kids said.
“He let them eat him?” the girl said, rolling her eyes. “What a weak way to go.”
“No, he would never let them eat him,” the old woman said. “He waited until a bunch were close then he pulled the pins from the grenades on his chest and started laughing.”
“How do you know?” the girl asked, not believing a word of it.
“Because I was there,” the old woman said. “I found his goodbye note and I ran as fast as I could, hoping to catch him in time. I got there just as the grenades went off.”
The old woman touched a scar on her cheek.
“Got this when that damn spike of his he kept strapped to Stumpageddon went flying by,” she frowned. “Asshole.”
“Did he ever speak again?” another girl asked.
“He did,” the old woman smirked. “Right at the end.”
“What did he say?”
The old woman shook her head back and forth, a sly grin on her face.
“He held his hand up in the air and shouted ‘STELLA!’. Smart ass son of a bitch.”
“Granny G?” a boy asked. “Was Jace your papa?”
“He was,” Granny G smiled. “And he was the best Papa a girl could have ever asked for in the zombie apocalypse.”
“Granny G?” the boy asked again. “What happened to Charlie Big Thinks?”
“Oh, sweetheart, he helped build this place, you know that,” Granny G replied. “He built that wall up nice and strong and he designed the trolleys and everything.”
“But how did he die?” the boy asked. “No one ever says how he died.”
Granny G leaned forward and all the kids in the circle leaned in too.
“Well, you’re just going to have to wait to find out,” Granny G laughed.
“There’s more?” the first girl asked. “More stories?”
“Of course, sweet thing,” Granny G smiled. “Jace Stanford wasn’t the only fool that knew how to use a pencil and paper. Next week I’ll get out the journals the sisters brought home.”
“Even the Great El’s journals?” a different girl asked, her eyes bright and excited.
“Oh, especially the Great El’s journals,” Granny G said then flapped her hands at the circle of children. “Now git. I’m tired and I have to pee.”
The children laughed at that as they jumped up, their young muscles springy and full of energy. They took off running from the grassy spot under the giant fir tree. Granny G watched them go, another batch of children that knew only life after Z-Day. She sighed as she thought about what it was like way back when, back in Whispering Pines, before the undead rose and came after them all.
She was startled awake by a gentle shake of her shoulder. The sky was purple as dusk came on and the stars started to twinkle in the Colorado sky.
“Granny G?” a young woman asked. “Do you want some help back to your house?”
“No, child, I got it,” Granny G said. “I can walk there myself. Got my cane and everything.”
“You sure? It’s getting dark and I don’t want you to fall,” the young woman said.
“That’s so sweet of you,” Granny G said. “But I’ve made it this far in life. If something as simple as a fall kills me then I’ll gladly take it. That would be a blessing considering all I’ve been through.”
“Okay,” the young woman said and nodded in the dusk light. “But I’ll stay here and make sure you get up your steps, okay? I can see your house from here.”
“That’s kind of you,” Granny G said as she slowly got out of the chair and reached for her cane.
The young woman handed it to her and Granny G gave her that smile that everyone in the Stronghold knew so well. Granny G took a deep breath and started off for her house. She waved to the young woman once she reached her porch and the woman waved back, but she didn’t stop watching as Granny G climbed the three steps.
Glad to be inside the cool house and away from the always watchful eyes of the people of the Stronghold, Granny G made her way back to her bedroom. She didn’t bother stopping off at the bathroom, she knew she’d have to wake up in the middle of the night anyway to pee. No, she walked herself right to her bed and got undressed.
She climbed in then reached over and pulled at the head of the cane, making sure the blade would slide easily out if she needed it. She set it close at hand, for sure it was within reach if something woke her up. Something she didn’t want to wake her up. There hadn’t been a breach of the wall in decades, but that didn’t mean she was willing to get soft.
It didn’t take her long to drift off to sleep.
It didn’t take her long to wake up either when she felt the woman’s presence in her bedroom.
“Come to bring me another journal?” Granny G asked. She didn’t need to light the candle by her bed. She knew who it was.
“Yes,” the woman replied. “I set it on the kitchen table.”
“It would be nice if you came to see me in the daytime, you know?” Granny G said. It was the same thing she said every time. “Getting to see a familiar face would do these old bones some good.”
“My face isn’t so familiar these days,” the woman chuckled, “
I have quite a few more scars than the last time I came by.”
“Don’t we all, sweetheart. Don’t we all,” Granny G sighed. She waited a few minutes then asked the question she hated to ask. “How many are left?”
“Two,” the woman said. “ Just the two of us now.”
“Who?”
“Marcie.”
“That’s good,” Granny G sighed. “She deserves a long life. Especially after…”
“She thinks she deserves a short life,” the woman replied. “It’s hard for her some days.”
“Hard for us all,” Granny G said then asked what she always asked. “You find him yet?”
“No,” the woman replied.
“He was old way back then,” Granny G said. “He’s dust by now.”
“I know,” the woman replied. “But I have to know for sure.”
“Are you and your sister going to come back to your family finally?” Granny G asked, very awake despite the late hour. Her old eyes strained to see the woman in the dark room, but age conspired against her. “Are you two finally going to end this?”
“There is no end to this,” the woman whispered. “We can’t come back. Not now. It’s been too long and people will talk.”
“Dammit, El!” Granny G nearly shouted, but managed to keep her voice under control. “You barely look a day older than when you left. There’s no way they’ll know who you are.”
“That’s not true, G,” Elsbeth laughed. “I look a lot older. Just not as old as I should. And they’ll know.”
“Stay,” Granny G said. “I need you to.”
“Why?”
“Because my days have gotten as hard as they can,” Granny G said. “It’ll be time soon and I don’t want to be alone.”
“You can’t ever be alone,” Elsbeth smiled in the dark. She climbed into the bed with Granny G. “You’re a Stanford and Stanfords always have family.”
“Not like you,” Granny G said and leaned in to the woman. “Never like you, El.”
Elsbeth nodded and waited until Granny G fell back asleep.
Elsbeth didn’t exactly stay and she didn’t exactly leave. She waited until the night came and then she slipped inside Granny G’s house, crawled into bed, and held the old woman in her arms.
It wasn’t that night, it wasn’t that week, but eventually Granny G just didn’t wake up. Elsbeth was there. She gripped the hand, feeling the life leave it. There were tears, many tears.
When the dawn light broke through the window, lighting on Granny G’s still serene face, Elsbeth kissed her brow and slipped silently out of the house, out of the Stronghold, out of a life she had been blessed to ever have.
She got to be a Stanford and there could have been no greater wish, no greater life.
No greater family.
The End
Read on for a free sample of Euphoria Z
Author’s Note
Don’t cry! This isn’t the end!
Well, yeah, it is, but only of this part of the story. You can find out more of what happens to the folks in the Stronghold (and what the Stronghold actually is) in myDead Team Alphaseries. And you can find out how the world survives all this in my Apex Trilogy which begins withDead Mech.
You can probably guess I have left some room for more stories, more novels, more blood and guts and gore and snark. Don’t forget, like Granny G said, “Next week I’ll get out the journals the sisters brought home.”
Oh, yeah, there will be more to come!
Now, before I go, I want to say thank you to all of my readers and the fans of Z-Burbia. This series has been a blast to write and I couldn’t have done it without the support of all of you. Rock on!
Cheers,
Jake
6/26/2015
Author Bio:
Jake Bible, Bram Stoker Award nominated-novelist, short story writer, independent screenwriter, podcaster, and inventor of the Drabble Novel, has entertained thousands with his horror and sci/fi tales. He reaches audiences of all ages with his uncanny ability to write a wide range of characters and genres.
Jake is the author of the bestselling Z-Burbia series set in Asheville, NC, the Apex Trilogy (DEAD MECH, The Americans, Metal and Ash) and the Mega series for Severed Press, as well as the YA zombie novel, Little Dead Man, the Bram Stoker Award nominated Teen horror novel, Intentional Haunting, the ScareScapes series, and the Reign of Four series for Permuted Press.
Find Jake at jakebible.com. Join him on Twitter @jakebible and find him on Facebook.
One year ago…
“We are coming for you, you bastard!” The shout echoed through the forest. They’d been stalking him and now they were very close, but only because he’d allowed it.
Cooper had decided when and where to make his stand. He remained calm, waiting patiently for them to come to him. He slowed his breathing and remained perfectly still.
They were hunting him in one big group, all eight of them, trying to scare him and flush him out. But he knew they were scared of him. He could hear it in their voices—the tense whispers, the angry orders.
Do they really think I’m dumb enough to face all of them at once? He was going to do this Rambo-style and pick them off one by one.
“We know where you are, man!” A different voice, closer to him.
Know where I am? So ridiculous, he thought. One of his hunters fired a few shots.
“Save your fucking ammo!” the leader screamed.
Cooper hugged his gun close to his chest, vertically so his body hid it from view, and pressed his back against the giant tree. He was deep in a primordial forest. The waterfalls, colossal fir trees, large ferns, and moss-covered rocks were beautiful but also made for excellent concealment.
Sweat trickled down his back and legs. Something tickled his neck, but he ignored it, hoping it wasn’t a biting insect. The coarse bark clung to his gear. A movement to his right caught his eye, but he remained as still as death hidden between two large ferns.
His heart raced. Eight to one odds were insane, but he was determined to walk away from this alive. He let one enemy pass him by, then another, and then two more.
The attack stunned them. He dropped three of them before they could even figure out where he was. The fourth made an attempt to return fire but took one square to the chest for his valor.
Cooper halved their group in seconds and was sheltered from the other half by the giant tree. He smiled as the remaining four panicked.
“Get back here, damn it! He’s right there!”
Cooper heard at least two of them running away and chuckled. If he’s yelling at them, he’s not looking for me, he thought. He leaned out and took a quick shot. He hit the faceplate of the leader’s helmet. He was actually aiming for the center of mass, but a headshot made him look way cooler.
“Fuck!” The teenager pulled his helmet off so he could watch the rest of the battle. He was amazed and a little frustrated. Cooper always won at paintball, but this was ridiculous. Eight to one. Unbelievable. He would have accused him of cheating if there had been even a remote possibility that Cooper could’ve cheated.
“Come on, he’s right behind that tree.”
“You are dead, Harlan,” Cooper said calmly.
“I’m a zombie.”
“Zombies can’t talk.” Cooper smiled. He could hear the other two trying to circle around and flank him. There was one more behind him and to his right, unless Norman had learned to fly. Norman was incapable of walking silently.
“Rush him, Fatty!” Harlan yelled.
“He’s going to shoot me,” Norman whined.
“Not if you shoot him first.”
Cooper hated that everyone called Norman Fatty. It was just mean. Everyone got along, but kids could still be immature and cruel.
“Norman, is your gun pointed at me?” Cooper spoke to the trees, making his voice sound as if it came from everywhere.
“Um, no.”
“It should be. Aim it right at the tree. If I come out fro
m either side, you can easily shoot me.”
“You won’t be mad?”
Jeez, Norman, he thought. “I’ll be dead! You’re a great shot. Just because you can’t walk ten feet without resting doesn’t mean you can’t win this.” Cooper smiled. He liked to dig at Norman sometimes, but both of them knew it wasn’t ever to be cruel.
“Ha, ha.” Norman raised his gun and zeroed in on the tree. He knew Cooper would help him, but he wouldn’t hand him the victory. Cooper would do his best to win, and he probably would. Norman actually felt scared.
“Don’t forget…wait.” Cooper fired and hit one of the stalkers that had gotten too close. The other stalker hung back, far back, and took a few blind shots at him.
A paintball zoomed over Norman’s head. “Hey, friendly fire! Watch it!”
A faint “sorry” came from the distant undergrowth.
“Norman, don’t forget to take cover,” Cooper coached him.
Norman stepped a few feet over and behind a thin young pine.
The dead leader guffawed, “You need a tree a shitload bigger than that, Norm.”
“Shut up,” Norman said, but even he saw the humor in it—he was easily four times wider than the tree.
“You look like an elephant hiding behind a stop sign.” Harlan was his own biggest fan and laughed the hardest at his own jokes.
“At least my nose doesn’t look like a penis,” Norman chuckled. He’d been waiting days to use that one. He knew Harlan was sensitive about his nose. That shut him up.
Cooper was smiling too. Harlan could be such an idiot.
The second stalker suddenly charged, firing blindly. Cooper watched calmly as paintballs hit everywhere but near him. The stalker ran out of ammo about thirty feet from Cooper.
“Oh shit.” He threw himself to the ground dramatically. Then, “Ow.”
Everyone chuckled at that.
Cooper walked quietly toward the stalker, keeping the tree between him and Norman. The stalker was frantically trying to pour more paintballs into the hopper of his gun when Cooper appeared before him. The failed reloader slumped in resignation.
