by Bible, Jake
“It’s his daughter,” Charlie shrugs. “I’m sure dad would gut anyone that got Greta pregnant.”
“Take that back this instant, Charles Stanford!” Stella snarls. “Don’t’ ever say such a thing!”
“You don’t think dad would?”
“Oh, I know he would,” Stella replies. “I meant about your sister getting pregnant. She’s only thirteen and just started getting her period. We do not need that bad karma in our family.”
“Jesus, Mom,” Charlie frowns. “I do not need to hear that. Yuck.”
“Oh, grow up.”
“I was trying to before you burst in and ruined my coming of age moment.”
Stella and Charlie look at each other; the intensity is broken as they both crack up laughing. Stella wraps him in her arms and kisses his head over and over.
“I love you,” she says.
“Love you too,” he replies. “So we can keep this from dad?”
“Not a fucking chance, kid,” Stella says. “Your father and I haven’t made it this long by lying to each other. Expect a long talk with him when he gets back.”
“When is that?” Charlie asks. “Isn’t he supposed to be back tomorrow?”
“Maybe,” Stella says, “depends on how much work he has to do at Whispering Pines to get the gas lines up and working. But you know your dad, he’ll figure out the fastest, most efficient way to do it.”
“Great,” Charlie says as they start to walk towards the farmhouse. “I’ll just be stressing over this until he gets here. Awesome.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Stella smiles. “You’ll have plenty of work to keep you busy and your mind off of it.”
“Double awesome.” Charlie starts to climb the porch that stretches across the entire front of the farmhouse then stops. “What’s that smoke?”
Stella shields her eyes and looks off in the distance. She heard something last night just after going to bed, but thought it was thunder. You never know in the mountains when a freak storm will turn up. She didn’t think a thing about it this morning.
“I don’t know,” she says.
“Explosions last night,” a deep voice says from the farmhouse doorway. Big Daddy Fitzpatrick. A huge man of a man. Farmer through and through. “I think that husband of yours may have gotten the gas back on. But I’m afraid the results aren’t what he was looking for.”
“Should we send a team to check it out?” Stella asks.
“I’ll see if my Sweetie Mel will want to go,” Big Daddy replies. “Not that I’m too worried. There’s Stuart, Julio, Leeds, and the rest to watch out for your man and that brain of his. Don’t you worry none.”
“But you’ll send Melissa?” Stella asks.
“I’ll see if her and her scavengers want to go rendezvous with the Whispering Pines teams,” Big Daddy says. “If she wants. Maybe I’ll have her take a couple of her brothers along. I love my boys, but they need to get outside the fence some. And not just to Critter’s to gamble and drink. Which they think I don’t know about.”
“Thanks, Hollis,” Stella says.
He looks down at her and smiles. “Of course, ma’am. We’re all in this together. The Lord didn’t put me here to ignore the wishes of a well meaning lady such as yourself. I see the signs and I follow.”
“THEY’RE GOING TOWARDS the explosions?” Julio asks, his eyes scanning the skyline and the columns of black smoke. “Why would they do that? Why not just come back to Whispering Pines?”
“Because the captain likes to have answers,” John says, his sniper rifle resting in the crook of his arm as he studies the scratches in the concrete Leeds left for him. “And he probably wants to march Long Pork around a bit.”
“Why would he march Long Pork?” Elsbeth asks. “That’s not nice.”
“Exactly,” John says. “Captain Leeds isn’t a violent man by nature. He likes the slow torture instead. You should see the man conduct an interrogation. Fucking brilliant.”
“So what now?” Julio asks, looking to Stuart. “We follow?”
“We can’t all go,” Stuart says. He looks about at Critter’s men that came along. “Any idea where your boss went?”
“He took off running to draw away the Zs,” one of them answers. “That’s the last we saw him.”
“So we have Jace and Leeds out there and Critter too,” Stuart says. “How many men went with Critter?”
“Three?” the man replies.
“Counting’s not your strength, is it?” John jokes. The man just glares at him. “Gunnery Sergeant Stuart? What’s the call?”
“Is he in charge?” Julio asks.
“No, but he’s got more training and experience in his pinky than you do in that whole inked body of yours,” John replies. “I’d like his opinion. And so do you since you just asked him for it three seconds ago.”
“I know. Just fucking with you, soldier.”
“Okay, boys, put ‘em away, will ya?” Stuart laughs.
“Put what away?” Elsbeth asks. “What do they have out? I don’t see anything.”
“Kinda my point,” Stuart says. “As much as I’d like to go off on another adventure in Z land, I’m needed at Whispering Pines. We’ll be constructing the stairs and deck to the cliff the next couple of days. That’s going to require some serious supervision.”
“I’ll go with Elsbeth,” Julio says. “We’ll find them.”
“As much as I hate to split you two love birds up, I think I need you with me Julio,” Stuart says. “The folks that came from the Farm listen to you. I can’t run up against egos while trying to stay on schedule.” Stuart looks at Elsbeth, John, and Critter’s guys. “You can track them down; make sure they didn’t get into any more trouble.”
“I’m good at pulling Long Pork out of trouble,” Elsbeth nods. “I do it all the time.”
“We know,” Stuart says. “You cool with that then, Sergeant Baptiste?”
“You got it, gunny,” John says. “I’ll keep everyone on task and in line.”
“We don’t take orders from soldiers,” one of Critter’s men says. “Critter was clear on that. They ain’t in charge of us.”
“No, they ain’t,” Stuart says, mocking the man’s accent. “But if you want to stay alive, then you best listen to John here. He isn’t carrying that rifle around because it compliments his eyes. Got me?”
The men start to protest, but Elsbeth steps forward, facing off with them. They shut up quickly. As much as they may not want to follow John’s orders, they also don’t want to piss off the deadly ex-canny girl. They all look away, shuffling their feet, finding interesting new dirt under their fingernails, watching an imaginary bird fly by.
“Well, that’s settled then,” Stuart says, looking to Julio. “Ready to get back?”
Julio doesn’t look ready. He knows Elsbeth can take care of herself, he even saw her in action back before she joined with the Whispering Pines folks, but their new found affection for each other pulls at him. In the apocalypse, you don’t get many chances at happiness and Julio doesn’t want to lose this chance.
“Be safe,” he tells her.
“Ain’t no place safe,” Elsbeth says. Everyone has to admit to themselves that she’s right.
“I have her six,” John says, “and she has mine. We’ll be cool.”
“Good,” Stuart says as he claps John on the shoulder. “We’ll see you back at Whispering Pines when you find them.”
“Right,” John says and looks to Critter’s men. “Let’s cover some ground, people.”
They all mutter about not taking orders from a soldier, but quickly step in line.
HE LEFT HIS MEN TO hide and wait for him so he could move faster and not be detected. He loves his guys, but they aren’t always the most stealthy or intelligent. When he saw the truck, he knew caution was the key to survival this day.
He’s tracked the truck for the better part of the day, wondering what all the decked out wannabe soldiers with their fancy gear want. They just s
eemed to be driving around in circles. For a minute or two, he wondered if they were looking for him. Sure seemed like they were looking for someone.
So, when Critter sees them march up to the truck and force Jace and Leeds inside, he isn’t surprised at all. There was bound to be fallout from the gas explosions. Critter doesn’t know what part the wannabes play, but he knows it isn’t good. No one needs that much firepower and body armor if they are just taking down Zs. They’re geared up for human interaction.
The truck, a long black four-door diesel with a covered bed, pulls down the road, heading towards the smoke. Critter isn’t surprised by that either. He’d been hearing whispers through the grapevine that someone was setting up shop in town and making some strange repairs at strategic places in Asheville. If his sense of direction is right, and it is rarely wrong, the smoke is coming from East Asheville right around the former VA hospital.
“What the hell is over there?” Critter wonders. He’d cleaned out the VA a while back. There wasn’t a single supply left on any of the shelves.
He waits until the truck is long out of sight and then works his way along the ridge above Swannanoa River Rd. He puzzles over the smoke every time he comes around a bend and gets sight of it again.
Then it hits him.
He knows what’s over there. And the value it offers with the right planning. He’d even used it himself a few times when other routes weren’t available.
Critter picks up his pace, knowing exactly where the truck is headed.
THE ZS ARE THICK, BUT the truck doesn’t slow down; we just mow right through them.
“That’s gonna be hell on your suspension,” I say. Leeds, sitting next to me in the backseat, hands zip tied, just sighs. I tried to be quiet, I really did, but it’s hard.
“Well, I know we aren’t going to see Tersch,” Leeds says to Cowboy who is sitting in the passenger’s seat in front of him. “He died two years before Z-Day. Don’t tell me I will have the opportunity to meet Mr. Foster. Quite an honor since no one has ever met the man.”
“And no one will,” Cowboy grins. The driver nods and smiles.
“Am I missing something?” Leeds asks. “You two obviously have information that makes my statement amusing.”
“Does he amuse you, is that it? Is he a clown to you, eh?” I say.
“Jace?”
“Sorry, I’ll shut up,” I reply. “Carry on.”
“I’m going to let you figure it out when we get there,” Cowboy says. “It should be eye opening.”
“And where exactly is ‘there’?” Leeds asks. “Must be important if we are wading through this swarm of Zs.”
Rotted hands and decayed faces push up against the side windows of the truck. I have to feel sorry for the guys in the bed. Sure, they have a canvas cover around them, but that’s not much protection when dealing with Z numbers like this. I haven’t seen this many Zs this packed together in a long time.
Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this many Zs. Well, not true. Vance had thousands jammed into the empty Beaver Lake. This is like that. A ton of Zs with no fleshless elbowroom.
“Right,” Cowboy says, his finger to his ear. He must have one of those com earpieces. Keeping the tech real in the apocalypse. Cowboy turns to the driver and points up ahead. “Stop here. They’ll clear a path for us.”
The truck slows and stops and we wait and watch. I stare out the windshield at the mass of Zs that have encircled us. Whatever momentum we were able to keep before is gone forever. There is no way we’ll get moving again with all the weight of those Zs pressing in on the truck. Why is it that I always seem to end up in a truck surrounded by Zs? Just two months ago, I was in a dump truck, not looking my best, and thought I was going to die there.
But, I don’t think I’m going to die here, at least not by the Zs. A rumbling starts to shake the truck, and then we all see it coming from a street off to the left: a massive earthmover. You know, one of those gigantic construction trucks that are like ten stories tall and shit. Okay, maybe not ten stories, but the thing is at least two stories high with a huge blade in front like for a snow plow. Which is exactly what it is when I see it work, but for Zs, not snow. The earthmover just pushes the Zs aside, clearing a wide path for our truck.
Our driver doesn’t waste any time and puts the truck in gear, hurrying into the cleared space before it fills up again. There is still a wall of Zs ahead of us, but the earth mover slowly turns, leading us down the road, clearing the way perfectly.
“I don’t think that is just for the Zs, is it?” Leeds asks.
“Not my place to say,” Cowboy replies. “I’m security, not construction.”
“So you were hired to protect the construction crew?”
Cowboy grins at Leeds. I don’t like that grin. There is nothing happy about it.
“You’ll get your answers,” Cowboy says. “Just not from me. Sit back, sit tight, shut the fuck up.”
“Captain, that advice you always give me? Yeah, you might want to take it,” I say. “You know, regarding the shutting the fuck up.”
“First smart thing you’ve said all day,” Cowboy says as he turns back around and faces the windshield.
That’s the last words any of us say while riding in the truck. I just sit back and watch the earthmover plow Zs out of the way. They go tumbling and rolling everywhere; Z guts splatter up on our windshield now and then when a particularly juicy one gets under the earthmover’s tires. Our driver seems to like it and laughs every time he has to spray the windshield and hit the wipers. Messed up. I clutch my wounded hand to my chest and just wait it out.
It’s only a few more minutes before the earthmover pulls aside, driving up over a lawn and nearly crushing the front of a brick house, and we speed past, through a barricade that is held open by more private contractors. Black body armor, baseball caps, black sunglasses, and heavily armed.
I turn to speak to Leeds, but he is intently studying our surroundings. I’m not going to disturb him, so I do the same. We are about a hundred yards from the on ramp to the Blue Ridge Parkway and that is where all the activity is centered. It looks like the staging area for a massive construction site, or would have, if it wasn’t for the smoke and scorched machinery. I’m guessing that’s my fault.
Several tents are set up across the street from the main parkway entrance and that’s where the driver pulls us up to. Five more PCs come walking out, rifles at the ready, centered around a woman dressed similarly, but obviously not one of the men. I don’t mean that because she has boobs, I mean that because it’s pretty apparent by the body language around her that she is in charge.
“Don’t move,” Cowboy says as he hops out and walks up to her.
She looks at him for a second and then looks over at us. The windows are tinted, so I know she can’t see into the truck, but when she takes off her sunglasses, I swear her ice blue eyes can see into my soul. You’d think by now I’d get tired of saying I have met the Devil, but in the zombie apocalypse, it is surprising how many Devils come out to play.
Her eyes study the truck and then she nods and steps over to the back passenger door; my door. It opens quickly and she takes me in with those eyes. It’s a split second that lasts forever, then she looks past me and fixes her gaze on Leeds.
“Captain,” she nods.
“Ms. Foster,” Leeds nods back.
“Ms. Foster?” I say. “This is the Foster in Tersch and Foster?”
“I am,” Foster replies. “Not the founding member. That was my father.”
Every single PC hangs his head for a moment and then looks back up. Jesus Christ, it’s a mercenary cult! But then, aren’t all military groups in a way? That’s why I quit Cub Scouts in third grade. Creeped me out.
“I see we owe you an apology for some damage we’ve done,” Leeds says.
“I think this guy here owes the apology,” Foster says, looking at me, waiting.
“Oh, right, yeah, sorry about that,” I say. “I was tr
ying to figure out why the gas had been shut off.”
“So you decided to turn it back on? Thinking back on it, does that sound like a good idea?”
“Not so much,” I say to her, trying to smile. I think my lips get halfway up and stop. I can tell by the way she is looking at me that she thinks I’m having some sort of fit. I give up on the smile. “Any chance y’all can give us a ride back to my place? I know my people are probably worried.”
“Jason Stanford,” she says. “General bullshitter and expert in nothing. Defacto head of the Whispering Pines subdivision.”
“That would be Brenda Kelly, actually,” I say, “she’s head of the HOA Board.”
“Yes, she is,” Foster says. “But that doesn’t mean shit. Just that she’s in charge of the cowards in your bunch. I know what you did to Vance. Impressive. Needlessly destructive, but impressive.”
“Had some help,” I say, hooking a thumb at Leeds. “And I hope you don’t mind me asking how you know so much about me?”
She doesn’t answer, just steps aside. “Let’s walk. After you, Mr. Stanford.”
“He prefers to be called Long Pork,” Leeds says.
Oh, no he didn’t!
“Long Pork? Jesus, really?” Foster asks. “What the fuck is wrong with you people?”
I get out of the truck and follow as two PCs begin to walk over to a large pile of debris. Looking over my shoulder, I see Leeds right behind me and Foster behind him. I’ve seen him move and know she’s easily within grabbing distance, but by the way, she carries herself that also means Leeds is within her grabbing distance. Leeds glances at the debris pile and I follow his gaze. Then stop.
“Problem, Mr. Stanford?” Foster asks.
“Are those people? Pull them out of there, for fuck’s sake!” I cry.
“Too late for that,” Foster says, walking past us and to the squirming bodies pinned beneath the pile of concrete and steel. “They turned a few minutes ago. I was saving them for you.”
She unholsters a pistol and holds it out to me grip first. I look at it, a Beretta 9mm, and look at her.
