by Bible, Jake
“If the Zs haven’t over taken it,” Stuart says then sees the look on my face. “Sorry, Jace.”
“No, no, it’s cool,” I nod. “I’m sure Stella has it all under control.”
God, I hope so...
“CLOSE THE GATES NOW!” Stella screams as the last Humvee races through with a herd of Zs on its ass.
The massive gates slowly swing shut, just before the wave of undead slam into them. The sounds of a thousand decaying hands roll up over the gates and bounce around the Reynolds Mountain community. The residents stand around, most of them stricken with fear, but some glaring daggers at Lourdes and her PCs.
“You have no right to be here!” a man snaps. “Brenda Kelly brought us here to get away from your chaos!”
“Shut the fuck up,” Stella shouts. “Brenda Kelly is a self-centered bitch. And not here right now.”
“Hey, tone it down, Ms. Stanford,” Buzz says, “they’re just scared.”
“They murdered our friends! Our family!” Stella yells. “They should be scared! Scared of what I’m going to fucking do to them!”
“They didn’t kill everyone,” Lourdes says, looking towards the group of Whispering Pines residents that had hurried back to the gates once they realized they weren’t going to be shot. Many had ducked into the woods to get away from the massacre, but were forced back when the Zs swarmed through the pines. “Let’s be grateful some of us are still breathing.”
Stella begins to respond, but Lourdes’s words hit home. She looks over at her children and nods. The two teenagers are busy helping those that need it, regardless of where they are from.
“Fine,” Stella says as she looks at the Reynolds people. “How far does the razor wire stretch? There’s no way you had enough to encircle the whole community. We didn’t even have enough for full repairs at Whispering Pines. We had to improvise...with...” Stella’s newfound acceptance dissolves away and the rage returns. “You fuckers.”
Lourdes realizes the conclusion Stella has come to and she steps between the woman and the Reynolds residents.
“Doesn’t matter now,” she says, giving Stella a hard look.
“They fucking stole our razor wire!” Stella says. “What else did you steal, huh? What else is there in this neighborhood that rightfully belongs to Whispering Pines?”
“We took what we needed,” the man snaps. “You refused to share with us! We had to do what we had to do to keep our people safe!”
“Put them outside the gates!” Stella roars. “Fuck them! FUCK THEM ALL!”
“Mom, stop,” Charlie says, “you sound like Brenda.”
It’s like a slap to the face with a fifty pound bag of cement. Stella actually staggers a step back, her eyes wide, as she looks at her son.
“He’s right, Mom,” Greta says, “you’re scaring me.” She looks at the people standing around, flinching at the sounds of the Zs separated from them by only a few feet of wood and metal. “You’re scaring everyone.”
Stella’s legs go weak, but Buzz wraps his arm around her shoulders and keeps her upright.
“We need to stop and think,” Buzz says. “Take some deep breaths and all work together. My daddy didn’t build the Farm by blaming folks for what they did, but by accepting the changes they were willing to make.”
“Amen,” Pup and Porky say together.
“Good,” Lourdes says. “We move past all the bickering and bullshit and start working on a plan to get us out of here.”
“Out? Why?” a woman asks. “This is the safest place to be.”
“Not anymore,” Lourdes says. She does a quick head count. “I only have ten of my people and our ammunition is dangerously low. You all killed most of the Whispering Pines folks.” She holds up her hands. “We aren’t going into that again, so everyone keep their mouths shut. I mean everyone.”
“What Ms. Torres is getting’ at,” Buzz says. “is we ain’t got the resources to stay here. The Zs are gonna surround us completely and then it’s only a matter of time before they get in. Or we starve.”
“They’ll get in first,” Lourdes says. “Even with twelve foot high razor wire fencing, eventually it’ll come down or enough zeds will pile on and be able to climb over each other. We need to work out how to leave.”
“How many of us are there?” Stella asks, pulling herself together. “We need a head count. We need to know how many are wounded. We need to know who can run and who can’t. We need to know how many vehicles you have in here.”
“None,” the man replies, “Brenda said there was no need for them. We had everything we needed here.”
“Classic,” Lourdes says, shaking her head. “Control movement. That woman is a piece of work.”
“So no vehicles at all?” Stella asks.
The Reynolds people all shift about, but none say anything.
“Come on,” Stella sighs, utterly exhausted. “I have teenagers. I know when people are hiding something.”
“Hey!” Greta and Charlie say.
“Uh, well,” the man frowns. “There may be one other thing we liberated from Whispering Pines. We expected you to come looking for it, but when you never did...”
“What? What is it?” Stella asks.
“We can show you,” the man says, “follow me.”
He turns and leads Buzz, Stella, Lourdes, and a few others up the road. They take a few turns, passing by completed and semi-completed houses, until they reach a house that is quite nearly a mansion.
“It’s in the backyard,” the man says, “only place we could hide it.”
They all walk around the mini-mansion and stop.
“Son of a bitch,” Stella says.
“That’s where that went,” Buzz frowns.
“I always thought you took it,” Stella says to Lourdes. “For help with the power plant or the water system.”
“I never touched it,” Lourdes says. “My guess was Critter took off with it.”
They all stare at the huge dump truck. A truck that had been only a mile away from Whispering Pines.
“Wait?” Buzz says when his uncle is mentioned. “Where is Critter?”
DR. MCCORMICK’S LUNGS burn with exertion, but she doesn’t dare stop. Once the Reynolds Mountain killers opened fire, she ran full speed into the woods. She ran and kept on running. At least until she hit a tree root and took a tumble halfway down the mountain. That trip ended with a hard hit to the head against one of the few oaks mingled in with the pine trees.
When she woke up, she saw shapes moving towards her. She didn’t need to be told what they were. With her head bleeding and her body aching, she forced herself to get up and keep running. When she made it down the mountain, she found she was miles from the Reynolds estate entrance. But not alone.
So she runs and keeps running, using only adrenaline and willpower to keep her legs moving. The cramps that attack her muscles are excruciating and she knows it’s only a matter of minutes before her body gives out. She is a doctor and understands the power of the mind, but a person can only push themselves so far before the body refuses to comply.
With the sounds of hungry Zs behind her, she acknowledges that her time is limited. Slowly, like a mantra, she begins listing everything she is grateful for or that she used to love before Z-Day. She has no intention of dying with her last thoughts being ones of fear or anger.
“Long baths,” she starts, “with glasses of wine. Pumpkin pie with whipped cream. Sandra Bullock movies. A good pair of boots. Fitted bras. Funnel cakes. John Irving novels. Celebrity Apprentice. Hand sanitizer.” Her list goes on and on, her voice growing weaker as her lungs start to hitch and give out.
“Fresh strawberries. Watermelon. The smell of cut grass. That pair of jeans I found at Goodwill when...” She stops talking to herself and listens hard. She hears the sounds of the Zs in pursuit, but there’s also something else. “An engine...?”
She’s running down the middle of Weaverville Highway with the burnt out husks of mini-strip malls to he
r left and right. Up ahead she sees what used to be Jimmy’s Automotive and she swears she hears an engine. With the last bit of energy she can muster, she drives her legs forward towards the sound.
Stumbling over the broken pavement of the weed choked parking lot, Dr. McCormick falls to her knees. Before her is a closed garage bay door, behind her are a couple thousand Zs. She reaches out and is about to bang on the door when it lifts and starts rolling up into the ceiling. Instantly she’s blinded by lights.
“What the holy hell?” a grizzled voice shouts. “Doc? That you? How the hell did...? Ah, shit. Get in, woman! Get up off your damn knees and get the fuck inside!”
Confused by it all, Dr. McCormick turns her head as someone grabs her and yanks her to her feet. “Wha...? Who...?”
“Get your ass in,” the voice orders. “Looks like you brought company. And here I thought I had a good lead. But you shot that all to shit.”
A seatbelt is suddenly strapped across her and Dr. McCormick jumps, as a door is slammed shut. She slowly shakes her head and looks about. She’s in a car. No, no, that’s not right.
She’s in a Jeep.
And hopping into the driver’s seat is someone she knows.
“Critter?” she croaks.
“Alive and kickin’,” he grins at her as he puts the Jeep in gear and focuses on the swarm of Zs heading for the garage. “May wanna hang on tight, doc. And cover yer ears.”
“Cover my-! AAAAAAAAHHHH!”
Her screams are drowned out as the roar of large caliber gunfire fills the garage. The Zs outside the bay door jump and shudder as they are torn apart. Critter lets out a barely heard whoop as he slams the gas pedal down and the Jeep rockets from the garage, bumping over undead corpses shredded by the two .50 caliber mini-guns bolted to the front of the Jeep.
Pulling his thumb from the trigger mounted on the gearshift, Critter focuses on steering past the Zs that still stand. He turns the Jeep in wide arcs, zooming back and forth as the Zs lunge for the vehicle. Instead of being able to grab onto the sides of the Jeep, they are sliced in half by huge blades welded to the doors and fenders.
“Woohoo!” Critter cries out, obviously enjoying himself. “Come on, ya bastards! Try and get me!”
The Zs do try, but they fail. All they get for their troubles are bellies ripped apart by 1 ¼ inch steel. While being mocked by an unrepentant highwayman.
Critter can see that the herd isn’t going to thin out anytime soon, so he points the Jeep towards the highway and roars out of the parking lot, leaving the undead far behind him.
“Gonna head north for a bit, doc,” Critter says. “We’ll cut down to the river on Aiken Rd, up by Stoney Knob. Don’t want to go too much further than that. Weaverville weren’t never fully cleared out. We’ll end up the meat in a Z herd sandwich.”
“Critter?” Dr. McCormick asks. “How?”
“Now that’s a pretty generic question, doc,” Critter says. “I could answer that in a whole lotta ways. What you want answered first?”
Dr. McCormick slaps the dashboard of the Jeep.
“Oh, this thing?” he smiles. “I liberated it from the Grove Park. I believe it belonged to that Foster lady. That’s what Long Pork done said. It were just sitting there collecting dust. A little too specialized for that Torres woman’s taste, I guess. Or she just didn’t want nothin’ to do with it. Probably a little of both.”
He glances over at Dr. McCormick. “It’s a beauty, ain’t it? Already had the guns, blades, and everything. I was planning on taking it back to my holler for safe keeping, but I only got it so far before it snapped a belt. Pushed the damn thing to Jimmy’s myself a few weeks ago. Left it there, thinkin’ to fix the belt at some point.” He gives a little snort. “Turns out that point was tonight.”
“But you were with us,” Dr. McCormack rasps.
“Nah, I lit out on my own as soon as we hit Merrimon,” Critter says. “I had no intention of getting trapped up on Reynolds Mountain. I just wanted to make sure Long Pork’s family got there. I like them Stanfords. That Stella is a firecracker.”
“Then you left?”
“Obviously,” Critter snorts. “You hit your head or somethin’?”
“Yes,” Dr. McCormick says. “But that’s not why I asked. That means you didn’t see what happened.”
Critter’s shit eating grin falters as he glances sideways at the doctor.
“What you talkin’ ‘bout? What happened?”
“They killed them,” Dr. McCormick says, her voice almost lost in a sob. “The Reynolds Mountain people. They shot everyone. They’re all dead.”
Critter’s eyes narrow and he takes a deep breath.
“Well, ain’t that a shame,” he says. “I ain’t no saint, but even I have limits. That ain’t right, killing folk like that.”
He slams his hand on the dashboard making Dr. McCormick jump. By the glow of dashboard instruments, she can see the look of rage on Critter’s face.
“Gonna have to be somethin’ done,” Critter snarls. “My brother was one to turn the other cheek.” He glances over at Dr. McCormick with murder in his eyes. “But that’s not my way. No, ma’am, people gonna die for that.”
“YOU’RE GOING TO DIE,” Platt whispers as he listens to John and Stuart explain their plan. “You know that, right?”
“Yes, sir,” John says, “it’s certainly possible.”
“More than possible,” Platt says. “Now that we know the city has been overrun.”
“It’s the only way,” I interrupt. “Unless we can reestablish communications we won’t know where everyone is. We got stupid and spread out. There’s the Grove Park and Reynolds Mountain as well as Whispering Pines.”
“Plus the Farm,” Melissa says. “The herds could be all the way out there by now.”
“We have to be able to talk to everyone,” I insist. “Otherwise we could end up going to save people that are already dead.”
That sinks in. Hard. Already dead.
Stella, Charlie, Greta...
I shake the thought off.
Platt is watching me, knowing what is going through my head.
“Go over the plan again,” he says.
“You need to rest,” Antoinette says, glaring at us as we crowd around Platt’s bed in the infirmary.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” Platt replies.
“No, you won’t,” Antoinette says, ready to kick us all out.
“Five minutes,” Cassie says, “give them five minutes then you can focus on your patient.”
“Three,” Antoinette counters.
“Five,” Elsbeth growls.
The tension in the room goes up about twelve notches and I look from one ripped badass to another. I have to wonder what damage Antoinette can do in a fight with her knowledge of anatomy.
“Five,” Antoinette says finally, “then he rests.”
“Deal,” Elsbeth says, holding out her hand. “You shake when you make a deal. Greta taught me that. So shake, dammit.”
“We’re going to have to work on your social graces,” Cassie says.
“You’re gonna have to work on your social graces,” Elsbeth replies.
“She learned that from Charlie,” I say.
“Four minutes,” Antoinette says.
“Right, the plan,” I say. “We take the rafts and head downriver until we get to the River Arts district.”
“That’s pretty close to the interstate,” Platt says. “The place will be crawling with Zs. Not to mention the wranglers.”
“We’re hoping for the Z part,” John says, “not the wranglers so much.”
“We’ll goop up with Z guts,” Reaper continues, “and work our way up Haywood Rd to downtown and the BB&T building. While the other half gets back into the rafts and floats ahead.”
“To where the Bywater used to be,” I say. “They wait for us there. That way we can push forward and not have to lose time doubling back. If we re-goop then we should be able to get through the Zs just fi
ne.”
“You’re forgetting the human element,” Platt says.
“We’re not. I don’t think the wranglers you saw are in the city,” Stuart says. “The herds we ran into were running wild. My guess then? They are south driving the Zs forward to Asheville. Keeping them on track. They probably have strategic posts they’re camped at to handle each wave being sent up from Atlanta.”
“But you don’t think they have a post downtown?” Platt asks.
“Why would they?” I say. “If the goal is to drive them into Asheville then there’s no need for more wrangling.”
“Who says their goal is just Asheville?” Cassie asks. “That’s the weak part of the plan.”
“Hardly the only one,” Melissa snorts.
“So that’s the first part,” Platt nods, “what’s the second?”
“You mean once we have communications up?” I ask then look at everyone else. “Well, we’re going to have to play that by ear.”
“At least until we know what everyone’s status is,” John says.
Platt shakes his head. “I don’t like it.”
“None of us do,” Stuart responds, “but we can’t sit here and wait to get overrun.”
“That is unlikely,” Cassie frowns.
“Listen, no offense,” I say to her, “but it’s inevitable. This estate is too big to keep locked down. Zs will find a way in. They always do. It’s virtually guaranteed with the numbers we’re dealing with.”
“Okay, something’s bothering me,” Melissa says and everyone looks at her. “Let’s say we are successful and get communications back up. Then we zip around and rescue every last person in Asheville.” She holds out her hands. “Then what? Where do we go from there?”
“The Farm,” I say. “At least, at first. It’s big enough.”
Melisa shakes her head as do John, Reaper and Platt. Stuart just looks at me.
“Okay,” I sigh. “I know. Odds are the Farm is gone. It always attracted the largest number of Zs anyway because of the livestock. I know that. But where else do we have to go?”
