by Bible, Jake
“Fine,” Leeds says, “do it.”
“Cool,” I smile. “Wish me luck.”
“No,” Leeds says, “luck better not have anything to do with this.”
I nod and look at the manuals, then at the control panels. Slowly, carefully, I start to flick switches. I systematically go from one panel to the next, turning them on until the entire control bank is blinking and flickering.
“There,” I smile, wiping my hands together, “Asheville has gas again.”
“Good,” Leeds says. He reaches over and turns the overhead lights off, plunging us into a darkness lit only by the control bank. “Now get some sleep and rest that brain. We’ll have some killing to do in the morning, I’m sure.”
I try to get comfortable in the rolling chair, but it just isn’t working. I contemplate lying on the floor, but the amount of Z yuck discourages that thought. It’s going to be a long night.
Then the explosions start. Quite a few of them. Way off across town towards the east.
“Long Pork,” Leeds snarls.
Dammit.
Chapter Two
“On your left,” Julio calls out as he pivots to the side and jams a spear through the eye socket of a Z staggering towards him. He twists the spear about and tosses the Z onto an ever-increasing pile of corpses filling the entrance to Whispering Pines.
Julio is a short Hispanic man, the parts of his torso that show from under the black tank top he wears is covered in dark black and blue tattoos. They run all the way up his arms and up his neck. His head is shaved except for a thin, short Mohawk. On his belt, strapped to his right leg, is a nasty looking short sword. But the spear is more appropriate for the Z clearing job at hand.
The person he’s talking to, Elsbeth, doesn’t pause to answer, just spins and slices the head off the Z with one of two curved long blades she holds. She kicks the head and the falling body towards the pile, but isn’t as precise as Julio. She is a tall, young woman, intensely beautiful. Her hair is cut short and tucked under a Hello Kitty trucker’s cap. The sleeveless t-shirt she wears shows off her muscled arms, and she moves about with the grace of a cat. A very deadly cat.
“Are you even going to try to hit the pile?” Julio asks as he spears another Z and disposes of it on the pile.
Elsbeth shrugs as she ducks under the outstretched arms of a Z and comes up with a blade through its chin, piercing the skull. The thing’s jaws clamp shut and it grows still as she pulls the blade free and kicks the Z over. It misses the pile by several feet. Elsbeth looks over her shoulder at Julio and smiles. The condition of her teeth is all that mars her beauty, but being raised a cannibal didn’t lend itself to a lifestyle of proper oral care.
“I kill them,” Elsbeth grins, “let the others clean up.”
“Except we will be the ones cleaning them up since half the camp went back to the Farm today,” Julio says. “We’re short teamed until the new crew shows up in two days.”
“Why do we have to do all the work?” Elsbeth asks, a small whine in her voice. Most wouldn’t notice, but Julio has been fighting Zs with her, shoulder to shoulder for two months straight. He notices.
“Because we do it right,” Julio says. “Better us than some of those lazy asses we’re doing this for. We’d just have to come back and finish the job anyway.”
“I don’t like the lazy asses,” Elsbeth says, both blades lashing out, separating Z heads from Z bodies. She makes a small effort to push the bodies and heads towards the pile. “They should work harder. Not us. Them. Poop snotty fart faces.”
“You’ve been hanging out with the kids too much,” Julio laughs as he spears a Z in the gut, then turns it to block two that are coming at him from the left. Elsbeth moves in and takes the heads of all three. Julio yanks his spear free and stabs each decapitated head through the skull, ending their gnashing thrashing. Even separated from their bodies, the Zs still try to chomp some human flesh. Only way to stop them is to kill the brain. Such is the way in the zombie apocalypse.
“So?” Elsbeth asks. “The kids are fun.”
“Not as fun as me,” Julio grins, his eyes looking Elsbeth up and down. He loves how the sweat soaks her t-shirt between her boobs and across her belly.
“No,” she grins back, “not as fun as you. We’ll have fun tonight, right? You fell asleep last night.”
“I was tired, El,” Julio says. “We spent the whole day killing Zs. A man needs his rest.”
“A girl needs her fun,” Elsbeth counters. “No sleeping tonight.”
“You’re so cruel,” Julio laughs, “but I think I can handle it.”
“Promise.”
“I promise. No sleeping tonight.”
Elsbeth moves away from the Whispering Pines entrance and takes out one, two, three, four, five Zs before retreating. Julio joins her, dropping three. They stand there for a second, looking at all the Z corpses that litter that part of State Highway 251. The sun is setting and the French Broad River that is across the highway, about twenty yards from the entrance, starts to reflect the sky’s orange and red glow.
“Pretty,” Elsbeth says.
“I can’t believe you decided to turn down Special Forces training to be part of this crew,” Julio says. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy for you,” Elsbeth says, grabbing his ass. “Mmmmm. And Platt yells a lot. I don’t like the yelling.”
“How about some screaming?” he asks, giving her a wink. “I know you like to scream.”
Julio takes her up in his arms and kisses her hard. Her hands squeeze his ass harder, making him jump. She presses against him and lifts one leg up over his hip. Their mouths are jammed together, hungry with passion.
“Jesus,” John says as he and Stuart come walking around the bend in the road. “Can’t you wait until you’re in your tent?”
“And have cleaned up,” Stuart adds, “you two are covered in Z.”
Elsbeth pulls away from Julio and smiles at the two men. “He’s not falling asleep tonight. I’ll be on him for hours.”
Julio shakes his head and takes her hand, pulling her towards the new gate that stands open at the Whispering Pines entrance. It isn’t as big or secure as the original gate, but it keeps the Zs out for the most part. Enough for those inside to get a good night’s sleep with only a couple of sentries on duty.
“You are one lucky bastard,” John says to Julio as he follows them inside, shutting the gate once Stuart is in. He and Stuart place reinforced bars across the gate, securing it for the night.
“It’s not luck,” Elsbeth says. “He has to work hard for me. No lazy ass gets in my pants. Nope, nope, nope.”
“Yeah, how about we eat a little, and then clean up the Zs?” Julio asks. “You two up to lend a hand?”
“Sure,” Stuart says. “Let us stow our gear and grab a bite too.”
“I gotta shit something wicked,” John says. “Been holding it for the last mile.”
“Ooh, me too,” Elsbeth says. “I’ll come shit with you. We can talk about your day.”
“Still working on that personal space thing, eh?” John laughs.
“I don’t need any,” Elsbeth shrugs. “Not my problem if others do.” She looks at Stuart. “Except for Stuart. He has to have space or he’s a grumpy bear. Grumpy bear Stuart is not fun.”
“You can say that again,” John says.
“Hey, lay off,” Stuart says. “I can be fun.”
“Yes, you’re a barrel of laughs,” Julio says. He winks at Elsbeth. “Have fun taking that shit. Wash your hands before we eat.”
“Right,” Elsbeth nods, “wash my hands. You’ll remind me, right, John?”
“You can count on it,” John says, smiling and offering his arm. She looks at it and frowns. He drops it and shakes his head. “Right. Off to the shitter we go.”
Julio and Stuart watch them walk away, and then Julio turns to Stuart, his face serious.
“What did you find?” He asks as they walk up the hill towards the small, tempor
ary camp set up while Whispering Pines is being rebuilt and put back together. All about them are burned out houses and scorched yards, from when Edward Vance and his people lay siege to the development.
“Nothing conclusive,” Stuart says. “We don’t know if the people are part of Vance’s crew or not. Our guess is no, but we can’t know for certain.”
“Why no?” Julio asks as he tosses his spear onto the ground and grabs a ladle from a large water barrel. He takes a drink and hands it to Stuart who does the same.
“For one thing, they are pros,” Stuart says. “Weapons and gear point to a private military company. I’ve seen my share over the years. They look the part.”
“Why the Grove Park Inn?” Julio asks as he takes a seat on a large log set next to a small campfire.
Other men and women are busy cooking their evening meals at other campfires spread out across the subdivision. It would be more efficient to all cook together, but for security and safety, it’s better if the rebuild crew keeps to smaller, separate groups. That way, the whole team can’t get boxed in if the Zs get through the perimeter of the development.
The back of Phase One of Whispering Pines butts up against a fifty-foot limestone cliff. At the top of the cliff is a long, wide meadow. The meadow is filled with row after row of steel fenced razor wire interspersed between long and various ditches. There was a deck built into the cliff at the top so that sentries could watch twenty-four hours a day for Zs. But that was destroyed in the battle with Vance. It is one of the first rebuild priorities.
Part of Phase One and all of Phase Two, which is up on the second plateau of the development, is surrounded on two sides by a 100-yard deep ravine of huge rocks and boulders. Gotta love natural erosion. The ravine sides are covered in steel fencing and razor wire also. If the Zs make it into the ravine, they never make it up the sides. Or that was the theory before all the damage. Now sentries keep watch on all fronts to make sure stragglers don’t shamble through and eat the rebuild team in the night.
“I don’t know why the Grove Park,” Stuart answers, “but something, or someone, important is in there. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be such a show of force.”
“Big Daddy won’t like this,” Julio says.
“Big Daddy doesn’t like anything that upsets the balance of things and his plans,” Stuart says. “But that’s life in the dead city.”
Hollis “Big Daddy” Fitzpatrick is the head of the Farm. A huge parcel of land over in Leicester, about thirty miles west, the Farm is where the residents of Whispering Pines have been holing up while their homes are rebuilt. A devout man, Big Daddy believes Z-Day happened for a reason, and he aims to make sure that reason is for good and not evil as some would have it. His brother, Critter, is pretty ambivalent about the good versus evil part, but agrees with Big Daddy that a rebuilt Whispering Pines, and Asheville as a whole, is how they’ll all survive.
“Was that a joke, Stuart?” Julio smiles as he places a pot of chopped vegetables and water into the campfire.
“I hope not,” Stuart says, “that would ruin my reputation as a grumpy bear.”
“Can’t have that.”
“No, we can’t.”
Stuart sits with his back against the log and stretches his arms above his head. A retired Marine Gunnery Sergeant, Stuart is in his mid-fifties, but stronger and more capable than most of the twenty year olds back at the Farm. He rolls his head around on his neck, letting the vertebrae crack and pop. There is a chill in the late autumn air and Stuart looks up at the darkening sky above them.
“Jace and the rest aren’t back yet then?” he asks.
“Not yet,” Julio says, “but didn’t really expect them to be. Fixing that transfer station, if they can, could take a couple of days.”
“John’ll head over and check on them tomorrow,” Stuart says. “He won’t have to go all the way, just find a vantage point and scope them out to make sure everything is all good.”
“Good,” Julio says. “He may be a pain in the ass, but we can’t lose that brain of his. Guy is fucking smart.”
“That he is,” Stuart says.
“Long Pork?” Elsbeth asks as she walks up with John and plops down next to Julio, pushing him with her hip, making him scoot his ass down the log. “You’ve heard from Long Pork?”
“No, no,” Stuart says. “We were just talking about-”
“Runners!” a shout goes up down by the gate.
“Son of a bitch,” Julio swears. “How many times do we have to tell them not to shout? It’ll bring more Zs.”
They all get up and make their way quickly to the gate. They are joined by a few of the others on the rebuild crew. One of the sentries pulls open the gate and several of Critter’s men hurry in. Once they’ve caught their breath, Stuart gets the story of what happened at the transfer station out of them.
“We have to go help,” Elsbeth insists. “I won’t have Zs eating Long Pork.”
“I don’t think anyone should eat long pork,” Julio jokes, then clams up as he sees the serious look on Elsbeth’s face. “Sorry. Chill, girl. We’ll go help Long Pork and Captain Leeds.”
“Not tonight,” Stuart says as the last rays of sunlight fade over the hills across the French Broad River. “It’ll have to be a job for the morning.”
“We can’t leave them there!” Elsbeth cries. “No! Not leaving Long Pork!”
She starts for the gate, but Julio and John grab her arms, both ready to get smacked around. Stuart stands right in front of her, his face just an inch from hers.
“You may be able to make it there in the dark, but it’s too dangerous for everyone else,” Stuart says. “And I’m not letting you go by yourself. End of discussion. We leave at dawn and we’ll double time it until we get to the transfer station.”
“It’s a couple hours at a hard jog,” John says.
“Tell us about it,” one of Critter’s men says as he sits slumped against the gate, his body drenched in sweat and his chest still heaving from the exertion.
“Tomorrow,” Stuart says.
“Dawn?” Elsbeth asks. “When the sun comes up?”
“As soon as we can see enough to take a piss,” Stuart says.
“I can piss in the dark,” Elsbeth counters.
“You know what I mean.”
Elsbeth stares at him for a moment then nods. “Dawn.”
“Dawn,” Stuart agrees.
“Let’s get you guys some food,” Julio says, “and some rest. We’ll be up early it looks like.”
The camp buzzes with the news, despite the threat of danger to their friends. More than enough volunteer to go, and Stuart actually has to refuse some so there are still folks working on Whispering Pines. There’s some grumbling, but everyone has learned not to argue much with Stuart.
It’s fully dark by the time Elsbeth and Julio crawl into their tent for some much needed sleep. Although, as Elsbeth strips down and crawls on top of Julio, sleep is the furthest thing from her mind. They are going at it hot and heavy when the explosions start.
They scramble from their tent, Julio struggling to pull on a pair of jeans, while Elsbeth just stands there naked. The light from the campfire plays across her skin, casting shadows against the multitude of burns and scars that cover almost every inch of her; gifts from her dead father.
“Jesus,” Stuart says as he sees Elsbeth, “put some underwear on at least.”
She ignores him as they all stare towards the east and the glowing light of fire.
“What the hell do you think that is?” John asks appearing from the shadows like the sniper he is.
“Fuck if I know,” Julio says.
“Long Pork,” Elsbeth nods as if that decides it.
They all look at her and then at each other. Stuart rubs his face.
“She’s probably right,” he says. “What the fuck do you think he did now?”
“Looks like he got the gas on,” Julio says, “and found out maybe why it was off in the first place.”
>
“Great,” Stuart says.
“We gonna go now?” Elsbeth asks. “Go check on that and Long Pork?”
“Jace is the opposite direction from those explosions,” Stuart says. “And right now, every Z in Asheville is shambling towards those sounds. That’ll make things clearer tomorrow when we go to the transfer station, at least.”
“If the transfer station is still there,” Julio says. “He could have blown that up too.” Elsbeth gives him a look of death. “What? I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”
“Tomorrow,” Stuart states. “Everyone get some sleep. Double watch tonight. Those explosions are gonna stir up the Zs. We could see more activity around the perimeters.”
There’s a general grumble at the news of the extra watch, but everyone heads off to their tents or duties, leaving Stuart by himself.
“Dammit, Jace,” he whispers, “what did you do now?”
***
I just sit here, exhausted, as I watch the dawn start to light up the windows. The explosions kept going for most of the night. Whatever I did, I fucked shit up big time.
“You get any sleep?” Leeds asks me.
“Nope. You?” I ask, standing up from the chair and stretching.
“Not a bit,” Leeds replies.
“Sorry,” I say. “I thought I had it figured out.”
“Oh, you had it figured out,” Leeds says. “You just hadn’t thought it through.”
“You could have stopped me,” I counter.
“Let’s not get into it again,” Leeds says. “The explosions drew away the Zs. I don’t hear any out there. We should be clear.”
“After you,” I say, motioning to the door.
“Gee, thanks,” Leeds says, “Long Pork.”
“Are you really gonna start calling me that?” I ask as he slowly opens the door. A quick peek and he nods at me, stepping outside into the crisp, morning air.
“You redeem yourself and I’ll go back to calling you Stanford,” Leeds says, taking deep breaths of the fresh air. It’ll take us both a while to get the smell of the Z yuck out of our nose.
