Z-Burbia 3: Estate Of The Dead

by Bible, Jake

  Greta freezes, her hunk of deadwood raised over her head, and looks to where Charlie points. At their feet is what once was a Z, but is now a demolished pile of bone and pulpy flesh. Some of that flesh drips off the deadwood and onto Greta’s face and she casually wipes it away.

  “Mom!” Greta shouts as she runs forward and dives at her mother, wrapping her arms about Stella in a chest crushing embrace.

  “Hey, Mom,” Charlie says as he walks over to them. “Greta lost it there for a minute.” He shrugs. “I may have gone with her a bit.”

  “Did you two…?” Buzz asks then stops and shakes his head.

  “Kill them all?” Pup finishes for his brother.

  Charlie looks over his shoulder at the Z corpses that litter the ground and hang from the fence. He shrugs.

  “Yeah,” he says, “I guess we did.”

  “You guess you did?” Stella cries. “You guess you did? My, God, I thought you two were dead when I heard Greta scream! Get over here!”

  Charlie kneels and lets his mother pull him against her and his sister. Stella can’t hold it together and begins to sob uncontrollably.

  “My babies,” she whispers, “my sweet, sweet babies.”

  “Uh, Buzz?” Pup whispers. “We need to get back and help Ms. Torres.”

  “Give it a minute,” Buzz says. “We are needed here right now. I sure ain’t one to hurry a mama bear when she’s huggin’ her cubs.”

  Pup nods and smiles at the Stanfords then reaches down and picks up his rifle. He puts it to his shoulder and watches the area, his eyes looking deep into the shadows, keeping the hugging and crying family safe from any more harm.

  For the moment.

  Chapter Six

  “That’s quite a story,” I say, handing John a bottle of water as we all sit on the long porch of the Biltmore House. “All of the Zs came from Atlanta?”

  “Not all,” John replies. “Most of them were probably picked up along the way in Athens then in Greenville/Spartanburg. The Consortium has been hoarding them for years.”

  “Hoarding hordes,” I say, shaking my head. “I guess after what Mondello said, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “What about other groups then?” Stuart asks, leaning forward in his chair. “Lourdes has mentioned that there are quite a few more enclaves like Atlanta across the country.”

  “I don’t know,” John shrugs, “we didn’t hear much about them. They are out there, but I don’t think there’s any unity between them. More like the city/states of Italy.”

  “The what?” Melissa asks.

  “The city/states,” I reply for John. Because I can’t help being the know it all. And my shoulder fucking hurts so I need to talk, to do anything to get my mind off it. “Italy used to be made up of city/states that each had their own king. Florence, Naples, Venice, Rome, etc. Each had its strengths and weaknesses, but all had armies. They worked together when it came to foreign countries like France invading or Spain. Unless it was more advantageous to work with the invaders. Naples was notorious for that. Working with the French, working against the French, working with the French. Blah blah blah.”

  “Great,” Stuart nods, “that info doesn’t help us at all.”

  “But it gives us perspective,” I counter. “As we all know, history repeats itself. We learn from the past and we’ll be able to predict the future.”

  “So what are we in this future?” Melissa asks. “France? Pardon me, but I don’t want to be French.”

  “Don’t you mean pardonne moi?” I grin.

  “Fuck off, Stanford,” Melissa smirks.

  “So who do we work with then?” Stuart asks, looking at John.

  “I don’t know,” he replies. “I hear there’s Boulder, Kansas City, Salt Lake, Portland, and probably others.”

  “What about New York or LA?” Melissa asks. “They aren’t players?”

  “They don’t exist,” John says. “That much we know for sure. The populations were too big. The Zs wiped everything out and there’s no way anyone can get in and secure those places. Not that they’d want to. I heard a rumor that LA was torched. They burned it to the ground.”

  “Nuclear?” Stuart asks.

  “Don’t think so,” John answers. “As far as I know no one has gone nuclear. Not yet.”

  “And that’s what that is?” Melissa asks, nodding towards the pack far down the porch, away from all of them. “A nuke?”

  “No, no,” John says. “It’s spent uranium wrapped in a very large amount of C4. A dirty bomb.”

  “But not the only one,” Stuart says.

  “Probably not,” John agrees.

  “Having that makes me think Atlanta wasn’t going to go take muffins to the other cities,” Stuart says.

  “Why?” Melissa asks. “Why bother?”

  “Resources,” I say, “and control. The Consortium is not made up of Boy Scouts. It’s not a non-profit organization. They had Mondello in their pocket and he was the, and I use the term lightly, President of the United States.”

  “But why not send Zs into the cities like they are doing to us?” Melissa asks.

  “Because that’s a lot of distance,” John says. “And the cities are prepared for herds of Zs. What they aren’t prepared for is radiation and their people dying brutal deaths from that.”

  “Salt the earth,” I say.

  “Jesus,” Stuart says.

  “Holy shit,” Melissa nods, getting it. “They blow one of these up and the city is dead in what, months?”

  “Yeah, about close to that,” John says.

  “Then the place is contaminated and now new folk can’t move in and rebuild,” Melissa says. “It’s like poisoning an ant hill or wasps nest.”

  “Exactly,” I say.

  “Huh,” Elsbeth grunts as she sits on the porch rail. She’d been so quiet I forgot about her. “Why do we have one?”

  “What?” John asks.

  “Why do we have a bomb?” Elsbeth asks again. “Why take it? What do we need it for?”

  “In case,” John says and frowns. “I voted against, so did Reaper. But Platt…”

  “Platt’s an old soldier,” Stuart says, “not as old as me, but old enough to know a deterrent when he saw one.”

  “Deter what?” Elsbeth says. “They have already won.”

  “I don’t know if they’ve won or…,” John begins but stops as several loud explosions echo across the estate.

  We all get up and look towards the north, but the house blocks our view. We scramble inside and race through the house to the other side. Many of the sisters join us as we run upstairs to a row of north facing windows.

  Asheville is on fire. We can see huge flames licking the darkness of early morning sky. Another explosion goes off then another. We’re all thinking it, but I’m the one that voices it. Since I can’t keep my mouth shut.

  “We can’t rebuild this,” I say, “Asheville is lost.” A trillion thoughts flood through my mind, but the main one is. “Whispering Pines.”

  “I can’t tell where the fire is exactly,” John says. “It may not be that close.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I say. “It’s not like the fire department is going to put out those blazes. It’ll spread and wipe everything out that can burn. And considering the dry summer we’ve had, that means it’ll burn all the way to the river.”

  “My lord,” Melissa says, “what do we do?”

  “That is something to talk about,” Cassie says as she joins us. Reaper is right behind.

  “Platt?” John asks.

  “He’ll make it,” Reaper nods, “thanks to Antoinette. She’s still in there, watching his vitals. I told her I’d do it, but she is pretty focused. Like she’s been waiting for this.”

  “She has,” Cassie says. “We all have our specialties. Antoinette studied surgery. Unfortunately for her, none of us has had more than a few scrapes that needed stitches. I’ve never seen her so happy.”

  “Yep,” I nod, “you are Elsbeth’s
sisters alright.”

  “What does that mean?” Elsbeth scowls.

  “Just that y’all have a different definition of ‘happy’ and ‘unfortunately’,” I smile, hoping she doesn’t punch me.

  “True,” Elsbeth nods.

  Far off are the sounds of rifles. They stop then start again then stop. We all stand by the window and face the burning glow of Asheville.

  “I have to assume that’s Lourdes and her PCs,” Stuart says. “Hopefully, they are the buffer between the Zs and Whispering Pines.”

  “Wish we had communications,” John says, “that would make things easier.”

  “You’re soldiers,” one of the sisters (Stacy? Tracy?) says, “use your radios.”

  “Jammed,” John replies, “not a single signal.”

  “Hmmmm,” Cassie says and looks at the other women. “We knew the Wi-Fi went down…”

  “What is it?” Elsbeth asks. “You know something. Tell us. Now.”

  “Us, sister?” Cassie smiles. “What us would that be?”

  Elsbeth just glares. Cassie holds up her hands in apology.

  “My bad. I was playing,” Cassie says. “Audrey reported men setting up equipment on top of the BB&T building. Right in the center of town.”

  “The jammer,” John smiled, “if we can take that down then we can coordinate everyone again.”

  “The Consortium will be listening, I’m sure,” Cassie says.

  “Let them,” I smile, “they can hear what’s coming for them.”

  “I’ll go,” Stuart says.

  “I’m in,” John nods.

  “I will go too and kill the jammer with my bare hands,” Elsbeth says. “I liked my Wi-Fi.”

  “Some of us will go as well,” Cassie says. “Let me speak to my sisters. The rest will accompany you to Whispering Pines.”

  “Wait…what?” Melissa asks. “How? The roads are full of Zs. I know you ladies are badass and all, but not take-out-a-million-Zs badass. No offense, meant. I’m all for strong women.”

  “We don’t need roads,” I say, “we have the French Broad.”

  “That was our plan,” Reaper says, “before Platt got so bad. We were going to float into Riverside Park down across the highway from Whispering Pines. We still can.”

  “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…?”