Z-Burbia 4: Cannibal Road

by Jake Bible

  “Your lady bro is lyin’,” Barfly said to me. “She’s hidin’ somethin’ from me, I can tell.” He leaned in and placed the tip of the steel rod under Stella’s chin. He wasn’t exactly soft and subtle when he pushed her head up to face him. “What are you hidin’, Mrs. Long Pork bro? Fill me in on the secret and I won’t crush you like I crushed Bish Bash.”

  He pointed at the corpse with the pulped head.

  “That how you want to be, lady bro? You want to be all Bish Bashed? I can Bish Bash ya all day long if ya want. That what ya want?”

  “She doesn’t want to be Bish Bashed,” I said.

  “Not talkin’ to you, Long Pork,” Barfly snapped. “Stay out of this, bro.”

  “I don’t want to be Bish Bashed,” Stella said through clenched teeth. “I just want to get the fuck out of this crazy place!”

  Then she spit in Barfly’s face.

  Now, I totally understand why she did what she did, because I was close to that point also, but it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

  “WAIT!” I yelled as Barfly brought the steel rod back. I grabbed his arm and yanked him away. “STOP!”

  “Bro,” Barfly said as he looked at my hand gripping his arm. “Rude much, bro?”

  “Don’t hurt her,” I pleaded. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, okay?”

  “You will, bro?” Barfly asked, puzzled.

  “Jace?” Stella asked, confused.

  “Yep,” I replied, full of shit and desperate. “I know exactly what is going on, but you have to let my wife go, okay? Just let her walk down there to my kids. I’ll stay here and tell you everything.”

  Since I would tell Barfly everything if I actually knew anything, I guess I seemed sincere and my ruse worked because he didn’t crack my skull open and he didn’t crack Stella’s skull open either. There was a pleasant lack of skull cracking.

  The gang leader stared at me for approximately forever, and then pointed his steel rod right at a spot between my eyes.

  “She’s not tellin’ me everythin’,” he said. “So you better get to the tellin’ or all the Stanfords ends up Bish Bashed.”

  “Is that what we’re calling it now?” the man by Stella asked. “Bish Bashed?”

  “I been sayin’ it, haven’t I bro?” Barfly scoffed. “So that’s what it’s called now.”

  He let out a long, loud whistle and the crazy chaos of the camp came to a screeching halt. The more I think about it, the more I realize all of that chaos was just cannies running from one spot to another so they looked busy as usual. I don’t think any of them were trying to find the escapee. They just didn’t want to be caught standing around and suffer the business end of Barfly’s steel rod.

  “Peeps!” Barfly yelled. “From now on when I crush skulls it’s called Bish Bashing! Y’all good with that?”

  There was unanimous agreement. What a surprise.

  “Get down to your kids, lady bro,” Barfly said to Stella. “But stay right where I can see ya, okay? Don’t go sneakin’ off?”

  “You want us to stick with her?” the man asked.

  “Did I say I wanted you to stick with her?” Barfly snapped. “No, bro, you stay here. May need ya to hold Long Pork while I Bish Bash him if he doesn’t tell me the truth.”

  “Jace?” Stella cried as she was shoved away from us.

  “I’ll be okay,” I said. “Just do me a favor and hug the kids. Oh, and be careful with Greta. She has explosive diarrhea. Tell her that if she needs to go, she can just go ahead and go.”

  “What…?” Stella asked.

  I looked at Barfly and the two cannies. “I’m trying not to embarrass her too much, sweetie. Just tell her she can go when she needs to.”

  “Man, I hate diarrhea,” the man said. “Remember that time we ate that Korean family? They were sick or something because like half the camp ended up with the shits.”

  “That was something awful,” the British woman said. “Truly horrible.”

  “Go,” Barfly said to Stella. “Get to yer kids, lady bro.”

  Stella rushed off to the kids. They saw her coming, cried out, then ran to her. I watched as Stella kissed and hugged them then started to talk.

  “What?” Greta shouted. “He said what?”

  “Teen girls,” I grinned. “So touchy when it comes to bodily functions.”

  Greta glanced my way and I smiled and waved at her. She just shook her head, and then led Stella away from the power shed.

  “So...where were we?” I asked Barfly. “Oh, right, you were going to tell me all about this crazy chick that has you all worked up.”

  “Nice try, bro,” Barfly laughed just as the rod hit me in the side.

  I fell to a knee and winced, but didn’t cry out. Points to me for that bit of stoicism.

  “Tell me what you know,” Barfly said.

  I wanted to stall and wait for the explosion that was about to happen, but I knew I didn’t have time for that. I needed to make up something plausible, so I went to the only story I could think of that involved a crazy chick.

  “So, I know this woman named Elsbeth,” I said. “She used to be a canny like you guys, but she redeemed herself after a couple bumps and hiccups.”

  Barfly only stared.

  “Well, she’s really good with blades and can fight like an animal when she needs to,” I continued. “In fact, there was this one time when I had gotten trapped…”

  Smack.

  “Ow! What the fuck?”

  “We know all about you gettin’ trapped, Long Pork,” Barfly said. “She told us all about it. She likes to talk about you a lot. That’s why you’re here. That’s why I ain’t Bish Bashed ya yet. I know all this stuff. What I don’t know is where she went when you set her free?”

  “Oh…” Fuck.

  My brain about fried itself as it kicked into hyperdrive. Barfly had just confirmed that the crazy chick bro was Elsbeth. Okay. Good to know. He also said she talked a lot about me. What else did she talk about?

  Smack.

  “Fuck! Stop it!” I shouted.

  Smack.

  “DUDE!”

  “Bro!” Barfly yelled. “Tell me where she is!”

  “Fire!” someone shouted and we all turned to see where he was pointing.

  The power shed.

  Flames licked at the edges of the doorway and I frowned. It was supposed to explode, not just slow burn.

  Oh, wait…

  The fuel was an accelerant, but not an explosive. I wanted the power shed to go boom, but I forgot that I needed a boom part. Shit fuck.

  My distraction/middle finger to the cannies was a bust without an actual explosive. Poop.

  “What happened, bro?” Barfly snarled in my ear. “Why is my power shed on fire?”

  “It was Bish Bash’s fault,” I said quickly. “He must have spilled some gas. That Bish Bash. Sheesh. Good thing you Bish Bashed Bish Bash, right? Look what he did.”

  “I think I’ll kill you right now,” Barfly said very matter of fact. “No Bish Bashng. No, bro, I’m going to skin ya. Just cut the skin right off ya, bro. Ya know why? Because I’m so done with you, bro.”

  KABOOM CRACK!

  Ha! I did have an explosive in there!

  CRACK KATHOOOOM!

  Oh, shit...that wasn’t coming from the power shed.

  “The trucks!” Barfly yelled as he turned and faced the opposite direction. “Some peep is blowin’ up the trucks!”

  More and more explosions went off and the air was filled with nothing but black smoke and heat. Yeah, I took that opportunity to book ass.

  “Stella!” I shouted as I ran towards my family. “We gotta get the fuck outta here!”

  “Ya think?” Stella shouted back as I skidded to a halt next to them. “But how? Where?”

  “Where’d you get those?” I asked as I studied the key ring she held in her hand. There was a pink bracelet tied to one of the keys.

  “They were in my pocket,” Stella said. “I have
no idea how they got there.”

  “I do,” I grinned as I looked over my shoulder at the Bronco. “I even know what that key goes to.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Oh...it’s you,” Barfly snorts, his body tense and ready for the fight. He looks at the young woman that stands in front of him. Even though I’m at his back, I know he’s studying her like the predator he is.

  What the stupid fuck doesn’t know is that he’s already been studied thoroughly or the young woman wouldn’t be standing there.

  “Ready to die, crazy chick bro?” Barfly laughs.

  “I ain’t crazy.”

  “If you ain’t crazy, what are you?” Barfly snarls.

  “I’m family,” Elsbeth grins.

  And we are back! All caught up? Good because shit is about to get fucking insane at the edge of this quarry.

  There’s a gang of cannies ready to take on a shit load of Zs while their crazy leader is about to go head to head with Elsbeth.

  “Jace,” Stella whispers. “We should go.”

  “Don’t ya be movin’, lady bro,” Barfly says over his shoulder. “I’m gonna kill this crazy chick bro and then it’ll be your turn. I don’t wanna have to play hide and seek, so just stay right there.”

  “Well, since you asked so nice,” I reply, then turn and grab Stella’s arm. “Run! Come on, kids!”

  Ah, yes, the Stanfords are running again!

  Damn if we don’t do a lot of running. Run from this bunch of nutjobs, run from that bunch of nutjobs, and the always running from Zs part of our lives. I was never a jogger pre-Z, not that I’m a jogger now, but it sure would have been a good skill to learn before it was forced on me. I’ll be willing to bet my form could be improved. I tend to run flat footed, as far as I can tell. That can’t be good for your arches, can it?

  “Shit fuck!” Greta yelled as a group of Zs stumbles from the trees. “Where’d they all come from? I didn’t see a single Z when we were in the canny camp!”

  “They probably came from that neighborhood we passed back there,” Charlie said. “Shit!”

  Charlie slips and nearly topples over the side of the cliff and into the empty quarry. Well, empty of water; it has plenty of rocks to go smashy-splat on.

  An ear piercing scream splits the night and we whirl about to see Elsbeth down on the ground with Barfly straddling her.

  “No he doesn’t!” Stella shouts. She’s off running back to Elsbeth before we can stop her.

  Shit.

  Now for the slow-mo portion of our story!

  The kids and I run after Stella, screaming at her to stop, but she just keeps going, heading right at Barfly. The man’s face is a wicked grin and looks ten times scarier than usual because of the flickering torch light. Then his features change from wicked to confused and finally to surprised. I don’t think he figured Stella would come at him.

  “Whoa, lady bro!” he yells just as she leaps at him and the world speeds up again.

  Stella catches him about the neck, taking him right off Elsbeth. The two of them roll for a few feet, with Stella ending up on top when they finally stop. Her fists come down hard and fast and Barfly’s head snaps to the right, to the left, to the right, to the left. Back and forth until he lands a solid punch to Stella’s throat.

  He arches his back and brings his knees up, nailing Stella in the spine. She tries to scream, but the shot to her throat has taken her voice and only a pained croak comes out.

  “Damn, lady bro!” Barfly says as he shoves her away and gets up. “That shit hurt!”

  His face is a bloody mess and I can’t help but smile despite the fact my wife is on the ground at the psycho’s feet.

  “This’ll hurt more,” Elsbeth says as she slams Barfly’s own steel rod against the backs of his thighs. He screams and falls to his knees. “This too.”

  She spins and smashes the rod right against Barfly’s chest. The sound of ribs cracking can be heard across the meadow, even with the noise from the fighting Zs and cannies.

  Right, the Zs and cannies. Can’t forget about that shit.

  “Dad!” Charlie yells. “We’ve got company!”

  The Zs from the side of the meadow have caught up to us.

  “Weapon up, kids!” I yell. “Time to go to work!”

  “Fuck,” Greta sighs. “I hate going to work.”

  Weapons are no longer an issue. You see, cannies may be good at catching and killing humans for dinner, but apparently, they are not bulletproof. Or Z proof, as it may be. Several canny corpses litter the meadow now as the Zs overwhelm them and get in close for a nighttime snack which means plenty of stray weapons.

  I kick a Z off the British canny that had Stella earlier, which still boggles my mind, and pick up the lead pipe wrapped in duct tape her corpse is holding. A lot of good that lead pipe did for her, but maybe it’ll do more for me as I turn and walk towards the Zs.

  Greta is at my side, as is Charlie, and both of them are holding baseball bats. No spikes in the baseball bats like the Bitch, but better than a bag of marshmallows. I have no idea what that means, so don’t ask. It’s late and I’m tired.

  “I’ve got the three on the right,” Greta says.

  “I’ll take the three on the left,” Charlie replies.

  “Great,” I smirk. “Leave the five in the middle for me.”

  “You’re bigger and stronger,” Greta says.

  “Hey! I’m strong!” Charlie says.

  “And I only have one arm,” I say. “Maybe Charlie should take the five in the middle?”

  “No, no, I’m good,” Charlie says. “You can have them.”

  “Thanks,” I say as I close on the Zs.

  Unfortunately, I do one very stupid thing just before I get to the Zs: I look over my shoulder to see if Stella is okay. While not exactly fine, she isn’t being attacked, so that’s good.

  However, that lapse in attention, while sweet and thoughtful, means I misjudge the distance between the Zs and myself. So when I turn my attention back to them, I’m staring at five open mouths and nine reaching arms.

  I say nine because one of the Zs is missing an arm. I wonder if that’s what I’d look like of I was turned into a Z? Probably not since the Z is a woman. My pecs aren’t in the greatest shape, but they certainly don’t look like the putrid, saggy Z tits that poke out from the dead woman’s blouse. Yuck does not express it enough.

  A few stumbling steps backwards, and a couple lucky swings of the pipe, gets me enough space between the Zs to dodge to the side and not go down in a happy little Z pile. I elbow one Z out of the way and use that momentum to crack the skull of another. Stinking brains slosh out of its skull and all over my hand, making me gag a little since you just never get used to that shitty smell.

  I shoulder the stinky, debrained Z to the side then go back for the first one I elbowed. I miss its head and totally crush its shoulder, basically causing half its rotted body to fall away. This turns out to be a good thing since its fallen half tangles up two more of the Zs, sending them to the ground.

  That leaves one Z and it knows an opportunity when it sees one. With all of its Z bros down on the ground, it knows it can have me all to itself.

  Did I just say “Z bros”? Fuck, I’ve been hanging around Barfly way too much. That fucker gets in your head.

  “Dad!” Greta screams.

  She sure does scream at me a lot.

  I shove the last Z away and hurry to where my kids are stranded, their backs to the edge of the quarry with three Zs coming right for them.

  “Move!” I yell.

  The kids each dive out of the way, as I rush the Zs and give them a hard shove. The first two go flying out over the edge and down into the dark pit below, but the third twists and grabs onto my ankle before falling. My legs go out from under me and I find myself being pulled by the weight of the Z right off the edge of the quarry.

  “No!” Stella rasps as she wraps her hands under my armpits and pulls. “You’re staying here!”


  The Z still has a hold of my ankle, but a couple whacks with the lead pipe shatters its wrist and it goes falling down to join its friends. Except for its hand that is still gripping my ankle. Stella keeps pulling me until we are well away from the edge. She frowns at the Z hand, tears it from my leg, and then throws it off into the quarry.

  “Thanks, baby,” I smile at her.

  “Any time,” she says, her voice a throaty croak. It’s kinda sexy, really.

  “I am so gonna make you talk dirty to me once we get away from this shit,” I say.

  “Fuck you,” she smiles.

  I get to my feet and scan the area. No Zs are coming at us, but there are plenty in the meadow doing a pretty damn fine job at thinning the canny population of Tennessee. Not that the cannies are losing, mind you. There are a good number that have the skills needed to take on more than their share of Zs. You could say that Z bodies are going down two to every one canny.

  This means, now that I think of it, that the cannies are winning. That’s bad. I hate rooting for the Zs, but if given the choice between mindless killing and eating machines and killing and eating machines with minds, I’ll go mindless anytime.

  You know what I mean. Shut up.

  “Eat the shit and die, fucker killer fucker shit for fuck!” Elsbeth screams, bringing our attention back to our adopted member of the Stanford family unit.

  No blades and no steel rods, Elsbeth and Barfly face each other, fists up, as they circle and look for their opponent’s weakness.

  This is something I don’t see everyday. I don’t mean the senseless violence because I do tend to see that everyday. No, I mean that Elsbeth isn’t flat out winning. This is a woman that was not only brainwashed and trained to be an assassin, but she spent quite a few years as a canny herself. She knows how to fight and kill better than most elite soldiers do.

  Or did. Not that there are a whole lot of elite soldiers left in the world. I think. I could be totally wrong since this is the first road trip I’ve taken in a long time.

  Barfly comes in with a feint to Elsbeth’s right, but she refuses to fall for it and brings up her left arm as his real hook comes flying at her. That leaves her open for the headbutt. Bam! Elsbeth takes a shot to her nose from Barfly’s forehead. She stumbles back a couple of feet, but shakes it off.