Z-Burbia Box Set | Books 1-3 [The Asheville Trilogy] Page 11

  “How did they know about the people?” I ask. “Did you fill them in when you got here?”

  “No,” Stuart says, “glad you caught that. Wasn’t sure if maybe I misheard.”

  “When have you ever misheard something?” I laugh.

  He gives me a very weak smile and I realize just how badly he’s hurt. He’s completely naked and there’s quite a breeze blowing across the plateau, but his forehead is covered in sweat.

  “Stuart? You need some help?”

  He starts to wave me off, but I can see his legs shaking.

  “Maybe.”

  I get on one side and tell Elsbeth to get on the other. We are pretty much carrying him by the time we get to my house. Well, Elsbeth is carrying him. I’m more like hobbling next to him adding to the weight of the effort.

  “Hey, babe,” I say as Stella opens the door.

  Her eyes and attention don’t know where to go: me naked and wounded, Stuart nearly unconscious, wounded and naked, or Elsbeth and her scars, naked. But there’s a reason I married her long ago in a different world.

  “Charlie!” she yells. My son comes running to the door. His eyes, of course, go straight to the naked woman. Stella snaps in front of his face. “Go get Dr. McCormick. Now.”

  “Hey, Dad,” Charlie smiles and claps me on the shoulder as he runs past.

  “Get him in on the couch,” Stella says. “Greta! I need a sheet!”

  Greta peers over the second floor landing. “Mom, I’m drawing right now and the light is- Holy fuck knuckles!” Her head disappears and seconds later, she’s barreling down the stairs with a sheet. She hands it to Stella who covers the couch with it so Elsbeth and I can set Stuart down. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, sweetie,” I say.

  “New girlfriend?” she grins.

  “Greta,” Stella warns. “Towels. Now. And put water on to boil.”

  “Right,” Greta nods, not willing to argue with her mother.

  “Thanks,” Stuart croaks. “Just a scratch. May need a stitch or two.” He drifts off.

  Stella turns to me, starts to reach for my face then pulls back, shakes her head, turns to Elsbeth and holds out her hand. “I’m Stella Stanford, Jace’s wife.”

  “You’re Long Pork’s woman?” Elsbeth asks. She looks my wife up and down. “You look like you’re the boss.” She looks at me. “Is she the boss?”

  “She’s the boss,” I smile. I look at Stella and the smile falls from my face. “Maybe Greta can show her to the bathroom so she can get cleaned up?”

  “That’s a good idea,” Stella says. “Greta?”

  “Fine,” Greta says as she hands Stella a stack of dishtowels. She sighs and looks at Elsbeth, her eyes studying the scars. “Come on, Queen Tut. I’ll show you where you can shower and pee.”

  “Queen Tut?” Elsbeth asks, very confused.

  “You know,” Greta says as she waves her hand at Elsbeth’s body. “All the hieroglyphs and shit.”

  “Greta, be a good host,” Stella says, “and be nice.”

  “I’m always nice,” Greta says, leading Elsbeth upstairs, “unless someone interrupts me when I’m drawing and the light is going away.”

  “Thanks, G,” I smile. “Maybe grab some of Mom’s old clothes from the closet? They should fit Elsbeth.”

  We wait until they are upstairs before speaking.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Stella says. “Really, Jace? Really?”

  “Long story,” I say, exhausted. “I need to get clean too and then we can talk.”

  Stella gently puts a hand on my arm, but I can still see anger in her eyes.

  “Get showered then get your ass down here,” she looks at my wounds. “You need to see Dr. McCormick too.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I say as I start for the stairs. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” she says, “but you aren’t even close to being off the hook.”

  “Baby, I’ve been on the hook since I met you,” I smile.

  She frowns, but some of the anger leaves her eyes. She turns and starts to put some towels under Stuart to catch the blood.

  The shower is heaven. A painful, excruciating heaven, but still heaven. It takes me a while to get all of the grime off of me and before I know it, I’m soaping up in cold water. Which is weird since our water heater never runs out of hot water. Even in the zombie apocalypse, we have the best water heater in the world.

  Luckily for Whispering Pines, all water heaters and stoves/ovens are natural gas. Whatever the infrastructure is for that, it never shut off even well after the power went out. Stuart has mentioned it a million times that we need to send out an expedition to the natural gas distribution center. But life and undeath keeps getting in the way.

  Shivering, I rinse off, towel off, and get dressed. I limp downstairs in time to see Stuart looking up at me from the couch, his face a rictus of anger and pain, as Dr. McCormick probes the wound in his back.

  “Jesus H. Christ, James,” Dr. McCormick says. She’s a young doctor, in her thirties, pretty, but plain in a clinical way. No makeup ever, her hair pulled up in a tight bun at all times. She lives alone in her 3,600 square foot house, so it doubles as the infirmary. She never talks about what happened to her partner and their three little girls. Never.

  “How bad is it?” I ask.

  “I need to get him to my exam room,” she says, without looking at me. “But not before he gets some blood. His kidney is nicked for sure.”

  “Shit, Stuart,” I say. “What the hell, man? You ran here and back with your kidney all ripped up?”

  “Thank you, Stuart,” Stella says. “That’s what Jace meant to say. We owe you big time.”

  I grab a chair and limp over to the couch, rolling up my sleeve as I sit down. “O negative to the rescue,” I smile, “this will make us even.”

  “No, it won’t,” Stella and Dr. McCormick say together.

  “I was kidding,” I say as the doctor preps my arm. The needle is huge and I give her a questioning look. “You plan on bleeding me dry?”

  “Only gauge needle I have left,” she says. “Sorry. I put in a request with Melissa, but none of her scavenging crews have come across med supplies in weeks.”

  “Somebody is hoarding,” Stella says. “And I have a good idea who.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” I say. “There are new players in town.” Stella raises an eyebrow and I shake my head. “Later.”

  “If we don’t get more med supplies, then I’m going to be back to the horse and buggy days when it comes to medical care. I do not need to tell you all that medicine in the horse and buggy days was less than reliable.”

  I sigh and lean back into the chair as I pump my fist a couple of times, while Dr. McCormick gets the blood collection bag situated on the chair.

  “I’m going to stitch what I can here,” she says. “Can you text Mindy so some of her folks can help carry him down the street to my place?”

  “No, don’t,” I say to Stella. “Just go ask Tran. He can get Stubben and some of the Ag folks to help carry Stuart. I don’t want Mindy to know how bad Stuart is.”

  “I’m fine,” he mumbles.

  “Yeah, you are, tough guy,” I say. “Just the picture of health.”

  “Can still kick your ass,” he whispers. “Try me.”

  “I’ll pass on that,” I say. “You probably can.”

  “While you fill that bag, how about I look at you?” Dr. McCormick asks. I roll up the leg of my sweats and Dr. McCormick frowns at me. “I can’t get to it that way. Drop ‘em.”

  I pull my sweats down, wishing I’d worn better boxers, and the doctor looks at the spike wounds on my leg. “I can clean those, no problem.” She looks closely at the wound on my cheek. “This is going to take a lot of stitches. And I’ll have to irrigate it and change the dressing a few times before it can really heal.” She leans in. “God, what did you get in there? You’re lucky your face hasn’t fallen off with the amount of dirt in that wound.”<
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  “I just kept pressing it until the skin stopped falling over,” I say.

  That’s the last Stella can handle. She walks away, her hand to her mouth, trying not to gag. “I’m going to check on Greta and our, uh, guest.”

  “Elsbeth,” I say.

  Stella tries to kill me with her eyes. “I remember her name.”

  “Guest?” Dr. McCormick asks.

  “Stella didn’t mention her?” I ask, wincing and trying so hard not to cry as the doctor swabs out my cheek. “Ow, shit, Doc. Yeah, a guest. Found her in town. Or she found me.” I give the doctor a hard look. “Cannibal.”

  She pulls back and looks over her shoulder up at the second floor landing. “How old?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe twenties? Not sure.”

  “She sane?”

  “Debatable.”

  “Yes, but is she coherent? Or is her speech pattern off? Maybe has a hard time tracking with her eyes? Not so perfect motor control?”

  “No, no, she’s coherent and has no problem with motor control,” I answer.

  “Good,” she nods, “then she hasn’t damaged her brain eating human meat. She’s too young, really. But you never know nowadays.”

  “No shit,” I laugh and then want to cry as it stretches the skin on my face.

  “Okay, shut up while I stitch,” she says.

  I want to scream as the hooked needle slips into the tender flesh on my cheek. Tender, tender, OH FUCK, THAT HURTS, flesh. She stops and I sigh.

  “Don’t get comfy,” she says. “Just changing the blood bag. One more pint and that should do it.”

  “Shit.”

  Then she starts in again OH FUCK MY FACE OW!

  “Quit squirming,” she says. “There. Done. Keep it dry and clean for the next couple of days. Hear me, Jason? Dry and clean.”

  “Yes, doctor,” I say. “Oh, wow.”

  Dr. McCormick turns and sees what I’m looking at. A freshly washed, and cleanly dressed, Elsbeth, standing at the bottom of the stairs with Greta and Stella. Despite herself, Stella is smiling.

  “Elsbeth, this is Dr. McCormick,” Stella says. “She’s gonna look you over and make sure you’re healthy.”

  Elsbeth lifts her arms, stretching the t-shirt she’s wearing, and flexes her biceps. “I’m plenty healthy. Pa always said I’m healthier and stronger than most men folk. It’s because I eat so many of them. I get their strength.”

  Yeah, that brings the room down quickly.

  “Okay then,” Stella says. “Doctor? You can use the office here.”

  “Pinch this clamp when the bag is full,” Dr. McCormick tells me, pointing to the second blood bag still filling from my vein. She checks the first bag, which she hooked up to Stuart’s arm, and nods. “I’ll be right back.”

  Stella walks the doctor and Elsbeth into the office, and then shuts the door behind them. She turns and looks at me, and then at Stuart.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Fine,” Stuart says quietly. “I can leave if you need to talk.”

  “Funny,” Stella says. “Greta? Go find what’s taking your brother so long. Tran should have only been down the block picking beans. That’s what he said he was doing this morning.”

  Once Greta is gone, Stella focuses on me, her face a mixture of emotions.

  “I didn’t think you were coming back,” she says finally. “When I heard Stuart was at the gate alone and why I just...you know...”

  “Sorry,” I say. “It got weird out there.”

  “Very,” Stuart says.

  “Something isn’t right,” I say. “Stuart knows it too.”

  “Yep.”

  “Like how?” Stella asks.

  “Like Brenda knows more than she’s saying,” I say. “Like she sent us out there and knew maybe we wouldn’t come back. Did you know the Board held a special vote?”

  Stella frowns. “No, when?”

  “Last night,” I say. “I don’t know what all they voted on, but they changed it so everyone has to strip outside the gate before they can come in. That’s just reckless.”

  “Easier to pick people off that way,” Stuart adds, his voice muffled by the couch. “Good strategy if you want to put someone down without there being many witnesses.”

  “What the fuck are you saying, Stuart?” Stella asks. “You think Brenda wants to kill someone?”

  “I think Brenda has a plan,” Stuart says. “I think she’s putting that plan into place. It’s been a long time coming.”

  “I know she’s a little heavy handed,” I say, “but what plan could she possibly have?”

  “I don’t know,” Stuart says, “but I want to talk to Melissa before I talk to Brenda and Mindy.”

  “Mindy?” Stella asks. “Is that cow part of it?”

  “I doubt she knows details,” I say. “Whatever those details may be. But she’s Brenda’s bitch, that’s for sure.”

  The front door opens and Tran and half a dozen men come tromping in. They get close to the couch and Tran nods at me.

  “Hey, Tran,” I say, “Dr. McCormick will be right out and then you can haul this sorry sack down to her house.”

  He nods knowing I’m crap when it comes to accents. I feel like such a dick.

  “Stella, can I speak with you?” Dr. McCormick asks as she peeks her head out of the office.

  “Sure,” Stella says, following her inside.

  Tran and his crew just look about the house.

  “I’d offer you guys something to drink, but I’m kinda hooked to this,” I say, pointing at the blood bag which I have just pinched off. “Go ahead and grab some water if you need.”

  “We’re good,” one of the guys says.

  “I got a board,” Charlie says as he comes inside carrying one end of a long piece of plywood. “To carry Stuart on.”

  “It was my idea,” Greta says as she comes in carrying the other end.

  “It was not,” Charlie snaps. “That’s why I was gone so long! Because I was looking for this!”

  “You were looking for boards,” Greta says. “This is plywood, not a board. It’s bigger. This was my idea.”

  “This specific board was, but the general idea was mine,” Charlie says.

  “It’s not a ‘board’,” Greta counters.

  “Yes, it is!”

  “No, it’s-”

  “Enough,” I bark, too tired to deal with the bickering. “Thank you to both of you. Set it down right there and head up to your rooms.”

  “To our rooms?” Charlie asks. “Why?”

  The look on my face gives him all the answer he needs and the kids book it upstairs.

  “Okay, let’s get this done,” Dr. McCormick says as she walks over and gets the second bag and line from my arm. She ties the line around it, puts it in her bag, and then grabs the bag hooked to Stuart. “I’ll hold this while you scoot him onto that board. That was a good idea. Who’s was it?”

  She looks to the Ag group for an answer, but Greta answers from above.

  “Mine!”

  “It was mine!” Charlie shouts.

  “In your rooms!” I bellow.

  “Kids, man,” one of the crew smiles.

  Dr. McCormick gives my face one last look, and then gets the ball rolling with Stuart. He looks at me while he’s lifted onto the board. I give him a wink so he knows we are on the same page. Stella helps Elsbeth upstairs to the guest room. By the time she comes down, the house is empty of non-family (except Elsbeth). She sits down on the couch and leans forward looking at me. I haven’t bothered to get up from the chair. Just too tired.

  “You should go up to bed,” Stella finally says.

  “Can’t,” I say. “My brain is in overdrive.”

  “She’s a sweet girl,” she says, “but completely fucked up.”

  “Yeah, cannibals aren’t known for their stability or sane life choices.”

  “She said her dad did that to her skin. And he let others do it too. Before they killed and ate them.”


  “Fucking A.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She doesn’t have to stay here,” I say. “I just had to keep her away from Mindy and Brenda.”

  “Why? You think they’ll hurt her?”

  “I don’t know what to think right now. There’s something rotten in Whispering Pines.”

  “There’s something rotten everywhere.”

  We sit there for a minute before I summon the strength to get up and plop next to her on the couch. She reaches for my cheek and touches the bandage.

  “How close was it?” she asks.

  “Which time?” I say.

  “Fuck, Jace,” she sighs. “I don’t want you leaving the gate again.”

  “I can’t make that promise. You know that.”

  “Leave the outside to Melissa and the scavengers,” she insists, “and to Stuart and his defensive team. Once he’s healed. You’re a brain. And brains need to be kept safe and protected by a hard shell like Whispering Pines.”

  I debate telling her. I don’t want to scare her, but the reality of what’s out there can’t be kept secret.

  “We made some friends while we were gone,” I say and look at her.

  “Oh? Invite to dinner friends?”

  “No. More like shoot on sight friends. Killed a few of them before we got away. They’ve got this leader, or I assume he’s the leader, that Stuart calls Wall Street. I like Bullhorn because he kept shouting into a bullhorn, but Stuart likes Wall Street because he looks like that guy from the movie, but younger.”

  “Shia LeBouf?” she asks.

  “What? No, Michael Douglas.”

  “Old school Wall Street.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does he actually look like him?”

  “He dresses like him.”

  “Then he’s Wall Street. Bullhorn can be any asshole.”

  “Thanks for backing me up.”

  “Stop stalling. Tell me what’s going on.”

  I do. I fill her in on the entire ordeal. Even the pink yoga pants and purple butterfly t-shirt. I could have just left that part out, but there can’t be secrets in a marriage. Especially not in the zombie apocalypse.

  Stella is still and quiet for a long time before she stirs and grips my hand.