Z-Burbia Box Set | Books 4-6 [The Road Trip Trilogy] Page 16

  “No, Jace!” Stella shouted. “Just no!”

  “Don’t worry, baby,” I grinned. “I have a good feeling about this.”

  And I did. I have no idea why I had a good feeling as I ran my ass off between two massive walls made of everything from crushed automobiles to train cars, from old dumpsters to old dump trucks.

  About twenty feet ahead, the wall slid away and out came the bikers.

  Now, as I have expressed before, I fucking detest apocalypse bikers. It’s the goggles. Why not just wear helmets? I’m sure there are more motorcycle helmets hanging around than those stupid bubble goggles the dumbshits wear. But, no, they have to look all crazy cool. Emphasis on the crazy part.

  Fuckers. I bet half of them have never even seen Mad Max. Fuckers.

  Charlie lifted his 9mm and fired three shots, nailing two bikers square in the chest and sending them flying off their motorcycles. The third shot missed as the intended target ducked and swerved. Charlie didn’t have time to adjust his aim since the bikers were on us by then. He dove and rolled to the side, just avoiding the swipe of a machete. Good thing the bikers didn’t have guns.

  I was willing to bet there were plenty pointed down at us from the folks on the walls, though. Except, as I ran and thought about it, I never saw any and didn’t hear the signature sounds of slides being racked. Hmmm, I said to myself. Hmmm...

  “Greta! Down!” Stella yelled as a biker swung a chain at our daughter’s head.

  For the record, I fucking hate chains too. Just saying.

  Greta dove and rolled then jammed her baton in the rear wheel of the motorcycle as the chain rider zipped by. The bike skidded, the rear wheel shot out sideways and the whole thing took quite the side tumble. Chain rider did not get up from that tumble since his head was twisted around in a direction God did not intend.

  That left six more bikers to deal with. Six! Not good numbers for the Stanfords, but doable.

  The six swept past us then whipped their bikes around and gunned it for our backs.

  “Keep running!” I yelled, noticing that the music had switched to the Eagles’ “Takin’ It Easy”. “Turn and fire when I say!”

  I slid to a stop and spun about, my baton held back, ready to crack a skull or two. I could see a couple of the bikers start laughing and I wondered just how pitiful I looked. It’d been a while since I’d had a shower or gotten a chance to change clothes. Wouldn’t have been a bad bet that I looked almost as crazy as those fuckers did.

  The bikers were ten feet, five feet, and I dove. Right at them!

  “Fire!” I yelled.

  The bikers, confused that I didn’t dive out of the way and instead came right at them, all swerved and three actually hit their brakes and turned sideways, which made them perfect targets. Their bodies shuddered then crumpled across their bikes as the motorcycles fell to the ground.

  The other three bikers didn’t know quite what to do. They split and went wide around Stella and the kids. One of them actually clipped a wall, but didn’t go down. All three gunned it and got ahead of us then spun about and let their motors idle.

  I got up and joined my family. The four of us stood there in the road and faced the three bikers, ready with our batons and 9mms. Well, okay, not me. I raised Stumpageddon and pointed it at them.

  “Jace, baby, what are you doing?” Stella asked.

  “Pretending I have a pistol,” I said.

  She glanced at me and frowned.

  “Just let him, Mom,” Greta sighed. “It makes him feel better.”

  “Thanks, sweetie,” I smiled.

  “But you know you don’t actually have a pistol, right Daddy?” she asked.

  “Yes, I know that.”

  “Good.”

  We stared at the bikers. They stared at us.

  Showdown, bitches!

  “We don’t have all night, fuckheads,” Charlie called. “Let’s do this!”

  “Gah! I really wish people would stop saying that!” Greta snapped. “So over used!”

  “You have something better?” Charlie asked.

  “How about nothing? Maybe we could just stand here in silence and look all scary and shit,” Greta replied.

  “Too late for that,” Stella growled. “So both of you shut up.”

  “Well, folks, it looks like we have a showdown!” Mr. Flips announced.

  See? Told ya.

  “Who will survive?” Mr. Flips continued. “The Stanfords, who have fought very well for a family of scraggly survies?”

  “Hey!” Charlie yelled. “I do not look scraggly! I just have fine facial hair and it looks thinner than it is!”

  “He wasn’t talking about that, sweetie,” Stella said.

  “Oh,” Charlie frowned.

  “Or will it be our three heroes on bikes?” Mr. Flips asked the spectators. “I know who I’m betting on!”

  “I’d like to know who he’s betting on,” I said.

  The bikers revved, revved, released!

  They came at us, hunched over their handlebars, one with a chain, one with a baseball bat, and one with a pointy stick of some sort. I don’t know, he was too far away to see exactly what he held and the lights from the wall were a little glaring.

  I sorta knew what would happen without having to confirm it with Mr. Flips and I felt sorry for the bikers. Did they not see the pistols?

  Stella, Greta, and Charlie lifted their 9mms and each fired two shots.

  Stella took out baseball bat guy, Greta hit the chain guy, and Charlie put two right in the goggles of pointy stick. I made pew pew noises with Stumpageddon.

  “Yes!” I yelled as the bikes, and bikers, went down hard. “I got the one on the left!”

  My family just sighed.

  We jumped out of the way, as pointy stick’s bike nearly slammed into us, flipping end over end a few times before coming to a smoking halt.

  The spectators lost their shit. Like totally lost it. They were cheering and screaming so loud I couldn’t hear Stella as she tried to tell me something.

  “We’re a quarter of the way!” Stella yelled as she pulled my head to her mouth. “We will live!”

  “I know,” I said, but she only shook her head since I didn’t yell it.

  “What about the bikes?” Charlie yelled. “Should we take them?”

  The thought had crossed my mind, but I had a good feeling it had crossed our tormentors’ minds as well.

  “Leave them!” I shouted. “I don’t trust them!”

  “Fuck these people!” Stella yelled as she turned and flipped one wall off then the other. “FUCK YOU!”

  That sent the spectators into an even bigger frenzy and the walls reverberated with their voices cheering us on. Not that they wanted us to win, mind you, but they certainly enjoyed the show.

  “Move ass!” Stella shouted and started to sprint again, her face a grimace of rage and determination. “Come on!”

  The three of us followed right behind her. I did a mental check and realized that there were precious few bullets left between us. I really should have given one of them my pistol so they could utilize the extra ammo and firepower. Nothing like a little double gun show of force!

  A section of the right wall slid away and out stepped a dozen very large, very ugly Zs. These fuckers were not only built with muscle, but they had all kinds of enhancements. You know, the usual, like saw blades sticking out from their forearms, spikes coming out of their thighs from all sides, broken glass and shards of metal sticking from their chests.

  Oh, and the kicker? They had iron pipe couplings around their necks.

  I guessed beheadings weren’t in the cards.

  The crowd quieted down and Mr. Flips began his spiel.

  “Ladies and gentlemen! Our guests now have the honor of being presented with the Deadly Dozen!” he called out. “Twelve of the most dangerous fatties we have ever trapped and trained here in Cannibal Road!”

  “Deadly Dozen?” Greta smirked as she rolled her eyes. “These fu
ckheads need better copy.”

  “Fatties?” I asked. “What the fuck are fatties? Are they calling Zs fatties? That makes no sense.”

  “What doesn’t make sense is why they’d send Zs in to kill us,” Charlie said. “Don’t these fucks want our meat? If Zs bite us or kill us then the meat is tainted.”

  We turned and looked at him.

  “What?” he asked. “It’s a valid point.”

  “You going canny now?” Greta smirked.

  “Shut up,” Charlie frowned.

  “Can we focus on the Zs, please,” Stella said.

  “These fatties are the biggest, the baddest, and the most brutal killers to come out of the apocalypse!” Mr. Flips continued. “They have eaten hundreds, killed hundreds more, and are unstoppable! Can the Stanfords make it past twelve of the scariest creatures on Earth? We shall see!”

  The spectators were cheering, jeering, booing, hollering, and some were singing. Singing.

  “We are the cannibals, my friends! And we’ll keep on eating until the end!’

  Jesus...

  “Four of us, twelve of them,” Stella said as the Zs started to walk towards us.

  None of them was in a hurry, which was surprising, but then they weren’t used to their prey getting away, so why hurry?

  “What’s the plan?” Stella asked.

  “Take out the legs,” I said. “They are too big and strong for us to kill outright. And we want to avoid those spikes and blades and shit. Hit them below the knees and their size will take them down.”

  “The bigger they are, the deader they fall,” Charlie said.

  “Ready?” Stella asked, tucking her pistol away and grabbing her baton with both hands. “Spread out.”

  We spread ourselves across the road and eyed the Zs. All we had to do was each take down three and we could just keep going. If they were crippled, they couldn’t pursue and that’s all that mattered.

  “Come on, Dozen!” Mr. Flips yelled. “IT’S FEEDING TIME!”

  Apparently, that was their cue because the twelve massive Zs came at us hard as Mr. Flips’ words echoed between the walls. My intellectual curiosity wondered how they had trained and conditioned the Zs. It seemed counter to everything we’d known about the Zs. If they could be trained, what was really going on up in those rotting brains of theirs?

  “Get out of your head, baby,” Stella said. “Kill time.”

  “Right,” I nodded as I held my baton tight enough to make my knuckles pop.

  Next tune was Iron Butterfly and that always kick ass song of theirs, “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.” I totally love “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida”. The long, seventeen minute version, not the radio edit. The radio edit is just annoying because it doesn’t really capture the spirit of the...

  “Jace!” Stella snapped.

  “Sorry.”

  The Zs didn’t divide themselves into four groups to take us each on, but instead ran straight for Greta. Whether it was conditioning or instinct, they saw her as the weakest one for some reason. Yeah, bad move.

  Greta was on the far right side and ran towards us; drawing the Zs our way then she juked and ran back towards the wall, forcing the Zs to turn quickly in an awkward arc. I wanted to scream at her that she’d get herself trapped by the wall, but in seconds, she was running past and ahead of the Zs. The fucking stupid undead morons all turned their backs on the rest of us in order to chase after Greta.

  My girl was brilliant.

  “Now!” I shouted and ran towards the closest Zs.

  Stella and Charlie were right there with me and we didn’t hesitate for a single second as we began to smash the backs of the Zs’ calves, ripping rotten flesh and cracking long dead bones.

  I took out the left knee of my first Z and it toppled over right there on the spot. I sidestepped it and whacked another Z, shattering its lower leg in a mess of black blood and grey flesh. Yellow bone poked out of the calf and the entire bottom leg came right off when the surprised Z tried to turn around and get me. Fucking dipshit pivoted on its broken leg. It collapsed next to the first Z I’d crippled.

  An undead hand reached out and grabbed me by the ankle and I nearly fell on my face. My instinctive reaction was to reach out to stop my fall, but I had my baton in my hand, so instead, I jammed the point into the skull of the second crippled Z, killing it instantly, and stopped myself from taking a face plant.

  That brief hiccup gave one of the other Zs still standing time to close the distance between us and it was its putrid hands that I felt on my shoulders as I tried to get my balance and right myself. Did I scream when I felt those hands? You bet your fucking ass I did!

  “Stella!” I shouted as I tried to twist and get free. “Stella!”

  With only one hand, I was basically helpless because if I took my weight off the baton, I’d just collapse onto the two Zs at my feet, one of which was still undead and kicking. I tried to kick loose of the hand that gripped my ankle, but I could tell it was not going to give anytime soon.

  “Stella!”

  “Hold on!” she yelled.

  The Z that had my shoulders was trying to get in at my neck and I basically shook and shuddered as if I was having a seizure to keep its jagged teeth from ripping into my jugular. I could hear the crowd cheering and cheering, their voices rising in anticipation of something.

  Whack!

  I began to tumble backwards as the weight of the Z that had me started to fall. I pushed hard with my legs so I wouldn’t just crumple underneath. The added force of my body, with the top heavy musculature of the Z, sent its torso bending back so fast that I could hear and feel its spine snap right above its pelvis. It bent in half and I landed on it hard.

  This meant that those glass shards and hunks of metal in its chest went right into my back.

  “Mother fucker!” I yelled as Stella pulled me free almost instantly. “Fuck!”

  She spun about and smacked a Z across its iron jaw. No, seriously, the fucking thing had iron bolted to its jaw. The monster’s head whipped about, but because of the iron coupling around its neck, the blow didn’t snap anything, except Stella’s baton.

  “Fucking asshole!” she yelled then shoved me out of the way as she planted a foot on the shoulder of the Z I had just been almost impaled on, grabbed its still moving hand and pulled with all her might. The arm yanked free and she turned to the iron jawed Z and went to town.

  All I could do was stand there and stare as she beat the ever loving undead shit out of that thing. With the saw blade arm gripped by the bicep, Stella shredded the leg tendons of the iron jawed Z, sending it to the road.

  “Jace! Behind you!”

  I turned and ducked as two arms swiped over my head. The saw blades on the fucking thing’s arms took off the last few hairs I had left on my head (I hadn’t had a chance to shave my scalp in a while because of all the busy staying alive and shit). I could feel blood trickling down my scalp as I rolled and tumbled across the road and out of the thing’s reach. The wounds on my back screamed in protest and I felt what had been small slits tear and rip into larger gashes.

  Fun.

  “Go right!”

  “I am!”

  “Your other right!”

  “This is my other right, asshole!”

  “Oh, sorry! Go left!”

  “Just shut the fuck up and let me kill these fuckers!”

  “I’m ahead! I’ve killed three!”

  “I just killed four!”

  “So much for taking out their legs!”

  “Fuck their legs! These fucking pieces of shit done messed with kids from Whispering Pines!”

  “Whispering Pines, fuck the what!”

  So...sounded like the kids were doing just fine.

  I got to my feet, as Stella was about to be tackled by a Z behind her, her attention so focused on slashing and slicing the Z before her with her new weapon.

  “Look out!” I screamed as I ran and tackled the Z about the waist, taking a couple spikes to my chest.

&
nbsp; Luckily, the angle didn’t let the spikes go deep, they mainly scratched across my pecs adding to the assortment of minor wounds that I was covered in.

  With the Z on the ground, I avoided the sharp crap on its back and planted my knee right on its spine, grabbed the iron coupling about its neck and used that as a handle to lift and smash, lift and smash, crushing the fucking Z’s head into the dirt covered pavement of Cannibal Road.

  I’m sure there’s a country song in there somewhere.

  The crowd went silent.

  Slowly, painfully, I got to my feet and looked about in a panic to see what had happened. There was Stella, her saw blade arm gripped in both hands, chest heaving. Charlie and Greta were up against the wall and I thought two Zs had gotten them, but they shoved the undead beasts away and the corpses fell to the ground.

  We acknowledged we were all still okay with a couple nods, and then glanced up at the walls.

  “Well...that was surprising,” Mr. Flips said. “And slightly disappointing.”

  The crowd was still deathly quiet and I did my best to ignore the ominous silence that enveloped everything as the last notes of Iron Butterfly echoed through the road.

  “Come on,” I said. “We keep going.”

  “Folks, we have just witnessed something never done in the history of Cannibal Road,” Mr. Flips announced. “We’ve had contestants evade the Deadly Dozen and just keep going, we’ve had contestants turn around and run their asses off until they were caught and killed, we’ve even had contestants off themselves out of pure cowardice and terror.” He paused and took a deep breath. “But we have never had one of the Dozen killed, let alone all of them taken down by a family of survies. It’s a sad, sad night here on the road.”

  The silence started to turn and soon the spectators were booing and hissing at us. Then the rain of stuff came down. Pretty sure, there was human waste in the rain of stuff. As well as rotten this and rotten that.

  As disgusting as it was, I had to wonder whom these people were that they brought rotten stuff and shit with them. How does that even work? “Hey, Bob, you got your bag of shit for tonight?” “You know it, Steve! Hit the Fergusons’ outhouse this morning. And, guess what? Found a dead skunk by the side of the road!” “Dude! Gimme some of that skunk!” “Get your own fucking dead skunk, Bob! You’re always trying to take my rotten stuff! FUCK YOU, BOB!”