Z-Burbia Box Set | Books 4-6 [The Road Trip Trilogy] Page 3

  “Does that mean I’m sterile now?” Charlie asks. “That would suck.”

  “Yeah, bro! It sucks! I want to see some little Barflies runnin’ about, but none of the lady bros be poppin’ ‘em out! What the fuck, bro?”

  The Zs get closer and the gang starts to move forward. I don’t have to say a word to my family to tell them what I’m thinking. I also don’t have to say a word to Barfly, either.

  “Don’t be thinkin’ of runnin’, bro,” Barfly says as his rod catches me in the ribs. I still don’t go down. “My peeps can kill some fatties right fast, no problemo. Right, bros? You peeps be killin’ some fatties right fast?”

  “Fuckin’ A yeah!”

  “I kill all the fatties!”

  “Fatties fall down and they don’t get up!”

  “We kill the shit out of those fuckin’ fatties!”

  “Shit killin’ fatties! Yo we do, yo bros! Shit the kill fuck outta them! Bros kill shit fuck fatties, bros!”

  Barfly turns to the gang and starts laughing. “That bro been sniffin’ too many fumes! Shit the kill fuck outta them? That’s messed up, bro.”

  Shit the kill fuck outta them? Huh... I’m pretty sure I know that syntax, as well as that voice.

  “Jace...,” Stella whispers barely loud enough for me to hear.

  I don’t look back at her, but just nod my head.

  “Shit the kill fuck,” Barfly snickers. “Who said that? Which one of you peeps is heeelarious? Shit the kill fuck is heeelarious!”

  I can see a few heads turn in the gang as they look for the source of Barfly’s amusement, but no one speaks up. What happens next is pretty predictable.

  “I asked a question, bros!” Barfly snaps. “Who said that? I like it and want to know who said it! Some heeelarious mother fucker better step out and show their mother fuckin’ self right fast!”

  Still no one admits to the words.

  I can see Barfly’s body start to shake with rage. The man likes to be answered when he asks a question.

  He turns on me and starts with the steel rod stabbing into my chest again.

  “Did you see, Long Pork bro? You see who said those words?”

  “I didn’t, Barfly,” I reply quickly. “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, you sorry, bro,” Barfly sneers. “A sorry piece of shit.”

  He lifts the rod above my head and starts to bring it down fast. I duck my head, and close my eyes, ready for the killing blow he’s been promising since we were first captured, but it doesn’t come.

  I open my eyes to see a hand gripping Barfly’s arm, keeping the rod from cracking my skull open.

  “What the fuck, bro?” Barfly shouts as he jerks his arm free and whirls on the offender. “You tryin’ to save these peeps or somethin’?”

  “Or somethin’,” the voice I know replies. “Hey, bro.”

  “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 then what are you?” Barfly snarls.

  “I’m family,” Elsbeth grins.

  True dat, bros.

  Chapter Two

  I think I’ll take this opportunity to fill in some details on how we found ourselves the unwilling guests of Barfly and his peeps.

  Yes, I know leaving the story on a cliffhanger is not exactly polite, but fuck all y’all. This is my story.

  How about we go back to that night that Dr. Stanley Martin Kramer walked into Critter’s Holler and proceeded to stir up so much shit that I never thought we’d wade out of it?

  Good a place as any for the beginning of a story.

  Kramer is a weird freak of a man, but when I first met the guy, he reminded me of an old chemistry teacher I had back in high school. If it wasn’t for the fact that Elsbeth really wanted to rip his throat out with her teeth, I probably would have believed all the bullshit that came dripping out of his mouth like shit-flavored honey.

  To recap: We were having a meeting in Critter’s saloon to discuss our evacuation of the Asheville area when Gunga brought Kramer in. The guy immediately derailed our plans of heading to Kansas City, which was called The Combine after Z-Day, and told us it had been wiped off the map. Scorched and burned. Nothing but a smoking crater.

  That was upsetting enough, but then he started to hum that old nursery song, Wheels On The Bus, and Elsbeth lost her shit. She told us he was the Devil, but as soon as he started to hum, she turned into a fucking she-devil herself, pulled her blades, and went for the guy. It took every single able-bodied man in that saloon to keep her pinned to the ground so she didn’t eviscerate the kindly looking geezer.

  “What is your problem, man?” I said as I got up in his face.

  Having only one arm and still recovering from a broken and infected collarbone incident, I wasn’t any help with the Elsbeth subduing, so I took it upon myself to find out what this dude wanted and why the hell he snuck into Critter’s Holler to find us.

  Kramer smiled up at me and brushed at the wisps of grey hair that covered his almost bald scalp. He stopped humming and just smiled. That was creepy enough, but what really got my hackles up was that, when he stopped humming, Elsbeth calmed down a lot. She was still bucking mad and no one was ready to let her go, but she lost a lot of the fight she’d had just a second before.

  “I actually have no problems, Mr. Stanford,” Kramer replied. “I’m as free as the wind and just as ephemeral. It is your band of merry survivors that have the problem. And it is a rather big one, I must say.”

  “Then say it, asshole,” I snapped as I pointed back at the Elsbeth dog pile. “Because you seem to have upset someone I care deeply for and that doesn’t exactly put you in a good position around here.”

  “Why is that, Mr. Stanford?” Kramer grinned. “Because you are in charge?”

  “Well, no,” I replied. “I’m not in charge. People just listen to me, is all.”

  “Oh, that’s all?” Kramer said, his grin widening. “They listen to you? And what do you have to say that is so important, Mr. Stanford? Or is it Jace? Would you prefer I call you Jace? Perhaps Long Pork?”

  “You don’t call him that!” Elsbeth shouted. “I call him that! You don’t call him nothing!”

  “She’s very protective of you, isn’t she?” Kramer asked. “I believe that young woman would die for you, if she had to. At one time in her life, she would have died for me. She would have also killed for me, but that Foster woman went and messed that all up. Such a pity that I never was able to complete the program I was hired to do. The girls weren’t ready when I was forced to escape Foster’s attack. That woman was lucky she gained some control over those girls or they would have ripped her and her men apart.”

  That was a lot of information that I didn’t know about. Not that I trusted what he said, but there was a ring of truth to it. Especially the “hired to do” part.

  “Who hired you? And for what?” I asked.

  “Oh, that is such a long story,” Kramer responded as he looked about Critter’s saloon.

  It was a fairly large room and could hold fifty or more people if needed, but at that moment, it was only myself, Stella, Elsbeth, Critter, Melissa, Buzz and Gunga Fitzpatrick, Stuart, John, and Reaper. I think Reaper was there. Was he? Shit, I can’t remember.

  “May I have a drink?” Kramer asked as his eyes turned towards the bar. “Water is fine, but if you have something more...substantial then that would be delightful.”

  Critter pulled himself away from the Elsbeth containment corps and rushed up to Kramer. I don’t think the doctor was expecting the treatment he received from the old highwayman that grabbed him by his shirt and t
ossed him halfway across the room. Well, maybe not halfway, since Critter is getting on in years and doesn’t have the strength his mountain sized nephews do, but he did throw the guy pretty far.

  “You ain’t drinkin’ a goddamned drop of nothin’ until you tell us everythin’ you know!” Critter shouted as he grabbed a collapsible baton from one of the tables and snapped it open. It was sharpened at the end in order to pierce Z skulls, but Kramer instantly realized it would pierce his skull just as easily.

  “Now, hold on Mr. Fitzpatrick,” Kramer said as he held up his hands. “There is no need for your more violent side to show itself.”

  “My name is Critter,” Critter snapped. “Mr. Fitzpatrick was my father and that man had a violent side that would make you shit your pants. You keep callin’ me Mr. Fitzpatrick and I’ll show you what a violent side really is. Now get your ass up and sit in that chair there! You spill what you know or I feed ya to the Zs!”

  Kramer nodded and made a show of struggling to get up and into the chair, Critter pointed to with the baton. He sat down and looked about the saloon once more as he swallowed hard.

  “At the risk of being impaled upon your weapon,” Kramer said, “I could use a glass of water if I am to dive into what will be a long and complicated tale.”

  “Suck on your spit, asshole,” Critter said as he started to pace in front of the man. “You tell me somethin’ worth a shit and then you can have some water. Until then I ain’t wastin’ none of our resources on a man like you.”

  “A man like me?” Kramer asked, his face aghast with shock. “Are you an anti-Semite, Critter?”

  That stopped Critter’s pacing and he looked about at us.

  “What the hell is he jabberin’ about?” Critter asked.

  “Anti-Semite means-” I started to reply.

  “I know what it means, Long Pork!” Critter shouted. “I want to know why the hell the man said it!”

  He whirled on Kramer and jammed the end of the baton against the old man’s chest. Kramer cried out as his shirt bloomed with blood.

  “Oh, quit yer whinin’,” Critter snapped. “I barely broke the skin. Now tell me why you said I was an anti-Semite.”

  “Well, being a person of Jewish heritage,” Kramer began, “I am quite familiar with the signs of bigotry. It is not as if you come from a region known for its wealth of liberal understanding.” He nodded towards all of us in the room. “And this is a fairly homogenous representation of humanity. It is not outside the realm of possibility that the reason there are no people of color or other ethnicities is because you do not want them here.”

  “That’s because they all died!” Elsbeth shouted. “My Julio died! Joe T died! The Fertigs died! Patels! Santiagos! All of them died, you ass fucker cocksucking lick dicker!”

  Lick dicker. That was a good one.

  “And I’m Jewish, dildo butt!” Elsbeth continued. “They don’t hate me! They love me because I’m family!”

  “You’re Jewish?” I asked. “Oh, right, Thornberg. Never made the connection.” I had to chuckle at that. “How did you stay Kosher as a canny? Did you only eat other Jews or were you flexible like Jews I knew that would chow down on some bacon any chance they got?”

  The whole saloon stared at me, even Kramer, like I had lost my mind. Considering the mind losing in that room, that was saying something.

  “Right,” I nodded. “Sorry.”

  “Apologize,” Critter snapped at Kramer.

  “My sincerest apologies,” Kramer said. “It was a stupid assumption on my art.”

  “All your parts are stupid,” Elsbeth said then gave one last struggle and sighed. “You can let me up now. I ain’t gonna kill the devil.”

  “I would appreciate it if you stopped referring to me as a devil, Ms. Thornberg,” Kramer said. “Being a man of science, I prefer not to be lumped in with religious dogma.”

  “But you said you were a Jew,” Critter responded. “Which is it? You a man of science or a Jew?”

  “I think we’ve gotten way off track here,” Stella said as she helped Elsbeth to her feet. The two women shared a look and a nod then Stella walked right up to Kramer, grabbed a chair, spun it around, and sat down in front of the old man. “Why are you here?”

  “To help,” Kramer said.

  “Why are you here to help?” Stella asked.

  “Well, you seem like decent people that could use my help,” Kramer smiled. “I know what lies on the other side of these mountains and I believe you may be making a mistake in planning to head to Kansas City.”

  “Because it is a scorched crater, right?” Stella asked.

  “That and there are many other dangers that await you along the way,” Kramer said. “I have seen them all. And beyond.”

  “Beyond? How far beyond?” Stella pressed.

  “I’ve been to Circuit City,” Kramer said. “All the way to the West Coast.”

  “Circuit City? Where is that?” Stella asked.

  “Seattle,” Kramer said. “Below that is The Garden which used to be Portland. Lovely place, but they aren’t taking in new survivors. Neither is The Temple in Salt Lake. The only place that will take your group in is The Stronghold. They need all the help you can give. The military expertise your group has could be put to great use in the Rocky Mountains.” He looked about and frowned. “Speaking of which, where are your sisters, Ms. Thornberg?”

  “They aren’t here,” Stuart said as he grabbed a chair and joined Stella in front of Kramer. “And from the way Elsbeth reacted, you should be glad for that.”

  “I can’t argue with you there,” Kramer said. “It took all of you to hold Ms. Thornberg back. I can only imagine what would have happened if I’d met the entire group of them.”

  He started to whistle Wheels On The Bus again, but was stopped abruptly by Stella’s fist to his mouth.

  “Damn!” Critter grinned. “That was a a nice shot!”

  “Thanks,” Stella winced as she gripped her hand. “Didn’t feel so nice, though.”

  “Let me look at that,” Melissa sighed as Stella got up and they walked over to the bar.

  I could see cuts from Kramer’s teeth on my wife’s knuckles and hoped the man had had his shots. I looked back at Kramer and John had taken Stella’s seat so that Kramer was looking into the eyes of two highly trained military men.

  “Now,” Stuart frowned. “I am going to be asking the questions. You will answer honestly and without hesitation. Every time you deviate from those instructions, my friend John here will give you a smack. Those smacks will get increasingly more and more unpleasant. You’ll probably last through the first three, but after that I wager you’ll cave.”

  “No need for threats, Gunnery Sergeant,” Kramer said. “I know how this all plays out. It is not my first interrogation by scared survivors and probably won’t be my last. My only request is that you consider a little quid pro quo. You ask me something and I ask you something.”

  “I don’t see how we benefit from that,” Stuart replied.

  “You benefit because then I know what you may not know that you will certainly need to know,” Kramer responded. “As I keep saying, I’m here to help. I can’t help if I don’t know what important information you lack.”

  Stuart watched the man for a long while. As he was busy studying Kramer, I took the time to study Elsbeth. She stood behind us all; her blades sheathed once again, her arms across her chest, and glared at Kramer. I tried to get her to look at me, but she refused. Her entire being radiated hate for the man and I had to wonder at how much self-control she had to use to keep from killing him.

  “Okay,” Stuart said finally. “I ask two questions and you can ask one. Don’t forget John here. Answer honestly and quickly and you’ll be just fine.”

  “Your confidence in your lie detection abilities worries me,” Kramer said. “I could tell the truth and get a smack anyway.”

  “I’ll know,” Elsbeth said. “Don’t you worry none about that.”

 
“Yes,” Kramer sighed. “I suspect you will know if I’m lying. Very well, let us get started. Ask your questions, Gunnery Sergeant.”

  “What do you get out of helping us?” Stuart asked.

  “I stay alive,” Kramer answered. “Like I said, I have been all the way across the country. Except for the large settlements, you are the only group of survivors that has even come close to making it in this post-apocalyptic world. You’ve struggled a lot, and lost many, but you keep going. I would like to keep going with you.”

  “Why the Stronghold?” Stuart asked.

  “I believe I have already answered that,” Kramer said.

  “Then answer it again and elaborate.”

  Kramer’s smug smile faltered, but he recovered quickly.

  “The Stronghold is the only settlement that hasn’t asked me to leave,” Kramer said. “The others preferred that I take my company elsewhere. In this day and age, you do not argue with those that insist on your leaving.”

  “Remember that,” Critter said as he pointed the baton at Kramer, “when it comes time for me to ask you to leave.”

  Kramer nodded. “May I ask my question now?”

  “Why have you been asked to leave the other settlements?” Stuart asked, ignoring Kramer’s request.

  The man wisely let the slight go and replied, “I have a certain way about me that others find off putting. I also have a need to continue my research and scientific work. That work was not welcome.”

  “What work?” Stuart asked. Kramer didn’t reply. “Fine. Ask your question?”

  “How did you plan on getting all of your people from here to Kansas City alive?” Kramer asked.

  All heads looked in my direction.

  “What?” I asked. “You want me to tell him everything?”

  “The highlights,” Stuart said.

  “Okay,” I said. “We are using all of the diesel or multi-fuel vehicles, including the haul truck, to make a convoy. We have the supplies and weapons needed to get us where we need to go.”

  “The haul truck!” Kramer smiled. “That is an impressive piece of equipment. Stronger than a tank and two stories high, but doesn’t it take an excessive amount of fuel?”