Z-Burbia 3: Estate Of The Dead Page 8

  “Let me move in and I’ll give you my kids,” I say.

  “You have kids?” she asks. “How many?”

  “Boy and a girl. Both teenagers,” I say.

  “Oh, that’s right,” she nods. “Charlie and Greta. They’re back at Whispering Pines with your wife Stella?”

  Do I need to say my jaw drops and I stand there staring like a boob?

  Cassie laughs and slaps me on my shoulder. I wince. She frowns.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  “Just surprised you know who my family is,” I say.

  “We know all about you,” she replies. “You’ve been taking care of our sister for us, so it’s just right to know everything there is to know about the Stanfords.”

  “Yeah, sure, of course,” I nod. “Silly me.”

  Not creepy. Nope. Not creepy at all.

  “I’ve freaked you out, huh?” she says. “Sorry. It’s just that we don’t have much to do other than explore Asheville and keep tabs on everyone.” She leans in. “You ever run into Knockers downtown?”

  “Knockers? Uh, no, can’t say that I have.”

  “Oh, she’s great,” Cassie says. “Lives in the basement of City Hall. Beds down between some old filing cabinets. Talks to herself non-stop. We still can’t figure out how she hasn’t been eaten. She never shuts up. But when the Zs come she disappears.”

  “Why do you call her Knockers?” I ask.

  “Oh, because she has these huge, saggy tits that drop down to her waist,” Cassie laughs. “She must be seventy years old. Took her bra off when Z-Day hit and hasn’t put it back on since. We drop food off to her so she stops trying to eat other survies.”

  “Survies?” I ask.

  “Survivors.”

  “Oh, I get it. Any other nicknames for the Ashevillians out there?”

  “Idiots we call meat. Not because we want to eat them, but because that’s all they’re good for. Whether for the Zs or cannies.”

  That makes me shiver. She sees it and smiles.

  “Don’t let it get to you,” she says. “But, really, if you get a chance be sure and look for Knockers. She’s hilarious.”

  “Great. Can’t wait to meet her,” I say. “So…this is your room?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you like the leader or something?”

  “Not really,” she shrugs, “we don’t have a leader. I’m just kind of in charge because I’m good at it.”

  “Like my wife,” I say. “We’re partners in every sense of the word, but when the shit really hits the fan, she’s got the last say. Works for me.”

  “Works for my sisters, too,” Cassie responds.

  “Yeah, about the sister thing. Uh. What’s up with that? You guys aren’t really sisters, right?”

  “No, not really,” Cassie says. “Maybe we should go downstairs so all your friends hear it together.”

  “Cool.”

  We go back down the secret passageway (I insist since it’s a freakin’ secret passageway!) and make our way into the sitting room. Everyone is sitting around, eating fruit and bread and chatting. The women are all seated on the floor, legs crossed, looking back and forth from Stuart to Melissa to the PC (no clue what the guy’s name is) and back. They seem to be truly in awe that they have guests.

  But most of them keep looking at Elsbeth, who is busy trying to pretend she isn’t the object of their attention. Which is weird for Elsbeth. Normally, she’d be all up in someone’s face if they kept staring at her. But here? Not so much.

  I’m guessing because she lacks the intimidation factor that she has with everyone back at Whispering Pines or the Grove Park. Or she’s just freaked out. I know, despite my fun detour to the library, I’m shitting bricks.

  “I should introduce us, shouldn’t I?” Cassie says. “First, I’m Cassandra, but go by Cassie.”

  “Hey, Cassie!” the women say and then laugh.

  Uh…okay.

  She then introduces each of them. Lacy, Tracy, Stacy, Brittany, and Antoinette. Also Dehlia, Marcie, Steph, Belinda, and Audrey. I think Melissa nailed it with the whole sorority names thing.

  “And you know Carly here,” Cassie smiles, pointing at Elsbeth. “It’s great to have her back with the sisters.”

  “Carly?” I ask. “You mean Elsbeth?”

  “That’s what she calls herself now,” Cassie says.

  “What Pa called me,” Elsbeth says quietly. It’s the first she’s mentioned Pa in a long time.

  The girls all grow tense and quiet. Then they seem to snap out of it and start talking and laughing. I guess introductions are out of the way.

  “Okay, now that we’re all on a first name basis, how about letting us in on whom you actually are and how you ended up here?” I say.

  “Fair enough,” Cassie says and starts in on her story.Their story.

  She talks about being held in a cave or prison or something. About a crazy madman that tortured them, warped them, made them do things, learn things, and…kill things. I can see by the looks on my peeps’ faces that I’m not the only one thinking we’ve walked into some crazy Twilight Zone spy novel thingy.

  Then Z-Day. And Ms. Foster.

  It all clicks.

  What Ms. Foster told me about Elsbeth and why she wanted me to help find her. If Foster’d been straight with me, and told me the real story, things might have gone better. For her and for everyone else. Instead, it led to Ms. Foster losing her head.

  Literally.

  “We fought our asses off,” Cassie says. “Moved from house to house, building to building, always staying barely one step ahead of the Zs. It was months before we made it here.” She holds her hands out wide. “They’d already sealed off the grounds, so that was in our favor. But there were all the Zs wandering about.”

  “It was a long time before we had all of them organized and in place,” Brittany laughs. The others laugh with her.

  “Pretty good camouflage,” Stuart says. “I’ve been down here dozens of times and never thought it was worth checking out.”

  “And good job staying off the radar,” Melissa ads. “Didn’t have a clue someone was living here. Even my uncle, Critter, didn’t know.”

  The women all stop and look at Melissa.

  “Critter,” Antoinette says. “Wow.”

  “Wow? I don’t think mentioning him has ever gotten that reaction,” Melissa laughs.

  “What she means is Critter is a legend with us,” Cassie says. “He’s the only person alive that we can’t track. At least not for long. He may not see us, but eventually he gets spooked and ditches us. He’s good.”

  “Really good,” Brittany adds.

  “I spent a whole day trying to find him once,” Lacy agrees, “lost him after fifteen minutes and never found him again.”

  “Yeah, that’s my Uncle Critter,” Melissa says. “Slipperier than squirrel shit.”

  This sends the women into a laughing fit and it’s a few minutes before the giggles finally die down.

  “Squirrel shit,” Brittany snickers.

  The light starts to dwindle through the massive windows behind us and I realize it must be close to eight at night. Jesus, Stella must be freaking out! I pull out my phone and try to text her, but it doesn’t go through.

  “Your phone work?” I ask Stuart.

  He tries his again and again then shakes his head. Melissa’s is out too. So is the PC’s (Jeff. Apparently, the guy’s name is Jeff. Need to remember that).

  “Wi-Fi is out,” Cassie says. “Started going down as soon as the mega-herd moved past the power plant and up I-26. By the time the Zs hit I-40 it was out city wide.”

  “How do you know that?” Stuart asks.

  Cassie pulls out her own phone. “We’ve been monitoring all communications for months.” She shrugs. “Seemed like a good idea.”

  “That’s how you know so much about my family,” I say. Cassie smiles and nods.

  “I have to pee,” Elsbeth says. Or Carly. No, no, she’s Elsb
eth.

  “Pee outside,” Stacy says. “The toilets are tricky in this house. We only use them during winter when we have to. Keeps the plumbing issues down.”

  “So you have running water?” I ask as Elsbeth gets up and walks quickly from the room.

  “Yep,” Brittany says. “There’s a huge cistern on the grounds. And we have rain barrels. The water is gravity fed from tanks up top. It was the easiest way to hook it all up. Not all sinks work, of course. That would be too much.”

  “But the ones we need to work do,” Cassie says.

  “Cool,” I say. Elsbeth still isn’t back. “Um, I need to pee too.”

  Everyone smiles at me, but I can feel Cassie’s eyes watching as I leave the room. I hurry outside in the direction I think Elsbeth has gone and find her sitting on the massive steps that lead up into the front of the house.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  She wipes at her eyes and looks up at me. “No.”

  “Didn’t think so,” I say, sitting down. “I’m sorry about Julio.”

  “It’s not that,” Elsbeth says, “I’ll miss him, but I’m over it. I know he died because this world kills everyone.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I say. She turns and gives me an Elsbeth look. “Okay, yeah, it does kill everyone eventually.”

  “It does,” she nods.

  “If it’s not Julio then what’s up?” I ask. “All of this? It’s pretty crazy.”

  “I’m Elsbeth,” she states, “not Carly.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I nod. “You’re Elsbeth. I won’t argue that and don’t plan on calling you anything else.”

  This gets a little smile from her. “I knew Pa wasn’t my real Pa. I just knew it. He kept saying he was, but the things he did… Real pa’s don’t do that. You would never hurt Greta or Charlie.”

  “Never,” I say, “and I’d never hurt you. That’s not what family is for.”

  “Not what family is for,” Elsbeth whispers. “They aren’t my real sisters, but they are my sisters. I don’t remember them, not really. Just bits and pieces. But I feel it.” She thumps her chest. “They are my sisters.”

  “Good,” I say, “we could use more family.”

  “No, no,” she says, shaking her head, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. “No, not for you. Not sisters for the Stanfords.” She looks over her shoulder and glances around. “They aren’t safe for the Stanfords.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “Are we in danger?”

  “No…I don’t think so,” she says then stands up abruptly. “I’ll show you.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  We go back inside, but instead of joining the others, Elsbeth takes my hand and leads me to the back of the grand staircase and the door to the basement. We go down through the rock passageways until we are in what’s called the Halloween Room (told you I used to come to the Biltmore a lot). The room is massive, with faded paintings of cats and bats, witches and princesses, castles and flocks of geese, covering the walls. There’s nothing in here, not even the displays that used to tell tourists all about the grand parties that were thrown down here during the Biltmore’s heyday.

  But there is something in the corner. On a pedestal.

  We walk closer and it doesn’t take me long to figure out what I’m looking at.

  “Holy fuck,” I say, “is that…”

  “Yeah,” Elsbeth nods, “that’s Ms. Foster.”

  “Well, just her head,” Cassie says from behind us.

  I spin quickly and see all of the women there. Even Stuart, Melissa and…, shit, what’s his name, uh, Jeff! Yes, Jeff is there too.

  “I bet you’d like me to explain,” Cassie says.

  Chapter Four

  “Get them in the gate!” Stella screams as she hurries past the lines of wounded. “Move it! We have to get this closed, NOW!”

  Her eyes go wide as she see’s Big Daddy Fitzpatrick being carried into Whispering Pines, half his face a torn mess and his clothes scorched and smoking. Her hand goes to her mouth, but she fights the gorge that wants to rise.

  Shit needs to get done and Stella gets shit done.

  “Buzz!” she yells as she sees one of Big Daddy’s sons help push people from Highway 251 and into Whispering Pines. “BUZZ!”

  “Holy shit, Stella,” he says as he runs up to her, “they’re everywhere!”

  “What is going on?”

  “Zs,” he says, “herds of them.”

  “Herds…?” She lets the plural sink in. “But…how?”

  “We don’t know the how, ma’am,” Critter says as he joins them after shouting orders to his crew. “But we know the numbers.” He glances at Buzz. “You want to tell her?”

  “Thousands,” he says, “maybe tens of thousands.”

  “Mom? Mom!” Charlie yells from behind. “The Wi-Fi is down! We can’t communicate with the Grove Park!”

  “Shit,” Stella says, wiping a blood-coated hand across her brow. “What the fuck is happening?”

  “We’re under attack,” Critter says. “My guess? The powers that be are sick of our little rebuild effort. They are clearing the area of the living.”

  “Powers that be?” Stella asks. “You mean the Consortium?”

  Critter shrugs, his bony shoulders nearly touching his ears. “Just a guess from my gut.”

  “I trust your gut,” Buzz says.

  “Me too,” Stella says. She can see the way Buzz keeps looking around. “Your father? He’s being hurried up to the infirmary. How’d he get burned?”

  “Truck flipped,” Buzz says, tears welling in his eyes. “My fault. We came around a bend and they were just there. A wall of Zs. I tried to keep control, but we went into a ditch and then it was all downhill from there.”

  “Literally,” Critter adds. “I watched them roll a hundred feet.”

  “We lost the Fertigs, the Santiagos,” Buzz says, “the Patels, and they were going to move into the Grove Park so the girls could take advantage of the school being set up there.”

  “The Patels?” Stella gasps. “Jennifer too?” Buzz nods. “Oh, God…Charlie…”

  She spins and sees her son standing there. His face is ashen and his jaw hangs open as he slowly shakes his head. Jennifer Patel. His girlfriend.

  “You’re wrong,” he growls, his eyes on Buzz, “they weren’t moving until tomorrow. She said so last night.”

  “Sorry, bud,” Buzz says, “they decided to train over with everyone going to the Counsel meeting. More room to haul their stuff that way.”

  “No. No!” Charlie snaps. “NO! FUCK YOU, BUZZ!”

  He leaps at the man, his seventeen year old teenage body slamming into the farm bred brick house that is Buzz Fitzpatrick. Buzz takes it in stride, let’s Charlie slam his fists against him over and over until the boy is exhausted and ready to collapse. Buzz takes him in his arms and holds him tight, his eyes filled with tears for the pain he feels. For the pain they all feel.

  “I know, I know,” Buzz says, “I’m sorry.”

  Stella has her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Where’s your man?” Critter asks then stops. “Wait…what’re you doin’ here, boss lady? Why ain’t you at the Grove Park for the meeting?”

  “My stomach wasn’t feeling well,” she answers, “Jace went for me.”

  “Shit,” Critter says, “then he’s out there and not here.”

  “He’s out there,” Stella says, stunned with the reality of that statement, “with the Zs.”

  Pup and Porky, the Fitzpatrick twins that are easily as big as their older brother is, come running up to them.

  “We can’t get the Farm,” Pup says.

  “Wi-Fi won’t work,” Porky adds.

  “How the hell is it out everywhere?” Critter asks, rubbing the grizzled stubble on his head. “It was working this morning.”

  “We didn’t have herds of Zs this morning,” Buzz says.

  Charlie pushes away and wipes his eyes. “Cutting off
enemy communications is step one in a major attack. Then cut off supplies and if possible, overwhelm with numbers.”

  “I’d say it’s more than possible,” Critter says. “Sheee-it. This is fucking war.”

  “And the soldiers are at the Grove Park,” Buzz says, “right?”

  Stella nods. “There’s some PCs here, but Lourdes is at the GPI. And we can’t call her.”

  ***

  “I want a status report!” Lourdes Torres shouts as she slams her hand down on the table. “Somebody tell me something!”

  “We can’t,” one of the PCs, Hermes “Shots” Leonides says, “com is down. Radio is static. Wi-Fi is nothing. We are dead in the water.”

  Lourdes rubs her face and looks at her command team. “As of right now we will consider this an all out attack. Asheville is under siege. I want all assault Teams geared up and ready in ten minutes. Pack for the field because once we leave here we may not be back for a while.”

  “Jesus,” Barbara “Babs” Carlyle says, “this is fucking Cleveland all over again.”

  “Hardly,” Sean “Poker Face” Booker replies. “Don’t smell half as bad as Cleveland.”

  “Ten minutes,” Lourdes says. “Go!”

  ***

  The body armor protects his forearm as the Z chomps down, but Joe T still cries out, more from rage than pain. He swings his arm, lifting the Z like a terrier hanging onto a chew toy, and flings the thing halfway across the water transfer station.

  Men and women scream about him, whether because they are fighting for their lives or losing their lives, Joe T can’t tell. All he knows is everything has gone to shit in a fucking hand basket in seconds. His instincts tell him to abandon the station and get his ass back to base, back to the Grove Park, but his duty tells him he has to fight and fight and fight until he kills every last Z or is killed by them.

  “Joe!” a man yells close by. “I’m out! I need ammo!”

  Joe T has one magazine left for his M-4 and tosses it to the man, letting his rifle drop as he pulls his Desert Eagle from his hip. He fires once and vaporizes a Z’s skull as it lurches towards him. He fires again, ripping the top half of a Z’s head off. He fires a third time, but only nails a Z’s chest as the things get too close to get a good shot off. Joe T is about to go down under a pile of the undead.