Z-Burbia 3: Estate Of The Dead (27 page)

“Hello?”

“Mr. Platt, sir,” Camille’s voice coos. “It’s nice to speak with you since I’ve only seen you at a distance on security footage.”

“It’s Master Sergeant Platt,” Platt says.

“Right, yes, my misunderstanding,” she apologizes. “You know Mr. Logan there was in the Army. He was a captain pre-Z. I think you two would get along and find you have a lot in common.”

“I’m not an officer, I work for a living, so I highly doubt we’d have anything in common,” Platt snaps.
“Get to the fucking point, lady. I’m not up for chit chat.”

“Fine,” Camille says, her voice ice and gravel. “I have no intention of detonating that bomb anytime soon, Sergeant. I simply need it to be in Asheville. You let Logan take it and put it where I want and you can go free.”

“I doubt that,” Platt laughs.

“You shouldn’t,” Camille replies. “I’ll let you go free and join your friends, wherever they may be. I lost contact with them after speaking to my daughter. And after they killed several of my people. Unfortunate, but emotions run high in the heat of battle. Being a long time soldier, I’m sure you know that. How long have you been in the Army, Sergeant?”

“Twenty-five years,” Platt replies, “I’m retiring today.”

“I should hope not, Sergeant,” Camille responds. “I believe you have a lot to still offer this world. Your skills will be invaluable during the coming months and years.”

“You have two minutes, lady,” Platt says. “And so far you haven’t said anything to make me give a shit about you.”

“That bomb is a deterrent, Platt,” Camille says, all pleasantries gone from her voice. “There is a war coming and it’s about to run right over Asheville. That bomb needs to be there as a buffer.”

“A deterrent?” Platt laughs. “I don’t know if anyone has told you, but the apocalypse has already happened. There’s nothing to deter!”

“You don’t know how wrong you are,” Camille says. “
I plan on fighting for what is left. I plan on fighting for my daughter, whether she wants me to or not. I plan on fighting for those other young women, some of whom still have very influential families…
living families
… that would pay anything to know where they are. As long as there is leverage, Platt, there is still society. It isn’t over yet.”

“One minute
left,” Platt says, “and I don’t give a shit. Tell me all you want, but this bomb is going off in about fifty seconds.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Camille says. “May I speak to Logan first, please?”

“Sure,” Platt says, “knock yourself out.”

Platt tosses the phone towards Logan, but the man ignores it and instead drops and slides down the pool to Platt. Before the Master Sergeant knows it, he has a knife buried to the hilt in his gut.

“You could have gotten out alive,” Logan says. “You had a choice.”

Blood bubbles from between Platt’s lips and he grins.

“You had a choice too,” Platt coughs and splutters. “But you chose to bring a knife to a bomb fight.”

Platt pulls the trigger and there is nothing but light.

***

The ground shakes hard and Antoinette is thrown off her feet and into the water. She coughs and chokes as she takes a mouthful of the French Broad, but she spits it out, gets her f
ooting and wades quickly to the kayak that is slowly floating away. She climbs in and grabs up the paddle.

Beh
ind her, America’s largest home crumbles in on itself. Flames reach high into the air briefly before several tons of old concrete and brick collapse upon the conflagration, leaving nothing but black smoke.

Antoinette paddles as hard and fast as she can, knowing that what is in that smoke may not kill her today, but it will kill her at some point. And that death will be slow and painful. She digs with all her strength and is soon shooting down the river, her eyes watching the riverbanks for gunmen, but all she sees are the dead.

The thousands and thousands of dead.

***

Those in the haul truck don’t even notice the tremor from the Biltmore explosion. It’s hard to notice anything when crushing cars and trucks while speeding as fast as possible down I-40.

“He’s not going to make it,” Stella sobs. “Please, Reaper,
Alex
, do something. You are a medic; you’ve treated wounds like this, right? You’ve had to deal with people blown apart by IEDs, right?
Right?
”

“He’ll make it, Stella,” Dr. McCormick says.
“He’s a strong young man. If he wants to live then he’ll live.”

Reaper doesn’t say anything as he studies Charlie’s wound and looks at all options.

“You don’t know that!” Stella shouts at the doctor. “You fixed assholes, not bleeding chest wounds!”

“Hey, hey,” I say as I hold her tight. “This isn’t her fault.”

“It’s okay, Jace,” Dr. McCormick says. “I don’t take it personally. I’d do anything to be dealing with colonoscopies these days. Compared to the zombie apocalypse, assholes look pretty good right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Stella says. “
I’m sorry. It’s just that he was so brave. He was our hero. He can’t die.” She looks up at me, her pained filled eyes nearly ripping my heart out of my chest. “You would have been so proud of him, Jace. He took over when Red was hurt and just started driving the truck.”

“Who’s Red?” I ask. Dr. McCormick gives me a look. “Right. Never mind. Wait, when did Charlie learn how to drive a stick?”

“I don’t know,” Stella says, “but he was amazing.”

“That Patel girl,” Critter says from the cab as the truck crushes another stray car, along with a few dozen Zs. But those numbers are dwindling and the ride gets smoother as we get further from Asheville. “They were always tooling around the Farm together
in an old semi.”

“Never knew that,” I say. “So he was the
hero of the day?”

“He was!” Stella cries, her voice wavering between a mother’s pride and a mother’s fear. “Then he did the unthinkable, Jace! He shot down one of those helicopters! Shot it right out of the sky!”

“Damn,” I say.

“Got a chest fu
ll of metal for his trouble,” Critter says. “Ain’t fair. Not that I believe in fair, mind ya, but that shouldn’t happen to a good kid like your boy.”

“Critter?” Reaper says. “How much further? I need you to go as fast as possible.”

“I’m doing that,” Critter says. “But we don’t have enough gas to get us all the way. Don’t you worry none, ‘cause I have my men coming this way. Gonna meet us at the bottom of the hill.”

“What’s wrong
, Reaper?” Stella asks. “Is it the blood loss? I’ll give him my blood.” She looks at Dr. McCormick. “You did that before with Jace and Stuart. Hook me up! He can take all of my blood!”

“We don’t have the equipment here,” Reaper says. “We need to get him into surgery ASAP. That’s his only hope.”

I look down at the still form of my son, covered in his own blood, his skin pale white. You live in the zombie apocalypse and you brace yourself for all kinds of things, especially the deaths of your loved ones. I’ve gone over a million scenarios in my head of how my family would die. But not one of those scenarios involved a crazy hunk of a helicopter rotor sticking straight out of Charlie’s chest.

“Fuck,” Reaper says
, “he’s not breathing.”

Stella cries out and lunges for him, but I hold her back
but it takes every last bit of strength I have, strength I thought was lost forever.

Reaper and Dr. McCormick begin CPR and they work on Charlie furiou
sly.

“Hold on,” Critter says as he cranks the wheel and takes us down an off-ramp. “Just a little more to go.”

We speed onto a rural highway and I soon lose track of the twists and turns we take. In a matter of minutes we go from the interstate, and a semblance of civilization (what’s left of it), to the middle of nowhere. Critter takes one last turn and hits the brakes, sending up a two-story cloud of dust that settles over us all.

Before us is a row of pickups and off-road vehicles. Men run towards the haul truck and before I know
it, Reaper and Dr. McCormick have Charlie down off the truck and into the bed of a pickup. Without saying a word, or waiting for us, the pickup takes off up a dirt road and is lost from sight.

“Charlie!” Stella yells, reaching out for him. “Charlie!”
She then buries her face in my chest as Critter steps from the cab.

“Come on,” Critter says. “I’ll drive you to my holler. I know the short cuts. My guys will get the rest of the folks back there squared away.”

“He wasn’t breathing,” Stella sobs. “Oh, God, Jace, he wasn’t breathing.”

Chapter Ten

Detonation Day plus ten
.

“There’s not much I can say,” Critter frowns as he addresses the group of people that sit by the newly made graveyard. “Lost some good folk, we did. I lost some men I’ve known for twenty some years. Lost some friends I just met only a couple months ago. Young, old, healthy, sick… didn’t matter, God done took them up into his arms.”

Critter wipes at his eyes and gives the crowd a shy smile.

“I ain’t the sentimental type, but I do know what love is,” Critter continues. “And there weren’t a person living or dead that I loved more than my brother. He was there for me my entire life, he was. Even when I was a young hellraiser, doin’ everythin’ in my power to get tossed in jail, Hollis was there. He’d bail me out and even try to talk my daddy out of beatin’ the holy tar outta me. Didn’t work none; Daddy liked beating the tar outta folk, especially his boys.

“Hollis was not that man. He was fair and kind and filled with God’s love. And filled for a love of his family. His boys, and his baby girl, he loved more than God, I think. He’d have never admitted it, but if push came to shove, I’m pretty sure Hollis Fitzpatrick would have clocked the Almighty Himself if it meant protectin’ his kin.”

There were many nods of agreement and several loud sniffs and sobs.

“I’ll miss that man. And I
know I ain’t the only one. Godspeed, Big Daddy. Time to run the big Farm in the sky. I’m sure they could use yer help.”

Critter wipes
his eyes again and takes his seat with the rest. Melissa reaches out and grabs his hand, putting it to her lips. He smiles at her and puts an arm around her shoulders. Behind him, his nephews lean forward and each give him a pat. Critter looks back and gives them a nod then scans the large crowd.

“Where’s Long Pork and Missus Long Pork at?” Critter asks. “They didn’t come?”

“Charlie,” Stuart says from the other side of Melissa.

“Oh, right,” Critter nods.

Stuart stands up and takes a deep breath and walks to the front of the crowd.

“I guess, being the senior military
man here, I get to say some words about Master Sergeant Platt,” Stuart begins. “I didn’t know him as well as I would have liked, but I did know what a true hero that man was. We’ve all heard the story from Antoinette about his sacrifice. I promise that sacrifice won’t go to waste. Before I go on, I want to remind you of the meeting later tonight. I hope y’all can attend. We don’t have a lot of time to work things out so every bit of input is appreciated.”

Stuart looks out and sees several nods, but also a lot of scared and skeptical faces.

“So, Master Sergeant Platt. Where do I start? Oh, I know. There was this time, just after Jace blew up Whispering pines…”

***

I settle another blanket across his chest, making sure he stays warm as he just lies there, still as a corpse.

Jesus, what a fucking thing to say. Where the fuck did that come from? If Stella had heard me say that she’d have cut my nuts off right then and made me take it back while knocking wood with said castrated handful.

He’s not a corpse; my son lives. Although it has been touch and go.

After Critter’s men got him up to the holler, Reaper was able to stabilize him. Between Reaper, Dr. McCormick, and a man that lived in the holler and used to be a veterinarian, they got the metal out of Charlie’s chest. It took fifteen hours and nearly drained
the whole holler of blood. I’m pretty sure there are still people only half full walking around.

I sit down and settle into the chair, trying to get comfortable. Which isn’t easy since Stumpageddon is still wrapped tightly to my body. I have to have the dressings changed once a day so the shoulder can be drained. Bits of fractured bone still squeeze out of the drainage holes. Yeah, it’s pretty fucking gross, but I’m alive, so I have that going for me.

Stumpageddon? His fighting days are done. I’m going to have to put Mr. Spikey to rest. Dr. McCormick doubts I’ll regain any mobility in my shoulder. In fact, she’d like to take the rest of the arm off. I told her I’d think on it. Why ruin such an enjoyable experience like having pieces of bones squirted from bloody holes? I need to savor those moments just a bit longer.

“He’ll wake up,” Elsbeth says from behind me
, pulling me from my stupid thoughts. She drags a chair over and turns it around, sitting down with her arms folded over the back. “He’s tough like his mama.”

“Thanks,” I say. “No, I mean it. I’d rather he be tough like her than weak like me.”

“You ain’t weak, Long Pork,” Elsbeth says. “Just not so bright sometimes.”

“That’s what they tell me,” I say. “You go to the memorial?”

“For a minute. I didn’t stay long,” Elsbeth says. “The others did. They’ll say goodbye for me.”

“You don’t want to say a few words about your
fallen sisters?”

Elsbeth shrugs. “Don’t know what to say. I didn’t know them
, the ones that died. They weren’t there then they were then they weren’t.”

“And you didn’t want to say anything about…Julio?” I ask. “You guys were lovers.”

“Same thing,” she says and snaps her fingers. “There and gone.”

“That’s life,” I say, looking at my son’s peaceful face. “One day
there, the next day gone.”

“Where’s Stella? Greta?” Elsbeth asks, looking around.
“They weren’t at the funeral, neither.”

“Asleep,” I reply. “Stella was in here all night again and Gre
ta hasn’t been sleeping so well lately.”

“She having the scary dreams?” Elsbeth asks.

“Yeah. She wakes up screaming and calling Charlie’s name. She says all she sees is a helicopter chasing him then, when it finally reaches him, the rotors chop him all up.”

“That is scary,” Elsbeth nods. “I have one with a tiger and a chainsaw.”

I look at her and raise an eyebrow and she just shrugs. We sit there for a while, watching Charlie’s chest slowly rise and fall.

“Listen
,” I start, “we need to talk about your mother.”

“No,” she states flatly.

“Yes,” I insist. “The planning meeting is tonight and we’ve already lost ten days. Your mother isn’t going to let it all go. She’ll come after us.”

“She can try,” Elsbeth says and shrugs again. “I’ll be here.”

“She’s your mom,” I say. “Don’t you want to find out why she’s in charge of the Consortium? Don’t you want answers?”

“I have answers,” she says, tapping her temple. “And they’re mine.”

“No, they aren’t,” I snap. “This is bigger than you, El! We need to know what you know! I’ve talked with all of your sisters, or whatever they are, and they’ve given me as much as they know.”

“No, they haven’t,” she says.

“What do you mean? You think they’re holding back information?”

“Yes,” Elsbeth says.

“Why? Why would they do that?” I ask.

Elsbeth stands up and starts walking away. “Why? Because that’s how we are made.”

I grab her wrist and pull her back. “Made? What the hell are you talking about? See! This is the shit you have to spill!”

“You don’t spill shit,” Elsbeth says, looking at my hand, which I remove from her wrist, then looking back at me. “Spilling shit would be a mess.”

I watch her for a second then smile. She smiles too.

“El, I love you like family
…”

“Because I am family.”

“And in a family you have to be honest. You have to
trust
. If family is for nothing else, it’s at least for that.”

Her face changes a million
times, as she fights the emotions waging war inside her. She starts to speak, stops, starts again, stops, takes a deep breath and starts.

“Dad?” a weak voice rasps. “Hey…”

“Charlie?” I ask, turning from Elsbeth, unsure I even heard his voice. I tend to hear a lot of voices in my head these days, so I never quite know.

“Yep,” he grins without opening his eyes. Then he frowns. “I don’t…feel…so…good.”

“I’ll get Stella!” Elsbeth says.

“No, get Reaper and Dr. McCormick!” I shout after her as she runs from the room.
“Then get Stella!”

“I’m…really…thirsty,” Charlie says.

“I don’t know if I can give you water,” I say. “I’d hate for you to spring a leak, Rambo.”

Charlie frowns and his eyes flutter open. He squints against the light and looks over at me. “Rambo? I don’t know what that means.”

“It means,” I say as I grip his hand, “that you’re a motherfucking hero, bud. I’ve heard all about what you did. Everyone has. They were going to put up a statue to you if you croaked.”

“They were?” he asks.

“No, not really,” I laugh. “Who has time to make a statue?”

He smiles weakly. “You sure I can’t have some water? My throat hurts.”

“Then stop talking,” I say. “Save your voice for your mother.”

On cue, Stella rushes into the room and I have to hold her back and keep her from grabbing Charlie up in her arms. She calms down and puts her hand across his forehead.

“Oh, my sweet baby,” she says. “My sweet boy.”

“Hey, bro,” Greta says from the doorway.

“Where’s Reaper?” I ask. “Elsbeth was supposed to get him first.”

“She told me you said that,” Stella says, taking
time to give me a death glare. “We’ll talk about that later.”

“Can’t,” I say
, “got a meeting tonight. Sorry.”

“Asshole,” she smiles.

“A sexy asshole,” I smile back.

“Are you two trying to make him sicker?” Greta asks as she shoves between us and leans down and gives Charlie a kiss
on the forehead. “Welcome back.”

“How long was I asleep?” Charlie asks.

“Ten days,” I say. “Scariest ten days of our lives.”

“Scarier than after Z-Day?” he asks.

“Way scarier,” Stella says. “So don’t ever fight helicopters again, you hear me? Leave that to the professionals.”

“There are professional helicopter fighters?” I ask. “How do I get in on the gig?”

“You’d never get hired,” Greta says. “You’d be more like a helicopter clown, get it? Like in the rodeo?”

“Yeah, I get it,” I frown
, “thanks.”

“Excuse me,” Reaper says
, “can I sneak in here?”

We move quickly and let Reaper do an examination of Charlie and his wound. It takes about a billion minutes past forever, but he finally turns to us and gives a
smile.

“
I was able to inflate his lung, and it sounds like it’s holding strong, but he’s not out of the woods yet,” he says. “We’ll see how he does when he’s up and about.”

“How long will that be?” Stella asks.

“Not sure,” Reaper shrugs. “I don’t have enough experience to know. Maybe a week or two?”

“We don’t have that kind of time,” I say quietly.

“Why?” Charlie asks.

“Never you mind,” Stella says
, “you worry about getting better.”

She looks at me and is about to speak when Gunga comes running in.

“Uh, Mr. Stanford?” he says.

“Gunga, call me Jace, please,” I reply.

“Sure, fine,” he nods. “I think we need you outside. A couple people want to say some words about Brenda Kelly and well, it’s getting kinda ugly.”

“Jesus,” I mutter and follow Gunga outside.

We make our way through trailers and walkways, down stairs and ramps, until we are walking into the open valley below all the dwellings secured to the cliffs. I have to catch my breath and steady myself before marching up to the crowd that is busy yelling and shouting. I see Stuart trying to break it up, but he’s overmatched by the majority that are spitting curses back and forth with an almost equally vocal minority. Critter is just standing aside smiling, of course.

“Hey!” I shout. “HEY!”

Heads turn and they see me coming. Everyone slowly stops yelling, but they are far from calmed down. I walk to the makeshift podium and look each of them in the eye. Which takes fucking forever.

“Someone wants to say some words for Brenda Kelly?” I ask.

There are nods and grunts and a few shouts (for and against) and I have to hold my hand up to get it chilled again.

“Fine,” I say
, “I think all the dead deserve some last words.”

Everyone, to the last man and woman, is stunned. Guess they didn’t see that coming.

“Brenda Kelly was an intolerable bitch,” I start, “but she was also one hell of an administrator. Despite being evil to the bone, she did get us through those first few months back at Whispering Pines. I know many of you only met her after coming here to Asheville with Mondello, but let me tell you she wasn’t always a disagreeable troll.” I laugh. “Well, yeah, she was. But that’s beside the point. What really matters is that, in her own warped way, she cared about Whispering Pines and its residents. She honestly did. She worried about them and she fretted about them and she did everything in her power to make the place as secure as possible. Sure, that power warped her walnut brain, but that’s what power does.”