Z-Burbia 5: The Bleeding Heartland (17 page)

The kid is right, we were not the best people towards the end there. Subconsciously, it’s probably one reason I blew that place up. It stood for a world that could never be again, and wasn’t exactly paradise pre-Z.

We sit there and fume in our own wrongness while more and more Zs gather around our boulder. No clue how many, but from the sound of it there are a lot. Looks like we aren’t going hiking any time soon.

We probably give each other the silent treatment for an hour. I even manage to refrain from talking out loud. Or I think I do. No way for me to really know unless Rafe tells me, and that defeats the point of a silent treatment. So we’ll assume I didn’t talk out loud.

“How’d you find me?” I finally ask because I have a complete and total inability to keep from talking. “It’s not like you can see down here. Where were you before you found this boulder?”

“Your torches lit this place up,” Rafe says. “I could see you from like a mile away.”

“Ha, funny,” I chuckle.

“No, seriously, man,” he insists. “This pit is huge. I was easily a mile away.”

“That can’t be true,” I say. “You have no way to gauge that kind of distance. You think you were a mile, but you were probably only a football field’s length.”

“I used to hunt people for sport and survival, man,” Rafe says. “I know how to gauge a mile. I was a mile away. Your torches were just bright dots in the distance.”

“I only had the one torch until it got snagged by a Z I found up here,” I reply. “The other lights you saw were the famous singing group known as the Flaming Zs.” Rafe doesn’t respond right away. “I said, the other lights you saw were the-.”

“I heard what you said,” he interrupts. “I just don’t know what it means.”

“I set a couple of Zs on fire, and they chased me here,” I explain. “Me being me, I decided that the Flaming Zs would make a killer band name. But, alas, they weren’t meant to last as a group. You know why?”

Rafe doesn’t answer.

“Do you know why they weren’t meant to last, Rafe?” I ask again.

“I don’t think I want to,” Rafe says quietly.

“Because they burned out!” I laugh. “Bam! Zing! Rimshot! Cue laugh track!”

“You are the most fucked up man I have ever met,” Rafe states. “And I knew all the gang leaders on Cannibal Road. Barfly must have nearly killed you a million times.”

“Barfly, bro? Nah, we were tight, bro. Like best bros, bro. He totally dug my sense of humor, bro.”

“No, he didn’t,” Rafe says.

“No, he didn’t,” I admit. “He got tired of it, just like everyone else does.”

Again, we sit there for a while with nothing to say. The Zs are getting louder and louder, so it’s not like we’re sitting in silence anymore. Their constant groans, and moans, and hisses are actually getting on my nerves. Up top you can hide in a shelter like a house or some other building. That shit will muffle their never-ending noise. Hell, even a car is better than this.

“Moan, moan, moan!” I shout. “Hiss, hiss, hiss! Fuck you!”

“That’ll teach them,” Rafe says.

“Hey, let me ask you something. Strictly for academic purposes,” I say. “When we were giving each other the silent treatment, was I still talking out loud?”

“What silent treatment?” Rafe replies. “You haven’t shut up since I got up on this boulder. At one point I honestly thought about jumping off and trying to make it against the Zs. You have some seriously fucked up shit inside your head, Short Pork.”

“Don’t call me Short Pork,” I say. “I hated Long Pork. Short Pork is even worse. Just call me Jace.”

“Only if you stop referring to me as a canny,” Rafe counters.

“But you are a canny,” I say. “That’s the simple truth.”

“Then you will always be Short Pork,” Rafe says. “So get used to it, Short Pork.”

“Knock it off,” I snarl.

“Or what?” Rafe asks. “What the fuck are you going to do to me with one arm in the pitch dark? The second you try to hit me, I’ll knock you the fuck out. I was a hunter, man. I can track with my ears.”

“Who do you think you are? The Blind Swordsman?” I laugh.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The Blind Swordsman,” I say. “That old series of samurai movies? You never saw those?”

“Who the fuck watches old samurai movies? You must have been some nerd before the Zs,” Rafe says, laughing.

“Listen, you little shit, while you were busy jerking off to the Pink Power Ranger, I was studying true cinema. The Blind Swordsman movies are classics.”

“If you say so, nerd,” Rafe laughs again. “Nerd Pork. That’s what I’ll call you from now on. Forget Short Pork, you are Nerd Pork forever!”

“Fuck off!” I yell, and take a swipe at him. My fist nails him across the chin, and he cries out. I hear some scraping against rock then nothing except for the Zs below. “Rafe? Dude? You still up here?”

“That’s all I needed,” he says as his fist hits me in the chest. His other fist catches me in the shoulder, and he adjusts fast and throat punches me.

I wish people would stop punching me in the throat. It makes it impossible for me to use my brand of sarcasm against them. I know sarcasm fu, yo.

Another fist to the throat, then one to my cheek. I try to hit back, but he stays out of my reach. I guess I should have thought it through more before picking a fight with a trained killer. He’s no Blind Swordsman, but he did used to hunt people, like he said. I used to figure out how high to build fences, and how many rolls of razor wire we needed. We have different skill sets.

I decide the only way to win is to just not get hit, so I flatten myself on the boulder and cover my head with my arm. I hear his hands swinging above me, then I catch a solid thump right between the shoulder blades as he figures out my strategy.

“Knock it off!” I croak as I manage to squeeze a few words out of my damaged throat. It’s not as bad as the last time I took it in the throat. “Fucking stop! I’m sorry!”

“What? What did you say?” Rafe asks, all out of breath from throat smacking me. “Did you say you were sorry?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t call you a canny again. Just stop hitting me. I’m done. All done. Let me lie here and just slowly die, alright? Give me that peace, at least.”

“We’re not going to die,” Rafe says.

“How the hell do you know?” I snap. “There’s no reason to think we’ll live through this. No one can navigate a pit that’s a mile long and doesn’t have even a speck of light. Not while there’re Zs shuffling about.”

“That’s not true,” Rafe replies, and I can hear the grin in his voice.

“What? What aren’t you telling me?” I ask. “Rafe, you little fucker, stop messing with me!”

“You’ll see,” Rafe laughs. “Just keep chatting, and then you’ll see.”

“I am so sick of this,” I growl. “Why can’t I catch one break? There are lots of other people I’d rather be with down here than you. Hell, Stuart and Critter are supposed to be down here. I could have bumped into them. Nope, I get the c-.”

“Hey,” Rafe snarls.

“I get the kid, was what I was going to say,” I reply. I’m totally lying. I was gonna say canny.

“I know,” Rafe says. “And you’re talking out loud.”

“Mother fuck,” I grumble. Then I cock my head and listen. “Hey, Rafe?”

“Yes, Jace?”

“Do you hear Zs?”

“No, Jace, I do not hear Zs,” Rafe replies. The smug is strong with this one.

“Why don’t we hear Zs?” I ask. “Zs don’t sleep, and they don’t just walk away when there’s two very loud meals just above them, out of reach.”

“Maybe someone killed the Zs,” Rafe says.

“What? Bullshit,” I respond. “Who the fuck can kill a bunch of Zs in the pitch blackness of this pit? No one has those kinds of skills.”

Rafe laughs a little more, and that’s when I hear the scrape behind me and to my left.

I wheel about and strike out with my hand, but it’s caught easily.

“Damn, Long Pork,” Elsbeth giggles. “Ain’t nobody whine and complain like you. Every single person in this pit can hear you.”

“El? EL!” I yell, and try to hug her, but end up punching her in the boob. She punches me in the dick. That makes us even in El’s world. “Ow. It’s ... good ... to see ... you.”

“Suck it up, and rub some dirt on it, Long Pork,” Elsbeth says. “We’ve got a long hike before we get to the others.”

“The others?” I ask. “What others? Critter? Stuart?”

“Oh, there’s more than that,” Elsbeth replies. “They been catching and bringing them in for days. Good thing I hung back once I knew they was tracking us.”

“Wait? You knew these guys were around? And you didn’t say anything?” I shout. “They have Greta, El!”

“I know, and we’ll get her back, trust me,” Elsbeth says, her voice sharper and more deadly than any blade could ever be. “They won’t hurt her yet.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell us we were being tracked?” I ask, still hurt by the thought that she let this happen.

“I was going to, then everyone started shitting and puking,” Elsbeth says. “I wanted to wait it out then come tell you, but there was another distraction. Then you broke camp and left. I never got a chance. When I caught up, you’d left that farm, too.” She grabs my shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

“Wow, I can’t believe it’s you,” I say. “What are the odds you’d be down here with me?”

“Are you in trouble, Long Pork?” Elsbeth asks.

“Well, duh,” I laugh.

“Then where the hell else would I be?” Elsbeth replies. “It’s a full time job saving your ass.”

“Well, I guess that’s true,” I say.

“We going now?” Rafe asks.

“Yes, we’re going now,” Elsbeth answers. “Did you lick him like I said to?”

“Yeah. He got really pissed,” Rafe laughs.

“You guys suck,” I say. “Totally suck.”

Chapter Eight

There are quite a few things I’d rather be doing than walking through a subterranean pit in an abandoned coal mine while hundreds of zombies prowl around me in complete and total darkness. Shall I list them? Yes. Yes, I shall.

I’d rather be:

1. Eating glass out of a rhinoceros’s asshole.

2. Placing my private parts in a blender and hitting the puree button.

3. Huffing Rush Limbaugh’s farts after he’s eaten six pepperoni and jalapeno pizzas from Pizza Hut. Deep dish, so they are nice and greasy.

4. Sharting while naked and singing the Star Spangled Banner in front of a black tie crowd at Lincoln Center.

5. Shitting out the undigestible glass I have eaten from previously said rhinoceros’s ass.

6. Making sweet, sweaty love to Brenda Kelly.

Okay, okay, I went too far on that last one. Nothing would be worse than touching any part of Brenda Kelly’s naked body. What? You think I am mocking the dead? Yes. Yes, I am. That woman deserves all the postmortem mocking she gets.

I would say I’m in a blind leading the blind situation, but I’d be a total idiot if I ever call Elsbeth blind. Sure, there is absolutely no trace of light in any way, shape, or form down here. Sure, the ground is pocked with holes and strewn with random rocks, boulders, and fissures. Sure, I only have one hand, and it’s currently gripping one of Rafe’s belt loops instead of holding a weapon (i.e. a rock) and getting ready to bash some unseen Z in the cranium. And sure, Elsbeth keeps giggling like a schoolgirl every time she kills a Z and clears our path.

But, it’s Elsbeth. If I can’t trust her to get my ass out of this frying pan, then I might as well lie down, curl up, and suck my thumb until the Zs find the Jace buffet.

“Dude, you have got to be quiet,” Rafe hisses. “You’re bringing them right to us.”

“Don’t worry about Long Pork,” Elsbeth says. “He doesn’t know how to be quiet. Hasn’t shut up since I met him.”

“Thanks, El,” I say. “You really know how to defend a guy.”

“Do I? Huh,” Elsbeth replies. “I thought I was giving you shit. Did I do it wrong? Is there a better way to shit give?”

“Nope, that was fine shit giving,” I say. “I have taught you well.”

“I learned it from Charlie and Greta,” Elsbeth says.

“Greta!” I nearly yell. Quite a few moans respond, and Rafe swears under his breath. “We have to save Greta!”

“You already said that back on the rock,” Elsbeth says, and I hear the worry in her voice. “Your brain is slipping, Long Pork.”

“That’s what I have been saying,” Rafe states. “You didn’t want to listen.”

There are plenty more Z moans, and I have to keep myself from freaking out. Not being able to see a thing is a little bit terrifying. Okay, who am I kidding? It’s more than terrifying. I’d probably be shitting my pants if my asshole wasn’t clenched so tight from fear.

“Seriously, man, you have to be quiet,” Rafe growls.

“Don’t worry about it,” Elsbeth says. “It’s easier when I know they are coming. Better than getting a surprise from behind.”

I so want to make a joke about El’s last statement, but the sounds of her crushing Z skulls, and then the issue of having to step over the fallen Zs, distracts me from a golden, sarcastic opportunity. Sometimes you have to let the perfect setup go for the greater good. That greater good being me staying on my feet and not falling over a dead Z. I want to clear that up in case there is any confusion. Greater good equals me staying on my feet.

“Can I gag him?” Rafe asks. “Please? You’re used to it, but I’m not. This guy would have been Sunday dinner back on Cannibal Road.”

“Fuck you,” I snap. “You’re fucking forgetting I survived Cannibal Road, bitch. I not just survived, but I escaped. With my family! So eat my shit, fuckhead!”

“You escaped because I helped you,” Elsbeth says. A few moans, some hard thunks, a few thuds, I step over more Zs, Elsbeth continues. “I set it up so you could get that Bronco. I set it up so I was with the cannies by the quarry. I set it up so Barfly came after me, and you Stanfords could get away.”

“But John had to shoot the fucker to save you,” I say. “So don’t think you’re some superhero.”

“I don’t think I’m a superhero, Long Pork,” Elsbeth responds. “I just think I’m the girl that has to save your ass all the time. Can’t argue with that, can ya?”

“Nope, I can’t,” I say. “And I wasn’t. I was arguing with Rafe here. Every point you made is valid. I just don’t want Rafe to think he’s better at surviving than me. He’s the one that had to join up with our convoy to get away from that canny hell.”

“Then why are we arguing?” Elsbeth asks.

“We aren’t,” I say. “Are we?”

“You people are so fucked in the head,” Rafe says. “And considering the shit I’m in, I think I was safer back on Cannibal Road.”

“Feel free to head on back, tough guy,” I say. “Just go about fifty paces out, and hang a left. I’m sure you’ll get there eventually.”

“Fuck off, Short Pork,” Rafe says.

“What’s all this Short Pork shit?” Elsbeth asks. “His name is Long Pork.”

“I didn’t start it,” Rafe replies. “That Critter guy did. He was making fun of Jace’s little dick.”

“Hey! Fuck you!” I shout.

More than a couple Zs groan in response. In fact, I might say quite a few Zs groan in response. And they are close. Like really close. Really, really, really close. I could probably reach out and touch-.

“WE KNOW THEY ARE CLOSE!” Rafe yells. “FUCK!”

“Wow,” Elsbeth says as we suddenly stop. “I don’t think he likes you, Long Pork. Should I kill him and let the Zs eat him so we can get away?”

“Wait? What?” Rafe screeches. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Yes,” Elsbeth giggles. “I am kid fucking you.”

“El, we are going to have to work on your syntax later,” I say. “Sometimes it’s cute when you switch words around. But, and I’m not criticizing, just giving some friendly advice, sometimes it’s a little creepy. Kid fucking is creepy. Don’t say that.”

“See? Long Pork’s brain is working just fine,” Elsbeth says. “It’s just his mouth that’s the problem.” She reaches out in the dark and pats my shoulder as if she can see me clear as day. “Thank you for the advice, Long Pork. Now I’m going to give you some, okey doke?”

“Okay. What is it?” I ask.

The patting on my shoulder turns to a tight grip, then she shoves me to the ground.

“Stay down and stay out of my way,” Elsbeth says, and her voice is nothing but business. “You too, little canny.”

“Little canny,” I laugh. “Awesome.”

“Fuck you too,” Rafe says as he’s shoved down next to me.

Now the fun starts.

And when I say “fun” I mean a paralytic fear bordering on a catatonic breakdown. Because, you know, complete and total darkness with zombies.

There are a lot of sounds happening around us. Many of them are easy to identify, such as the shuffling of Z feet, and the moans and groans associated with the Zs doing all the shuffling. And moaning and groaning. The Zs are moaning and groaning as well as shuffling. Which sort of brings that statement back full circle.

“Oh, shut up!” Rafe yells.

I don’t respond to his rudeness because I am too busy listening to the action. I’m guessing this is what it’s like to be a blind person at a Jackie Chan movie.

In between the sounds of feet shuffling are the sounds of precise steps. Now, these aren’t as easy to hear, but since I have nothing better to do, I concentrate really hard. A step here, a step there, all the while there are plenty of thunks and thuds. Not to mention a few splatters and the occasional expulsion of trapped corpse gas. Z farts.

You know how the other senses get stronger when one sense is suppressed? Yeah, that’s totally true. Z farts are the worst, man. You think you’ve smelled everything in the apocalypse until you can’t see and your sniffer takes over, and all that gas that builds up inside a dead body is released into the air around you, and all you want to do is turn and puke, but you’re afraid if you turn and puke you’ll end up putting your hand in the puddle of puke because you can’t see a fucking thing, which is what is leading to the heightened sense of smell in the first place and-.

“Shut up, Long Pork!” Elsbeth yells from my right.

“Can I shut him up?” Rafe asks.

“You shut up too, Little Canny,” Elsbeth replies.

“Ha. Little Canny,” I chuckle. “That is never going to get old.”

A woosh goes by my head.

“Did you just try to punch me?” I ask. “You better watch it, Little Canny, or I’ll beat your ass.”

“Try it, fucknut,” Rafe snarls.

“I just might!” I snarl back.

“Then do it!”

“Okay then!”

I don’t get a chance to beat his ass since I am too busy screaming and thrashing about as a very rotten corpse lands in my lap. Guts and goo splash up on my face, and I’m instantly gagging and trying to wipe my lips off with my arm. Which doesn’t do any good since my arm is just as goo covered as my lips. I just smear the gunk around, getting it up my nose and all down my neck. I can feel it dripping into my chest hair. And I have a lot of chest hair since I am so manly. Not much hair on my head, but plenty on my chest.

More guts and goo splatter across me, and I start to yell, then get hit with a third round, and the yell turns into the full on puke I was trying to avoid. Luckily, I’m not the only one. I can totally hear Rafe upchucking next to me.

“Dude, I think there’s guts in my ears,” Rafe says once he’s done throwing up.

I still heave a couple more times before I’m through. “Better than up your nose, man,” I whimper. “I’ll never get the smell out. This is a nightmare.”

“The nightmare is you two puking while I’m fighting,” Elsbeth says. “Pussies.”

Thunk and thud, thunk and thud. Over and over. I can’t see Elsbeth fight, but I’ve seen her work enough to picture it in my mind.

She ducks a reaching claw and jams her blade into a Z’s belly and out through its back. As she pulls the blade free, it severs the thing’s spine, and it collapses onto the ground, joining dozens more she’s already taken down.

A Z tries to grab her from behind, and she whirls and beheads it, then kicks the headless corpse into a group of five more, knocking them off balance, so all she has to do is come in fast with some quick stabs, and their days of shambling are done.

Elsbeth spins, like the homicidal dervish she is, and drops heads like a lawnmower taking down dandelion blooms in a long neglected lawn.

“Man, you really think you’re some post-apocalyptic poet, don’t you?” Rafe sighs. “I don’t care how hot your daughter is, I’m gonna stay as far away from you as possible once we get out of here.”

“That’s the second best thing I’ve heard all day,” I say. “Or night. Or whatever time it is. The first was Elsbeth’s voice.”

“Because she always has to bail you out of trouble?” Rafe sneers. I can’t see the sneer, but I sure as fuck can hear it.

“Damn right because she bails my ass out of trouble,” I agree. “I will admit that now. Listening to her shred these fucks without being able to see a thing is quite the life moment.”

“Cram your life moment in your ass, Long Pork,” Elsbeth says. “You’re distracting me. Ow! My arm!”

“El? El!” I shout. “Did one get you? Are you bit? Oh, God, I’m sorry! I’ll shut up, I promise!”

“Just kidding,” Elsbeth laughs.

There are few more thuds and thunks, not to mention a couple stray splatters across my face for good measure, and then there’s nothing but silence. Except for Elsbeth’s heavy breathing. Damn, she sounds like a horse.

“You can be a dick, Long Pork,” Elsbeth says. “I just saved you again, and you call me a horse. You’re the horse, poop face.”

“Good one, El,” I say. “You can never go wrong with the poop face insult. And for the record, I didn’t call you a horse, I said you sound like one. Also, for the record, that was supposed to be in my head, so it doesn’t really count. I’ll let you have the poop face this time, but next time it’ll be a yellow card. No more warnings.”

“What the hell is a yellow card?” Rafe asks.

“You know, from soccer,” I say. “It’s like a penalty.”

“Soccer? I’m from Tennessee,” Rafe says. “Soccer doesn’t exist in Tennessee. Only Vols football.”

“Yeah, I met some of those fans back in Knoxville,” I say. “I have to tell you they got a little carried away. Supporting your team is one thing, trying to hang a guy is a whole other.”

“Then I set them on fire,” Elsbeth says, right next to my ear again.

“Jesus, El!” I cry, and nearly piss my pants. “Stop with the creepy sneaking up on me!”

“You didn’t hear me sit down?” Elsbeth asks. “Maybe it was because you were busy jabbering like a stupid squirrel.”

“I thought you liked my jabbering,” I say.

“I was being polite,” Elsbeth says. “Stella says I need to practice being polite more.”

“And you decided to practice on me? While we’re in a black pit? And you’re fighting Zs blind?” I ask. “I think we need to practice timing next.”