Z-Burbia 2: Parkway To Hell (11 page)

“Exactly,” Mondello says. “The US has always been about business. Even your example of the history around here proves that. The US government wanted in on the moonshine business and the moonshiners didn’t want that. Well, the Consortium didn’t spend their entire lives building their empires of business to have it all come crumbling down because of some walking corpses. Not these folks, Mr. Stanford.”

“So, what, are you their puppet?”

“Puppet? Hardly! I’m the President of the United States. And just like every President before me, I’m a facilitator. Do you think roads were built so everyday people could drive around where and when they wanted? Do you think the interstate highway system; Hoover damn, the Keystone pipeline, any of that happened for the common man and woman? I certainly hope not. All of that happened because business wanted it to happen. Do you remember the dismantling of the educational system that was happening just before Z-Day?”

“Sure, my wife is a teacher,” I reply
, “it was bullshit.”

“Not if you wanted an ignorant, pliable work force that didn’t have the education or context to understand just how doomed they were,” Mondello smiles. “Keep them dumb and broke and you have democratic, capitalistic slavery at its finest. The wheels were already turning, Mr. Stanford. Z-Day just got rid of the pretext and brought the agenda out in the open.”

“I still don’t see what that has to do with you,” I say. “Or with the Blue Ridge Parkway.”

“Oh, that’s simple,” Mondello laughs. “The Parkway is an almost direct route from Charlottesville, which is where the new capital of the United States is, down to Atlanta, which is where the new center of business is.”

“Wait…what?” I ask. “Atlanta is a wasteland. The place is nothing but Zs.”

“Really? Have you been there since Z-Day?” Mondello asks, a sly smile on his face. “You’ve seen it yourself?”

“Well…no.”

“Then you are only repeating to me what the Consortium wants repeated. Quote un quote ‘survivors’ were sent out as far as they could get to tell people to stay away from Atlanta. Woe unto those that venture into the Hell of that city! Nothing but the undead everywhere!” Mondello starts laughing. “It was just too easy.”

“Jesus…”

“Yep,” Mondello says, wiping tears from his eyes. “Atlanta never fell. It came close, but it survived. The Consortium is based there and they need a working supply line between Atlanta and Charlottesville. They also need a safe travel route. The Blue Ridge Parkway is perfect. Sure, there’s some space between it and Atlanta that still has to be dealt with, but that will happen. For
now, we are clearing and repairing the Parkway. Pretty easy since it is so remote. Not many Zeds except for tourists trapped in their RVs and the stray hiker or camper. Almost impossible for herds to get to because of the mountains. The perfect trade route.”

“And Asheville is the perfect base to set up operations and repair and maintain the Parkway,” I say.

“Yes, it is. Which is why we went into business with Vance. He was going to secure Asheville for us.”

“But you didn’t count on the crazy,” I smile.

“Oh, on the contrary, we factored that in,” he answers. “Trust me, you don’t make plans post-Z and forget about the crazy. We just didn’t know the crazy would get him killed so quickly. And unite all of you fine folks. That’s the real issue.”

“Because you wanted us beaten and broken so you could swoop in and show us a ‘better’ way,” I say.

“Now you’re getting it,” Mondello says, touching his finger to his nose.

“Slave labor to rebuild the country in the image the Consortium had been planning on in the first place,” I say. “I do get it. And the US government-” I use air quotes on that one. “-makes sure the infrastructure is in place to make it all happen.”

“You are smart, Mr. Stanford.”

“So now what? You kill me?”

“Kill you?” Mondello asks, truly puzzled. “Why would I do that?”

“Isn’t that how it goes? The bad guy fills the good guy in on his plans since he’s going to kill him anyway?”

“Well, the first flaw in that assumption is that I’m the bad guy,” Mondello laughs. “The second flaw is that you are trying to apply what happens in the movies to what happens in real life. Killing you, after I have spent all this time and energy educating you, would be a massive waste. I have zero intention of killing you, Mr. Stanford. I’m going to keep you alive as long as I can.”

“Then I guess I’m not as smart as you think
, because I’m lost here.”

“Oh, I’m going to kill your family. One at a time. Unless you agree to help me take that farm and secure those resources we need to finish our job with the Parkway. That is why I told you everything. I wanted you to have that big picture in your head so you know that even if you kill me, which is possible, and somehow manage to stop Foster and her people, which is the real hard part, you’re only chopping off heads of the hydra. And there are so many more heads to replace us.”

At this point, I am glad I haven’t had breakfast. I can feel the bile build up in my stomach and I want nothing more than to turn my head and puke. Mondello sees this and that smile takes over his face. He pats me on the leg and stands up.

“I’ll let you think it over,” he says as he walks to the door. “Someone will bring you food soon and you’re welcome to take a shower. I’ll have Foster’s people find you some fresh clothes. You have today to run it over in your head. I expect an answer by this evening.”

“You have my family?” I ask.

“No, not yet,” he says
, “but it won’t be hard to get to them. Your people on that farm are probably pretty proud of themselves. Maybe too proud. They’ll be exhausted, scared, confused, and many will be over confident.” He stops, his hand on the door handle. “The perfect recipe for extraction. Don’t forget, Mr. Stanford, while Foster is the expert, I was Secretary of Homeland Security. I know how to acquire assets and how to use them. It was my job after all.”

Then he’s gone, leaving me to my physical pain and my emotional turmoil.

I get up, slowly, since I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, and go to the window. It’s locked and secured and three stories up. I’m not getting out that way. I have some skills, but scaling the rock and brick face of a hotel is not one of those skills.

I look out at the Grove Park grounds and watch as dozens of people hustle about. Foster’s private contractors, construction crews gearing up, obvious administrative types working for Mondello, all the cogs in the machine.

And fuck, it sounds like quite the machine.

A knock at the door makes me turn, which I regret as I twist something in my side. I’m a fucking mess, as usual.

“Food and clothing,” Foster says.

“Didn’t expect you to deliver it personally,” I reply.

“Go take a shower and then let’s talk,” Foster says.

“About?”

She shrugs and motions towards the bathroom.

I’m not one to argue against a free shower. So I take the clothes and step in. I try to close the door, but she blocks it with her foot.

“I’d feel better with this open,” she says. “I won’t look, I promise. Just don’t want you using that brain of yours without supervision.”

“Well that brain of mine, as you all keep calling it, isn’t running at full steam right now,” I reply. “I think you’re safe.”

“I’m never safe,” she says, then walks away, out of sight.

I turn the water on and wait for it to ge
t hot. And wait. And wait. Fuck.

“No hot water?” I call out.

“You have to be up earlier than this,” she says from the room. “Only two boilers working at a time. It helps motivate the crews in the morning. First ones up get hot water and bigger portions. You should see the lines.”

“Great,” I mutter.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” I reply.

Cold shower it is. I suffer through, still glad to get the dirt and blood washed off me. There was a lot of blood. I get dressed in the black cargo pants and black t-shirt Foster gave me and walk back into the room. She hands me a small bottle and I sniff it.

“Mouthwash?” I ask.

“All out of toothpaste. Thought you’d like this,” she replies. “Socks and boots are over there. Get them on. Eat fast. We’re going for a walk.”

I comply. What the fuck else am I going to do?

Boots on, food in my belly, and we are walking. We get downstairs and outside and I can’t help but take a deep breath of the late fall air. Sure, it’s tinged with the smell of death and ash, but still it’s nice.

“The President told you that we’re going to use your family as leverage, right?” she asks finally as we make our way down to the golf course.

“He did,” I reply, “do you have them?”

“
Maybe,” she shrugs.

“Then I don’t know what we have to talk about,” I say.

“There’s a girl, a young woman, that you’ve taken in,” Foster says. “Do you know who she is?”

“Nope, don’t know who you are talking about,” I say.

“Cut the crap, Stanford,” Foster laughs. “I know who she is. I know she means something to you. Maybe not as much as your family does, but she’s part of your life now. So answer my question: do you know who she is?”

“She was a canny, a cannibal,” I say. “She saved my ass. Despite the fact that my good friend killed her father.”

Foster stops and I stop with her. She turns and looks at me and I’m pretty fucking confused by the look on her face.

“That wasn’t her father,” Foster says. “Just a man that took her when Z-Day hit.”

“Hold on…what?” I ask. “What are you telling me? Why? What the fuck is going on?”

“I want that girl,” Foster states flatly.

“I’d hardly call Elsbeth a girl,” I say.

“Elsbeth…,” she says
, “that’s what she calls herself?”

“That’s the name her father said when they had me tied up in a basement and were ready to carve me up for dinner,” I say.

“He wasn’t her father,” Foster growls, “got that?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” I say. “So I’m guessing you know her real name and where she’s from and who her real father is and all that crap?”

“I know everything about her,” Foster says. “I just need to get her.”

“What does that have to do with me?” I ask. “Go get her. I dare you.”

This makes Foster smile. “She trusts you. You can get her to me without anyone dying, especially her. I send in my people and there will be blood.”

“You aren’t wrong there,” I say
, “and if I get her to go with you, then are you going to harm her?”

“Not a single hair on her head.”

“And you’ll make sure my family isn’t harmed?”

“That’s the deal.”

“Say it,” I insist.

“Stanford, I promise your family won’t be harmed and none of you will end up on Mondello’s slave crews. I can’t say the same for the rest of your Whispering Pines neighbors or for those on that farm. But the Stanfords will be free to go.”

“Go where?”

She shrugs. “That’s not my concern. You figure that part out. Uncertain freedom is better than certain slavery.”

“Ha, not always,” I laugh. “Have you seen the world lately?”

“More than I care to. So do we have a deal?”

I look over at the four guards that have accompanied us. “You aren’t afraid they’ll talk?”

“Not in the least,” she replies. “Governments come and go, as do clients, but I’m a constant. My people know that if they stick with me
, they’ll have the best shot at a life in this world. Mondello is a bureaucrat; the Consortium is just a bunch of greedy fucks. They don’t understand what life is like on the ground. Maybe at one time, some of them did, but not any longer. Plus, we’re all that stands between the zeds and Mondello’s ass. The Secret Service was never reinstated. Easier just to hire us.”

“Why do you want Elsbeth?” I ask. “Tell me that, at least.”

“No,” she states flatly, “do we have a deal?”

“No,” I state flatly in the exact same way. “I’m not selling that young woman out. Not unless you give me something. Some reason I should do that.”

“You mean besides the fact that I can save your family?”

I don’t answer.

“Fine. Why do you think I’m in Asheville?”

“To do your job helping Mondello run his slave labor and secure the Parkway.”

“Good. That’s what he thinks too,” Foster says. “I’m actually here for a different reason. I took this contract because I knew it would be based in Asheville and not one of the other sites. I’m actually very familiar with this area.”

“Other sites?” I ask. “What other sites?”

She shakes her head. “Not your concern now. What is your concern, is your family. And my concern is the young woman you call Elsbeth. We can help each other with those concerns.”

“I don’t know…” I really don’t.

Foster holds out her hand and one of the guards gives her a radio. “This is Foster. Do you have the Stanfords?”