Z-Burbia 4: Cannibal Road (25 page)

“It was Bish Bash’s fault,” I said quickly. “He must have spilled some gas. That Bish Bash. Sheesh. Good thing you Bish Bashed Bish Bash, right? Look what he did.”

“I think I’ll kill you right now,” Barfly said very matter of fact. “No Bish Bashng. No, bro, I’m going to skin ya. Just cut the skin right off ya, bro. Ya know why? Because I’m so done with you, bro.”

KABOOM CRACK!

Ha! I did have an explosive in there!

CRACK KATHOOOOM!

Oh, shit...that wasn’t coming from the power shed.

“The trucks!” Barfly yelled as he turned and faced the opposite direction. “Some peep is blowin’ up the trucks!”

More and more explosions went off and the air was filled with nothing but black smoke and heat. Yeah, I took that opportunity to book ass.

“Stella!” I shouted as I ran towards my family. “We gotta get the fuck outta here!”

“Ya think?” Stella shouted back as I skidded to a halt next to them. “But how? Where?”

“Where’d you get those?” I asked as I studied the key ring she held in her hand. There was a pink bracelet tied to one of the keys.

“They were in my pocket,” Stella said. “I have no idea how they got there.”

“I do,” I grinned as I looked over my shoulder at the Bronco. “I even know what that key goes to.”

Chapter Nine

“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, what are you?” Barfly snarls.

“I’m family,” Elsbeth grins.

And we are back! All caught up? Good because shit is about to get fucking insane at the edge of this quarry.

There’s a gang of cannies ready to take on a shit load of Zs while their crazy leader is about to go head to head with Elsbeth.

“Jace,” Stella whispers. “We should go.”

“Don’t ya be movin’, lady bro,” Barfly says over his shoulder. “I’m gonna kill this crazy chick bro and then it’ll be your turn. I don’t wanna have to play hide and seek, so just stay right there.”

“Well, since you asked so nice,” I reply, then turn and grab Stella’s arm. “Run! Come on, kids!”

Ah, yes, the Stanfords are running again!

Damn if we don’t do a lot of running. Run from this bunch of nutjobs, run from that bunch of nutjobs, and the always running from Zs part of our lives. I was never a jogger pre-Z, not that I’m a jogger now, but it sure would have been a good skill to learn before it was forced on me. I’ll be willing to bet my form could be improved. I tend to run flat footed, as far as I can tell. That can’t be good for your arches, can it?

“Shit fuck!” Greta yelled as a group of Zs stumbles from the trees. “Where’d they all come from? I didn’t see a single Z when we were in the canny camp!”

“They probably came from that neighborhood we passed back there,” Charlie said. “Shit!”

Charlie slips and nearly topples over the side of the cliff and into the empty quarry. Well, empty of water; it has plenty of rocks to go smashy-splat on.

An ear piercing scream splits the night and we whirl about to see Elsbeth down on the ground with Barfly straddling her.

“No he doesn’t!” Stella shouts. She’s off running back to Elsbeth before we can stop her.

Shit.

Now for the slow-mo portion of our story!

The kids and I run after Stella, screaming at her to stop, but she just keeps going, heading right at Barfly. The man’s face is a wicked grin and looks ten times scarier than usual because of the flickering torch light. Then his features change from wicked to confused and finally to surprised. I don’t think he figured Stella would come at him.

“Whoa, lady bro!” he yells just as she leaps at him and the world speeds up again.

Stella catches him about the neck, taking him right off Elsbeth. The two of them roll for a few feet, with Stella ending up on top when they finally stop. Her fists come down hard and fast and Barfly’s head snaps to the right, to the left, to the right, to the left. Back and forth until he lands a solid punch to Stella’s throat.

He arches his back and brings his knees up, nailing Stella in the spine. She tries to scream, but the shot to her throat has taken her voice and only a pained croak comes out.

“Damn, lady bro!” Barfly says as he shoves her away and gets up. “That shit hurt!”

His face is a bloody mess and I can’t help but smile despite the fact my wife is on the ground at the psycho’s feet.

“This’ll hurt more,” Elsbeth says as she slams Barfly’s own steel rod against the backs of his thighs. He screams and falls to his knees. “This too.”

She spins and smashes the rod right against Barfly’s chest. The sound of ribs cracking can be heard across the meadow, even with the noise from the fighting Zs and cannies.

Right, the Zs and cannies. Can’t forget about that shit.

“Dad!” Charlie yells. “We’ve got company!”

The Zs from the side of the meadow have caught up to us.

“Weapon up, kids!” I yell. “Time to go to work!”

“Fuck,” Greta sighs. “I hate going to work.”

Weapons are no longer an issue. You see, cannies may be good at catching and killing humans for dinner, but apparently, they are not bulletproof. Or Z proof, as it may be. Several canny corpses litter the meadow now as the Zs overwhelm them and get in close for a nighttime snack which means plenty of stray weapons.

I kick a Z off the British canny that had Stella earlier, which still boggles my mind, and pick up the lead pipe wrapped in duct tape her corpse is holding. A lot of good that lead pipe did for her, but maybe it’ll do more for me as I turn and walk towards the Zs.

Greta is at my side, as is Charlie, and both of them are holding baseball bats. No spikes in the baseball bats like the Bitch, but better than a bag of marshmallows. I have no idea what that means, so don’t ask. It’s late and I’m tired.

“I’ve got the three on the right,” Greta says.

“I’ll take the three on the left,” Charlie replies.

“Great,” I smirk. “Leave the five in the middle for me.”

“You’re bigger and stronger,” Greta says.

“Hey! I’m strong!” Charlie says.

“And I only have one arm,” I say. “Maybe Charlie should take the five in the middle?”

“No, no, I’m good,” Charlie says. “You can have them.”

“Thanks,” I say as I close on the Zs.

Unfortunately, I do one very stupid thing just before I get to the Zs: I look over my shoulder to see if Stella is okay. While not exactly fine, she isn’t being attacked, so that’s good.

However, that lapse in attention, while sweet and thoughtful, means I misjudge the distance between the Zs and myself. So when I turn my attention back to them, I’m staring at five open mouths and nine reaching arms.

I say nine because one of the Zs is missing an arm. I wonder if that’s what I’d look like of I was turned into a Z? Probably not since the Z is a woman. My pecs aren’t in the greatest shape, but they certainly don’t look like the putrid, saggy Z tits that poke out from the dead woman’s blouse. Yuck does not express it enough.

A few stumbling steps backwards, and a couple lucky swings of the pipe, gets me enough space between the Zs to dodge to the side and not go down in a happy little Z pile. I elbow one Z out of the way and use that momentum to crack the skull of another. Stinking brains slosh out of its skull and all over my hand, making me gag a little since you just never get used to that shitty smell.

I shoulder the stinky, debrained Z to the side then go back for the first one I elbowed. I miss its head and totally crush its shoulder, basically causing half its rotted body to fall away. This turns out to be a good thing since its fallen half tangles up two more of the Zs, sending them to the ground.

That leaves one Z and it knows an opportunity when it sees one. With all of its Z bros down on the ground, it knows it can have me all to itself.

Did I just say “Z bros”? Fuck, I’ve been hanging around Barfly way too much. That fucker gets in your head.

“Dad!” Greta screams.

She sure does scream at me a lot.

I shove the last Z away and hurry to where my kids are stranded, their backs to the edge of the quarry with three Zs coming right for them.

“Move!” I yell.

The kids each dive out of the way, as I rush the Zs and give them a hard shove. The first two go flying out over the edge and down into the dark pit below, but the third twists and grabs onto my ankle before falling. My legs go out from under me and I find myself being pulled by the weight of the Z right off the edge of the quarry.

“No!” Stella rasps as she wraps her hands under my armpits and pulls. “You’re staying here!”

The Z still has a hold of my ankle, but a couple whacks with the lead pipe shatters its wrist and it goes falling down to join its friends. Except for its hand that is still gripping my ankle. Stella keeps pulling me until we are well away from the edge. She frowns at the Z hand, tears it from my leg, and then throws it off into the quarry.

“Thanks, baby,” I smile at her.

“Any time,” she says, her voice a throaty croak. It’s kinda sexy, really.

“I am so gonna make you talk dirty to me once we get away from this shit,” I say.

“Fuck you,” she smiles.

I get to my feet and scan the area. No Zs are coming at us, but there are plenty in the meadow doing a pretty damn fine job at thinning the canny population of Tennessee. Not that the cannies are losing, mind you. There are a good number that have the skills needed to take on more than their share of Zs. You could say that Z bodies are going down two to every one canny.

This means, now that I think of it, that the cannies are winning. That’s bad. I hate rooting for the Zs, but if given the choice between mindless killing and eating machines and killing and eating machines with minds, I’ll go mindless anytime.

You know what I mean. Shut up.

“Eat the shit and die, fucker killer fucker shit for fuck!” Elsbeth screams, bringing our attention back to our adopted member of the Stanford family unit.

No blades and no steel rods, Elsbeth and Barfly face each other, fists up, as they circle and look for their opponent’s weakness.

This is something I don’t see everyday. I don’t mean the senseless violence because I do tend to see that everyday. No, I mean that Elsbeth isn’t flat out winning. This is a woman that was not only brainwashed and trained to be an assassin, but she spent quite a few years as a canny herself. She knows how to fight and kill better than most elite soldiers do.

Or did. Not that there are a whole lot of elite soldiers left in the world. I think. I could be totally wrong since this is the first road trip I’ve taken in a long time.

Barfly comes in with a feint to Elsbeth’s right, but she refuses to fall for it and brings up her left arm as his real hook comes flying at her. That leaves her open for the headbutt. Bam! Elsbeth takes a shot to her nose from Barfly’s forehead. She stumbles back a couple of feet, but shakes it off.

“You suck, fucking asshole fucker fuck shit fuck shitter!” Elsbeth snarls.

Yeah, she learned all that from my kids. I’m so proud.

“Potty mouth, crazy chick bro,” Barfly laughs. “I like that. Why you gotta fight me, crazy chick bro? We’ve had some good times these past couple days, right? I treated you right. You even told me all about Long Pork. Why we fightin’ now, crazy chick bro?”

“Because I was playing you, stupid fucker shit fuck canny asshole fucker,” Elsbeth replies. “I told you all that stuff about Long Pork so if you found him you wouldn’t eat him. I figured you’d have a better chance tracking him down than me.”

She comes in fast with two jabs from her left then a killer uppercut with her right. Barfly’s head snaps back and we watch blood and teeth go flying into the air. He almost goes down on his ass, but he keeps his footing and just retreats back a couple steps to regroup.

“You fight sexy,” Barfly says through broken teeth and bloody snot. “I like sexy fightin’ crazy chick bros.”

“You like this?” Elsbeth asks as she sends a roundhouse kick right into his stomach. He doubles over and she leaps into the air, coming down with her elbow on the back of his neck. “Is that sexy?”

“She is totally flirting with him,” Greta says.

“Totally,” Stella agrees.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Charlie snaps. “How is that flirting?”

“You just don’t understand girls,” Greta says.

My son looks at me and I shrug. “Don’t look at me, dude. All bets are off in the apocalypse.”

Barfly grabs Elsbeth around the ankles and pulls, sending her slamming down hard on her back. We can see the wind is knocked out of her and we start to move forward to help as Barfly climbs on top of her again. However, we are blocked by a pair of cannies with chains.

Fucking cannies with chains! I hate chains!

“Move,” Greta snarls. “Now.”

“Better listen, fuckers,” Charlie says. “The bitch be loco, bros.”

The two cannies are both dressed in cutoffs like Barfly, but so short, I think I can see a package peeking out even in the gloom of night. They hesitate as Greta and Charlie start walking at them.

“Kids,” Stella croaks then reaches out, but her fingers find open air as our kids sprint right at the cannies. “KIDS!”

They both drop as the chains swing out where their heads should have been. They slide across the slick grass of the meadow and right into the cannies’ legs. Greta takes that opportunity to slam both fists into one of the cannies’ balls, making the man squeak like a mouse that’s been stepped on. Charlie doesn’t use the nutshot gambit and instead kicks out with both feet, shattering his canny’s kneecaps. The man screams and almost falls right on Charlie, but my son is able to roll out of the way.

Our kids get to their feet, pick up the chains, and then bring them down onto the skulls of the fallen cannies.