Z-Burbia 5: The Bleeding Heartland (19 page)

“It’s not going to be easy for you, though,” Stuart says. “There’s some climbing involved.”

“Climbing? I don’t do climbing,” I reply. “Not anymore.”

“Ain’t got no choice, Short Pork,” Critter says. “You want to leave the pit, then you best be gettin’ to the climbin’.”

“You can’t call me Short Pork anymore,” I state.

“Oh, and why’s that?” Critter asks.

“Because Elsbeth says so,” I reply.

“Critter can call you Short Pork,” Elsbeth says. “I just said that Little Canny can’t call you Short Pork.”

“Why the hell does Critter get to call me Short Pork?” I snap.

“Because he’s Critter,” Elsbeth answers.

“Because I’m Critter,” Critter chuckles. “There’re perks to bein’ me.”

“Why the hell do I put up with y’all?” I ask.

“Because you have one arm and can’t take care of yourself,” Elsbeth says. “Not that you were any better with two arms.”

“He actually got into more trouble when he had two,” Stuart says. “Losing an arm has slowed him down.”

“It has,” Critter agrees. “That’s a fact.”

“I’m sitting right here, assholes,” I say. “I may not be able to see, but I can hear.”

“Shhh,” Elsbeth says. “You hear that? Zs are about done eating. We need to get out now before they come hunting.”

Someone picks me up and starts walking my ass quickly away from the boulder. I’m guessing it’s Elsbeth from the sure-footed way we’re moving. Or at least she’s sure footed, I keep tripping over every damn rock and crack on the ground. I’m not the only one; quite a few grunts and curses follow us as the group tries to keep up.

Bam. My nose hits a wall.

“You did that on purpose,” I say.

“Huh?” Elsbeth replies, all bullshit innocence.

“You let me run into the wall on purpose,” I repeat.

“Did not,” she says, but isn’t very convincing.

Then she takes my hand and presses it to the rough surface of the wall.

“Find a grip,” she says.

I search until my fingers can curl into a depression in the rock a foot or so above my head.

“Got it,” I say.

“Good,” she says then sighs. “Find a place for your toes.”

I jam the foot of my good leg into another depression then stand there feeling stupid.

“Okay, now what?” I ask, well aware that physics are not on my side.

“Climb,” Elsbeth says. There’s a tone of regret in her voice.

“You okay, El?” I ask.

“I will be when we’re out of this pit,” she sighs again. “Now, climb, Long Pork.”

“Okay, but I’m not going far,” I say.

I dig my foot in more, grip hard with my fingers, and pull. I lift off the ground and that’s when I find out why Elsbeth isn’t sounding so happy. She puts her hand right on my ass and pushes, keeping me from falling back down.

“Keep going,” she says. “Move, Long Pork.”

I don’t want the sigh to turn into a growl, so I do as she says, and I move. One hand, one foot then the other foot, and a shove on my ass from Elsbeth. That’s how I climb the twelve feet or so, and find myself crawling up over the lip of a ledge. I roll out of the way, and Elsbeth joins me.

“Don’t stand up,” Elsbeth says.

“Ow!” I cry as I slam my head into very hard rock. “Too late.”

Elsbeth keeps us moving. She turns us right, left, right, right, left, then it’s straight on forever. We’re walking for so long that I think I’m going to pass out, but I dig deep and keep going. Hearing the voices of the others behind me helps as motivation. I can’t quit with an audience.

I glance over my shoulder as someone cries out. It’s one of the cannies, holding his foot as he jumps up and down. Looks like he stubbed his toe on a decent sized rock. Ouch.

Hey ... hold on. How can I see that?

I whip my head back in the direction we’re moving, and realize that there’s light up ahead. It’s not much, but considering I’ve been a subterranean troll for probably twenty-four hours, my eyes treat the little bit of light as if it’s a full fucking moon. Huzzah!

Of course, for there to be light that must mean we are getting close to the surface. Which, by the way, is freezing fucking cold. It only takes a couple of minutes for my enthusiasm at being sighted again to be replaced by my whole body shivering uncontrollably.

I’m not the only one. I look back again, and everyone is shaking and shivering. None of us have winter coats on, just shirts and jeans. We do have sturdy boots, so maybe we won’t lose our toes once we get outside. Not that it matters, since we’ll die of hypothermia well before we feel the effects of frostbite. Or not feel the effects. I guess you don’t feel the effects until you start to warm up. Oh, God, I wish I could warm up.

Teeth chattering and my will to live slowly fading just like my body heat, I step from the rock tunnel we’ve been walking in and out into the open air. Kill me now.

“Huddle together,” Stuart says. “It’s the only way to stay warm.”

He doesn’t have to say it a second time. We all instantly get into the group hug mood. Somehow I’m on the outside, which sucks, but at least part of me is warm. I wish all of me was warm, but freezing beggars can’t be cozy choosers. I should have that saying cross stitched and framed when we get someplace that has cross stitching and frames.

“What the hell are you babbling about?” Critter asks. He’s who I’m pressed up against. “I don’t think arts and crafts are the priority right now, Short Pork.”

“We’ll need to find shelter,” Stuart says, his eyes scanning our surroundings. “Getting out of this weather is our priority.”

“Can’t we huddle in the mouth of the tunnel?” someone asks.

“It’ll just take longer to freeze to death,” Stuart says. “We need to find a place where we can build a fire. The last thing I want to do is start a fire in that tunnel with all of that coal dust. It could get a lot warmer than we want.”

“Right,” Critter says. “And we should take some coal with us.”

“Are you fucking nuts?” I snap.

“What?” he replies. “It’s just sitting there. Look.”

He points back at the mouth of the tunnel at the various size hunks of old coal that litter the ground not covered by snow.

“I bet if we dig a little under that snow we’ll find even more,” Critter says.

“Fuck the coal!” I yell. “And fuck shelter! We need to go get Greta!”

“We will,” Elsbeth says, her voice a steel that’s colder than the weather. “Don’t you worry, Long Pork. We won’t leave Greta behind. But first, we get to shelter like Stuart says. We get warm, we survive, then we get Greta. That’s the plan.”

“That’s going to take too long,” I growl. “Who knows what they’re doing to her in that compound!”

“Nothing yet,” Elsbeth says. “Trust me, Long Pork. These ain’t crazy crazies, but religion crazies. They’ll break her first before they hurt her. That way they think they are doing good. Religion crazies have to think they’re good before they do bad. Which, I guess, makes them crazier than crazy crazies.”

“You’d know,” Critter says, and holds up his hands. “Not an insult.”

“I know,” Elsbeth says. “I do know. That’s why I said the words I said. Because I know. If I didn’t know, then that would make me crazy too. I’m not crazy.”

A few of the cannies look down at their feet. Sure, I can see how they think Elsbeth is crazy, but they would be very wrong. Sometimes that woman is the sanest of us all.

“Let’s go,” Elsbeth says, and breaks up the warm group hug. “We have some walking to do.”

“Hold on, let’s think this through,” Stuart says. “We don’t know where we are. We could end up wandering out into the middle of nowhere and never find any shelter.”

“Didn’t I say?” Elsbeth grins. “I already know where the shelter is.”

“You what?” Stuart asks.

“I already know where shelter is,” Elsbeth says, and waves us on. “Come on, or you people are going to freeze to death.”

Stuart looks at me, and I know he catches the “you people” part. What the hell does Elsbeth mean by that? Isn’t she going to freeze to death too? Pretty sure humans all freeze at the same temperature, give or take a few degrees due to natural insulation. Which, by the way, none of us have. Despite a few folks back at Whispering Woods, being hefty and having a layer of fat for warmth is not a luxury people get in the apocalypse. We’re kind of all skin and bones.

Very cold skin, and very cold bones.

“What about the coal?” Critter asks.

“Don’t need it,” Elsbeth says. “No place to burn it.”

“How will we stay warm?” one of the cannies asks.

“You’ll see,” Elsbeth says.

“El, you have to give us more information than that,” Stuart says.

“Not really,” Elsbeth says. “You’ll like the place. It’s cozy. And there’s a fireplace. With wood. That enough information?”

“It’s a start,” Stuart says.

“A start’s all you need,” Elsbeth smiles, then turns and hikes off into the blowing snow.

We have no choice but to huddle together and trudge through the deep snow after her.

Even with the boots on, my toes go numb after at about twenty minutes of walking. Actually, every part of me is numb. I’m afraid that if someone yelled in my ear right now it would just snap right off from the shock. The same goes for my nose. I’m afraid to wipe the snot away from it. If I bump it too hard, it’ll shatter and leave me with a hole in my face. Besides the hole in my face called a mouth. That’s already there.

A few more minutes, and I think I’m going to collapse. I look ahead, and Elsbeth is hiking along as if it’s a spring day, and the sun is shining, the birds are tweeting, and—.

“Shut up!” half the group grumbles at me.

“Sorry,” I say.

“What’s that?” Rafe asks, pointing up ahead. “Is that it?”

We shove through a winter-dead hedge and onto a front yard that is maybe half an acre across. At the far side of the yard is a good-sized farmhouse. The windows are boarded up, and the place looks solid, but we can all instantly tell that things aren’t right.

“What happened here?” I ask Elsbeth as I break from the pack and push myself to catch up with her. “Doesn’t look like Zs took the place down.”

“They didn’t,” Elsbeth says. “This was a people fight.”

As I get closer, I can see the bullet holes in the wood siding. There are scorch marks around the window frames, and I see a dark stain by the front door as we step up onto the porch.

“The stains are new,” Elsbeth says. “The fire and bullet holes are old. The fight was a while ago. Don’t know who won.”

“What do you mean the stains are new?” Stuart asks.

He holds up a hand, and the group stops at the edge of the porch. Everyone is freezing, but all eyes are on the stains that are obvious blood. No one is in a hurry to get inside.

“Elsbeth? Where you done brought us, girl?” Critter asks.

“It’s safe,” Elsbeth says. “They’re gone. They won’t be coming back.”

“El? What are you talking about?” I ask. “What is going on?”

“Nothing, no more,” Elsbeth says. “Do you want to come inside and get warm, or stay out here and die?”

There are a few grumbles about getting warm, but it is far from unanimous.

“Take us in,” Stuart says. “Might as well get the mystery over with.”

Elsbeth nods and turns the doorknob. She opens the door wide and strides right inside.

“There’s a wood stove in the kitchen,” Elsbeth says, walking past a pair of closed doors. “We can sleep in there. Wood is out back.”

I stop at the pair of doors, since that’s where the trail of bloodstains lead to. Stuart is on one side of me, and Critter is on the other.

“Are you going to open them?” Rafe asks from behind us.

I glance down the hall and see Elsbeth watching us closely.

“You don’t have to,” she says. “The message ain’t for you guys.”

“Message? Dammit, El, now I have to open the doors,” I sigh. “You know I’m not going to just ignore bloodstains leading to some message.”

I take a deep breath, and shove the doors open.

We all stand there and stare.

Written in blood on the far wall are the words,
“
Loyalty above all els
e
.”

Just like back at that other farmhouse. And just like back there, lying under the bloody words, are a couple of skinned corpses.

“Want me to start the fire?” Elsbeth asks. “It should be safe. This storm will keep the religion crazies from seeing the smoke.”

“I don’t know if those are the crazies I’m worried about,” Critter says.

“No shit, man,” Rafe agrees.

“We’re gonna have to sit her down, and get to the bottom of this,” Stuart says.

“Yeah, I know,” I reply. “I’m really fucking looking forward to that conversation.”

We all turn as one and look down the hallway towards the kitchen as we hear a wood stove door creak, and the sound of wood being loaded into it. The next thing we hear is Elsbeth whistling. I know the song instantly.