Read Online Z-Burbia 5: The Bleeding Heartland by Jake Bible - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jake Bible
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going, then we keep going.”
“And find a new place to settle in to,” Lourdes says. “The plan is sound, even if our first choice of location turns out not to be.”
“We’ll see,” Critter says.
I can tell Lourdes is getting frustrated with how the conversation is going, but what did she expect? We’d all just salute, and tell her she’s the best thing since sliced bread? Not that we’ve seen sliced bread in a long time. You never realize what conveniences will be out the window when the zombie apocalypse hits. Turns out it’s sliced bread. I miss sliced bread.
All eyes are on me.
“Out loud?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Stella says. “And there are a lot better things to have back than sliced bread.”
“Are there, Stella? Are there?” I smile.
“Yes,” she replies.
“Well ... okay, then,” I nod then look at everyone else. “Mt. Vernon, Illinois it is.”
No one seems one hundred percent thrilled with the plan, but at least it’s a plan. I will admit that maybe staying in one spot and setting up a little bit of infrastructure might not be a bad thing. I sure as hell wouldn’t mind figuring out how to have a hot shower each day. Or even every other day. Shit, I’ll settle for one a week or even twice a month.
Yeah, we all pretty much stink.
***
Napping in the daytime sure is an interesting thing. It has this surreal quality that totally fucks with your head that nighttime sleeping doesn’t. At night, you know you are supposed to be asleep; you know that things should be still; things should be calm.
But daytime? Not so much.
So when I wake up and the RV is skidding all over the road, I actually think I am still asleep and dreaming. I used to always have weird car crash dreams when we would go on long road trips. That was pre-Z, of course. It isn’t until the screams start, and Stella’s nails pretty much dig their way down to the bone of my left arm (which is my only arm), that I realize I am wide awake, and shit is about to get fucked up.
“Grab on to something!” Buzz shouts from the driver’s seat. “I don’t think I can pull us out of this!”
With the RV stripped down to the screws, there really isn’t a whole lot we can grab on to. Which is why Stella has ahold of me, and the kids have ahold of her. The adrenaline that rushes through my body cuts the pain of Stella’s grip and smooths out my nerves enough for me to assess our situation. I look out the window, and see a lot less daylight than I should. In fact, all I see is a blanket of white whipping past the windows.
And I fucking mean it: a blanket of white. Not a flurry of flakes. Not a swirling mass of snow. Those things would be great to see. They would actually have definition and tell me that we haven’t been swallowed by the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. But, alas, the signs of an outside world are not meant to be seen. Instead, we see only that motherfucking blanket of white.
That includes out the windshield as well. Which is why Buzz is still yelling for us to hang on to anything we can.
“So this is a whiteout,” Charlie says. “I always wondered.”
“Go fuck yourself and your wondering,” Greta snaps.
“Kids, shut the fuck up,” Stella says.
The RV swerves to the left, then back to the right, and Buzz starts swearing like I have never heard a Fitzpatrick swear in my life, including Melissa, even though she’s a Billings since she married my late best friend Jon. I miss Jon. He was a great guy.
Screams bring me out of my head.
Left, right, left, right, right, right.
Okay, we’re now sliding across the road sideways. Or I assume we are since I can’t see a damn thing other than that fucking blanket of white.
The RV feels like it’s up on two wheels then it feels like it’s up on no wheels. No wheels is bad.
Bam!
Okay, wheels are back on the ground, but we are still sliding. And fast.
I look about and see everyone hanging onto everyone else. It’s an orgy of fear.
Huh, I kinda like
“And find a new place to settle in to,” Lourdes says. “The plan is sound, even if our first choice of location turns out not to be.”
“We’ll see,” Critter says.
I can tell Lourdes is getting frustrated with how the conversation is going, but what did she expect? We’d all just salute, and tell her she’s the best thing since sliced bread? Not that we’ve seen sliced bread in a long time. You never realize what conveniences will be out the window when the zombie apocalypse hits. Turns out it’s sliced bread. I miss sliced bread.
All eyes are on me.
“Out loud?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Stella says. “And there are a lot better things to have back than sliced bread.”
“Are there, Stella? Are there?” I smile.
“Yes,” she replies.
“Well ... okay, then,” I nod then look at everyone else. “Mt. Vernon, Illinois it is.”
No one seems one hundred percent thrilled with the plan, but at least it’s a plan. I will admit that maybe staying in one spot and setting up a little bit of infrastructure might not be a bad thing. I sure as hell wouldn’t mind figuring out how to have a hot shower each day. Or even every other day. Shit, I’ll settle for one a week or even twice a month.
Yeah, we all pretty much stink.
***
Napping in the daytime sure is an interesting thing. It has this surreal quality that totally fucks with your head that nighttime sleeping doesn’t. At night, you know you are supposed to be asleep; you know that things should be still; things should be calm.
But daytime? Not so much.
So when I wake up and the RV is skidding all over the road, I actually think I am still asleep and dreaming. I used to always have weird car crash dreams when we would go on long road trips. That was pre-Z, of course. It isn’t until the screams start, and Stella’s nails pretty much dig their way down to the bone of my left arm (which is my only arm), that I realize I am wide awake, and shit is about to get fucked up.
“Grab on to something!” Buzz shouts from the driver’s seat. “I don’t think I can pull us out of this!”
With the RV stripped down to the screws, there really isn’t a whole lot we can grab on to. Which is why Stella has ahold of me, and the kids have ahold of her. The adrenaline that rushes through my body cuts the pain of Stella’s grip and smooths out my nerves enough for me to assess our situation. I look out the window, and see a lot less daylight than I should. In fact, all I see is a blanket of white whipping past the windows.
And I fucking mean it: a blanket of white. Not a flurry of flakes. Not a swirling mass of snow. Those things would be great to see. They would actually have definition and tell me that we haven’t been swallowed by the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. But, alas, the signs of an outside world are not meant to be seen. Instead, we see only that motherfucking blanket of white.
That includes out the windshield as well. Which is why Buzz is still yelling for us to hang on to anything we can.
“So this is a whiteout,” Charlie says. “I always wondered.”
“Go fuck yourself and your wondering,” Greta snaps.
“Kids, shut the fuck up,” Stella says.
The RV swerves to the left, then back to the right, and Buzz starts swearing like I have never heard a Fitzpatrick swear in my life, including Melissa, even though she’s a Billings since she married my late best friend Jon. I miss Jon. He was a great guy.
Screams bring me out of my head.
Left, right, left, right, right, right.
Okay, we’re now sliding across the road sideways. Or I assume we are since I can’t see a damn thing other than that fucking blanket of white.
The RV feels like it’s up on two wheels then it feels like it’s up on no wheels. No wheels is bad.
Bam!
Okay, wheels are back on the ground, but we are still sliding. And fast.
I look about and see everyone hanging onto everyone else. It’s an orgy of fear.
Huh, I kinda like
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