Z-Burbia 4: Cannibal Road by Jake Bible Page A

have a glass of water first, please?”
    “No,” Stuart stated.
    “My throat is parched and I could use something to…” Kramer started, but didn’t get to finish as Stuart moved forward and punched him in the nose.
    “Feel that blood trickling down the back of your throat?” Stuart grinned. “That should wet your whistle.”
    Kramer grabbed at his face as blood poured from around his fingers.
    “Dude,” I said to Stuart before I found a rag and handed it to Kramer, “now his voice is going to be all nasal and annoying.”
    “Your concern for my wellbeing is admirable,” Kramer said as held the rag to his bleeding nose.
    “How about this?” I asked. “You tell us what we need to know and we leave you alone for a while? I’d say after that sock to the face that’s a fair deal.”
    “There are a minimum of half a dozen cannibal gangs stationed outside Knoxville,” Kramer said.
    “But not all the way to Nashville?” I asked.
    “Not that I am aware of,” Kramer answered. “But I could be mistaken. The main corridor of death is the stretch of I-40 just past the I-75 junction.”
    “But not in Knoxville?” Stuart asked. “Why not stay in the city itself?”
    “They like the openness the road provides,” Kramer said. “Cities are too constrictive for them. Day in and day out their individual gang territories grow and shrink depending on their successes or failures in Cannibal Road.”
    “They have a name for it?” I laughed. “Seriously?”
    Kramer just grinned.
    “How have they grown?” Stuart asked. “You said they have grown and flourished? Considering they eat their recruitment base, how can that be possible?”
    “They prey on and eat the weak first, of course,” Kramer said. “Those they do not deem worthy to become a part of their twisted clubs. After that, it is a matter of staying in line. If a member does not follow the rules or decides they are more important than the good of the overall group, then they become the next item on the menu.”
    “So they fight and kill amongst themselves,” Stuart said. “I assume they also eat their enemies from other gangs.”
    “Oh, they certainly do,” Kramer said. “It’s a long tradition from the dawn of man. Eat your enemies and you gain their strengths.”
    “You also gain their maladies,” I responded. “It’s not exactly healthy to be a cannibal. Prions and all that.”
    “Yes, so very true,” Kramer said. “Those that subsist on human meat will eventually start to have serious cerebral and psychological stability issues. But not nearly as bad as say bovine spongiform encephalopathy. With cows, it spreads quickly, but with humans, it is more a case by case basis. Some go mad after only a few months of constantly consuming human meat while others last years without a single symptom.”
    “That means we could be dealing with people that are not only semi-sane,” I said. “But people that have years of experience hunting and catching humans.” I looked at Stuart and frowned.
    “Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing,” Stuart said. “I hope Lourdes and her crew stopped on the far side of Knoxville and didn’t try to scout ahead. They’re good, but it isn’t their home turf.”
    “They could already be canny chow,” I said.
    “Oooh, how unappetizing,” Kramer said. “I was going to ask for a bite to eat, but I think I’ve lost the stomach for it.”
    “Yeah, me too,” I replied.
     
    ***
     
    Stuart and I relayed all the information to the others, but it wasn’t like it made much of a difference. We didn’t have the fuel and resources to go around that stretch of I-40. Even if we did, who was to say that there wasn’t some other fucking hell waiting for us in a different direction?
    Nope, we were pretty much stuck on the path we had already set foot on.
    While Stuart and I had been getting info from Kramer, Melissa and her brothers had been going from vehicle to vehicle to make sure we didn’t have any other