The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (123 page)

“Is that the one whose head you have in a jar?”

“It’s more of a dome, but yes.  That one.”  He turned to Serena again.  “And what happened?”

Serena looked at Hemp.  “What the hell do you think happened?  They poured into the car and they killed her!”

“I’m sorry, Serena,” said Hemp, taking her hands in his.  “I’m asking dumb questions, I know, but you must understand, I wasn’t there, and any small thing might tell me something, even if it doesn’t necessarily tell you anything.”

Serena nodded.  “I know that, and I’m sorry, Hemp.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, Serena.  My reason for asking was that I had believed, when this occurred in the mobile lab, that there may exist a kinship – a connection of sorts – between the infecteds and the uninfecteds who had been exposed to their new vapor.  Particularly those of child-bearing years, or pregnant women.  It’s why I want to keep Gem and Charlie away from them.”

Serena shook her head.  “No, there was no kinship or special treatment that I could see.  They came in and piled on top of her and just … they started devouring her.  It was so … horrible.” 

Her tears came again at recalling what Hemp knew must have been a devastating experience.

He got out of his chair and knelt beside Serena, putting his arms around her.  “I think I know enough, Serena,” whispered Hemp.  “I’m so sorry to have put you through that.  Thank you.”

So what Hemp had learned was that despite the ability to partially control the women who had been exposed to the red vapor, they did not afford any special treatment to these subjects.  They devoured them just the same.  What troubled him was the fact that Lisa had been on WAT-5, therefore should not have been attractive to the creatures.

But she clearly had been.  Or was she?  Had they just killed her, or did they consume her?  He would have to insist they returned to retrieve her body, or what was left of it.

“I have one more question,” asked Doc Scofield, his tone hesitant.  “Is that okay?”

Serena nodded as Hemp pulled away, patting her hand as he sat again in his chair.

“At any time, were you exposed to the vapor?  The new vapor?”

Serena shook her head.  “No, I don’t believe so at all.  It started coming in through the window, but I got out right away.  David came right after.”

“Good question,” said Hemp.  “I hadn’t thought of it.  I’m not sure why, after what happened with Lisa.”

The doctor lifted a bag from the floor that he carried with him wherever he went.  He opened it and removed a device that Hemp recognized as an indirect ophthalmoscope.   He put it on his head, but did not lower the lenses.

“Now I’m no expert with this thing, but I got it as soon as I heard about Lisa’s eyes turning red.  I’m basically trying to see if there may be small effects to your eyes that I can’t see without it.”

Serena looked concerned.  “You think I may have breathed it in without knowing it?” she asked.

“It’s possible,” said Scofield.  “You said it was coming in through the other window, and there is the possibility that tiny particles of it reached you without you being able to actually see it in front of you.  Just hold your head still for a second.”

She did, and he pivoted the lenses over his eyes and held a separate lens up to her left eye.  When he was done, he moved to her right.

Scofield leaned back and moved the lenses away from his eyes.  “I don’t see a thing.  Looks like you’re in the clear, Serena.”

“Thank God.”

“Okay,” said Hemp.  “You can get back to Dave now.  If anyone needs us and it’s not an emergency, tell them we’ll be out momentarily, if you would, please.”

“Thank you both,” she said.  “I feel better.”

“So do we,” said Scofield. 

After she left, Hemp looked at the doctor.  “Right now I have two specimens; I have the head of a zombie I refer to as Corn Silk, because her hair was straight and with a sheen I would not associate with the other creatures out there.  She was also in charge, if that is possible.”

“I call them that now, too,” said Scofield.  “Zombies.  Just like in the movies, for Christ’s sake.  You say she acted like she was in charge?”

Hemp nodded.  “She seemed to be directing the remainder of the group, despite being physically injured.  Multiple breaks to her legs as far as I could tell from a distance and the way she was moving.”

“Directing them how?” asked Scofield.

“Perhaps telepathically, which believe me, is not a word I use very often.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“Wish I were,” said Hemp.  “But the answer is no.  So I have her head for brain analysis.  The other is alive, also from one of the infecteds that I believe possessed this telepathic ability – excuse me,
possesses
.”

Scofield turned his head like a dog that swore he heard the word “walk.”

“You think it still has the ability?”

“I can’t rule it out, doctor.  She hasn’t exhibited signs of it, but she was pregnant at the time of her conversion just like the one that initially controlled Lisa, and that’s a red flag to me.  It directly relates to the estrogen levels I mentioned earlier.”

“I’m going to help.  I know you’ve had Charlie working with you, but with her being in the family way, it’s not wise.”

“Already decided,” said Hemp.  “She’s her own girl, to be sure, but if I’ve got anything to say about it, she’s done with all research and rescue operations.”

“Good.  What’s first?” asked Scofield.

“I’ve had a thought,” said Hemp.  “Do we have tanks of pure oxygen?”

“We do,” said Scofield.  “Hasn’t been much need for it, so we’ve got a few.  Luckily, there was a separate storage facility for the tanks at the hospital, so when they torched it, the tanks were spared.  They’re at the lab.”

“I thought so.  Good.  I want to create a pure oxygen environment, and I want to put the head in there to see what happens to it when it’s isolated from this element coming out of the earth.”

“Any ideas on what will happen?” asked Scofield.

“None,” said Hemp.  “But I thought of it at around 3:00 in the morning a couple of days ago, so it’s on my list.”

“And what about the one you call Corn Silk?”

“We need to get a look at the brain.  Depending on the results of these tests, we might need another live rotter to work with.”

“A pregnant one?”

“No,” said Hemp.  “I’m fairly certain that’s not necessary.  I got a sample of the new vapor earlier today, and if I can make a new wafer, it might defend against this new threat.”

“You think so?”

Hemp shrugged.  “It really depends on how different it is.  It doesn’t incapacitate its victims as the other, pink vapor does.  The scarlet brand seems to have only the one purpose; allowing control of uninfecteds.  A new offensive weapon for them.  I’d like to see what results by combining it with the gas, then urushiol, the same way the other wafers were created.  I’ve no doubt it will do something.”

“You’re going to need a volunteer to take it, right?”

“Yes, preferably female, but I’m not sure that will make a difference.”

“I’m ready, so long as nobody needs me,” said Scofield.  “I’ll check and meet you there.”

There was a quick knock on the door, and Flex opened it, his face red.  “Sorry, guys.  Have either of you seen Eddie or Ian?”

“The kids?” asked Scofield.  “Sorry, but I don’t know their names well enough to answer.”

“Yeah.  I think the bastards stole Gem’s car.”

Hemp stood up.  “Why?  Did anyone see them leave?”

“No, but Gem left the keys in it, and it’s gone.  They’re nowhere to be found and the other kids suck at lyin’.  They said they probably went to find Jimmy and Nikki, which is exactly what got everyone in a fix earlier.”

“Flex, I can’t go help you find them,” said Hemp.  “I’m sorry, but I have some important tests to do here.”

“No need.  A couple of guys volunteered, so I’ll take them with me.  I don’t know ‘em, but Kev said they’re top notch, former police and military.  They’ll probably teach me some junk.”

“Good,” said Hemp.  “How is Kev?”

Flex’s expression turned grim.  “He said he’s got a headache.  The ladies dressed all of his wounds with the urushiol, but Hemp, he’s cuffed to the cot.  He insisted.”

“It’s best,” said Hemp.  “We can’t take any chances.”

“Just between me, you guys and the lamppost,” said Flex, “the headache is one of the earliest signs we know of.  I don’t want anyone too close to him.”

“Understood,” said Hemp.

“I gotta go,” said Flex.  “Radio will be on, so just give it a shot if you need me.”

“Be careful,” said Scofield.  “Get back here in one piece.”

“Will do,” said Flex.  “Learn stuff.”

He closed the door.

Hemp looked at the doctor.  “Forget what I said earlier.  We need a hyperbaric chamber.”

“You’re in luck, my boy,” said Scofield with a smile.  “There was a one-man job stored with the oxygen tanks at the hospital.  Looked to be in great shape, so it’s been installed in the lab.”

“You may turn out to be the best thing to happen to the world since …” he trailed off, embarrassed.

“Since you?” asked Scofield.

“I didn’t want to sound like an asshole,” said Hemp.  “But yes.  I suppose I was thinking since me.”

“Well, take the credit, son.  You deserve it.  Now we got work to do, don’t we?”

“We certainly do,” said Hemp.  “I want to get Kev in that chamber now.  We can manufacture a smaller one for the head.  I don’t think Kev would appreciate having it inside with him.”

“You’re probably right about that,” said the doctor.

*****

Lawrence West, by all accounts Flex had heard, was one of the leading African American businessmen in Concord, but he was also a fitness buff.  If Flex had to guess, he’d put West’s biceps at 22”, and that was a conservative estimate.  His legs were hidden beneath long, thick cargo pants, but Flex guessed they were equally substantial.

West was about four inches taller than Flex, who was around 6’ tall.  He was a serious man who did not smile easily, but that was no indication of who he normally was, Flex knew.

He’d probably lost his family and most of his friends.  Since the ratz and walking dead had invaded Concord in earnest, smiling was fast becoming a lost art. 

And while Flex knew that his somewhat lighthearted way of dealing with things was similar to that of Gem and his closest friends, it wasn’t commonplace because most people were scared shitless and probably certain that sooner rather than later they would die a horrible death.

Most smiles were nothing more than masks these days.

The other guy in the truck was
not
Nelson Moore.  Nelson had offered to go, but Flex smelled weed on him after he came back inside after a quick trip to the alley behind the bar.  Flex didn’t care if he got stoned, but he damned sure wasn’t going to cover Flex’s ass in that condition, ninja star throwing champion or not.

Waylon Bell, the other guy in the car did instill confidence; he was in his mid-fifties, and had served on the Concord PD for over twenty years before retiring just before the outbreak.  He was an unusual case; his entire family was safe.  Wife, and a twin boy and girl, all immune to poison ivy, therefore protected from the metamorphosis.

Bell had managed to keep them safe.

In sharp contrast to West’s short, neat hair, Bell was mostly bald, with the hair on the sides and back of his head now down past his shoulders.  Bell kept a thin rubber band tied around a pony tail and still wore his police uniform.  Flex guessed the uniform once fit him perfectly, and had grown tight following his retirement.  Now it hung loosely on him.

The two Glock 19s in his side holsters had probably been well-used at the police gun range, and that made Flex feel just fine about the addition to the search party.

“Gem,” said Flex, approaching her before heading out.  “Be careful, stay inside, okay?”

“I will,” she said.

“You do know I can’t tell when you’re lying, right?”

“Yes.”

“Are you lying?”

“Not this time.  Promise,” she said.  “Be safe, Mr. Sheridan.  Or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Now I know you’re not lying.  Gem, watch Kev like a hawk.  I think Hemp’s got something in mind, but for now, don’t let anyone near Kev unless he asks for water or food or something.”

“I’ll look at that as a good sign if he does,” said Gem.  “Now go find those kids, babe.

*****

It was dark, and a soft snow flurry had begun to fall in Concord.  Flex wore, as did most people now, a down-filled nylon jacket lightweight enough not to hinder his ability to shoulder a weapon if required, but effective enough to stave off the bitter cold.

“No damned weather reports anymore,” said Flex.  “The sky looked pretty ominous earlier, too.”

“It’s gonna be a good snow,” said Bell.  “I can call ‘em pretty good.”