The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (151 page)

It stopped mid step and fell over sideways.

“Shit!” said Weston.

Rachel shook her head and stepped forward to pat Nelson on the back.  “Now me.”

Her target was initially about sixty feet away, but had closed the distance, smelling its meal.  This was a teenager, for he wore a
Gary Hoey: Guitar God
tee-shirt.

She pulled back the hammer of the Smith & Wesson raised it and fired the moment it stopped rising.

A fine spray, accompanied by larger chunks of hairy skull, flew behind it, and its heels left the ground as the emaciated flesh eater landed flat on its back.

I hadn’t even seen her aim.  Gun up, fire, dead.

“Okay then,” I said.  “Invitation extended.”

“Rachel,” said Nelson.  “You can ride on the back of my bike until we find you something for you to drive, if that’s cool.”

Rachel looked grateful, but in seconds, her expression turned to worry.  In another second, her eyes filled with tears.  She looked at Don Weston and it was clear he did not need an explanation.

“Come here,” he said, his arms open.

She tucked the gun away and stepped into his arms, which he folded around her.  She returned his hug like a daughter hugs her wise father.  Serena walked up behind her and put a soft hand on her shoulder.

“She just made her decision,” whispered Weston.

“Yeah,” said Nelson.  “To come with us, right?”  His face was awash with confusion.

“Yes, but that’s not it,” said Weston.  He pushed her back by the shoulders and said, “Look at me, darlin’.”

She did.

Don Weston nodded, and she nodded back, letting go of him and wiping at her eyes.

Weston took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “She’s givin’ up her search for her husband, Jess.”

“Oh, my God, Rachel,” said Serena.  “I’m so sorry.”

Rachel shook her head.  “I’ve been clinging to hope since I got back home, and I’ve made Don go with me back to the ranch every month or so, just to see if Jess is home.  He never is.  So at this point, I guess I’m ready.”

“This is really heavy, dudes,” said Nelson.  “I’m really sad right now.”

“Don’t be,” said Rachel, forcing a smile in his direction.  “This needed to happen.  Life goes on, and I suppose mine should, too.”

There was a sudden thunder crack outside, and Nelson nodded at Rachel and went to the window.  “Wow,” he said.  “Where did that come from?”

“Since we’re on bikes, it pretty much came from Fuckoffville,” I said.  “Damn it.”

“How far is the ranch, Rachel?” asked Serena.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because it’s about to pour from the looks of it, and you need to check for Jess one more time before you leave.  Right?”

Rachel’s eyes brightened.  “The base is on the way.  Both are within five miles, and the roads are usually clean except for a few stragglers here and there.”

“Then we go,” I said.

“Rachel,” said Weston, “what say we let Duster and Snowball go over by the ranch?  Some good woods and pastures over that way.  As long as they got lots of room to graze and run, these dead fuckers won’t ever catch ‘em.”

“Perfect, Don,” she said.  “Nelson, until I get a bike of my own, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

Nelson’s face turned beet red.  It was then that I realized he never, not in a million years, thought she would get on the back of his bike.

His smile stayed with him.  He couldn’t take his eyes off her.  I did not believe she had a clue she’d just made his day.  Scratch that.  His
year
.  Nelson practically skipped among the bloody muck in the parking lot to retrieve his Ninja star from the dead zombie’s skull.

*****

             
Chapter Seven             

The rain started, and to our relief, the main storm clouds were still miles to the south of us.  The sprinkles wet us and our gear, but the rain was not so heavy as to be blinding.

We took it easy on the bikes and let the horses and their riders follow us.  We figured they didn’t need rumbling engines behind them and the walking dead in front.

Rachel was right about stragglers.  Serena took out two rotters along the way, and Nelson stuck with his urushiol canister to take out about three more of them.  On a personal note, I only had to deal with one who almost got hold of my left handlebar, and I was happy to see Rachel’s batting skills displayed for the first time as Nelson intentionally left two for her to take out. 

I made sure I had a clear path and slowed down, looking behind me. 

With  no hands on the reins and Snowball in a full gallop, she spun that bat in her right hand like a mallet and shattered the top of a naked digger’s skull. 

In one fluid motion, she flipped that bat in mid-air over to her left hand.  Her right hand snatched the reins and with a quick snap, she had Snowball jog sharply to the right.  This left her plenty of room to bring the bat crashing directly down on the skull of a former woman in a tattered, bloody nightgown.  The hardwood club drove clear through its skull, then through its face, finally stopping at the clavicle before Rachel relaxed her arm and dragged it out behind the now dead monster, that collapsed like a jellyfish.

Rachel reached down to a large towel connected to the saddle, and wiped the muck from her weapon before again tucking it in beside her.

“Woo hoo!” shouted Nelson, who wasn’t sure enough on the bike to catch the entire show, but who saw enough to make him happy.

Weston seemed pleased just to let everyone else do the work.  I couldn’t blame him.  We got to the naval base in another mile.  We slowed and let Weston and Rachel take the lead.  Most of the uniformed bodies scattered around were long dead, and just like everywhere else where there wasn’t a red-eyed, pregnant female, there were only scattered, shambling walkers.  High concentrations of the creatures meant either the red-eyed females were consolidating their troops or there was a major food source nearby.

We got to the building where we assumed the MREs were kept, because Rachel and Weston dismounted. 

We pulled a short distance away and cut our motors.

We approached the metal building, and Rachel withdrew a small key ring that held only two keys.  She chose the smaller one and inserted it into a padlock on the door.

“You lock it, huh?”

“I did up until now,” she said.  “When we leave, I guess we’ll let anyone in.  It’s kind of been our food source.  All kinds of jerky and other canned stuff too, but like I said, the MREs are compact and easy to handle.”

“There are canvas bags over there on a hook,” said Weston.  “All told, we should be able to carry plenty enough to get us to California.”

We shopped until we dropped.  Nelson wanted popcorn.  There wasn’t any.  Not in an MRE.  Needless to say, the kid wanted to Subdudo somebody.  I didn’t need the laughter or the embarrassment, so I’m glad it wasn’t me.

After we finished stocking up on what I felt would be enough to get us through the rest of our journey, I said, “Fuel, Rachel?  We’ve got a good siphon setup.”

“Good,” she said.  “You got extra cans, too?”

“Yeah, in the trailer,” I said.

“Right around the corner,” she said.

We had the bikes and cans filled in another twenty minutes and tucked everything away.  We were ready to roll.  Unfortunately it was now 10:30.  We’d really pissed away the day, but it was time well spent.

“
Okay,” I said.  “Let’s get these horses where you want them and get going.”

Serena nudged me, and I remembered immediately.  It wasn’t just the horses we were taking care of.  We were allowing Rachel one more time at home to see if the love of her life had returned.  I instantly thought of
Leona.  Then I thought of Serena.  I’d die before I’d walk away from Serena, and I’d do anything to protect her.

It was a short ride to the ranches.  Don’s was a good distance away from Rachel and Jess’s.  When you live in
Florida, it’s sometimes hard to put an image to a story.  Needing to ride an ATV from one house to another in Florida just means you’re lazy.  Here it means you don’t have an hour to waste walking there.

Since Rachel took her Slugger and her Smith & Wesson inside the house with her, we stayed outside and let her take her time.  After fifteen minutes passed and she didn’t come out, I held up a hand to the others and went inside.

I walked up to her.  She was sitting at the kitchen table, staring out the dirt-covered window.  In front of her was a note, written in her near-perfect handwriting:

Jess,

I’m okay.  I’m telling you that right up front, because all I’ve done is worry about you.  It’s almost September of 2013 now, and Don Weston and I have met some others.  We’re going to California.  Dunsmuir, I think it’s called.  I waited as long as I could, Jess.  I miss you so much it hurts, but it’s been a year, I guess.  Not sure.  But this place was our home, and it will be my point to come back to, Jess.  If I don’t stay in California, then I’m coming back here before I go anywhere else.  So if you come home – God, please come home safe – I’ll either be in Dunsmuir, or I’ll come back here and leave a new note for you.  Please don’t give up on me.  I’m alive.  I’m okay physically, but my heart is a mess because you’re not with me.  I’m thankful that I’m not one of those things and I’m not sick.  But Jess, all I’ll ever be is just okay without you, so please be alive.  I love you.  If you come back within thirty days of me writing this, come for me.  Come to Dunsmuir, because Dave, Serena and Nelson said it’s a small town, and if it’s worth staying there, it should be easy to find us.

I can’t end this note.  If I do, I’m so afraid these are the last words I’ll ever say to you.  So no goodbyes. 

I love you, Jess.  Either wait for me or come for me.

Rachel.

I couldn’t help reading her note.  Her grief, just as mine and Serena’s and everyone else’s was part of our history, and it helped all of us to know one another, and even more, to care.  So as private as it was, I knew the pain in Rachel’s heart, as well as the hope to which she still clung.

“We have to go, Rachel,” I said, touching her on the shoulder.

She jumped a little, and her tears came.  She struggled to her feet and I pulled her to me and hugged her.  Her muscles were stiff and tense at first, and as her sobs grew in intensity, her muscles relaxed, and soon I felt her almost collapse in my arms.  I supported her slight weight and held her until she was cried out.

When she finally finished, she slowly let go of me and wiped at her eyes.  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a rubber band, and pulled back her hair.

Two more swipes at her eyes, and she looked at me.  “How do I look?”

“It’s that awkward moment when I’m about to lie to you and you know it, but you look good.”

She patted my arm and managed a smile.  “Thank you, Dave.  I’ve been holding that in for a long time.”

“We’re not Jess,” I said.  “But we can be good friends.”

She nodded, wiped at her eyes once more, and headed for the door, me behind her.

Neither of us knew at that moment that Rachel would
never return to her ranch again.

*****

“Over by them trees there,” said Weston, holding his hat in his hand, pointing with it.  “It’s about a half mile away.”

“It’s a nice pasture,” said Rachel.  “They’ll have plenty to eat, and they can use the trees for shade.  There’s a
lake over there, too.  It’s about the best we can do for them.”

“Nervous, honey?” asked Weston.

“Yeah,” said Rachel.  “And excited, too.  If Jess comes back, he’ll know where I’ve gone.  No reason to stay.”

I wondered if I had made it clear, so I thought I’d reiterate something just in case. 

“I want you to remember that we’re not necessarily staying in Dunsmuir,” I said.  “I’m playing some of this by ear, but if it’s just as big a mess there, and there’s no benefit to it, I’m going to do my best to get my uncle to come back with me, and we’re going back home – to our family.”

“We got a good family,” said Nelson.  “My Gramps is there.  He’s a doctor.”

“Looks to me that you have a good family right here,” said Weston.  “Serena, where you from?  You Cuban or something?”

“Spanish,” she said.  “My parents were first generation immigrants from
Spain.  They lived very near Gibraltar, in a village called San Roque.”

“Why’d they come here?” asked Rachel.  “Isn’t
Spain beautiful?”

“It is,” said Serena.  “My parents took me back several times to visit relatives, but they came here for the same reasons so many others do. 
Opportunity.”

“Let’s do this,” I said.  “We’re burning daylight.”

They took off, and we fired our engines and rode along behind them.  When we got to the top of the hill, I realized they were right.  It was beautiful up there.  The pastures, despite the hot weather, flourished, and the lake had plenty of water.  There were trees on three sides, and plenty of room to run. 

They dismounted, and we all took off our helmets and watched.  Rachel and Don unstrapped the saddles and slid them off, then pulled the blankets off of the horses.  Next came the bridles.  Before long, the horses stood there as God had intended them to.

Rachel went around and took Snowball by the face, nuzzling her nose for a moment, before putting her cheek against the side of the horse’s head.  She whispered something – I guessed a thank you – and walked away.  Snowball followed.

Weston was less sentimental.  He patted Duster twice on the rump, and with a “Hah!” he slapped the stallion hard, and the big, red horse took off in a gallop. 

With that, Snowball followed, and they watched the horses make their way toward the taller grass. 

“Who am I ridin’ with?” asked Weston. 

“You’re on with me, Don,” I said.  “We’ll find you two something soon.”

“I’ve been outside a while,” he said.  “Kinda ready for a car if you don’t think that would be too big a drag on your convoy.”

“Depends on the car,” I said.  “It gets tight out there sometimes.  Is there a dealership row around here?”

“Yeah,” said Don.  “There definitely is.  I can get us there, and it’s about ten miles in the right direction.  Toward
Nashville.”

“
Nashville about three hours from here?” I asked.  “It’s what we calculated.”

“If everything’s clear,” he said.  “But we don’t expect that, do we?”

“Never.  Hop on,” I said, and he did.  “I don’t have a helmet for you now.  I’ll be careful.”

“If I bust both my legs, just be sure to put a bullet in my head before you leave me,” he said, and I don’t think he was joking.  There was no humor in his voice.

Nelson had given his helmet over to Rachel, who had her arms wrapped around his waist.  I immediately hoped he would be able to focus on the road, because while he could really do some things well, I suspected that being close to women wasn’t necessarily among them.

Serena must have sensed it, too.  “Sure you don’t want her to ride with me, Nel?” she asked.

“I’m good, dude,” he said.  “Didn’t even smoke any weed today.  I’m gonna be extra careful with this cargo.”

“So I’m cargo?” asked Rachel, smiling.

“It’s an expression,” said Nelson, serious.  “Ready?”

“I am,” she said.  “Surprisingly, I really am.”

Don called the directions into my ear, and we worked our way back to the main highway and on toward Nashville.

After we were on the road for a couple of miles, Serena spoke in my headset.  “David, did Donald say they wanted a car?”

“Yeah,” I answered.  “Not sure about that, though.  Some of these roads are pretty congested.”

“Maybe a smart car or something,” she said.  “Tiny.  Good on gas.”

“That would work,” I said.  “Or a Cooper.  They might be more reliable.  Not sure about the Smart Cars.  They might be stupid.”

“They might be,” she said, and I heard the smile in her voice.  I loved that I could hear that.

We rode in silence.  Don did not put his arms around my waist, and for that I was glad.  I glanced at Nelson occasionally, and without his helmet, his hair was ponytailed and twisted into a little bun so as not to whip into Rachel’s face. 

From my angle, Nelson looked like a skinny, little old lady with his pointy nose and bone-thin face.  But he was smiling.  Let me just assure you of that.  I’d
never seen him having so much fun, and I was sorry that Rachel and Don would ultimately end up in a car.