The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (44 page)

“I’m not going to upright the table,” said Hemp.  “I’ve reached the conclusion that it makes no difference with our experiments.”

“Okay,” said Flex.  “What do you need me to do?”

“I want you to put on your mask,” he said.  “I’ll put mine on, too.  The visuals should be good enough for our audience.”  He looked toward the camera and smiled. 

“I’ve filled four syringes with the gas from the ground.  We already know what the urushiol oil does when introduced into their orifices.  Now we’ll see what the gas does.  But since it can’t be poured, the only way to introduce it, even temporarily, into their systems, is through injection.”

“Makes sense to me,” said Flex.  He looked at the camera, smiled, and shrugged. 

Man, he was hot.  And cute.  I smiled back, even though he couldn’t see me.

“This is exciting as hell,” said Charlie.  “Better than fireworks and a twelve pack.”

“And chips,” said Cyn.

“Of course, chips,” said Charlie.  “Goes without saying.”

We ate the popcorn, now all wanting chips, apparently.  Our attention returned to the men in the lab.

“Masks,” said Hemp.  “Muffled from now on, ladies.”

“Don’t bother talking, then!” shouted Charlie, trying to be heard.

Flex laughed as he put on his mask.  He must’ve heard her.

Hemp took a dry erase board from the counter and a marker.  On it he wrote “Injection into arm.”  He held it up.

“Clever man, he is,” said Charlie.

“And cute, too,” said Cyn.

“He was pretty much all that was out there,” said Charlie, smiling.  “But I got lucky.  Last one on the shelf was a keeper.”

“Don’t even say that,” said Cyn.  “I need one, too.”

“You’re young enough,” I said.  “We’ll dig one up somewhere.”

“Not one of those!”

“Not what I meant,” I said.  “But yeah, bad choice of words.”

Back to the screen.  Hemp visually checked all the restraints, pulled the straps on his mask tighter, then put the needle into the skin of the ghoul and pressed the plunger.

Nothing happened.  Not at first.

Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, the eyes of the thing began to glow pink.  Just slightly at first, then brighter.  The mist became heavier, and both men stepped backward.

It drifted off the eyes like the misty smoke off  dry ice.

Hemp walked back to the dry erase board and used the eraser to clear it.  Then he wrote again:  “Injection into chest cavity.”

When he did this, the thing seemed to strain at its leather straps and almost buck.  This time the mist almost erupted from its eyes.  It was continuous.

“That’s that fucking knockout vapor,” I said.  “Wow.”

He then erased the board again, wrote on it and turned it toward us.  “This part’s for me.”

I looked at Charlie and she shrugged.

“Not sure,” she said.

I shrugged back and my eyes returned to the monitor.  I didn’t like looking at this one-time woman – her hair jutting out in patches, the deep, oozing hole in her face, half her ear rotted off – at all.  Made me nauseous.

At least I was pretty sure that’s what was making me nauseous.

Hemp retrieved one more syringe from the counter.  He wiped the board again.  This time he wrote: “Injection in throat.”

He didn’t hesitate at all.  He quickly slid the mask off his head and plunged the needle into her throat.

“What the fuck is he doing?” screamed Charlie.  “Hemp, what are you doing!” she yelled

Flex was frantic.  He grabbed the mask from the floor where Hemp had dropped it and tried to fit it back on Hemp’s head.

“No, Flex.  Wait!” he said.

The vapor rose from her eyes now in clouds and billows, so thick it almost obscured the camera’s view of the scene.

Charlie leapt out of her chair, the popcorn bag in her lap upending and spilling all over the floor.  She yanked the lab door open and charged toward Hemp.

But it was too late.  Hemp had breathed the vapor and was falling backward.  She slid feet first on the floor like a baseball player stealing home base and his head landed safely on her midsection.

He was out.

Flex pressed the mask in his hand against Charlie’s face and she took it from there, holding it in place.  He then grabbed Hemp’s shoulders and dragged him from the room as if he weighed no more than a few pounds.

Adrenaline and Flex could combine to kick Superman’s ass.  I’d seen it before.

Charlie took another glance at the zombie, now almost enveloped in a pinkish cloud of gas and ran after the men.

“What the hell was he doing?” I said.

Once the door was closed, Flex pulled his mask off.  “Help me get him to his bed,” he said.

Charlie was there.  She was unsteady on her feet and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Get some of it?” I asked.

“I . . . think . . .” she began, but then she was down, too. 

Cynthia and I dragged Charlie and Flex picked up Hemp and we got them both to their bedroom and onto the bed.

“Well, fuck me,” I said.

“Yeah,” said Flex.  “I hope he remembers what the hell happened, because I’m sure he had some damned idea when he decided to do that.”

“My God,” said Cyn.  “Intelligent and crazy at the same time.”

“I hope he’s crazy like a fox,” I said.

“We’ve got the video,” said Flex.  “If he loses his memory for a while, hopefully he’ll remember when he watches it back.”

I noticed a large yellow sheet of paper next to the bed.  On it was Hemp’s handwriting.

“Hey, guys.  A note from Hemp.”

“Read it,” said Flex.

I began:  “If you’re reading this, then I’m unconscious.  I thought you’d bring me in here or into the mobile lab.  Please draw a blood sample while I’m unconscious.  I’ll explain later.  Sorry for the scare.”

“He knew we’d try to talk him out of it,” I said.

“Yeah.  And he didn’t realize that Charlie would panic and get dosed herself.  But he’s right – we didn’t get any blood samples from me or him when we got knocked out,” said Flex.

“We should take samples from Charlie, too,” I said.  “Just in case there’s some significant difference between men and women.”

“Who wants to draw them?” asked Flex.

“I’ll do it,” said Cyn.  “I’ve had enough blood tests and watched enough ER that I think I can manage filling a vial or two.”

“They’re in the mobile lab.  First drawer you come to when you enter the back room,” I said.

Cynthia got what she needed, and I went to check on the girls.  They were both asleep, piles of fluffy, white dogs surrounding them, and the only one who looked at me when I walked in was Bunsen.  She looked content as hell.  I think she had a stupid grin on her face.

The movie must have been on a loop, as it was at the beginning again.  It was Lion King.

“Good girl,” I whispered.  Then I closed the office door again.  I didn’t adjust the volume on the laptop, because it might cause them to stir.

By the time I got back to Hemp and Charlie’s room, the blood had been drawn, the vials labeled.  I hoped Hemp would learn something from the experience, but he was going to feel like shit when he found out that Charlie got taken down, too.

No worries – at least we’d have an additional blood sample for him.  His scientific interest may outweigh his guilt over Charlie’s mishap in the lab.

We let them slumber through the night, fairly certain they would never awaken on their own.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

The next morning we went in to check on Hemp and Charlie.  They were in the same positions on their bed as when we left them the night before, so after Flex, Cyn and I got the girls fed breakfast and occupied with yet another watercolor project, we shook them both gently awake.

Charlie, who had taken a much smaller dose of the vapor, came to before Hemp.   Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up immediately.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“In your room,” I said.  “You took a dose of the zombie vapor in the lab.”

“Shit,” she said, looking beside her.  She touched Hemp’s shoulder and shook him.

“Is he okay?” she asked.  “I remember now.  Wow.”

“Your first experience with it,” said Flex.  “Yeah.  Wow is right.  How do you feel?”

She rubbed her eyes.  “Okay, I guess.  Man.  Other than it feels like I was hit by a bus.”

“Well, you slid underneath Hemp to keep him from hitting his head on the floor.  Good job, by the way.”

“That’s the last thing I remember.”

Hemp began to stir and mumbled something none of us could understand.  His eyes opened and he struggled to focus.  I stood right over him, and gave him one of my looks.

“Nice job, professor,” I said.  “How about a heads up next time?”

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “I know you all pretty well by now, and I didn’t want to argue about it.”  He looked at all of us.  “Did you get the blood sample?”

“Two,” I said.

“Two?”

“I came in after you,” said Charlie.  “Got vapored.”

“Shit,” said Hemp.  “I thought you were just sitting with me.  I’m so sorry, dear.  I guess I could’ve told you.”

“Not if you wanted to do what you did,” she said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.  “Glad you’re okay.  You took a bundle of that crap from what I saw.”

“I had to find out if it had the same properties as the regular vapor.  The stuff they produce when they eat.”

“Couldn’t you have just taken a sample?” asked Flex.

“That’s what the blood’s for,” he answered.  “Are you okay, Charlie?”

“I’m fine.  Feel much better than just a few minutes ago.  But I’m hungry as hell.”

“So am I.”  He looked at us.  “I needed the blood sample, but I also had to confirm that this gas, or whatever it is emitting from the earth, simulates the effects of feeding in the same way.  In other words, I needed to see whether the vapor created as a result had the same knockout effects as the vapor generated by brain and flesh.”

“Well,” Flex said.  “There’s not much doubt about that.”

“None at all.  So you took blood from both of us?”

“Yep,” said Flex.  “Cyn drew it like an expert.”

“I did,” said Cynthia.  “Nice veins, by the way – both of you.”

“Takes good muscles to shoot the crossbow,” said Charlie.  “I’m kinda proud of ‘em.”

Hemp smiled.  “I’m fond of them, too.”

They both swung their feet off the bed in opposite directions.  Charlie got on her feet, wavered just a moment, then went around me to get to Hemp.  She pulled him up and hugged him.

“So get on the tests or whatever you wanted to do with it,” she told Hemp.  “I’ll help.  After we eat something.”

“Oatmeal all around,” said Cynthia.  “You both look okay.”

The two ate breakfast at the table with the girls, who had completed their watercolors.  I sat beside Trina and asked her to tell me what it was she’d painted.

I knew, though.  In the picture, which wasn’t bad actually, she had drawn two adults – a man and a woman – and a little girl.   “Is this your mommy and daddy?” I asked.  “And you?”

“It’s not me,” she said.  “Those are clouds.”

I was confused.  “So who is it?”

“It’s mommy, daddy, and Jesse,” she said, her little eyes looking into mine.   “They’re in heaven.”

My heart broke.  She had been dealing with this, and very well.  “It’s beautiful,” I said.  “I’m sure they like it, too.”

“How can they see it?” she asked.

“They’re everywhere,” I said.  “They’re always with us.  I’ll bet their hearts are filled with joy seeing that.”

Trina’s face lit up, and then her expression changed.  Now she looked very concerned, her little brows furrowed.

“Fuck,” she said.

It was hard not for me to laugh whenever she used the word in the proper context.  I also laughed when she misused the word, but when she got it right it struck my funny bone.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Do you think they’ll mind this one?”  She ran into the office and came back holding another one she’d done that morning.  She put it on the picnic table.

In it was a man, clearly with a goatee, a woman with straight, long dark hair, and a little blonde girl.  They were surrounded by hearts and yellow flowers.  The hearts were flying all around them, and the flowers grew all around their feet as though they stood in a field of wildflowers.

“This is Uncle Flexy, you and me,” she said.  “The hearts are love flying off us.”

I couldn’t speak.   I looked at the picture and tears came to my eyes. 

“Gemmy, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart.  It’s beautiful.  Why would you worry that your mommy and daddy and Jesse would mind?”

“This is you, Gemmy.  You’re my new mommy.  And Uncle Flexy is my new daddy.  And I love you both so much I don’t want them to think I don’t love them, too.”

That was it.  I pulled that sweet child into my arms and held her so tight I was afraid I’d break her in two.  She wrapped her little arms around me and put her cheek against mine.

“I love you so much, Gemmy.”

“I love you back, Trini.”

“Are you my mommy now?”

“Yes, baby.  You were exactly right about that, and no, your mommy wouldn’t mind.  None of them would.  They only want us to take care of you.”

“You are, I knew it!” she said.  She kissed my lips and said right into my face.  “I love you, mommy.”

“Oh, baby,” I said, my tears coming faster.

“Why are you crying?” she asked me, wiping my face with her little hands.

“Because I love you so much I can’t stand it.  And your pictures – both of them – have made me so happy.”

She leaned forward to whisper in my ear.  “Mommy, can we shoot today?  Me and Taylor?  With my little gun?”

“I know
you
can,” I said.  “I’ll check with Taylor’s mommy.”

“Everyone has a mommy,” said Trina, her eyes and her mouth both involved in her beautiful smile. 

“Even the puppies,” I said.  “They’ve got Bunsen.”

“They love her, too,” said Trina.  “Can we hang these up?”

“I’d like the one of the three of us in my room.  Is that okay?”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Really.”

Her smile said it all to me.  I couldn’t have felt more protective over a child if she were my own.  I’d never felt such a feeling in my life, and my heart swelled.

Trina leaned close to me, her little mouth beside my ear again.  “Do you think Uncle Flexy will care if I call him daddy?”

Okay.  My heart just swelled a bit more.  “No, Trini.  I’m sure it’s going to make him as happy as you’ve made me.  Try him.”

I rested the palm of my hand on my stomach.  I hadn’t gotten my period yet, and I was beginning to believe that there might be life inside of me.  If it went on another couple of days, I’d have to tell the others.

I hoped it was life. 
God, let it be life
.  If there was a baby growing inside of me, please let it be immune.

And suddenly my joy was tinged with fear, and I felt sure it was a good thing that I hadn’t gotten gassed by the dead bitch in the lab.  That could have frightening unknown effects on a fetus, and a mystery to which I’d just as soon never have the answer.

*****

Hemp headed inside the permanent lab the moment he finished eating.  Charlie joined him.  They wore their masks in, and it was a good thing.  The female test subject on the gurney, which nobody had attended to since our encounter, was still up against the wall where Flex had pushed her.

Hemp checked the digital recording that had run all night, and that was still transmitting to the monitor outside, where Flex, Cyn and I watched.  Hemp stopped the recording and restarted it to create a new digital video file.

We understood immediately; no sense in having to search hours of video for a particular point.  Clearly, Hemp wanted to keep a video record of all his tests from this point on.

The rotter’s body and head were still strapped down, so she was unable to see Hemp and Charlie across the room, but as they approached the gurney and came into her line of sight, the vapor started again, in spades.  It billowed pinkish-red, and they spread a sheet over her as you might cover a parrot’s cage to keep it from squawking.

It worked, but not completely.  The moment she lost visual sight of them, the strange gas dwindled to an amount that wouldn’t be a threat unless you were right over her.

“She can’t see us anymore, but without the BSNs on she can still smell us,” said Hemp.  “So the vapor continues.”

His voice was very muffled through the mask, but we understood his point. 

Flex yelled, “Why don’t you work in the mobile lab until that stuff dissipates?”

“Good idea,” said Hemp.  “Charlie?”

She nodded, and they gathered their supplies, as well as the video gear, and brought it out, removing their masks.

Once out, Hemp put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder.  “I need to go back in for a moment, but please don’t worry.  I’ve been voluntarily vapored for the last time.  I need a sample.”

“What –” Charlie began.

“It’s safe,” said Hemp.  “Hold on one second.

He lowered his mask and went back into the lab without closing the door.  He walked to a drawer, withdrew a plastic cylinder with a lid, and a scalpel from inside.  Lifting only a corner of the sheet to expose the thing’s arm, he cut a clean chunk of meat from it.

The mutant didn’t react at all.  Hemp dropped the chunk of dead flesh into his sample bottle, then poked his patient in several locations with the tip of the scalpel.

No response.  He nodded his head, then came back out.  He pulled off his mask.

“I don’t know why, but I never really tried testing pain thresholds.  It makes perfect sense.  All the pain nerves are dead.  When we shoot them, they only stop momentarily because of the velocity of the rounds.  As for pain, there is none.”

“What about the head shots?” asked Flex.

“I don’t believe there’s any pain associated with that, either.  But I do believe . . .”  His mind had gone somewhere else, and I think we all saw it. 

“What, Hemp?” I asked.

“I need her brain.”

“No way,” said Charlie.  “Hemp.”

“I’m sorry, but I do.  I’ll wait until I analyze this,” he said, holding up the bottle containing the zombie meat.  “But I’m pretty certain I need to find out what happens inside the brain.  Aside from the EEG readout I’ve got.  I know what they fear and desire, and even what they’re self-aware of, but I don’t know how the brain has changed chemically.”

“You’re the genius,” said Flex.  “Just nothing stupid, Hemp.  You’re going to need stupid move approval from us before you pull any bullshit again.”

“Understood.”

“You’d better understand,” said Charlie, giving him a very solid punch in the arm.  Hemp rubbed it, half-smiling at her.

Since they’d be working in the mobile lab, if we wanted to come in and watch, there’d be no concern with the vapor from our resident zombie.  That was just fine with me.  I didn’t want to have anything more to do with those fucks unless I was putting lead into their brains, or watching them get decapitated by saw blades.

I have to explain that statement – I don’t enjoy watching things die and I don’t enjoy killing things.  But since these particular things are essentially dead already, it’s easy to justify.  To me it’s no different than hitting road kill with my car after the fact.  They’re already dead, so I can remain guilt-free.

Cyn, Flex and I followed Hemp and Charlie inside the converted motor home and sat on the comfortable sofas and the captain’s chairs watching them work.

“I’ve got a lot of questions yet to answer,” said Hemp.  “The first is the reanimation capability of the gas emitting from the Earth.  I’ve still got more of it, and if we can find a small rodent, I’d like to test it to see what effect the gas has on them.  It’s my immediate opinion, based on what we’ve seen heretofore, that this only affects humans.”

“Why?” asked Flex.  “Why us and no other mammals?”

“We have no idea about sea life,” said Hemp.  “Except that the gas may deplete oxygen in the water, accounting for all the dead fish we saw in the freshwater pond.  I didn’t observe any reanimated fish or any live ones in the water at all, so oxygen depletion is likely what killed them.”