The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (60 page)

“Charlie,” I said.  “Dave’s armed.  He can go with Matt.  Would you mind accompanying these ladies into the mini-mart and see what kind of food is still okay?”

“I have no problem with that, Professor.”

“Professor?” I said.

“Professors are sexy,” she said.  “Right ladies?”

“No offense, but I like the big one with the goatee,” said Vikki.  Her short, red hair fell just past her shoulders.

“Then you’ll have your hands full with Gem,” said Charlie, smiling.  “You’ve met her.  She’s the one with the Uzi she named Suzi.  Best choose from available stock.”

“Gotcha.  I’ll occupy myself with shopping.”

“Just like the old days,” said her sisters in unison.

The four ladies walked away.  I watched my girl, took notice that her head moved side-to-side the entire time as she scanned the horizon for danger.  No BSN helmet for us now.  Not enough to go around, so the brain scent would still be rampant.  A waste of technology and batteries.

I was ready to pull the motorhome over to the underground tanks and get Gem’s hand-crank pump when the two men, Pete and Rory, approached me.  They both had their hands in their pockets, and they seemed to smile the same meek smile when they drew to within a few feet of me and stopped.

“You Hemp?” the bald one said.  “Rory Dixon.”

He held out his hand and I shook it.  “By way of formal introduction, it’s Hemp Chatsworth,” I said.

“Pleased to meet you, Hemp,” said the other one.  “Pete Winfield.”

I shook his hand, too.  “From where do you hail?” I asked. 

“Couple states over.  We were just passing through when we got caught up in that mess at the church.  Kind of like you guys.”

“Only
we
didn’t so much get caught up as get you all out of it, did we?” I said.

“True,” said Rory.  “Very true.  Thanks for that.”

“We’d be dead if it weren’t for you guys,” said Pete.  “So Concord, New Hampshire, huh?  You really think the granite will make a difference?”

“Remains to be seen,” I answered.  “If it does, that means more survivors – or uninfecteds.  We need numbers, because numbers provide protection.  Sometimes all you really need to allow yourself the breathing room to research and rebuild is warm bodies – no pun intended.”

“This . . . this liquid you’ve developed to kill them.  Can you tell us about it?” asked Rory.

“It’s a diluted urushiol solution,” I said.  “And don’t worry.  We’ll be producing as much of it as we can once we get settled.  A little goes a long way.”

“Great,” said Pete.  “You guys got a Ham radio?”

Suddenly, Rory got a strange look on his face as he shot Pete a glance.  I thought I’d dig. 

“Why do you ask?” I said.  “Someone in particular you’re looking for?”

“His family,” said Rory.  “He’s been wondering if his dad’s still alive.  He was kind of a Ham buff.”

“Yeah,” said Pete.  “If there’s a radio and any power, he’s sure to be on it.”

“What’s his name?” I asked.  “Maybe I can broadcast it when I get on next.  And yes, we have one in the mobile lab.  We left one Ham broadcasting from our last location, connected to a large bank of batteries.  Telling people where we’re going.”

“Yeah, we –” Pete started to say, then stopped.

“You what?”

“We think that’s a great idea,” finished Rory.  “Hope you’re right about New Hampshire.”

“His name’s Bill,” said Pete.  “Bill Winfield.  And yeah, put his name out there if you would.  Like I said, if he’s alive, he’ll find a way to listen.  He always said it’d be our only hope if the world took a shit.”

“We’ll go see if Flex can use our help gassing up the other vehicles.  Nice to meet you, Hemp.”

The two men walked away and I watched them.  What was it about them?  They were both dressed similarly, wearing some sort of camo pants and long sleeved, collared shirts with several pockets.  Like for hunting or fishing.  Their shoes were even alike.  Black, leather hiking boots.

But maybe they just got their clothes at the same store.  It’s not like people shopped for the best bargains these days.  Find it, take it, and be done with it.

The ladies came out of the store with several bags bulging with items.  Charlie gave me a wave and they went right to the lab where they stocked some of the newly gotten goods in the outside storage and carried the rest inside.

I looked over at Dave and the boy, who were just finishing up filling up the bus with propane. 

I saw something behind them, just behind the big tank.

They were blocked from its view, but I knew what it was.  It was at least one of
them
.

“Everybody get in a vehicle now!” I shouted at anyone within earshot.

Then I ran.  Dave looked up as I was halfway there, looking confused for a moment.  When he saw me take the MP5 and swing it into fire position as I hoofed toward him, he pulled his gun from his holster and grabbed the boy’s arm, pulling him away from the tanks.

“Get in the bus!” I heard him yell at Matt.  “Quick, Matt!”

The boy didn’t hesitate.  He scrambled up the steep entry steps and dove into the first seat with the best view of what was happening outside.

The rotters – there were four of them – came around the far end of the big propane tank.  I wasn’t in a position to hit them without being sure not to fire into the gas tank, but Dave was.  He held the gun out with both hands and fired, hitting the nearest one – a man – in the head. 

Tissue flew.  The zombie spun around, crashing into two of the others, both women, regained his footing and soon they were all advancing again.  Black blood clotted on a gaping wound that encompassed the thing’s entire right eye, but the bullet had missed its brain. 

There was nowhere for me to go to be able to fire on them.  I stood there stupidly, unable to do anything for the time being.

Behind him, what was once an old man wearing farmer-style suspenders staggered along, seeking to indulge his undying hunger, I was certain.  He appeared to be missing three fingers on his left hand, but I was sure he could still do damage – probably more as a zombie than as a functioning, elderly human.

From my peripheral vision I saw that Flex had broken into a run, streaking toward us at the sound of the gunshot.  Gem was right behind him, scanning the perimeter for others, her Uzi held out in front of her.  I noticed that as she ran, her hand patted her pockets, making sure she had full magazines ready.

She was on automatic instantly.  Unfortunately, I could see that Dave, while he might initially strike a stranger as a tough guy, was struggling to maintain his composure and do some damage at the same time.

I looked around.  I didn’t see Charlie.  Stragglers were still not in safe places, ducking down behind tires and vehicles, but not inside.

“Everybody without a weapon get in the bloody motorhome!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.  “I repeat, if you’re not armed, get inside the motorhome
NOW
!”

Four of these lifeless freaks could become twenty-four in a flash, and we’d all grown quite used to that fact.

Flex, Gem and I held our weapons out, knowing we couldn’t fire in the direction of the tanks.  There was no other spot we could get to that would allow us a clear shot.

Dave used his head.  He quickly scurried around the back side of the large, white tank and came up behind them as they staggered around the corner of the bus.  But only two of them appeared.  This time he didn’t miss.  He put the gun against the head of one female, fired two shots, then the other.

Flex and Gem ran ahead of me and reached Dave almost at the same time.  “Where did the other two go?” shouted Gem.

“I was focused on these fucks,” said Dave.  “Where the hell
did
they go?”

My eye was then drawn to the side of the bus where I’d detected movement.  By the door.

How was it possible?  Flex and Gem stood in front, looking around the back side of the vehicle, and as though rising from nowhere, the zombie that Dave had shot but not killed stood directly in front of the bus door.

The open door.

I raised my weapon to take him out, but Matt was there, too, right behind the thing, his eyes wide and frightened.

“Flex, Gem!  Come around and fire alongside the bus!  Quick!”

Dave pounded on the opposite side of the bus  “Close the door, Matt!” he shouted.  “Do it!  Now!”

Too late.  The creature stuck his arms through the doors and swung a dead foot on the step, pulling itself up and in.

Matt had run between the seats just before the thing scrambled inside to reach the lever that would close the door.

Dave saw what was happening, and opened his mouth to shout something, but he held his words when he saw what happened.

Without comprehending that it was too late to follow Dave’s command, he yanked the handle by the driver’s seat and the doors came together, sealing him inside.

With the creature.

Matt screamed.

I ran to the front of the bus, my gun held out, trying to get a clear shot.  Gem was doing the same thing, as was Flex.

It was useless.  Matt was leaping over the seats trying to get to the back row where there was an emergency window he could likely kick out.

The digger was right behind him.

Dave slammed the butt of his handgun into the window opposite the door, smashing the glass into a thousand  tiny fragments. 

“Drop, Matt!  On the floor!” he screamed.

Matt leapt over another seat and was only two rows from the back of the bus.  At Dave’s command he dropped to the floor and disappeared completely, but the horrid mutant’s face turned down, its eyes singularly focused on his next meal.

The thing’s mouthful of rotting teeth was visible as the zombie’s jaws stretched wide in preparation for an enormous bite, its face fixed in a horrific grimace.

Dave stuck his gun through the shattered window and emptied the magazine into the creature, blowing him back against the opposite row of seats.  The bus windows on the other side blew out into the parking lot, and I hoped no errant rounds hit the motorhome containing the rest of our family of survivors.

Flex and Gem had been caught in a brief moment of indecision as they and I watched the horror unfolding in such tight quarters with a highly explosive tank of gas so ominous and threatening.

As I opened my mouth to tell them to run around behind the bus, I saw something shoot out from under the vehicle’s front grill.  A destroyed hand.  It clenched around Gem’s ankle and pulled hard enough to yank her off her feet.

It happened so fast that Gem didn’t have time to say a word, or to even scream out in fear.  Her head hit the ground with a dull thud and she was instantly dazed.

Then something else caught my eye in the other direction, near the motorhome. 

I was concerned about Gem and the child she carried within her, and I didn’t want to turn away, but there were too many other vulnerable people crammed into the lab, and I was used to these friends of mine taking care of themselves.

They were damned good at it, too.

Flex thought fast.  He dropped his weapon to the ground and grabbed Gem beneath the arms, pulling with near superhuman strength.  The thing came with her, gripping tightly to her leg, unwilling to let go.  It was the old man, and he needed to die.

Then I saw Charlie, and my breath escaped me in a huge release.  My mind’s eye fully expected to see her with that crossbow in her hands, letting arrow after arrow fly with deadly accuracy, but instead, she had the gleaming, chrome fire extinguisher, the nozzle held straight out in one hand, the handle of the tank in another, her feet moving fast as she practically flew toward Flex and Gem.

“I couldn’t get out of there!” she shouted on the fly.  “I was blocked in the back, and I couldn’t get to my bow or the tanks!”

“More are coming, Charlie!” I yelled.  “Five or six, from the brush behind the Ford!”  I pointed to the other side of the Crown Vic, and sure enough, there were at least ten of them now. 

Charlie reached Flex and Gem.  Gem was on her back, fully alert now, but in the grip of the zombie.  She twisted like a gator attempting a death roll in a swamp.  She had no weapon in her hands, yet the monster had such a grip on her leg that she couldn’t spin a full revolution.  Flex stood over the creature clamped to her ankle, kicking it in the face with his steel-toed cowboy boots.  With each blow, he screamed “Let! Her! The! Fuck! Go!,” yet its determined fingers never unclenched.  I turned and ran toward the new deadly arrivals, firing along a straight line, just about head-height.  Some wild shots ricocheted off the Crown Vic’s bulletproof glass and impenetrable body, and as I saw Cynthia, Taylor and Trina inside, staring with wide eyes, I was gladder of the car’s defenses than ever.  I hadn’t had a clue they were still inside.

I looked back at Charlie, who had reached Flex and Gem, quickly dousing the old zombie thing with a blast of the deadly oil.

She didn’t wait to see the effect.  She knew as well as we all did what would happen next.  Next thing I knew, she was running fast behind me.  I cut around the driver’s side of the Ford and waved her along the passenger’s side.  I fired, emptied my clip, grabbed another, slammed it in, and took out four more of the lumbering menaces.