The Hungry (Book 2): The Wrath of God (15 page)

"I'm real sorry about Terrill Lee, Penny," Scratch said. He seemed sincere. "We found some drag marks that headed off into an intersection but lost the trail after that. There were just too many bodies, too much debris lying around everywhere. I saw footprints all over the place. They took him somewhere, three of them, like they'd worked together as a team. That's crazy, I know it's crazy, but same as back at the base, that's how it seemed to play out. Them things working together? The very idea scares the shit out of me."

"It scares the shit out of me, too."

"Penny, I'm sorry. He's gone. Terrill Lee has to be dead by now. Has to be."

Inside the Winnebago, the little girl said something quietly. Lovell said something back in a low voice. Scratch and Penny faced each other with full eye contact. Chastened, Scratch swallowed dryly.

"Talk to me," Miller said.

"I didn't do anything to that kid, Penny, I swear." Scratch took another long drag on the cigarette. He dropped it onto the asphalt, stubbed it out with the toe of his right boot. "I don't know why she freaked out on you that way."

Miller stared into his eyes. She took her time. Something felt off.

"What?" Scratch demanded. He stared back.

"We may have us a brand new problem," Miller said. "There was a murder a few days before I arrested you and Needles."

"So?" Then something uncomfortable spread across his face. "You've got to be kidding me! That kid told you I did it?"

"Did you?"

"Are you actually accusing me of killing that little girl's parents and sister?" His eyes were wide, incredulous.

Miller's heart sank down into her stomach. She eyed his weapon and then gripped hers. "I never said exactly who was killed, Scratch. I just said it was her family. So do you want to explain how you knew that it was her parents and sister?"

Scratch began to pace. "Look, I didn't have anything to do with it. I may be a bad ass, but underneath this gorgeous, tough exterior, I ain't a murderer."

Miller looked at her feet. She studied her dusty jeans. She took a deep breath and met Scratch's eyes again. The sun beat down above them and the warmth felt good. "I saw you kill my deputy in cold blood. I know you're capable of it. So I'll ask you one more time. Did you kill her family?"

"You're out of your fucking mind," Scratch said. He took a step away, flexed his hands. "Look, I done some things I'm not proud of. I admit that. And yeah, I blew that asshole Wells away. He deserved it and you know it. But I didn't do
that
, not what you you're accusing me of. Think about it. After all we've been through, why would I lie about this? You gotta believe me."

"It's not my job to believe you," Miller said, sadly. "I'm not a jury."

A coughing sound came from the front of the Winnebago, then a whine. Was someone struggling to start the engine? Did they have yet another problem? Scratch and Miller were too engrossed to change the topic.

Scratch stood defiantly before Miller, and she glared at him.

"I want to believe you, but I'm not sure I can."

"So what are you going to do then, arrest me again, Sheriff Miller? Shoot me?"

Miller looked at him for a long time. "No. I still have a duty to protect you, no matter what you're accused of doing. And I can't arrest you right now because we need every gun we can get. If we don't get out of here in time, we're all going to go up in a ball of fire. But I need to at least know the truth. You owe me that."

"I told you the truth just now." As Scratch spoke, the engine made another odd noise. Someone, perhaps Lovell, mumbled something.

"We've lost Terrill Lee," Miller sighed. "Now we've got a little girl to protect. But you know what is worst of all, Scratch? She's terrified of
you
. One more time, you've handed me one hell of a mess."

"Oh, give me a fucking break." Scratch took a step away from her. "I've saved your bacon more than a few times, lady."

"Right now," Miller said, "my biggest problem is figuring out how to get us to safety without you causing that little girl to piss herself again."

"What do you want me to do? Ride on the roof?"

"I haven't ruled that out," Miller replied. She considered smiling at the thought, but decided against it. So, evidently, did Scratch. Right then would have been a really bad time to start clowning around and flirting.
Jesus Christ
. Miller figured the world would never be the same. The law didn't apply. She'd just have to go with her own gut for now, and make it all up on the fly.

The mechanical noise came again from the front of their Winnebago, that grinding whine. Sounded something like a starter turning over, but the engine refusing to catch. Was that Lovell? Who was fixing to drive off, and why?

Scratch looked as confused as she felt. "What the fuck is that?"

"Follow me." Miller turned and headed back to where Rat and Psycho were waiting. Scratch hesitated for a brief moment, as if considering going off on his own. He shrugged and then followed her lead.

When she came around the corner, Miller could see Rat and Psycho conferring with someone through the open cabin door. When they saw Miller appear from around the back of the Winnebago, Rat stepped up close.

"I was just about to come get you, Penny."

"Why?"

"We have another problem," Rat said.

"What now?" Miller sagged back against the door.

Rat shrugged and made a face. Behind her Psycho belched, his alert eyes searching for zombies, that omnipresent toothpick circling his thick lips. The morning sun beat down. That whining sound came again, but a tad weaker this time. Miller wasn't sure she really wanted to hear this. She waited.

Finally Rat sighed. "We can't get the damned engine going."