The Hungry (Book 2): The Wrath of God (16 page)

They gathered inside the Winnebago, checked the locks and windows, rapidly moved into defensive positions. It didn't take long. The horde of macabre little zombies surrounded the Winnebago, banging on the frame, rocking and shaking the large vehicle from side to side. This time it was a high-pitched moan that floated over them,
unnhhh huhhh
… Miller studied the enemy. The sight was surreal. With one exception, they all looked identical. That one exception was a tall zombie, which could have once been either a man or a woman. It wore a school bus driver's uniform. The other zombies were smaller and all wore other uniforms—white shirt, green vest, green skirt, green socks, and shoes. They were undead children with an unholy hunger.

Rat shook her head. "
Girl Scouts
?"

"Hope they don't want to sell us any of those fucking cookies," Scratch muttered. No one laughed.

The joke was so lame Miller immediately thought of Terrill Lee, but she decided not to say anything. Instead she considered their options. There weren't many. Elizabeth was freaked out and clinging to Sheppard, who was still weak and borderline useless.

The noise continued. Little fists pounded on the vehicle, little mouths chewed the air in frustration.

The Winnebago rocked back and forth. With bloody, disfigured faces and torn uniforms, they made a constant racket as they banged on the outside, and scratched at the screens and the metal siding. A little girl climbed up and did her best to chew through the windshield. She tried so hard that one of her front teeth broke off. Something dark leaked out and smeared the glass. Elizabeth screamed and hid her face.

Miller checked the load in her Smith & Wesson. They were in trouble. The windows wouldn't last forever. "Lovell, how far can we get without a fuel filter?"

"Best guess?" He did the math. "A mile, maybe less. Considerably less if you ever want to use the Winnebago again."

"That should be more than enough." Miller looked at the steering column, saw that the key was still in the ignition. "Lovell, you're driving. Start it up and let's go."

"Yes, Ma'am," replied Lovell. He saluted mockingly. He plopped himself down in the driver's seat and turned the engine, which started smoothly this time. Lovell shifted into gear, and the vehicle began to roll forward. One of the girl scouts went under the left front wheel with a sickening crunch. No one cared.

"Psycho, where's that school bus of yours again?"

Psycho never took his eyes off the zombies, as if he couldn't believe the horrific sight, a horde of zombie children assaulting them from all sides. Two of the little girls were hanging on to the window frame, small bluish fingers on flecked blue paint. Psycho shivered like a dog fresh out of the bath. "Left at the next corner, maybe a block up."

"Perfect," Miller said. "If you can get us that far, Lovell, you'll have done your job. Go."

"We're gone."

The Winnebago trembled but kept rolling forward. Miller checked the rear view mirror and saw that some of the children who'd been left behind were stumbling, trotting behind the Winnebago. They kept on coming, starving and filled with grim determination. Tucked under Sheppard's shoulder, Elizabeth kept her face buried in her hands. Miller wanted to do the same thing but didn't. She had her duty and people to protect.

"All right," Miller turned to face the others. "Listen up. As soon as we get to the school bus, everyone with a weapon take up a position right outside. There are only twenty or so of them precious little zombies, and we've got some damned good marksmen on our side. Don't think about what you're doing. Those aren't people, not children, not any more. Take them out, aim for the brain. Once the zombies are neutralized, we'll go back to the plan. We get a fuel filter, tank up on diesel, and roll on out of here for good."

"Uh, Sheriff?" Lovell turned left around the corner.

"What's up?"

"Be advised that a few of the zombies are still hanging onto the outside of the Winnebago."

She considered for a moment. "Can you swerve a bit, try to shake 'em off?"

"Hold onto something," he replied. Then he turned the wheel hard, back and forth. Lovell peered out at the dusty side mirror. He squinted, hands still on the wheel.

"Well?"

"They're still there," Lovell said. "And here's our school bus." It was parked up ahead, maybe a hundred yards or so. They rolled closer. Dust floated around the Winnebago. Miller ran around looking out the windows and into the rear-facing mirrors. Some of the dead children clung to the Winnebago like starving ticks while still others followed fifty feet behind, grunting and grimacing and dragging decaying little limbs through the sand and dirt. Miller shaded her eyes. She was stunned to see that one of the girls behind them was indeed still mindlessly clutching a box of dried up cookies. She shuddered.

"Okay, stop next to the school bus." Miller ordered. She rubbed her face. One bite would be fatal, all those little teeth, only so much ammo. Someone would go down. She had no idea how she would get them all out of this one safely.

"Penny," said Rat, hefting her shotgun. "Relax. Psycho and I have this one."

"I'm not so sure..."

"Trust us. This isn't the first time we've been surrounded," Rat said. She turned to the larger soldier. Her face broke open, cracked into a shark grin. "Psycho, remember those drug dealers we went up against outside Bahia Solano?"

For the first time that Miller could remember, Psycho actually smiled. He had a terrifying smile. Not to mention seriously damned fucked up feelings about women. Psycho took a deep breath. He gazed back at Rat adoringly. "Yes, Ma'am, I remember those bastards." He racked the shotgun loudly, marched over to stand before the door. "Ready when you are."

Lovell pulled up next to the school bus. The obscenely high
unhhhh hunhhh
sound returned, floated through the air vents. The children behind them wouldn't need long to catch up, they hadn't been rolling that fast. The ones hanging from the Winnebago would be on them within seconds once they stepped outside. Miller looked at Rat. She started to object, but realized Rat was right. She shouldn't risk them all, and Psycho seemed to know his job. They were part of an experienced team and had a history to refer to in the heat of battle. Miller couldn't match their efficiency.

Just then, Lovell killed the engine. "Be advised, Rat. You've got at least three on either side of the door."

"Roger that," Hanratty replied. Her dark hair bobbed as she counted to herself. Miller could hear a soft, "Three, two, one!" Then Rat turned the knob and swung the door open. Miller and Lovell grabbed their weapons and trained them on the exposed area as Rat exploded through the doorway. She exited and spun left. Three quick blasts came from her shotgun. Miller could hear the rattle of buckshot and the splatter of something wet landing against the outside of the Winnebago. Psycho jumped out two seconds later, went to his right. Four more blasts came. Miller stared out the front window with her heart in her throat.

Rat and Psycho came around the front of the Winnebago, shooting as they ran. Little uniformed bodies and green hats went flying as tiny heads exploded. Psycho grabbed the toothless little girl by the ankle. He dragged the kid to the ground. Rat aimed down out of sight and apparently blasted her head off.
Hot damn,
Miller thought,
this might actually work
. Psycho and Rat met for a second and exchanged hand signals. Then they disappeared around the left side of the vehicle. The others waited in silence in the Winnebago, slowly relaxing. Shot after shot rang out and then at last came a dead silence.

"All clear." Rat jogged up the steps from the door.

"Nice work," said Miller. She was genuinely impressed. Elizabeth was still curled up with Sheppard, who had his eyes closed. "All right, let's get that fuel filter, and get the diesel transferred from the school bus to the Winnebago."

Penny pulled her pistol from its holster, held it in front of her as she exited the Winnebago. She surveyed the carnage. The huge vehicle looked as if it were just run through a car wash filled with human blood and entrails. Great swaths of gore splattered the paneling, and little chips of bone and teeth could be seen plastered to the paint. Miller felt her gorge rise. Small bodies wearing green and white uniforms lay headless around the perimeter of the Winnebago, leaking God-only-knows-what. Miller stepped around the black-red puddles on the ground. Oh, she had seen it before—hell, she had caused far more destruction that this—but with very few exceptions, the undead murdering that she had engaged in had involved adults, not a bunch of little girls. This sight was especially disturbing. She was glad that Rat and Psycho had done the dirty deed for them.

"Sheppard?" Miller called, "You keep the kid inside." Miller didn't want Elizabeth to see this mess. The last thing they needed was for her to become hysterical again, or even turn catatonic and have to be carried everywhere. They had enough on their hands with Sheppard inured.

"Okay," Miller said. "Let's get this party started. Lovell?"

"Yes, Sheriff?" Lovell stepped outside. He looked around at the mess that surrounded him, shrugged, and waited patiently for Miller to speak.

"Let's you and me head over to the auto parts store. See if we can't find you a fuel filter and a siphon pump to get the diesel out of the school bus." Miller turned to Rat. "You hold down the fort. Keep the child inside, and make sure no one else gets hurt."

"Sheriff, may I speak to you privately?" Rat's expression made it clear she was pissed about something.

"Make it fast. Over here." The sun slammed a sledge hammer down. They stepped around the back of the Winnebago into a cool shadow. Crows passed over and circled. A motley pair of vultures emerged from the buildings and wobbled over to peck away at the fresh, steaming human stew. A light breeze came out of nowhere and drove a few complaining dry leaves down the cracked sidewalk. The town seemed even more silent after all the gunfire and shouting. Miller waited for Rat to speak.

Rat just looked her up and down like a puppet, so Miller said, "First off, I thought we agreed you'd call me Penny."

"I'm willing to call you Penny, but only when you aren't putting the entire team in jeopardy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Captain Kirk, that you don't need to go on every single landing party. I can accept that you're running this mission, but if you're going to be an idiot and put yourself constantly in danger, I might just think about fragging your ass myself and taking back my command." She held the shotgun loosely, but it would have taken nothing more than a flick of her wrist to bring it to bear on Miller. "A leader needs to have the entire situation in her mind, and has to know when to step back as well as when to step up."

Miller holstered her pistol. "You think I'm being
reckless?
" she spat.

"Yesterday afternoon you told me that the only reason you and your merry little band made it through the first few days of the zombie outbreak was because, and I quote, 'they had me.' Now, I'm willing to admit that you are one tough bitch, and you got a way with leadership. But you're no battle commander. You're all tactics, no strategy. We have a term for that in the Army. They're called sergeants. Officers need to think long term, and running off on every little adventure is a good way to die, but not a good way to protect the team. I'm giving you two choices,
Sheriff.
Stay here in command of the team, or go off with Lovell and take orders from me."

"Nice of you to offer me a choice," Miller said, dryly.

"Take that as a complement, Penny." Rat turned smartly and walked away.

Miller stood at the rear of the Winnebago. For once, she was almost speechless. She sat down on the banged up back bumper. Her eyes watered. She was damn near ready to cry—and she hadn't really cried since she was sixteen years old. Miller wanted to explain to Rat that she never wanted to come on this mission in the first place, never wanted to put herself or her friends back into danger. What, she
wanted
this shit to happen? But here she was, sitting in zombie gore again, looking down at a bus driver's headless body and a crap load of slaughtered Girl Scouts, with Terrill Lee dead, Sheppard shot, Scratch accused of a triple murder, and a trio of mercenaries, a little girl, and a crazy old man to take care of to boot.
Shit fire.
This was not what she had in mind for her life.

Miller sucked it up, as usual. She looked up at the sun. She reckoned it was about eight in the morning, giving them just about ten hours before that bomb went off. She really didn't want to be around for that, but they weren't getting any farther away with her sitting on the bumper and everyone waiting for a decision. She made one.

Miller stood up, straightened her hat, and took a step forward.

Miller's pistol was out of its holster before she even thought about it. She looked around, but there was no one in sight and nothing moving. The short hairs on her neck fluttered, and it wasn't the dying breeze. As the sun crept higher the area began to stink. Miller whirled in circles. She checked around for the source of the noise. She stepped around the corner of the Winnebago where she saw Scratch talking to Lovell, Psycho, and Rat. She whistled and they turned.

"I think we've got company," said Miller. She kept scanning the road for any sign of the undead. "I heard something."

"Where?" asked Scratch.

"I don't know. Didn't you hear that?"

"Penny, I don't hear anything but you."

"Hells bells." Scratch brought up the .30-06. He ran to Miller's side. Psycho was right behind him. They formed a tight trio, all facing out at the world.