The Hungry (7 page)

Terrill Lee watched her for a moment.

"Well, what the hell are you waiting for?" asked Miller. "Help me up!"

Terrill Lee slurped his soup. "Are you going to do what I say for once?"

"Fuck you, your bachelor pad and all the condoms in your wallet."

Terrill Lee just ate another spoonful of soup, not taking his eyes off her. The kitchen clock ticked forward. Her bare ass felt cold.
Checkmate
.

"Crap. I'll follow orders like a good little soldier, at least for the time being. Now help me up."

Terrill Lee came around the table. He helped Miller to her feet. He walked with her to her seat, and gently placed her weary ass back on the chair.

"Eat your soup," he said.

"Yes, sir," said Miller. Her tone dripped sarcasm. Still, she needed his help. She was pissed because he seemed to be enjoying this shit. He seemed so calm about what was happening to her, to the world. But he was also right. For the moment, there wasn't anything to do but eat her soup.

"Tomorrow we're going to Elko," said Terrill Lee.

Miller almost choked. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Didn't you hear what that newsman was saying? Elko is where the zombies are
coming
from. You want to get us both killed?"

Terrill Lee ate his soup in an infuriatingly calm manner. She glowered at him, forced to wait for an answer.

Finally, he looked up. "I have a plan."

FOUR

They finished their soup. Miller felt stronger. She watched as Terrill Lee washed the dishes as if desperate to return some normalcy to the situation.
A repeating sound in the distance, like popcorn in a pan?
No. Shots! Miller heard gunfire and it was getting closer. She and Terrill Lee moved closer together. He put an arm around her waist. They stepped back from the kitchen window. And then the sound of engines and shouting were coming from right outside.

"Is that part of your plan?" asked Miller.

"Shit." Terrill Lee led them back into the living room. He went to the window and peeked out through the thick, closed drapes. "Go get some clothes on, Penny." His voice remained steady, but he looked like he was ready to pee his pants.

"What do you see?" Miller went into the hallway that led to the bedroom. "Who is out there?"

"Can't see nothing yet. Can't even tell where the shots were coming from. I think maybe up by the old Altmeyer place, but without going outside to look, there's no way to be sure." He turned to look back at her. "I found some of your old shit in the garage when I was out there looking for weapons. It's just inside the bedroom door. There's some clothes and old travel stuff in there. I'll be right behind you."

Miller made her way down the hall moving at what seemed like a crawl. She walked inside and over to the bed. She sat, catching her breath, and was there when Terrill Lee reappeared in the doorway. He was flat loaded for grizzly. A pistol was strapped to his leg, gunfighter style, and he carried a shotgun and across his chest was an actual bandolier of extra shells.

Miller blinked. "What the hell is it?"

"Let's just say I think you're going to need these." He tossed her spare service pistol, a big ol' Smith & Wesson model 1911, onto the bed. Followed it with two magazines of .45 ammo. Adrenaline washed through Miller. The fear gave her renewed energy. The food had helped. She seemed to be healing rapidly. The confidence made her stand up. Her balance was almost back to normal. Miller moved to the edge of the bed and grabbed the weapon.

"Where did you find this baby?" It felt heavier than she remembered, yet she hefted it easily.

"I raided your cruiser while you were sleeping," Terrill Lee said. "Found an emergency kit, a couple of spare sets of handcuffs, and that bad boy. You sure do love you some big-assed guns. I'm going to have to start calling you Dirty Harriett again." He glanced down at her crotch.

"Please don't," Miller said, not sure whether she was referring to the statement or his schoolboy lust.

She hefted the weapon, checked to see that it was loaded.
Okay, a round in the pipe, a full load in the clip, plus two more magazines.
So 25 rounds was all she had for now. That would have to be enough. Miller rolled her shoulders. The pain was acceptable now, not bad at all.

Terrill Lee jogged back to the bedroom window. Parted the curtain a tad and carefully surveyed the neighborhood.

Still holding the weapon, Miller felt glad she had been shot in the left shoulder, not the right. Otherwise she wouldn't even be able to lift the damned pistol. She moved her shoulder around just a tad too ambitiously, and immediately wished she hadn't.

"Do I have to immobilize that?" he said.

"I'm fine," she said. "I feel better already. Just don't call any passes over ten yards. What have you got for me to wear?"

He waived his hand. She spotted a dusty cardboard box that sat like a sulking gnome in the near corner of the room. Miller moved a few steps forward. Stopped. Bracing herself against the wall, she took a couple of deep breaths. The house smelled dusty from lack of circulation. Perhaps the power had just gone off? Her arm had stiffened a bit and the ache was better, though still dull and persistent. Breathing slowly and deeply, she made her way over to the box. She got down on one knee and started digging through it with her good arm. She tossed out a few odds and ends before stopping.
You have got to be fucking kidding me…

"Turds on wheat toast! All the pussy you've been racking up since we split up and this is the best you could do?" She held up a white box covered in plastic and carefully taped shut. "You cannot be serious."

"There's something you can wear in there, right?" He stared at the box, face devoid of expression. He didn't know or didn't care.

Miller pulled the plastic bag off the box. She broke the seals. As she lifted the top off it became clear what had been stored inside. Terrill Lee grunted. He fought back a wry smile.

"This is my wedding dress, genius!"

"Bet it still fits, don't it?" Terrill Lee managed a weak smile.

"Poop on a popsicle." Miller held the long white dress out at arm's length, not certain whether to be repulsed or amused. It was a beautiful dress, and she'd looked like an angel that day. But now?
How wrong can you get?

"Well," Terrill Lee said, "I did find a couple of other things there in the bureau, but you don't want them."

"Yes, I do. Anything's better than this dress." Miller dropped it unceremoniously back into the box. "I can't go out and do me some undead murdering while all dressed like a red-state bitch on a reality TV show. So what else have we got?"

Terrill Lee dug around in the drawer. He seemed to be stalling for time. Finally, he pulled out a couple of frilly, lacy things, just skimpy nightgowns and such. He produced a sickly smile and the last two items. Her choices were a wedding dress, those crappy nightgowns and one cup-less bustier with a pair of black, lacy panties.

"Butt floss underwear? Are you shitting me?"

He shrugged and actually had the good grace to blush.

"You dumb, redneck son of a bitch, I might as well go outside wearing Kleenex. What, you put those on when you're all alone and lonely?"

"Marilyn left these here after she moved out," he said.

"
Marilyn
?" Miller's mouth hung open. "Wait. You'd actually expect me to wear something that fake-tittied little redneck twat couldn't be bothered to take with her when she dumped your country ass?"

Terrill Lee glared. "Hey, I said you wouldn't want them." He threw the undies back into the drawer. "Looks like it's either the wedding dress or you get to walk around in that T-shirt with your fuzzy beaver and butt cheeks hanging out for all to see." He gestured to her bottom, which was simultaneously exposed and shivering. Damn it, he had that look of teen lust again.

Furious, Miller struggled to contain herself. She eyed the wedding dress like a feral cat staring at a flea bath. "Jesus Jones in a port-a-potty. I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Doesn't appear you do," he said, matter-of-factly. He continued to look at her, his eyes slowly drifting down to her exposed crotch. The son of a bitch was actually enjoying this.

"Damn it, Terrill Lee, you horny bastard, I'm going to poke your eyes out!"

They both heard noises outside.

"Keep your voice down." Suddenly pale and serious, Terrill Lee went back to the window. He eased the fabric apart, peeked out.

"Crap," he whispered.

Miller was stripping off the t-shirt. "What is it?"

"We've got company."

Miller dumped the t-shirt on the bed. She began slithering into the wedding dress. It was tight, especially going over her ass, but she could still get into it. And now Terrill Lee didn't give her shit for making noise or attracting zombies. Miller took note of that. He was changing gears, dropping the conflict. Kind of like a note from a marriage manual, don't score points just 'cause you can. She wondered if he'd ever gotten around to reading those books, now that they'd split up. She also wondered if he'd actually tried some of those counseling techniques on Marilyn, the dried-up bitch who'd worn those humiliating undies. Then Miller wondered why she was even thinking about shit like that at a time like this.
I mean, who cares?
They'd split up long ago, right?
So why does it still piss me off?

"Come on, come on," chanted Terrill Lee, under his breath. Miller could feel his pulse rising. His muscular body was bow-tight with tension. Eyes riveted on something outside the front window. Miller now noticed that he'd lost some weight. His arms looked like he'd been hitting the gym.

She struggled with the zipper on her dress. Terrill Lee, sensing her frustration, zipped it up for her, pinching her skin. Terrill Lee slung the shotgun over his shoulder and scooped up her uniform boots. "Penny, we're out of time, we gotta go, now!"

Miller hefted the Smith, grabbed her badge. She felt naked without her uniform, strangely powerless and vulnerable. She allowed herself to be pulled down the hallway into the garage. The dress rustled in an almost sinister way. It was pristine and white and as lovely as the last time she'd worn it years ago. Miller's legs moved well, her stride was normal. Her body felt up to speed now, muscles much stronger and mind more focused.

End of the hall, the garage door. He turned the handle. Miller said, "What's happening? What's out front?"

Terrill Lee opened the door. That action revealed a spanking fresh Dodge Durango. He tossed Miller's boots on the passenger-side floor. "Get in and get your feet covered."

"Damn it, talk to me. What is it?" She slid inside, pulled on the boots.

The answer came from right outside, in the form of a loud engine—unmistakably a motorcycle. No, it was a shitload of motorcycles. Miller heard evil-sounding laughter floating on the breeze. The situation registered fully. There was a gang of bikers just outside and swarming up and down the street. Then, punctuating the staccato rumble of the bikes, she heard the equally unmistakable sound of glass shattering. Miller turned her head. She looked back into the hallway and took in a glowing, flickering light. She hesitated, but the steadily increasing smell of smoke made up her mind. They had to go.

"I think they just firebombed us," Miller whispered. "Okay, let's get." She closed the vehicle's door.

Terrill Lee got in the driver's seat. He handed Miller the shotgun and bandolier. "Keep them off us as long as you can. I'm going to haul ass."

The hallway was dark. Fresh flames were visible and black smoke billowed out into the garage.

"Whatever we're going to do, I'd recommend we do fairly soon," said Miller. "Otherwise, stick a thermometer up my butt and baste me every twenty minutes."

"Showtime," said Terrill Lee.

And now it was as if he had been doing this kind of thing all his life. He'd gone from pussy to Terminator with no in-between stages. He turned over the engine and gunned it to life. "Ma'am, please put on your seatbelt and keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times."

Miller locked her belt and rolled her eyes. "Just go, cowboy."

Terrill Lee braced himself. He threw the Durango into reverse and floored it without opening the garage door. They roared backwards. The flimsy wooden door splintered under the oncoming weight of the SUV. They were outside. Daylight flooded into the truck's windows. Everywhere there was smoke, gunfire, screams and a blinding glare.

The scene outside was even bleaker than Miller had remembered from a couple of hours before. Almost all the quaint houses were ablaze. Torn body parts lay strewn on lawns, sidewalks and out in the street. Trash, wrecked vehicles, and other human detritus fully clogged the sidewalks and road. Two homes away a little blonde girl with no arms was walking in circles, drooling blood. She wore a Girl Scout uniform.

The gang of raging bikers was everywhere; black clad, tattooed skin and silver chains, roaring up and down before and between the burning houses. A few seemed occupied firebombing a house down the block. The rest were circling around aimlessly, gunning their engines, masturbating their rifles, looking for more and more trouble. They found it.

Terrill Lee and Miller backed out, wood panels flying, roared down the drive. They backed clean over one of the bikers with a bump and a crunch.
Humpty Dumpty
, Miller thought, strangely. Miller heard one high-pitched shriek, the last sound the biker ever made—at least from his mouth, anyway. Nasty stuff splattered as they crushed him. He split like a grape in kinky leather. The big, all-terrain tires crushed the bike too as they drove out into the street.

"Hot damn, Terrill Lee, watch where you're going!" Miller began to scold him, just like the old days, but decided to leave it there. After all, what else could he have done? They had to get away and fast.

Clink!
The first bullet struck the side of the Durango a moment later, as they were wheeling around to go forward.
Clink, clink
. As Terrill Lee peeled away, she heard more bullets strike metal. Too many to count. It sounded like a fist full of BBs rolling around in a hubcap, just snapping and popping nonstop.
Those bastards are trying to kill us! What, they think zombies drive SUVs?