Dead Hunger II: The Gem Cardoza Chronicle (28 page)

And we weren’t going anywhere.  Not without him.

*****

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

The next morning, Hemp decided to do an autopsy of sorts on the dissolved zombie – just to see how much damage there was. 

It turns out its insides were dissolved well into the creature’s chest cavity.  Essentially all soft tissue was destroyed by the urushiol mix, leaving the skeletal framework intact.

Believing he had something substantial here, Hemp tried a few more experiments on the female test subject using actual lye and other corrosive chemicals. 

No go.  All they did was damage just the point of contact, but not more than a slight chemical burn similar to what anyone would get.

Urushiol was zombie Kryptonite.

And damned if our Hemp wasn’t Lex Luther.

Flex and I walked into the lab just as Hemp had finished prepping the dead zombie for disposal.  The bone-thin body had been neatly dis
membered with a sharp bone saw.  S
ome tissue samples and other things Hemp felt crucial
had been
preserved in formaldehyde.

“I’ll help you with it,” said Flex.  He grabbed two of the bags and Hemp grabbed the remaining three smaller bags.  The female zombie was uncovered, gnashing like an addict in-between cocaine fixes, eyeing me hungrily.  The guys walked out the door and I walked around her to get the sheet.

Just as I was about to cover her, I looked closely at her face, her hair.  I’d gotten so used to just looking at the whole forest that I never really saw the trees.  Granted, they’re not nice to look at, but then if I forgot who I was and wanted to eat everyone in sight, I doubt people would give me the consideration of actually trying to see who I was.

Her eyes were clearly once brown.  Her hair was dyed blonde, and judging from the longest strands, it was about shoulder length.  When her mouth opened, I saw near perfect teeth – likely capped.  Maybe implants.  Either way, expensive dental work was on display.

It made an almost hissing sound as its simple brain contemplated the taste of my flesh.  I had some thoughts then.  Probably stupid thoughts.

What would kindness do?  What would any display of something other than aggression do to them?  Anything?

Okay, so I admit this is the romantic in me at work, and even I don’t have much faith in this side of my judgment.  I just fucking care about people and no matter their condition, I sometimes can’t stop myself from seeing if they’ll care back.  Anything.  Just a little sign acknowledging the treatment.

I took a glance at the door and listened.  The guys weren’t back yet, and I didn’t hear them coming.  I went to the drawer and got a pair of latex gloves, sliding them over my hands.

Then I walked up to the gurney.  She was on her back, the tongue moving back and forth with her jaw like a mechanical duck at an arcade.

So here I was, prepared to touch the woman-zombie, to see if I could elicit emotion that would show in the windows to the soul – her eyes.  I stood beside her doing my best to ignore what she looked like.  I reached down and stroked the back of her left hand.

Then I gently slid my hand up her wrist, intentionally keeping my touch so soft it would not flake away the dying skin.  There was no change in her demeanor.  Not confusion, not relief, nor kindness.

Just hunger.  Eternal hunger.

I wasn’t ready to give up.  I moved toward her torso and reached up to touch her cheek.  She strained against the head restraint, but not to get closer to me – to get away from me.  I was perplexed by this.  She wasn’t frightened of me, I was sure.  Perhaps of my touch?  Not of me in theory, but afraid of my touch?

Oh, in my head I worked it around as I always do.  I was thinking that my caresses would remind this monster on the table that her life was once filled with tender touches and kindness, not dominated by staggering around, facing deterioration and the elements, other creatures like herself, a constant search for food, and most of all, her life was dominated by ravenous hunger, hunger and more insatiable hunger.

Keeping my hand well clear of her mouth, I stroked her flaking neck and along her lower jaw line where it met her chin.  I watched those brown eyes watching me.

And I didn’t see anything at all in them.

The door opened.  I turned to look at Hemp and Flex, and as I did, their eyes went wide.

“Gem!  Watch out!”

My thumb was against her cheek when I turned.  At that moment her head twisted against the restraint with a jerk, and my thumb plunged through the skin of her rotting cheek and into her mouth, the pretty implants clamping down on it with a snarl.

I screamed at the top of my lungs as the she-thing ground her jaws on my thumb, shredding the end away, nail and all.  I pulled my hand out and staggered away from the table, falling against the now empty gurney and onto the floor with a thud.

I looked up in a haze and Flex was by the creature, holding her face yelling “Spit it out you bitch!  Spit that fucking thumb out, now!”  He slapped her again and again, and something did fly out of her mouth and landed on the other side of the room.

Flex pushed the gurney hard and it rolled to the opposite wall and hit with a crash.

The door flew open and Charlie and Cynthia ran inside, eyes wild.  They saw me on the floor and were both there with me in a split second.

“Gem!” shouted Charlie.  “Are you okay?”

“Fucking hand,” I said weakly.  “She bit off my thumb.”

Cynthia looked at Charlie, then at Hemp and Flex.  Flex had made sure my thumb was in a bag and gave it to Hemp.

“Buddy, get this on ice, please.  Now.”

“But Flex,” he started, and Flex stopped him.  “Hemp, get that fucking digit on ice now!”

Hemp looked at me, at my bleeding hand, and nodded.  He ran out with the bag in his hand.

Flex was with me, cradling my head.  I tried to get up and he pushed me back down. 

“You stay,” he said.  “Charlie, roll that gurney over here and throw that mattress pad there on it.  Cynthia, grab me some antibiotic ointment and bandages from that second drawer on the right.”

Charlie took the empty gurney and got the folding pad, placing it over the stainless steel top. 

“Okay, you guys help me get her up here.  On three.”

He counted to three and they easily lifted me onto the soft
mattress on the rolling table.

“Door,” he said. 

Charlie opened it and they rolled me out, closing the door behind me.

I was crying.  My eyes were squeezed closed, even as my good hand squeezed Flex’s.  “Baby, I’m sorry,” I said.

“You’re going to be fine,” said Flex.  I heard in his voice that he didn’t believe it.

“What happened, Gem?”  It was Charlie.  I opened my eyes to see the worry, the horrible worry in her expression.

“I was practicing kindness,” I said.  “Trying the unthinkable.”

“Oh, Gem,” said Cynthia.  “God.”

“We don’t know yet!” shouted Flex, and I heard the tears in his voice now.  His voice quivered even with the anger I heard there.

“We’re all immune!” he shouted again, this time his voice cracking.

“Oh, Flex,” I said.  “Flex, don’t worry, baby.”

“She’s immune,” he said to nobody.

And then his face was against mine, and he was kissing my face, my mouth.  He put his lips to mine and said, “Gem, you’re immune.  You’ll be fine.”

But his tears fell on my cold skin as he produced the words that lacked such conviction it made my heart ache.

I heard Hemp’s voice:  “Let’s get her into the mobile lab.  I’ll clean it up and bandage it in there.”

“She’s immune, Hemp,” said Flex.

“I know, my friend,” he said.  “I know.”

*****

When I awoke I was surrounded by chairs filled with concerned people with concerned faces.

It
was almost overwhelming, and each of them might as well have carried signs stating how they felt.

All of their signs’ slogans would’ve involved me not being around anymore.

“Baby,” said Flex, taking my hand. 
“She bit you.”

I remembered everything.  There was no need to
ask what happened, where I was, or
even what the fuck.

“I fucked up,” I said.  “I was being sentimental and stupid and I paid the price.”

Hemp jumped in.  “We don’t know that there is a price, Miss Cardoza, so none of that.”

“I was bitten, Hemp.”

“Yes, and who do you know besides you that was bitten?”

I turned to look at Flex.  He kissed my cheek. “Nobody,” I said.

“Right,” said Hemp.  “Nobody.  I wasn’t able to save your thumb, Gem.  Sorry.”

“Is it all gone?”

“Down to the knuckle,” said Charlie.  “You should still have enough to fire Suzi with ease.”

“It’ll be easier to do my nails,” I said, smiling.  “For however long I have to do them.”

“We got the thumb back from her,” Flex said.  “But it was shredded.  Hemp tried something though, babe.  With the urushiol.”

I looked at Hemp.  “What?”

“The urushiol appears to attack all soft tissue in these creatures, as you know.  I immediately soaked your wound in the solution.  I even anesthetized it and cut it open a bit further down to make sure we had good penetration.”

I nodded.  My hand was throbbing.  “I don’t have a headache,” I said.

“That’s a good sign.  You’ve been out for ten hours,” said Hemp.

“I’ll sit with her,” said Cynthia.

“Not unless you strap me down,” I said.  “Don’t trust me.  Please, don’t trust me.”

“Stop talking like that, Gem!” said Flex.  “You’re going to be fine.  Fine.”  His voice grew soft again.  “You can come in, Cyn, but I want to talk to her for a bit first, okay?”

“Get the fucking straps on me,” I repeated.  “Then you can have a party in here for all I care.”

They reluctantly obeyed.  When my trunk was secured and the final wrist strap was cinched tight, Charlie, Flex, Hemp and Cynthia were all crying.

So it was their fault that I broke down into sobs again.

The others filed out of the room with a wave and Flex sat beside me.

“You scared the shit out of me, Gem.”

“I know, baby.  I’m sorry.”

“What were you doing?”

“I . . . I was trying tenderness.  I hadn’t tried it before.  Not even with Jamie.”

Flex stared at me, stroked my arms, and my face.  He looked down at the restraining straps and shook his head. 

“They’re gone, babe.  We know that from Jamie.  If there was any chance they weren’t, I wouldn’t have killed her.”

“And I know that,” I said.  “It seems like forever ago that we buried her, and I guess the impact of what we had to do to her moved to the back of my mind.  Maybe I pushed it there, all that fucking hope swimming to the top.”

“Hope’s good,” said Flex.  “But not there.  Hope is wasted on these things.  You were the victim of a big heart and fanciful naivety, I’d guess.”

I smiled.  This strong, brave man who loved me and asked me to marry him used the word fanciful.  That was a first.

“I’ve softened you, Flexy.”

“Yeah, you have.”

“Sissy.”

“Whatever.  No more tenderness.  A baseball bat.  An arrow.  A burst of gunfire.  No more caresses.  It’s wasted on them.  Save the tenderness for me.”

“I will.  I love you.”

The tears came unexpectedly, but once they started again I was racked, and they quickly turned into the heaving sobs I hadn’t experienced since I first drove away from my aunt and uncle’s house in
Miami
.  When I’d first let it sink in that they were dead.

Flex said “No, no, babe.”

“I don’t want to die,” I whispered through my tears.  “I don’t want to die now or forget who you are.”

Flex lowered his cheek to mine and stroked my hair.  “You’re not going to die, baby,” he said.  For the second time since my horrible mistake in the lab, I felt his warm tears on my face.

“I don’t want to forget Trina, or Hemp or Charlie, or Cynthia either, Flex.
I want to marry you.  I’m supposed to marry you.”

Flex dropped down to my hand and kissed the plastic ring on my finger.  He squeezed my hand.

“It’s going to be the best day of my life,” he said.  “You’re going to be okay.  We’re going to be married.”

Despite my tears I smiled.  “You just told me a few minutes ago that hope’s good.  Is that the hope you mean?”

“It’s not hope, Gem.  It’s a fact.  I’m not going to lose you because if I were, I’d know it in here.”  He tapped his palm over his heart, looking into my eyes.  “I’d feel it.  But what I feel is the certain knowledge that the next time you flip me off, it’s just going to look a bit funnier.”