Dead Hunger IV: Evolution (59 page)

“Think Doc Scofield would go with us?”  She looked down at her stomach, then back into Flex’s eyes.

“Gem, I don’t see many folks staying.  I only didn’t mention him earlier because if everyone else stays, I’d think he would insist on staying where the majority of people might need a doctor.”

“You cool with delivering a baby?”

“I’ll talk to Jim.  He could be a big help to Hemp, too, with his medical background.”

*****

Hemp looked at the female on the table and turned to Flex and Scofield.  “I’ve got enough, I think.  Let’s get her into the
hyperbaric
chamber.”

“We gotta handle her again?” asked Scofield.  “She’s like a fuckin’ cat on a leash.”

“Duct tape,” said Hemp.  “What you Americans call the all-purpose tool.”

“That’s WD-40, I think,” said Flex.  “But it’s high on the list.  When we get her in there, I have to talk to you, Hemp.  You too, Doc.”

The men worked to strap the
blonde
rotter’s ankles together, and because they couldn’t secure her arms before moving her, they taped her hands up until her deteriorated fingernails were completely covered
and her fingers immobilized
.

As they began to lift her, Reeves walked over to assist.  Together, the four men easily transferred her from the gurney to the chamber table.  She did not use her vapor.  Hemp believed this was because she was aware on whom it had an effect, and it was not the males of their species.

Hemp slid the table into the chamber and opened the valves.

“There.  What we have time to learn, we shall learn,” said Hemp.  “
I suppose Corn Silk’s head is going to go to waste.  No time for anything but a quick cut and a look-see.”  He sighed, his eyes on the grocery bag on the countertop, containing the female’s head.  “
Okay, Flex.  What’s going on?”

He lowered his voice.  “Hemp, we’re buggin’ out of here.  Quick.  We only have room for a few
tag-a-longs
, though.”

Reeves looked troubled.  “I’m assuming I’m not on that list.”

Flex’s face took on a pained look.  “Kev, brother.  You’ve done a lot for us since we got here.  Things have changed, and I’d guess in less than an hour, this place is gonna be overrun.”

“Well if we can’t ride, we walk,” said Kev.  “We’ve got some vehicles available to us in the lot.  Not many – not enough.”

“How soon do we have to leave, Flex?” asked Hemp.  He was hoping to learn something from
the dead blonde woman in the
hyperbaric chamber
.  If she succumbed as quickly as
Blue Eyes
, he may yet have enough time.

No sooner had the thought left him, they heard a scream from beyond the door.

“Dying!”

“What was that?” asked Flex.  “Who was that?”

Hemp turned to the zombie.  She lay still, her throat reverberating fast, her mouth opening and closing like a fish dying in the sand.

“It’s her,” said Hemp.  “And that was Rebecca’s voice.”

“Holy shit,” said Scofield, running for the door.  When he opened it, Hemp saw Rebecca standing a dozen feet down the hall, staring at the ceiling, her mouth open, her arms stiff down
by her sides
.

“Dying!” she shouted again.

The crowd around her
clamored to get
away
from her, pushing
to get into the main bar.  Charlie, unlike the others, ran up to Rebecca and took her by the shoulders.

Rebecca was sobbing.

“It’s okay, Rebecca, you’re not dying.”

Hemp moved down the hall.  “Not her, Charlie.  It’s my subject on the table. 
They’re
her word
s
, not Rebecca’s.”

“Holy fuck, babe,” said Charlie, peering into the lab.  “What are you doing to her?”

“Killing her, I believe,” he said.  “At least if she’s being honest.
  Charlie, move her away from here.  I’m not sure why she was this close to begin with.”

“
She knows,”
said Charlie, “But she doesn’t listen very fucking well.  Gem and I both told her to keep her distance from the lab
a bunch of times
.”

“Dying …” she said again, this time softer.  Charlie began leading her down the hall, and as before, the crowd parted like the
Red Sea
.

Gem ran in from the bar, breathing hard
, stopping Charlie in her tracks
.  “The deal
’
s off, guys,” she said.  “We’re not going anywhere.”

Flex had joined them in the hall.  “Why?”

“I’d say look outside, but I don’t want you to die,” she said.  “We’re fucking surrounded.”

An old Pac Man machine blocked a small window on the west side of the bar where the parking lot was.  Flex ran to it and pushed it aside as though it weighed nothing.  He stared out of the window for what may have been a full minute.  Hemp joined him.

“The best laid plans,” said Hemp.  “What now?”

“I wish I knew.”

Hemp looked back at the lab.  “God!  I forgot something.  I’ve got to stop this now!”  He ran back into the lab.

Once inside, he pulled the bag containing Corn Silk’s head from the floor and put it on the counter.  Then he turned and cut the oxygen flow from the hyperbaric chamber, opening the lid.

“Breathe, sweetheart.  Or whatever it is you do.”

He snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves.

Using a large, serrated blade, Hemp cut open Corn Silk’s head quickly and unceremoniously.  When he twisted the crown off, he removed one bloody glove and snapped on an LED flashlight, illuminating the brain.

“My God,” he said aloud.  “Everything but the cerebral cortex is vibrant.”

And he knew the portion of the brain within Corn Silk’s skull that
had, in most of them, been
shriveled and dead was the portion that, for the most part,
held memory and awareness.

It was regenerating.  But for what?

Hemp knew the answer: 
Awareness.
Perhaps of what people were, even when they could not be identified through scent.

Humans were food, and she knew it, even when WAT-6 was in play.

He pushed the brain to one side and shone his light inside.

More bad news.  The Hypothalamus was oversized; enormous.

It
controlled appetite.

Hemp looked at the zombie on the table.  He hadn’t heard anymore cries from Rebecca, so either she was far enough away or the creature was no longer sending the message that she was dying.

He rushed to the small refrigerator and opened it, happy to see the propane by which it was powered had not yet run out.  Removing the vial of medicine from within, he rushed back to the counter.

Pounding came on the walls.

“Hemp, Flex needs you,” said Charlie, rushing into the lab.  “He’s organizing a defense, babe.”

“I’ve got one more thing to do, Charlie.  Tell him to hold on and I’ll be there.  Please.”

Hemp tore the paper off of a syringe and plunged the needle into the bottle, filling it to its maximum.

It was Anastrozole.  An estrogen blocker.  He’d been meaning to try it but with everything going downhill so quickly, he hadn’t had the chance.  The amount he was about to administer would be fifty times the dose given for medical purposes.

He moved over to the creature, whose eyes now followed him once more, and whose throat began to vibrate anew.

“You can stop that crap now, little lady.  Let’s see what this does to you.”

He jabbed the needle into her chest and pushed the plunger all the way in.

Her eyes immediately bugged.  They popped out of her skull, dangling down the sides of her temples.

Her body shuddered and convulsed, and her head began sinking in on itself.  Liquid poured from her ears, eye sockets and nostrils, and from her mouth came a bubbling bile. 

And for a grand finale, her face shriveled up and went as black as onyx.

Hemp smiled, threw the syringe against the wall and slapped his hand hard onto the counter.  “Well, take that you fucking estrogen charged bitch!”

He pulled off his remaining glove, ditched the bloody lab coat, and threw it all onto the floor, then pushed his way through the crowd to give his friends the good news.

*****

Chapter Eighteen

The caravan of
cars and trucks
rolled down Highway 103, their headlights stabbing through the pitch darkness. 

Except for the tremendous glow on the horizon that they had been watching for over an hour.

“Jesus Christ,” said the driver.  “That’s gotta be a hell of a fire.
  Looks like it musta charred the whole city of
Concord
.
”

“No doubt,” said the man in the seat
directly behind
him.  “Jason, zoom out on that GPS.  See where it looks like it is.”

A few seconds later the boy responded.  “Looks like it’s square in the middle of
Concord
.”

“Shit,” said the driver.  “W
onder w
hat the hell happened?”

“
Maybe lightning started it. 
When it rains, it pours,” said the other man.  “What now?”

“There are a lot of people there from what
Sheridan
said,” said Tony Mallette.  “Nick, we might need to take a different approach.
  This might be a rescue mission rather than a
drop in and live on your street
mission.
”

The ten vehicles from the ZFZ safe
houses rolled on
through the night.  Snow had been heavy in
Shelburne
,
Vermont
, and despite the fact that Ryan Carville was dead and his band of thugs no longer ruled the streets, supplies were as low as the spirits of Tony’s companions.

Tony had called a meeting with all of the Zombie Free Zone house residents, and after some long, difficult back and forth debating, they had made a decision. 
When a break in the weather presented itself, they
would be
ready
to roll
.  Day or night.

And it
just so happened to be night.  It was late March, and the snow had become less and less frequent, finally melting enough to make some decent time.  The entire run was under four hours, even with the potential road blockages, so it was a matter of making the decision and hitting the road.

The line of vehicles carried all of the refugees who had decided that
Concord
would be a safer place to live
.

Ten minutes later,
the procession
reached Route 3 and headed south.  The land was smoldering, but it appeared the northw
esterly wind had driven the fire
quickly south
.  The roads ahead of them were passable, and the flames small enough now not to be a danger to their vehicles.

“The trees went up like matchsticks,” said Jason.  “Wow.”

“Watch out, Tony
!
” said Nick
, pointing
at an overturned bus.

“I see it, I see it,” said Tony, swerving his vehicle around it, then looking
behind him to make sure the rest of his modern
day
wagon train had followed suit.  Then something caught his eye.

“Get on the radio and tell them to stop,” said Tony.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Tony swung the Toyota Camry around and hung a left next to the bus and into the parking lot set back a few hundred feet from the road.  He came to a closed, chain link fence, and accelerated.

“What the hell are you doing, Tony?” shouted Nick, but it was too late.  The Camry barreled into the
gate
, tearing it from its hinges and
tossing it harmlessly
out of the way.

“Huh?” said Tony, smilin
g.
   “When I set my mind to something, right?”

Nick shook his head, and Jason was laughing.
  Tony drove on, the group behind him following.  When he made the right turn in the parking lot proper, he
stopped, looked at Nick and Jason and
gave a whoop.

“Bingo!” he said.  “We’re gonna roll into
Concord
li
ke
goddamned
knights in shining armor!”