The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (102 page)

Charlie turned to the prison zombie on the gurney.  “Wow,” she said.  “I hadn’t seen her yet.  She’s almost pretty, Hemp.”

“She’s very well preserved.  Do you see anything these two have in common?” asked Hemp.

He had seen it right away, and many things had gone through his mind.

“They’re both female and they’re both fairly young,” said Charlie.  “That’s all I see.”

She walked over to the one on the gurney.  “Yeah, that’s about all I see.

“There are three, so far.  They seem to rest when idle, they are both female, and they are approximately the same age,” said Hemp. 

“Anything else?” asked Charlie.

“Not sure.  The one in the red dress was sprayed with urushiol.  Can you detect where?”

Red Dress stood inside the acrylic box, staring outward.  She did not gnash, nor did she moan or growl.  Her eyes were open and pink.  Her teeth were yellowed, but not rotting from her gums, and her hands and skin, while darkened, was not chunking off or heavily blistered and covered with pustules. 

“I can’t tell, Hemp.  Are you sure?  Normally that melts them into nothing.”

“It got her in the face and neck,” said Hemp.  “Dave was spraying it around and got careless.”

“That’s not good, babe,” said Charlie.  “This shit
has
to kill them or all we’ve got is WAT-5, and that’s not a weapon.  It’s more of a shield.”

“It does kill most of them, Charlie.  We have to figure out why it didn’t kill her.”

“It had damned sure better keep killing the ratz.  Guns are wasted on them.”

“I didn’t even think of that,” said Hemp.

“Let’s mist the other one with it,” said Charlie.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Should we get her inside with Red Dress first?”

“Yes.  I want to see if they mimic one another or exhibit similar behavior.”

Hemp looked at the one on the table and leaned close to her face.  Her blue eyes stared back, obscured by red, but intent on his.  Her lips were parted enough to see that her teeth were also in fair shape, and her skin was also in similar condition to the other one. 

Hemp once again analyzed her hair, and while some was gone, most remained.  It was impossible to know whether the missing hair had been pulled out by her own hands during the change from human to zombie, or if another of the zombies – perhaps a guard or another inmate – ripped it out for her.  It was possible their transformations began while somewhere else in the prison, and the prison staff was able to corral some of them back into their cells before everything went to hell.

“Let’s unstrap her,” said Hemp.

Charlie got on the other side and slowly unbuckled the ankle strap.  They rolled the gurney next to the acrylic door and locked the roller wheels.

Once the hip and chest straps were off, they released the head strap.  The last two wrist cuffs were released, and Hemp and Charlie lifted her into a sitting position.  Her feet hit the floor and she stood.

She did not fight or attack.  They led her to the acrylic room and put her inside.

Red Dress did not approach the doors.

Once she was inside, Hemp closed the door and locked it again.

“I fucking
hate
that,” said Charlie.  “I keep thinking any second they’re going to turn on me and eat my ass.”

“That would be my job,” said Hemp.

“How did you know I’m horny right now?”

“I didn’t know.  Well, beyond the fact that you’re pretty much always horny, I didn’t have specific knowledge of your particular horniness at this moment in time.”

“Cut the scientific shit.  There is a time and place for that,” she said, looking at her wristwatch.  “Well, you are on official notice that at this moment, which would be 3:25 PM on whatever the hell day it is right now, that I am horny as fuck.”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” said Hemp, smiling.

Charlie eyed the door of the lab.  She went to it, peeled back the curtains, and looked.  “Clear.”

“What?  Oh, Charlie.  Here?  In front of them?”

“Lights out, babe.  They won’t see a thing.”

“Where?”

She nodded at the clean gurney that had not held the zombie.  “Right there.”

“It’s not going to be completely dark,” said Hemp.

Charlie pulled her tee shirt off and dropped it onto the floor.  She smiled at Hemp as she lifted her feet, pulled the laces and kicked off her shoes, one at a time. 

“Very pert,” he said.

“I’m twenty-six,” she said, pulling the nitrile gloves off and dropping them into a stainless wastebasket.  She followed by unbuckling the drop holster and placing it with the gun on the stainless steel countertop.

“Hell yes, you are.”  Hemp pulled off his own gloves with two quick snaps and followed suit.  He went to her and put his arms around her, sliding them up her back, then around to cup her breasts in his hands.  Between his fingers, her nipples grew hard and firm, and he bent forward and took them in his mouth, one by one, closing his teeth on each gently.

Hemp felt her legs go shaky beneath her.

“Jesus, baby,” she breathed.  “I could put out your eye with these.  They’re so hard they hurt.”

“If I must wear eye protection, I will” joked Hemp, smiling.  “But just remember, this lab is not zoned for industrial processes, so no cutting glass with those.”

Charlie combined a laugh with a sigh and pulled away, undoing her jeans as she hopped to the window pulling them down on the way.  She pulled down the shade, hobbled to the other window with her jeans now around one leg, and pulled that shade down, too.  She turned, standing only in her socks and underwear.

“You look so much better than weird old Mr. Timpson, who used to mow his lawn in a similar getup,” said Hemp.

“If you haven’t noticed, my lawn is mown, trimmed and edged.  I don’t need a fucking gardener right now.  I need a biological expert.”  She hopped to the gurney, pulling off one sock at a time.  She lay on her back, fluffing the tiny pillow and putting it beneath her head.

“I see that.”  Hemp took off his shoes and went to her.  It wasn’t very dark, but the zombies were behind them and completely forgotten at that point.

Hemp unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulders, and then followed with his pants and underwear.

“Baby, you didn’t need to take off everything,” said Charlie, her eyes glazed as she looked up at him.  “What if someone knocks.”

“They won’t,” said Hemp.  He lowered his face to hers and kissed her mouth, long, swirling and slow.  He moved down to her neck, kissed her below her ears, down to her collarbone, and then found her nipples again.

Beneath his tender touch, Charlie arched her back, raising her stomach up, and Hemp ran his open palms over her belly, kissing the place where his baby grew inside her.  He placed his cheek against the smooth skin to feel her warmth.

He kissed his way down until he felt her stiffen beneath him, and did not stop until she was shuddering at the slightest touch.  Her cries filled the RV, and when she had climaxed, she spread her arms wide and looked like a rag doll.

“Oh, my God, Hemp!  They did
not
teach you that shit in England!”  She sat up, still shaky.  “Lay back.”

She got up and Hemp lay on his back.  She crawled over him, straddling, and lowered herself onto him.

He whispered in her ear, “I learned that at American university.”

“Shut up,” she said, sitting upright, facing him, her hands sliding up and down his chest.  She moved her hips forward and back, and Hemp’s hips rose to meet her every move and thrust.  It did not take long for Hemp to explode beneath her, and pull her down tight to him.

They would have probably fallen asleep like that had the zombies not gone crazy.

The first dead woman’s outcry was tremendous.  It came as if from a horror movie where a young co-ed was surprised by Jason himself.  Both Hemp and Charlie were so shocked and startled, they fell from the gurney to the linoleum floor.

The two females slammed into the acrylic wall, clawing and biting at the clear plastic, pressing so hard against it, it was as though they believed they could come through it.

Fortunately, Charlie had landed on top of Hemp, so her fall was cushioned.

“What the hell is wrong with them?” asked Charlie.

“Are you okay?” asked Hemp.

“I think so, but what’s going on?”

Hemp pulled on his pants, forgoing the underwear for now, and Charlie did the same thing.  They both went to a window and pulled up the shade.  Charlie pulled her shirt back on backwards and inside out with shaking hands.

The two female zombies were still fighting to get to them, teeth gnashing, full vapor emitting from their eyes, and screaming.

“Charlie, the vapor!  Grab the masks!”

Charlie ran to the opposite wall and slipped the masks from the pegs, throwing Hemp one.  They both pulled them on.

In a muffled voice, Hemp said, “Six hours passed, Charlie.”

“Crap!” she said.  “I even said the time, but it didn’t register!”

Hemp and Charlie approached the cage, watching them.  They stood together, side-by-side, staring at their captives.

And without any indication of communication, the zombies moved to opposite sides of the cage, still facing them, still trying to get at them, but now from opposite sides.  Red Dress was on Charlie’s left side, and Blue Eyes was on Hemp’s right.

“Are they . . . attempting to surround us?” asked Hemp.

“Is this what you noticed?” asked Charlie.

“The flanking in the church.  I noticed that, but . . . I always felt it could have been just a lucky division of the group of zombies.  You know, when they came down the two side aisles and the center.”

“They’re making a mess of the cage,” said Charlie.  “Let’s leave them, go have a shower and take some more WAT-5.”

Hemp knew she was right.  Nothing could be done with them in a state of hunger, so they had to take more.

“You’re right.  We can’t open the cage and spray her with the urushiol unless we’re on it anyway,” said Hemp.  “But we can try this.”

He pulled her gun from the holster on the table and held it out toward the cage.

They both backed away.  Clear to the back of the room.

“The gnashing and the vapor is involuntary,” said Hemp.  “So is the desire for our flesh, and the urge to come and get us.  But their awareness of danger and self-preservation instincts indicate an awareness of some kind, so advancing on us is apparently something they can suppress when in their best interest.”

Charlie turned her head toward him.  “Hemp, are you kidding?  Aren’t you giving them too much credit?”

“I need to test them,” said Hemp. 

“For what?”

“It’s just a hunch, but I want to test them for pregnancy.”

Charlie just stared.

*****

Chapter Five

Flex and Dave barely made it to the state house.  The roads were filled with zombies and ratz, and the city that lay before them held little resemblance to the one into which they had arrived a few months earlier.

What a difference a day makes.  For the second time in a year.

“This is fucked,” said Flex.  “We’re here because it’s safe, and now it’s the same as everywhere else.”

“It’s worse, Flex, I hate to tell you,” said Dave.

The gate was open.  No guards protected the state house.  Flex plowed into five zombies, using the cow catcher to sweep them either under or aside, whatever fate befell them.  It didn’t matter either way to him. 

Dead is dead – again.

As they passed, Dave threw his arm out and popped rounds into the heads of the creatures still writhing on the ground.

“I don’t want to dick around here too long, Flex.”

“I know.  We’ve got to get to Serena and Lisa.”

“Yeah, like now,” said Dave.

Flex slammed the brakes, and Dave caught himself with a hand against the dash.

“Sorry, bud.  Thought you were belted.”

“I always wear it,” said Dave.  “Just didn’t think of it – you know, other shit on my mind.”

“Got it.”

Flex hit the button on the radio.  “Kev, Jacko, Whit – where are you?”

No answer.

“Think they got their hands full?” asked Flex.

“Probably.  Fuck, Flex!  Look behind us!”

Flex did.  He didn’t like it at all.  If he had to estimate, he’d put the count of walking dead entering the gates of the state house at forty or more.

Dave jumped on the gun and Flex hit the B switch on the GPS screen.  The sight came into view, and Dave held down the trigger and panned the approaching horde, the hot shell casings peppering both men, causing them to wince in anticipation of the next scorching brass projectile.

Like a sick shooting gallery, their heads began exploding right to left, and as they went down, the walkers behind them staggered over the downed bodies and kept on coming.  This climbing and crawling only served to put their heads at various levels, making it harder to shoot them effectively.  Soon enough they were back up and moving at full height.

“Damn, that gun’s loud today!” shouted Flex over the rattling AK-47.  He knew Dave likely hadn’t heard a thing he’d said, so he just drove for all he was worth.

“For fuck’s sake, don’t jam now!”  said Dave, ejecting one cartridge and locking in another.  “We’re making headway!”

Dave locked in the first round and began firing anew.

“Hold on, Dave!” yelled Flex, over the cacophony.  “I have to get farther back.”

“Fuck that, Flex!  Just get the hell out of here, would you?  We can’t kill them all anyway, and we have to find Lisa and Serena!”

Flex nodded.  Dave was right.  They could be here all day, but if the girls needed them, it wouldn’t wait.  These bastards would keep indefinitely.  He fired the engine and spun the wheel, flooring it.  The truck fishtailed left and shot dirt and rocks outward, peppering the nearest zombies in the face and eyes.

Dave blasted them with the AK-47, causing black brain-matter to rain down from the sky.

Flex’s tires hit the hill of zombie bodies and flew upward, landing atop a three-foot pile of crushed and struggling men and women who refused to give up and who would only die at another’s hand.  The big crew cab lurched forward a few inches more, then stopped as the engine revved to maximum RPM.

The truck had high-centered on a pile of them, and Dave looked at Flex, his eyes wide.

“Dude!  What the hell?”

Flex gunned the engine, but the engine screamed and the wheels spun in mid-air, unable to provide forward momentum.

Thrashed hands missing fingernails, and in some cases entire digits, pounded and clawed at the doors and windows, and Flex had a horrible feeling that the doors would pull open and they would be inundated with the dead, stinking human husks.

“Reload it, dude!” shouted Dave, abandoning the empty gun.  He leapt over the seat into the back, and as he did so, the truck slowly began tilting toward the rear.

Flex saw it was working.  But not enough.  He lifted the forty-pound ammo box from the front and threw it into the back seat. 

The truck tilted more.  Flex gunned the engine.  The rear tires were still off the ground.  He slammed a new mag into the AK-47 and cleared out the twenty or so zombies clinging to the sides.

“My ears are shot!” said Flex. 

“Recline your seat, Flex!” shouted Dave.  “I can’t counter your weight, brother!”

“What?” shouted Flex. “Fuck if I can hear a thing!”

Suddenly Flex’s seatback flipped all the way down behind him, and his hands pulled from the steering wheel, his eyes staring up at the headliner of the truck.

“Hit the gas!” Dave screamed.

“I can’t fuckin’ see!”

“Just hit it!  You were clear last time I looked!”

Flex threw his body forward briefly, grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and jammed his foot onto the gas pedal.  The Chevy rocketed forward, up and over the mound of bodies that had, just moments before, rendered its wheels useless.

Flex held himself up with both hands clutching the steering wheel as the truck chewed up the bodies beneath his undercarriage.  His arms had quickly grown exhausted with no backrest, and with another press of the pedal, the truck bounced over several more of the determined creatures.  Just as he felt he would lose his tentative grip, he felt the seatback slam forward, meeting his back, and he relaxed, flooring the pedal again.

Dave bounced off the back seat at the unexpected G-force, then adjusted and scrambled back over the seatback, sitting beside Flex, huffing and puffing.  He smiled big, got back on the gun, and started firing again.

Flex smiled despite himself.  Dave Gammon could have his intense moments, but for the most part he was having a ball.

Flex’s truck was in the clear in another twenty yards.  He looked in the rear view mirror and saw the carnage behind him.  Dave stopped firing the AK and fell back in his seat, breathing hard.  He looked at Flex and laughed until he cried.

“You should’ve seen your fuckin’ face when you fell backward.  It was like an ogre getting upended by an elf.”

“That was a great idea, Dave.  You saved our asses back there.”

“I’ve got a few physics tricks up my sleeve,” said Dave.  “I may not have been good in school, but I always got the whole fulcrum thing, thanks to seesaws.  Dude, that was some great driving.”

“Let’s go find your women,” said Flex.  “And you better buckle up again, man.  Fuckin’ traffic in this town is way unpredictable.”

*****

The shower felt great, and Hemp was more relaxed than he’d been in a week.  He could thank Charlie for that.

He was also more concerned than he’d been in six months.  It was one thing fighting a single-minded adversary; one that had no idea they were about to die for the final time – an enemy that saw you not as an enemy at all, but food. 

It was quite another to fight an enemy that did not die easily, but that could strategize, recognize danger, and move to avoid it.  It made the element of surprise important.  Something they hadn’t had to concern themselves with.

Hemp waited for Charlie to throw her shirt of the day on.  She had been out with Gem, and they’d found a tee-shirt place on the outskirts of town.  Hemp hadn’t seen any of the new ones, but he was waiting with anticipation.

Charlie was enjoying it as much as he was.

“You ready?” she said from around the corner.

“Never ready, but dying to see you.”

“Ta da!” she shouted, and jumped out from behind the door, her hands in the air.

Her shirt was long-sleeved and yellow, and on the front it had a woman holding a meat cleaver, a huge open-mouthed smile on her face.  The caption below read:
You can’t have manslaughter without laughter!

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,” said Hemp, laughing.

“A lot of my other shirts have sexual overtones,” said Charlie.  “This one just seems to work.”

“What works?” asked Gem from the couch.

“Ah, she’s awake!” said Charlie.  “Hey, baby.”  She sat next to Gem on the sofa.  “How you doing?”

“God, I needed that nap,” she said.  “I was wiped.”

“Well, take more WAT-5 now that you’re up.  We’ve already done it.  We got caught short in front of the ladies.”

Gem sat up and hugged Charlie, resting her head on her shoulder.  “What ladies?” she mumbled into Charlie’s neck.

“The zombie ladies,” said Charlie.  “Lucky we didn’t have them out.  I was horny.  Wasn’t on top of my game.”

“I know!” said Gem.  “This pregnancy sure doesn’t kill that, does it?”

“Maybe for them a bit,” said Charlie, sticking out her still flat stomach.

“Yeah.  That.”

“Don’t underestimate a man’s ability to overlook some things when necessary,” said Hemp.  He immediately wondered if he’d worded it offensively.

“Shit turns you on and you know it,” said Gem.  “Okay.  What time is it?  How long have the boys been gone?”

“Little over an hour and a half,” said Charlie, checking her watch.

“Wow.  I was only out that long?  I feel like I’ve had six hours.”

Charlie went into the kitchen and got another wafer from the refrigerator.  She gave it to Gem.  “Eat, sleep, wake, then call Flex and Dave.”

“I hope they found our girls,” said Gem, chewing slowly.  “Yech.”

She fell back and went out.

“She’s safe,” said Charlie.  “I’m tempted to leave her there, but Trina and Taylor might wake up.”

Within two minutes, Gem was on her feet, wobbly but protected and awake.

“We’re going back out,” said Hemp.  “We have some important tests to run.”

“Well, good luck to you then,” said Gem.  “I want a full report if it’s good news.”

“And if it’s bad?” asked Charlie, smiling.

“Hey.  I’m pregnant, and I don’t need that crap.  Keep it to yourself.”

“Yeah.  I’ll try that.  Wake the girls or they’ll be up all night.”

“You really think they’re sleeping up there?” asked Gem.  “Guarantee there’s a game of Fuck Off going.”

After checking the peephole and seeing the coast was clear aside from fewer than a dozen ratz, Hemp led the way, spraying them with urushiol and clearing a path.

They got back to the mobile lab without incident.

What they saw when they entered made them stop in their tracks.

The two zombie women sat on the floor, cross-legged, facing one another.  Their hands were limp in their laps.  They stared straight ahead.

Both their heads turned at once.

Their hands moved together, pressing against the ground.

They stood, as if synchronized, and faced Hemp and Charlie.

“There are so many chills running down my spine right now,” said Charlie in a whisper, “that I think it’s more chill than spine.”

“I’m right there,” said Hemp, his voice almost inaudible.  Hemp looked at Charlie’s belt and saw the urushiol bottle hanging there.  He had an idea.

“Turn away from them, Charlie.  I will, too.”

They did.  Slowly, they turned until their bodies were facing away from the caged woman-things.

“Take the urushiol from your belt and hold on to it.  As I walk forward, I want you to back up toward the cage along with me.  Stay right with me.”

“I think I get it.  What if it kills her?”

“Then I’m wrong anyway, and it won’t matter much,” said Hemp.

“Blue Eyes or Red Dress?”

“Blue Eyes.”

“Got it.”

Hemp turned and walked to the drawer, withdrew two pairs of nitrile gloves and put them on.  He gave the other pair to Charlie and stood beside her again.

“Okay.  Let’s do it.  Do we need masks?”  She touched her stomach.

“We’re on the WAT-5, so I don’t believe so,” said Hemp. 

He turned and stepped toward the containment room.  The things stared at him, their eyes dead but somehow wary.  Blue Eyes’ fingers twitched.

Hemp withdrew his key ring from his pocket, sorted through until he found the right key and inserted it into the lock.  He turned it.  Charlie stood right beside him in front of the door, with just enough room for him to pull it open.

“I don’t want her to see the bottle,” said Hemp.  I want you to turn suddenly and hit her with it.  A good spray.”

“Just say when,” she said.

“Now!”

He yanked the door and Charlie spun around suddenly, holding out the spray bottle.  The zombies recoiled, but too late.  The mist got both of them, and they staggered backward, away from the door and all the way to the far, solid wall of the RV.