The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (120 page)

She
told them that was the case. 

She told them to attack.

Flex had disabled several, and as he turned, he saw the creatures that had been on the roof now coming around both far corners of the building. 

And they had a new leader.

This woman also looked well-preserved.  She had dark hair that hung down in ringlets.  She walked in the front center of the group, somehow less jerky; slower yet precise.

Her eyes glowed red in the closing darkness, and those with her matched her speed.

Hemp was relieved he had Corn Silk’s head.  He had to analyze her brain.  If it was even possible, she seemed to have more abilities than either Red Dress or Blue Eyes.

Flex yelled out the window.  “Kev, do your best to get to your feet!  Grin and bear it, but get your ass into a standing position if you want to live through this shit!”

Flex continued to circle the dumpster, running down as many zombies as he could hit.  Where Hemp could get a clean shot, he took it.

Hemp watched, and saw the left lid of the dumpster move up, then close again.  Then it lifted and kept on lifting until it flipped over.

Reeves stood there, his expression pinched, and one hand holding his ribcage.

Hemp jumped over the seat into the back and unrolled the driver’s side window.

“Flex!” said Hemp.  “Pull up right beside the dumpster.  Right next to it.  I’ll pull him through the window.”

“Got it,” said Flex, and he cranked around and pulled up beside where Kev stood.  He moved a few more inches forward, and Kev held out his arms.

“Grit your teeth, Kev,” said Hemp, grabbing him.  He pulled him over the narrow sill and Kev assisted with his knees as they got on top of the dumpster rim.  Before Kev’s feet were completely inside, Flex gassed it and jammed toward the parking lot exit.

“What about … no zombie left … alive?” asked Reeves, panting and wheezing.

“I’m just glad
we’re
alive,” said Flex.  “Policy’s on hold for now.”

Reeves nodded, closing his eyes.

Hemp reached into his pocket and withdrew the water bottle.  Within, the vapor glowed crimson.  His mind turned to Corn Silk’s head, now rolling around in the truck bed behind them.

One or the other had better help him devise a new strategy to stop this … what was the word?

And then he realized what it was.

It was
evolution
.

****

Chapter Twelve

Gem kept the headlights off as she led the two-car caravan with Louis at the wheel in the
Pontiac behind them.   Emma and Eddie rode along in the Crown Vic, and Ian and Mason rode with Louis. 

After some convincing, Charlie agreed to let Bunsen ride in the other car to ease up the congestion in the front seat of the Ford.

The girls together took the space of a single person, and there was plenty of room for them and the two young adults in the back seat.  To their relief, neither had awoken when Eddie and Emma slid in beside them, nudging their slight, little girl bodies toward the center of the seat.

Gem was not certain just how customized the interior of the Crown Vic was, because she’d never driven one besides this fortified CDC model.  She was fairly certain the front bench seat was custom, though.  It was the only reason Slider – who was no longer anywhere near puppy-sized – could ride up front with Gem and Charlie.

Gem drove agonizingly slow.  It was a speed she had not intended to become intimately familiar with until she was in her nineties, and even then she had a feeling she’d still be a lead footed old lady.

But for now, they had a purpose, and it was ever so important.  In the back seat,  Emma and Eddie took turns with a 12 volt, two million candlepower spotlight, shining it on the shrubs and in the street on either side of the car as it inched its way forward.

An identical spotlight was in use in the GTO.  If any clue to where the horde had gone were to be found in the moonless night, the light might reveal it.

Every now and then Gem looked down at the lighter plug, currently occupied with the power plug for the spotlight.  Damned thing only served to remind her that she hadn’t had a cigarette in months.

Damned baby
, she thought, smiling.  She enjoyed it when her mind turned to the baby growing inside of her.  Most of the time, anyway.  Sometimes the thoughts were frightening, but she had grown to trust Dr. Scofield, and he assured her all was well.

As much as she needed him to assure her, Doc was willing.  Gem knew Charlie appreciated it, too.  The Doc was a truly good man.

Ian’s voice interrupted the silent search.   “Hey Gem, do you mind turning that gun away from us?  It’s making Louis nervous.  He doesn’t even have a driver’s license.”

Charlie smiled and picked up the radio.  “I’m on the gun, but right now I’m using it as a camera.  I need to make sure you guys are okay.”

“Don’t shoot,” said Ian.

“Never,” said Charlie.  “And Louis?”

“Yes?”

“I hereby grant you your license.  You should receive it in the mail in four to six weeks.”

“Nice,” said Louis.  “I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

“Don’t waste your time,” said Gem.  “Instead, keep an eye out for any signs that a large group passed this way.  We’ll go like three blocks.  If we don’t see anything, we’ll backtrack and take the next street over from the same point.”

“Good plan,” said Charlie.

They drove the three blocks and saw nothing.

“What are you looking for?” Eddie asked.

“We’re looking for clothing, shoes, severed heads, anything,” said Gem.  “This is an unkempt group, and shit falls off ‘em now and then.”

“I think I just saw something at the last street!” said Emma.

Gem eased on the brake, watching the rear view mirror.  To her great relief, the GTO stopped smoothly behind her.  “What was it, Suzi?”

“I think it was a sleeve or something.  I’m not sure.”

“Flip a tit,” said Eddie.

“I hate that,” said Emma.

“Sorry,” said Eddie, sarcastically.  “
U-turn
.”

As Gem did exactly that, Charlie leaned over the back of her seat and said, “If you two don’t stop the banter, people will say you’re in love.”

“WTF?” asked Eddie.

“Facebook’s gone,” said Gem.  “You may now feel free to just say
what the fuck
.”

“Just keeping the dream alive,” said Eddie, a smile in his voice. 

“Over there,” said Emma.  “Yeah, right there, on the right.  See?  On the corner, on that hedge.”

“Keep the spots moving, and let me know if I need to worry,” said Charlie, opening the car door.  “Gem, be ready with your gun.” 

Before getting out, Charlie pressed the button on her radio.  “Nobody else should fire unless we give you the go ahead.  If anyone sees anything, Gem or I will handle it.”

Nobody said anything, but Gem swore she heard disappointed moans from the other vehicle.

Charlie slid out of the Crown Vic and pulled her crossbow out, switched on the LED light strapped to it, and scanning the streets, approached the hedge.  She reached it, leaned forward and reached out.

She gripped the thing in the hedge and struggled for a moment to free it.  When she turned back toward the car, she held a human arm.

Complete with attached hand.

Her wrinkled nose and grimace told the whole story.  Charlie tossed it into the yard beyond, and jogged back to the car wiping her hand on her jeans. 

It was  more of a strained jog.

She got inside, and Gem said, “You may not be showing yet, but that fetus really takes the runner out of you, doesn’t it, sweetie?”

“Ha ha,” Charlie said.  “That whole hedge is thorny.  One of the bastards probably got his arm caught.”

“Ah,” said Eddie.  “The downfalls of walking around while you’re dead.”

Charlie pointed.  “It looked like the arm was headed this way.  It was a left arm, and the direction fits.”

The moon was non-existent, and yet there seemed to be areas of pitch darkness even blacker than the rest.  A complete absence of light, which made the soul feel, Gem thought, as though it would reject goodness.

“I don’t like this shit much,” she said aloud.

“Don’t get jumpy on me, bitch,” said Charlie.

Gem forced a smile.  “I don’t like the dark.  Not when things can hide in it.”

Just as the words left her lips and hung in the air of the Ford’s interior, forty or more pink and scarlet-colored lights appeared, hovering in the air like fireflies.

They hovered over the street.

“What the hell is that?” asked Emma

“I’m guessing,” whispered Eddie, “that they’re zombie eyes.”

“My guess too,” said Charlie, her voice equally hushed.  “Hit the headlights, Gem.”

Gem turned them on.  As they watched, more and more of them flooded into the street ahead, no more than two hundred yards away. 

Gem hit the high beams and grabbed the radio from the seat.  “Louis, have somebody light up that spotlight, now.  Shine it right at them and move it back and forth.  You too, Eddie.”

Gem spun the gun around, but the light revealed more and more of them pouring down Pearce Street.  They were moving toward them, as slow as the dead tended to move, but as steady as a lumbering freight train.

And at their feet were ratz.  Thousands of them.  Gem’s mouth hung open. 

“Gem,” said Charlie.  “We gotta go.  Now.”

“Absolutely.”

But she stared at the oncoming horde, even as it grew larger.  Like kids flooding out of a concert, the ragged former humans staggered up the street, men, women, children and ratz.  Apparently this street hadn’t had a good dousing of urushiol in too long, for the ratz were not slowing.  In fact, they had moved out a good twenty feet or so ahead of the growing group.

“Go, Gem!” said Charlie.  She reached up, spun the gun around, and fired, moving it side-to-side.  Many in the front of the throng dropped or fell backward, causing several others to trip and fall to the asphalt, too.

But it wasn’t enough.  It could never be enough.  For every five that fell, it seemed another fifty took their place.

“Now, Gem!  Go!”

Gem floored the Crown Vic and spun the wheel right, sliding the rear end around in a fishtail.  The GTO behind her did not lack power, but Louis wasn’t as sure behind the wheel, and his turn was slower.

But he made it.  Charlie turned the gun toward the rear again and monitored him on the GPS screen. 

They were putting distance between them and the zombies now, but finding Jimmy and Nikki was a distant memory; a failed plan.

“Where are we going to go?” asked Emma.

“Not to your house,” said Gem.  “They know where you live.”

“Are … are they controlling the ratz?” asked Eddie.

“I have no fucking idea,” said Charlie.  “But if they are, we are more screwed than I ever thought.”

Gem drove.  Charlie watched behind them. 

She checked the fuel gauge, just in case.

Still three-quarters full.

Gem wondered where in the hell her husband and his best friend were at that moment.

*****

Dave stared at the reflection of the flashing red light in the window.  Darkness had fallen completely, and there was no moon tonight.  It was the only light he could see.

Serena sat beside him, their bodies touching from shoulder to knee.  The temperature had fallen into the thirties, and Dave realized he’d worried about everything but that.

“I wonder if they get more sluggish in the cold,” he said.  “Lisa and I saw them in that building that night, but we never had to fight them.”

“They don’t get tired, or even exhausted for that matter.  I wouldn’t chance it.  Cuddle me.”

“My ass is cold, for Christ’s sake,” said Dave.  “Damned concrete.”

“If you had some meat on there, you might be better off,” she said.  “Maybe you should sit in my lap.”

“Have you got your headlamp?  Give it here.”

“Got an idea?”

“Yeah.  I’ll have to trash my silencer, but it might be worth it.”

“I’m all ears,” said Serena.

Dave got up and walked across the small, one-room building and looked out the opposite window.  He cupped her headlamp in his hand and flipped the switch to a solid red light.

The bars were on the inside of the glass and were attached with screws designed for tightening only.

He turned and sighed.  “They’re like those damned screws they put bathroom stalls together with.”

“Can you maybe work something around it?” asked Serena.

“Don’t have pliers.”

“Are the bars tight?  It looks like an awfully old building.  Plus the bars are rusted.”

Something hit Dave suddenly.  He tip-toed again and looked out.

“There are no zombies on this side.  Not a one.”

Serena scrambled to her feet and joined him.  She peered out.

“Jesus.  We need to figure a way out of here before our WAT-5 runs completely out and we’re a smorgasbord for these crazies.  And it’s not looking like anyone’s coming anytime soon.”

Dave gave the lamp to Serena and grabbed one of the bars with both hands, shaking it.

It squealed slightly, but it moved.

“Did you see that, Serena?”

“I’m right here, David,” she said, smiling.

“I know.”

He shook it again.  This time it felt as though it moved farther.

“Here.  Hold the light up again.”

He inspected the screws again, and this time they were raised approximately a 32
nd
of an inch.

He shook the bars yet again.  Hard, with quick, sudden jerking movements forward and back.  Then he turned sideways and jerked them hard side-to-side.

“Light,” he said.

The screws were now up about a 16
th
of an inch.

“Serena …” he said.  “I call shotgun.”

“Counting chickens,” she said.

“It’s confidence,” said Dave.  “If they don’t get to this side of the building, we’d better starting thinking about what we’re going to do when we crawl through.”

“How are you going to break the glass?”

“They can’t hear.  It won’t matter.”

Behind them a sharp crack sounded.  They both turned.

“Is that … Jesus, is that a crack?” asked Dave.  He walked to the window and tentatively reached out to touch it.  He turned back.  “It is.  We have to get the hell out of here.”

As he watched, a female hand rose up and clawed at the glass.  Then it pounded. It did this at least four times before lowering again.

Dave had no desire to see the face of the one working the glass.  He ran back across the room and grabbed the bars again, shaking them furiously until he felt the bottom come free.

“Got it!” he said, pushing the bars upward, then down, working the top screws loose.

Three more hard pulls, and the bars came off in his hand.