The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (30 page)

I noticed that Charlie was looking at Hemp like a proud girlfriend, which I guess is exactly what she was.  I resisted an urge to reach out and pinch both their cheeks.

“You gotta teach me that,” Flex said.  “No shit, and soon.”

Hemp slipped the lock from the chain and rolled the gate open wide enough for all the vehicles to drive through.

“If someone locked it from the inside,” Max said, “they’re still there.  Hopefully an uninfected did it for protection.”

“Good point, Max,” I said.  “Unless he or she was bitten or scratched before they got in here, then all bets are off.”  My hands tensed around the gun.

“Just be on guard everyone,” said Flex. 

We got back in our vehicles and drove in.  After Hemp drove the mobile lab and trailer inside, Flex jumped out of the Suburban and secured the gate again.

We pulled the caravan up to the building’s bay doors and parked.  This time we had to let Bunsen, our Great Pyrenees, as well as all the pups out for a potty break.  They’d done very well on the ride, and hadn’t had much outside time.  The pups were frolicking around even as we were all on edge.  None of us could help but smile, though.  The innocence of ignorance could be refreshing.

Trina and Taylor ran around with them, and it was good to see smiles on their tired little faces, too.

After all the dogs eliminated and wore themselves out, Hemp and Cynthia got them rounded up and back in the lab.

“Cynthia,” I said.  “Since you’re the only one who doesn’t have any shooting experience, why don’t you wait in the Crown Vic for now.  We’ll come right out for you once we clear the building.  And don’t worry – you’re up for lessons once we get settled.”

“No problem,” she said.  “C’mon, girls.”

“I’m tired of being in the car,” said
Taylor.

“Me, too,” said Trina.

“It’s just for a minute, girls,” said Cynthia.  “No argument.”  She held the door and they reluctantly got back inside, frowns on their formerly smiling faces.  She closed it and got in the front seat.

“Be safe,” she said, before closing the door.

“We’ve come this far,” said Max.  “Wouldn’t do to let our guard down now.”

The access door beside the large bay door was also locked, but in seconds Hemp had that one open, too.

“Everyone be alert,” said Flex.

We went inside.

Skylights adorned the ceiling every ten feet or so, so daylight streamed in making the huge building quite visible.  Huge 5-tiered racks supported I-beams, angle iron, metal tubing, and steel channel from end to end along the back wall.  There was an enormous open area with several large work tables and a clear path to drive large vehicles in through the bay doors, though no trucks were currently parked inside.  We’d noticed some heavy diesel-powered delivery trucks outside in the lot, but all were unloaded for the weekend.

All of us had our weapons at ready, including Max, who had taken the Glock that Charlie handed him.

“Gem and I will get the left side and why don’t you three start at the middle and work your way toward the other side,” said Flex.  “Yell if you get in trouble.”

“That’s not a problem,” said Max.  “Yelling I’m good at.  Handguns, not so much.”

“Stick with Hemp and Charlie then,” I said.  “Nothing’ll get by them.”  I put my hand on Flex’s shoulder and we made our way toward the office.

A gunshot rang out, and I heard and felt a bullet whiz within inches of me and Flex.

“Hit the floor!” shouted Flex as we went flat on our bellies.

The bullet ricocheted several times in the cavernous building and Flex shouted, “Don’t shoot!  We’re not a threat!”

“I’ll decide who’s a threat and who’s not,” the voice came back from the direction of the office.  It sounded weak.  Another shot rang out and this time the bullet died more quickly, ricocheting only once.  It was harrowing not knowing where it would go after the first bounce.  We stayed flat.

“There are women in here!” I shouted, hoping to appeal to the frightened man’s sense of chivalry.  “We’re just looking for shelter, for fuck’s sake!”

“Then put those guns down and show yourselves,” the voice said again.  Yes, tired.  Exhausted.

Flex looked at us and nodded.  “Let’s do it.  We don’t know exactly where he is, so he’s got the advantage.”

We all put our weapons on the ground and stood, our hands in the air.

“We’re not here to hurt anyone,” offered Hemp.  “We’ve got two little girls waiting in the car, sir.  We’re not a threat.”

“Walk slowly toward the office,” the voice said.  “I won’t shoot.”

All of us moved to the office lined with windows.  It was approximately twenty feet wide and maybe fourteen feet deep and the glass was mostly mirrored, so we couldn’t see inside well enough to inspect the room beyond.

“Close enough,” the man said.  “One of you can come in.”

“I’ll go,” said Hemp.  “Let me tell him who I am and what we’re trying to do.”

Flex nodded.  Charlie looked scared for him.

“I’m coming in, sir.”

Hemp walked, his hands in the air, and stopped.  “I’m going to lower my hand to open the door.”

“That’s fine,” said the voice.

Hemp opened the door and went inside.  We stood there with our hands in the air and waited.  My fucking arms were tired, and I was not comfortable without my Uzi in my hands.  Five minutes passed and the door opened. 

Hemp walked over to us.  “You can put your arms down,” he said.  “He’s sick.  I think it was a heart attack.”

“Are you sure it’s not –” I began.

“It’s not that,” Hemp said quickly.  “No bites or scratches.  He told me what happened, and it sounds like he had a heart attack.”  Hemp lowered his voice.  “I don’t think he’s got much time.  His vital signs are very weak.”

We all looked at one another.  The uninfected were dropping like flies, one way or the other.

“Can we help him?  Make him comfortable, at least?” Flex asked.

Hemp nodded to us and we followed him inside the office.  The man was in his mid to late seventies with thinning grey hair.  The pallor of his skin told more of the story Hemp had shared.  He lay on a cot with a rifle cradled in the crook of his elbow, his breathing short and raspy.  His clothes seemed to be three sizes too large for his wasted frame, likely from lack of proper nutrition.

“He was shooting through that hole in the glass,” said Hemp. 

There was a tray on a low counter and a hole so that the person outside could speak to the person in the office, like a pay window at a 24-hour convenience store in a bad neighborhood.

“I’m sorry for shooting at you,” he said.  “Name’s Bill Rockford.  I’ve been shut in here for longer than I can remember now.  You’re the first people I’ve seen.  Got a little jumpy I suppose.”

“Can’t blame you,” said Max.  “We’ve been a bit jumpy ourselves.”

“What’s it like out there?” he asked.

Flex answered.  “Dangerous, Bill.  Scary dangerous.  Are you okay?”

“No,” he said bluntly.  “Not okay at all.  My wife tried to attack me, I don’t know where my kids are – they both live out of state and I couldn’t reach either one of them after this started.  I ran and got in my truck and drove straight here.  Lucky I made it.  The shit I saw on the way scared the crap out of me.”

He coughed hard, swallowed something, then continued.

“About a mile from here I got these chest pains and I almost crashed.  But I made it.  Haven’t been worth shit since, but I made it.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said.  I went to him and knelt beside him.

“I had to leave Kathy,” he said.  “She wasn’t my wife anymore.”  He started to cry, but only meager tears rolled out from his dehydrated body.  Bill shuddered as I put a hand on his shoulder and lied to him.

“It’s okay, Bill.  We’ll help you.”

He didn’t swallow my bullshit. 

“I’m not going to make it.  I know that.  But I didn’t want to get eaten, so this is the better alternative to that,” he said.

There was nothing to say.  Flex pulled a bottle of water from his belt and passed it to me.  I unscrewed the top and tilted it against Bill’s lips.  He drank it until the bottle was empty.

“You guys have free reign,” said Bill, wiping his mouth with one dirty sleeve.  “Anything you need.”

“The building’s clear I assume?” said Hemp.

“It is.  I’m alone.  Haven’t been outside, but the gate was locked when I got here, so I assume they’re not climbing over barbed wire yet.  I had a lot of water and sodas and some frozen burgers and a little propane grill.  I’ve been living on frozen hamburger patties.  I don’t think I’ve taken a shit in days.  All that fuckin’ meat.”

“Okay, Bill” said Flex.  “Thank you.  We’ll do what we can to help you.”

Hemp nodded at Flex and me, and motioned toward the door.

“Bill, we’ll be right back.   Do you guys want to go out and get Cynthia and the girls?”

Max and Charlie nodded and followed us out.  When we were alone, Hemp looked at us squarely.  “He
can
help us,” he said, his face grim.

“How?” I asked.

“When he passes,” said Hemp.  “As soon as he passes.   Immediately thereafter.”

“After?” I asked.

“His brain,” whispered Hemp.

Neither Flex nor I said anything.  We waited for him to explain.

“For my BSN.  I’ll need a baseline for the scent of a fresh brain.  I had no idea how I’d get one, but now this.”

“We need to ask him,” I said.  “I think I’d want to approve that before someone used mine.”

“Yeah,” Flex said.  “The ethical thing to do.”

“I just don’t know how to explain it to him,” said Flex.  “And I really don’t want to ask him now.  I think he’ll need to know us a bit better before I’d dare make such a bizarre request.”

“If he starts to get worse, then we’ll have to,” I said.  “Let’s just keep him comfortable and play it by ear.”

“Alright,” said Hemp.  “But it’s important.  If we let this opportunity get by us, we may not get another.”

*****

CHAPTER
EIGHT

The office was actually very nice inside, around 280 square feet with padded carpeting, beige fabric covered walls, a bathroom and a small kitchenette. 

Bill explained that the large propane tank outside was almost full when the outbreak hit, but that ran the emergency generator.  He didn’t want to use crucial propane for cooking, so he used the small propane grill in the main building for cooking his burgers.  There were at least forty of the small gas cylinders remaining.

We figured we could set up the office space as a living area eventually, and have a nice workshop inside with plenty of steel available for building defenses.  There were three welders of various types, several cutting torches and plenty of welding rods, helmets, gloves and other equipment.

We manually rolled up one of the electric bay doors using the chain gear and pulled all the vehicles inside.  Flex spun the suburban around and faced it outward just in front of the main door in case we needed to make a quick exit for any reason.  Just in case.

The place was dusty, though.  We didn’t need slight allergies blossoming into full-blown asthma, either for us or the girls, so we set about sweeping the place.  We found several 50lb bags of soy-based sweeping compound, so we put it in buckets and let Trina and Taylor have fun throwing it all over the floor while we followed, sweeping it back up.  It kept the dust down as advertised, and in two hours the huge concrete warehouse floor was clean.  It would be quite a job staying on top of it, though.

Charlie and Hemp unloaded all the food from the various vehicles and loaded it into the kitchenette.  We knew that our next visit had to be to a furniture store or a Wal-Mart to get beds and bedding.  We needed to have some kind of comfort if we were to live here for the long haul.

Flex finished pushing his broom to the wall, scooped up the sweeping compound with a wide shovel and dumped it into a 55 gallon drum.   I walked up behind him and dumped my dustpan in as well and he dropped the lid back on.

“We need a furniture run,” I said.  “Mama needs a bed.”

“Oh, mama does, does she?”

“When mama’s happy . . .”

“I know, I know.  Should we get a Select Comfort?”

I punched him.  “Fuck that.  Whatever firmness I like, you’ll have to live with.”

“Okay,” he said, looking around as he threw his arm over my shoulder.  “Let’s see if the GPS can tell us where we can find what we need.”

Hemp walked up with Charlie and Max.  Cynthia sat  at a picnic table set up on the other side of the office exterior playing checkers with the girls, who were ganging up on her, and cheating, as far as I could tell.  She didn’t seem to mind.

The GPS was charged, so Flex took it out of the Suburban and stood directly beneath one of the large skylights.  He fired it up and it located the satellites in less than a minute.

“Navigate to shopping.  See if you find furniture stores,” I said.

Flex punched some buttons, got to the right menu and hit the furniture stores category.

He raised his eyebrows.  “Bang, baby!  I got it.  Here.
Alabama Beds & Furniture.  In Center Point.”

“How far?” I asked.

“4.6 miles.  A hop, skip and a jump.”

I actually got goosebumps.  “Flexy, we’re going to sleep in a new bed tonight,” I sang.

“Yeah, with an audience,” he said, smiling.

“Next on the list is building sleeping quarters.  Steel, insulation and drywall.”  I smiled up at him and he kissed me.  I kissed him back.  “Heavy insulation and thick soundproofing.”

“The apocalypse hasn’t really affected your sex drive, has it?” he chided.

“Not so much,” I said.  “How many of us should go, you think?”

“We’re moving furniture, so how about you, me and the guys.”

“I don’t move furniture.  Friends don’t ask friends to help them move furniture.”

“You’re coming strictly for firepower.”

“Now you’re talking.  Let’s assemble the troops.  I’m thinking an ammo stop along the way.  If we pass a gun shop we’re in.”

Flex took my arm.  “Gem,” he said.  “There’s not very many of us, are there?”

“I don’t think so, baby.”

“Are we just biding our time?”

“Don’t talk like that, Flex.”

“I mean, really.  Unless this shit just peters out and these things fall over and don’t get back up, we’re doing all this for nothing.  With this ratio, I don’t see how we’ll ever kill them all.”

I heard him, I understood him.  I could not go there.

“Listen to me,” I said, taking both of his huge hands in mine.  “Every minute I have with you is a minute of pleasure on this earth, and the forces I have to face to get that minute are worth facing if I get even one more.”

I pulled his face down to mine and I kissed him again.  “So please, give me no defeatist crap, Flex Sheridan.  I’d face Martians, vampires, werewolves, and yes, even zombies to spend that next minute with you.  And you’d better feel the same about me.  We didn’t deal the hand but we have to play the cards we have.  Now shut up and let’s go get me a bed.”

He laughed out loud and did what I said.

*****

Before hitting the road we loaded up more full magazines for the K7s mounted on the Suburban.  We hadn’t fixed the no-kill zone directly in front of the hood yet, but we figured we’d be able to handle anything we might run into with the four of us.

It was pretty clear that Charlie didn’t like being left behind, but we needed someone with weapons ability to stay with the others and she got that.  She kissed Hemp goodbye and gave the rest of us a wave as we pulled into the yard, lowering the bay door behind us when we cleared it.

After leaving the yard and relocking the gate, we turned whenever the sexy GPS voice told us to.  What she didn’t say was “There is a row of zombies on your left in one mile.”

Because that would’ve been incorrect.  There was a row of zombies on the left
and
the right side of the road in one mile.  And just a few in the middle.

“Jackpot,” said Flex.  “Hemp, I’m starting to regret not having windows.”

“Where in the bloody hell did they all come from?”

“Professor Chatsworth, look at them,” said Max.  “I’d guess from the cemetery.”

Max was right.  Several had tattered clothing on if any at all.  Most of the clothing remains were either formal or semi-formal, the type that most of us would be buried in.  Our finest.

“Fucking diggers,” I said, sliding over to the starboard gun.  I checked the clip and swung it into position.

“Don’t slow down,” said Hemp, his MP5 already out the window.

Max had grabbed another MP5 from our arsenal.  We were well-prepared to take them out, but the damned head-on zombies would be a challenge.

“Buckle in, people,” said Flex, his face grim.  He set his mouth in a thin line and gunned the engine, racing toward the group.  The ones on the side of the road all watched our progress but if they could smell us yet, or knew we were food, they didn’t show it.

Men, women and children staggered in the street.  There must have been twenty of them, which was fortunate because had all of these things been in front of us I don’t think the Suburban would have been able to run them all down without taking too much damage. 

“Flex!” I shouted.  “You can’t – ”

And at thirty miles an hour, he cranked the wheel hard left then turned into his skid, throwing the truck into a sideways slide, then slammed on the brakes and stopped.

The rotters were directly in front of me and Hemp now.  We opened up and their heads started exploding like cherry bombs in a middle school hallway.

We’d been blasting them for nearly a minute and we’d almost cleared the road.  Satan’s marionettes.  That’s what they looked like every time we peppered them with rounds.  Like some scary fucking Halloween decoration that suddenly starts dancing on a string when the kids knock on the door.

Only these creatures didn’t twitch a hell of a lot when they died.  They pretty much just died.

The noise in the SUV was ear-shattering, but we kept firing.  The zombies on the roadsides began moving in now, but as we took down the last of the live roadies, Flex cranked the wheel hard right and headed back up the center.

It had gotten considerably bumpier, what with all the destroyed body parts and all, and considerably narrower as the ones on the sides closed in.

I felt like we were running a gauntlet.

“Don’t slow down, Flex!” shouted Hemp.  “In fact, go faster or you’ll lose momentum and start spinning your wheels in all that muck!”

Flex took the advice.  Both Hemp and I had to reload at the same time, and as we did it, with the truck bouncing over the dead zombies, the ghouls on the sides closed in.  A couple were so close the side mount K7 smacked them in the face as we roared past.  Unfortunately, I was trying to put the magazine in at that moment and the butt of the gun slammed into my hand, jamming my thumb.

“Damnit!” I shouted.  I hadn’t been able to lock it in yet and the magazine slid out of the gun and onto the floor.

Hemp was taking them down, but he needed my help.  There were too many.

“Babe, drive faster!” I shouted, reaching down with my throbbing hand to grab the mag.  We’d almost gotten over the worst of the dead bodies in the road and a clear path lay ahead, but the longer it took us to get through, the more would close in from the sides.

Flex complied; I got the magazine in the gun and started spraying rounds.  We were at the tail end of them and soon we had nothing left to shoot at.

Now, you might have noticed that I made no mention of what Max was doing on the other side of the truck, and that’s because I had no idea.  But when I turned to look at him, his face was flushed and his eyes were wide.

Six spent magazines lay on the floor at his feet and he was shaking his trigger hand and rubbing his shoulder.

I smiled at him, wiping the sweat from my face with my arm.  “Thank you for riding the Zombie Experience.  When the car comes to a complete stop, please exit to your left.”

The bodies fell behind us, the ride smoothed out and in two more minutes we pulled into the furniture store.

Flex drove around to the rear of the building where a sloped drive led to a loading dock.  A box van was backed up to the closed roll-up door.

Seeing the van, Flex said, “Glad I called that one right.”

“I didn’t even think of how we were going to get the stuff back,” I said.  “I’m slipping.”

“Let’s go get mama a bed,” said Flex.  “I’ve got a feeling she’s going to need a good night’s sleep tonight.”

Flex pulled the Suburban back around to the front of the store and the four of us went inside to shop.

*****

We meant to keep it simple, but nothing seems to remain that way in life.  We intended to get nothing larger than full sized beds, but when Flex laid down on one of them his feet hung off the end.

“I’m gonna need a queen,” said Flex.  “Don’t hold it against me, guys, but I need some squirming room.  Hemp, are you looking at a bed for one or two?”

Hemp glanced at me with a shy smile and said: “Two, definitely.  But I think we can handle a full size.”

  “I think twins for everyone else,” I said.  “No headboards, just mattress, box springs and metal frames.”

“Just like home,” said Max.   “Hey, I’m going to see if I can find the keys to that van at the dock.  They’re probably in the office.”

“Good,” I said.

Max went inside and through the glass I could see his mini-LED flashlight beam moving around.  Less than a minute later he came out holding several sets of keys in the air.

“Got them, I think!” he said.  “I’ll go to the loading dock and see which set fits the van.”

We’d made it a habit of bringing the walkies with us everywhere in case we had to separate, so Flex unclipped one off his belt, turned it on and gave it to Max.  “Take this.”

“Thanks.”

Flex turned his own walkie-talkie on.  “Make sure it’s on channel 19.  Double-click if you see anything.  Any trouble, single-click and we’ll be right there.”

“I thought we were under the impression that they couldn’t hear,” said Max.

“We are, but can you talk into a radio and fire a Heckler & Koch at the same time?  You’ll always have time to reach down and give it a quick single or double-tap.”

“Understood.”  He walked toward the loading dock and we got back to the business of shopping.

“Hey, guys,” said Hemp.  “How about a bunk bed for the girls.  Save some space and they’ll love it.”

I pointed to one of the floor models.  “They’re boxed up right here.  They’re platforms, so no box springs required.” 

I walked up to Flex and spoke softly.  “I won’t miss the headboard, babe.”