The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (65 page)

“We found out what happens to them from Walter Lovell, our funeral director.  Turns out a couple of his charges got off the tables completely gussied up in their burial makeup and chased him out of there.”

“Jesus,” said Gem.  “I’d have shit.”

He laughed, and this time he did smile.  “About the graveyards, I think if I allow my brain to go there, I’ll just check out and go insane,” said Kev.  “We are, though.  Not a lot, but we are.”

I looked at the others.  “So,” I said, “the cemeteries are placed in locations with less granite, I’m assuming.  To allow for proper depth.”

“I suppose.  I never had anything to do with stuff like that,” said Kev.  “What’s the deal?  How is this happening?”

I sighed and looked at the others, who nodded.  I gave it all to Mr. Reeves.  The short, but complete story, ending with how we’d lost our remaining urushiol in a grand theft auto debacle.

Rather than more defeated at the news of the world outside the gates of
Concord, New Hampshire, he was energized at our news of the urushiol.

“It makes sense that I made it,” he said.  “My dad and I were camping once and walked into a field full of poison oak.  He got a crazy bad rash on his ankles that looked like quarter sized blisters.  I didn’t get a thing.”

“Your immunity to urushiol isn’t likely the only reason,” I said.  “The granite substrate – the only reason we came here – is what protected around 40% of your population.”

Whit had said nothing up until now, but at that, he chimed in.  “What’s the normal percentage?  That aren’t getting this thing.”

“We’re figuring only around 10%.  If you’re at around 50%, we can attribute 10% to natural immunity and the rest to the granite doing what we thought it would,” I explained.

“So we’re safe here?” asked Whit.

Everyone looked at me, and I didn’t want to say what was on my mind.  But I had to say it, because it mattered.

“Safer, not safe.  Are any of you familiar with the helium shortage?”

Everyone looked at each other.  Charlie shrugged, then slapped me on the arm.

“We’ve been together all this time and you never mentioned the helium shortage?  What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Everyone laughed.  It was a nice break in the tension.

“Helium is released as a bi-product of extracting fossil fuels from the earth.  We use it to cool MRI machines and super conductors, and it’s a very important element for medical research, and even for future developments of new technologies.”

“And it’s cool to talk like a chipmunk and use in balloons, don’t forget,” said Gem.

“Yes, and that’s the problem,” I said.  “There was so much of it that it was priced extremely low, and because of that, we used it for fun.  Making things float, making our voices high.  But the problem is, when helium is released, it leaves Earth’s atmosphere and goes into space.  Then it’s gone forever.  And while it’s the second most common element in the universe, there is a finite amount here on Earth.”

“Okay.  How does this tie into the gas coming from the earth?” asked Whit.

“It doesn’t, but it explains how helium dissipates, and why when it’s gone, it’s gone.  No matter how much of it was released into the atmosphere, it would never build up.  It leaves, and it’s gone.  I have no way of knowing if this zombie gas does the same thing.”

I watched their faces.  Finally Reeves said, “So you’re saying this gas that continues to come up from the ground – in Concord in small amounts – rather than leaving the atmosphere, could build up and eventually turn this place the same as everywhere else?”

I nodded.  “Exactly.  It’s lighter than air, but how it accumulates is unknown.  As I’ve said, it could continue for months, years, a millennium.  There’s no possible way to know.”

Charlie shifted in her seat and spoke up.  “But babe, what happens?  If the immunity to urushiol can be hereditary, then isn’t it likely that a generation down the road, it’s all over?  We kill them until they’re all gone, and everyone born is immune?”

Shrugging didn’t seem to be the right response.  So instead, I said, “Maybe.”

“Okay,” said Dave Gammon, who had been very quiet throughout the meeting, along with Cynthia.  He sat there stroking his kinky beard, watching the eyes of everyone who spoke, and it appeared he was just taking it all in.  “I really,
really
need to ask about the rats now.”

Reeves looked at us.  “We’ve noticed something strange about them, too.”

“What?” asked Flex.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” said Dave.  “Sorry, but I was waiting for someone to bring it up, and nobody did.”

“Thanks,” said Cynthia.  “It’s all I can think about.  Zombies I’m getting used to, but rats scare the crap out of me.”

“You’re getting used to . . .
zombies
?” asked Reeves.

“In a manner of speaking,” said Cyn, with a slight smile.  “I’m more comfortable shooting them now than in the beginning.  But I imagine rats crawling up my legs, and
that
I can’t take.”

“Make it two of us,” said Gem.”

“We were taken by surprise, I’m sure like the rest of the country.  At first I was hearing from other heads of state and city mayors that I was familiar with, but that didn’t last long.  The phones died, and the people died.”

He looked at us, his face grim.  “Then they came back.”

“They do that,” said Gem.

“So we naturally tried to treat it like any disease at first.  That didn’t last.  The hospitals became overrun with them.  We ended up firebombing Concord General.”

“Shit,” said Flex.

“Yeah,” Reeves said.  “Then we wised up.  We put together militias and went out hunting.  Every volunteer we could find.  And we found them and killed them where they were found.  Then we hauled them in dump trucks into parking lots and had a burning.”

“All over the city?”

“No,” said Reeves.  “Within a certain radius of where the population was concentrated.  There are plenty of places on the outskirts that could be infested, if that’s the right word.”

I think we all realized at that very moment that it had been no picnic in Concord a few months ago.  It was through their dedicated efforts that we could sit here now and not be on edge.  They’d done the hard work, as we had.  The only difference was that we were up against a much higher percentage than these folks had been. 

They had some chance at success, and they achieved it – at least enough to have some down time.

“So Mr. Reeves, what have you noticed about the rats?” asked Dave, his intense blue eyes staring.

“They’re dying,” said Whit.

“And staying dead?” asked Gem.

“What do you mean?” asked Reeves.

“When did you notice it?” I asked.

“The last couple of days.  Down in the basement of the building.  We were checking it out in case we needed a last line of defense.  Thinking about stocking it up with provisions to last a few months.  Why?”

“We saw something on the way here,” said Gem.  “A – Hemp calls it a mischief – of rats, hundreds, maybe thousands of them, inking along the highway toward us.”

“Inking?”

“My word,” said Gem.  “They covered the roadway like spilled ink on a piece of paper.  Flowing like water, at least that’s what it looked like from where we stood.  Like a single organism.”

“Shit’s sake,” said Reeves.

“Shit’s sake is right,” said Cynthia.

“I guess there were maybe a hundred of them when we last ventured down, day before yesterday.  I thought it was strange; they were all huddled together, perfectly still.”

“Did you check them out?  See if they were alive?” asked Dave.

“Whit poked the pile with a stick – ready to run and wearing full coveralls, of course – but they didn’t move.”

“Any smell?” I asked.  “The ones at the warehouse we stayed overnight had no odor.  I just thought they’d recently died.”

“Come to think of it, no.  Just the normal musty basement stuff for a building this old.  Plus, it’s obviously big enough that a few rats wouldn’t be a big issue, because we wouldn’t necessarily have to clear the entire thing.  But when we saw them down there, we just didn’t feel like dealing with them right away.  Closed it up and decided to put it off.”

“I’ll need you to take me to where they are,” I said.  “I need some specimens for testing.”

“Okay, but first we need to figure out housing for your people and get some stills constructed to extract some more of that oil.”

“Got a microbrewery in town or two?” asked Flex.  “We used a whisky still.”

“Just the sheer volume would be fantastic,” I said. 

“Yeah.  The Manchester Brewing Company, down on Old Turnpike Road.  Owner’s been killed, but the equipment should do what you need, I imagine,” said Reeves.

“Charlie, you wanted to help me build a maze,” I said.  “I’d like to get settled somewhere and then we’ll get a pair of rats.  Preferably before they reanimate, if that’s what they’re going to do.”

“Absolutely,” said Charlie.  “Let’s get ‘em while they’re still dead.”

“Do you mind if we stay in here and talk a bit before we go back out.  In your office?” asked Flex.

“Just you guys?  I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Yeah,” said Flex.  “And thanks.  I know we’re going to have a tradeoff, but can you recommend a place where we can get a few generators and a few good houses that are available?”

“That’s not a problem,” said Reeves.  “You guys talk.  Whit and I will get with Dan and brainstorm.  I think I already have some ideas, and the neighborhood is real close to this building.”

“Perfect,” said Flex.  He stood and took Reeve’s hand and shook it.  “Kev, we’re going to be working together pretty closely here, and I think everyone is going to be better off and feel a lot safer when we’re done.”

“Based on what you’ve told me, I agree.”

He swiped a hand over his short hair and said, “Take your time.”

“Thanks, Kev,” said Dave, standing. 

Everyone else followed suit.  When Whit and Reeves left the room, we all sat again.

“Hemp,” said Gem.  “Now that we’re not on the run and we actually have some privacy again, what are your real thoughts on the rat situation?”

Dave leaned forward, his face intense.

Cynthia put a hand on his knee.  “Are you terrified of rats, Dave?”

I looked at Dave and smiled.  I didn’t like them much myself, and they were one of science’s most common test subjects.

He nodded slowly.  “I’ve hated ‘em since I was a kid.  Loved reptiles, snakes, lizards, anything with a forked tongue.  Rats … give me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Fuck,” said Gem.  “Heebie-jeebies.”

Dave laughed.  “Hey, I’m sorry.  Fucking rats are skanky and they have big damned teeth.”

“Okay, guys,” I said.  “I know it’s nice to be relaxed enough to shoot the shit as you John Wayne types say, but let’s get to the rats.”

“Thought we were,” said Dave. 

“The meat of it.  As you may or may not know, we share 99% of our DNA with rats, which is why they make such good test subjects for human disease.”

“Okay, then let me throw a fuckin’ wrench into that theory right away,” said Flex. 

“No, let me,” said Gem.  “If they’re so much like us, or we’re so much like them, then why didn’t they turn immediately?”

I looked around.  There were five people staring at me, waiting for me to give them the answer.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

They all nodded, and Charlie said, “Fuck yeah, baby.  Tell us.”

“I don’t know.”

Gem slapped me on the arm.  Hard.  Then Charlie.

“Anyone else?” I asked.

Flex hit me, followed by Cynthia. Dave took a pass.

I had to laugh out loud.  I really did love these people, because even when things were a scary as hell, they were still themselves, which made it all tolerable.

They all laughed with me.

“Seriously,” said Dave.  “What is it?”

“I seriously don’t know,” I said.  “There could be any number of reasons, all relating to the final 1% of DNA we don’t share with Rattus Norvegicus.”

Charlie hit me again, then leaned in and kissed me.

“What was that for?” I asked.

“You’re throwing around big scientific names and shit, so you’re a showoff.  But I dig how smart you are, so that made me wanna kiss you.”

I shook my head and silently thanked whatever God put this woman with me.

“First off,” I said, “There’s no strong evidence yet that these are any sort of reanimated rats.  If there was no odor, then it could mean they were in a sort of coma.”

“It still makes sense,” said Dave.  “You didn’t pick them up and listen for heartbeats, or hold a little mirror up to their mouths.  They could’ve been in a coma.  That state between normal and zombie life.”

“Shit, that’s right,” said Gem.  “The first wave in humans was to transform us from normal people into those things.  They never actually died.”