The Hungry (Book 3): At the End of the World (10 page)

On the ride to up Harrison Lodge, Jimmy listened to some old ‘90s grunge on his earphones while he tried to wrap his mind around the idea that this scraggly, tattooed, long-haired old fart was actually his father. Mom had brought home her fair share of boyfriends over the years. Some were nice. Some were dicks. Most of them eventually beat up on her, and occasionally Jimmy and Lex. But then most of them were also right-wing gun nuts with delusions of grandeur. For much of his life in between, Jimmy had been the man of the house, and now he wasn’t about to let this guy hurt his family. Something was very wrong. The village was emptying out. He’d even heard the word zombie. Which was beyond cool.

Jimmy turned the volume down so he could think. He kept the ear buds in and pretended he was still caught up in the music. His little brother Lex played with some Lego toys, seemingly clueless and as annoying as usual. They drove up the road, circling around the village down below. The thick woods and scattered cabins seemed almost deserted now, but with trash everywhere, as if the people had rushed around, clumsily dropping stuff in the snow. Jimmy was smart enough to put things together. He figured an epidemic of some kind, or even maybe a war. The zombie thing might have happened, like in the video game. They’d all find out soon enough.

Michelle drove. Scratch sat in the front seat, not saying anything, looking back over his shoulder at Jimmy like he was stunned and couldn’t believe it either. Jimmy was much better prepared for what was coming—he had been subjected to a series of new
dads
every couple of years. He guessed from the biker’s face that this was the first time Scratch had even contemplated having a son.

They arrived at the lodge after a few minutes. Jimmy had only been up to Harrison once before. It was big and luxurious and supposed to be pretty expensive, but Jimmy refused to be impressed. He would rather have stayed at home in his own room, with his games, his tech books, and the use of his laptop in private. The things that kept Jimmy sane, that were his only companions. He was way smarter than the other kids, and knew it. They called him a nerd and beat him up at school. His mom had been telling him for years that when he got a little older he’d make some new friends, but Jimmy knew he’d always be an outsider in Hope Springs. And now he knew why, too. It was genetic. If Scratch was his father, he had no chance at all at being cool. He was totally butt-fucked.

His Mom parked the SUV. Jimmy watched through the front windshield as a pair of stern men came out of the lodge, carrying hunting rifles.
Great,
he thought,
more dumb-ass survivalists.

Jimmy noticed that Lex was struggling with his bag, so he decided to fall back on his primary role. Mom liked it when he played the helpful older brother. It scored points with her. Without a word, he took Lex’s bag and his own, and stepped out of the truck into the cool shadow of a snow-powdered pine. Wind ruffled his hair. He felt sharp and clear inside like something important was happening to him.

Scratch had crossed the clearing and was already talking to the two new men. They kept their voices low, but their tone was urgent, at times almost angry. He heard someone mention the word Constable. Jimmy strolled closer, cleverly eavesdropping while he pretended to adjust his brother’s bag.

Scratch said to the tall, skinny, paler man, “We have a major malfunction. They are already on the mountain.”

“Yeah, right,” the other man said. “There’s no way the zombies could have gotten here this fast.”

“Terrill Lee,” the handsome man said, “he’s serious.”

Jimmy was thrilled by the word. He’d used it to his classmates claiming that the end of the world was coming. Now these guys were actually talking about real zombies? It was probably still a load of shit, but way beyond cool if it was true. Zombies and the Apocalypse.

The men continued to ignore Jimmy.

“How many?” asked Terrill Lee.

“Greta came back and turned zombie. No sign of the money. Penny had to shoot her in front of everyone. The Constable doesn’t believe what’s on the radio is really what’s happening, so Penny got herself arrested.”

Terrill Lee deflated. “Great.” He looked at Scratch, genuinely concerned. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, but I’ll be better when we get Penny out of jail.”

The other man cleared his throat. “You want to introduce us to your friends, Scratch?”

Scratch turned to face Jimmy. He waved his arms to introduce everyone. “Karl, Terrill Lee, this is Michelle Kent, and her two sons. This big one here’s Jimmy Bowen, and the little one there is named Lex.”

The one called Karl looked stunned. He said, “Jimmy
Bowen?
”

Scratch took a deep breath. “Junior.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” the dude called Karl muttered. He shook his head and studied Jimmy. When he relaxed he had handsome features. For his part, Jimmy wondered why this Karl guy couldn’t be his father, someone a whole lot better looking—and tons smarter, from the sound of it.

The nice man said, “I’m Karl Sheppard.”

Jimmy nodded.

Terrill Lee was staring hard at Michelle. Jimmy cringed a bit, as he always did when some pervert checked out his mom.

“It’s a pleasure, Ms. Kent,” Terrill Lee said, holding out his hand.

“Michelle,” she corrected, shaking his hand.

Oh, that’s perfect,
thought Jimmy,
someone new hitting on her. He looks like a stray dog dry humping the side of an easy chair. Adults are so damned gross.

“Come on inside,” said Terrill Lee. He was offering her his arm, a Southern gentlemen. Jimmy studied Scratch, who seemed to be indifferent to the exchange. Karl was shaking his head sadly, like he’d seen it all before.
That makes two of us.

“Lex,” Michelle called, “come with me.”

“Karl,” Scratch called. “Come and help me unload all this gear. You too, Jimmy.”

Jimmy bristled. “I don’t even know you. Stop telling me what to do.”

Michelle turned to him. She stared him down evenly. “Jimmy, please go help unload the truck.”

Jimmy resisted a tad for show, but soon he obeyed. He slung Lex’s backpack over his shoulder, and picked up his own, and then handled a box of canned goods. Terrill Lee and his Mom had already taken Lex inside. The temperature was falling and a new wind came up. Shivering, Jimmy followed Scratch and Karl up the path and into the hunting lodge. Scratch kicked the big doors shut behind them and Sheppard locked them in.

Inside, the place was kind of dark except for a couple of lights they had already turned on. The huge windows were almost all shuttered, including the giant window that went up to the second floor to the west. One window on the second floor that faced the lake to the east was still partially open, and that did let a little daylight inside. Some snow had drifted in to melt on and dampen the wooden flooring. The ponderous gloom made the lodge look kind of horror movie spooky, and Jimmy kind of dug it, though he also worried that Lex might get all freaked out. His brother was always a pain in the ass when he had nightmares.

Jimmy dropped the backpacks on the floor. He followed Scratch and Karl into the kitchen with the boxes of food. No one spoke. The men seemed comfortable working together, and divided tasks efficiently without having to communicate. After setting the cans down on one of the counters, Jimmy stood there alone, waiting to be told what to do next. He didn’t have to wait very long.

“Jimmy,” said Scratch, in a softer and far friendlier tone, “would you do me a favor and take Lex upstairs. See, us grownups here, we have some real serious things we gotta talk about.”

Jimmy thought about correcting Scratch’s grammar, just to score some points, but didn’t get the chance.

“There’s some binoculars up there,” said Karl suddenly, as he gently nudged Jimmy toward the door. “Have a look around.”

Jimmy went out into the sitting area. He noticed that someone had been cleaning a bunch of rifles in the café next to the kitchen
.
He couldn’t decide if these people were certified wackos, crazy-assed survivalists, or if they really thought zombies were coming to take them away.

“Dude, come check this out.” He motioned to Lex, and they headed up stairs. He pretended to race his brother, but allowed Lex to win, as usual. It wasn’t worth the meltdown if he won. Jimmy jogged around, checking things out, peering into the deserted rooms. A lot of the doors were open, curtains pulled back from the windows. It was a big place, larger than it first appeared from the front. Jimmy took Lex by the hand and led him to the wooden ledge overlooking the main sitting area. The view down the mountain from there was breathtaking, even for someone as jaded about the mountains as Jimmy.

The binoculars were next to the open window. Jimmy showed Lex how to focus them and let him take the first turn to shut him up. As expected, Lex got bored quickly and went off to explore on his own. Meanwhile, Jimmy picked up the binoculars and carefully scanned the far side of the lake, focusing in on the thin snow and the tree line about half a mile away. The view was like something from a postcard. The rich sure had it better than the rest of us, didn’t they?

Harrison Lake wouldn’t freeze over, it rarely did and the winter was slow in coming this year. It was a gorgeous site any time of year. The view was spectacular. The lake was stocked with all sorts of fish, mostly trout but lots of other kinds too. Jimmy had gone fishing alone up here in the off-season for the last couple of years. The Constable wasn’t that hard to dodge if you kept your eyes open.

He studied the lake. Harrison was an oval about three-quarters of a mile long north to south, and about a half mile from east to west. The mountain rose sharply on the east side of the lake, squatting maybe another quarter mile away. The lodge had been built on the western edge of the lake, right above a rocky slope that went down at a steep angle and rolled away to the west. The owner of the lodge owned the lake, and about a hundred acres of land surrounding the lake, including the stables a bit to the north of the lodge. Inside and out, Jimmy realized the place was pretty cool after all.

“Let me see, too.” Lex had reappeared and was holding out his hand for the binoculars. Annoyed, Jimmy squeezed the barrels together so that they would fit Lex’s smaller face, and handed them over.

“Don’t get snot on them,” Jimmy said.

“I don’t get snot on things. Why are you so mean?” Lex looked out of the window, up toward the sky, like he was searching for UFOs. He’d be lucky to see some raggedy-assed ducks leaving too late for their trip south on winter vacation.

Jimmy went over to the balcony railing that overlooked the main part of the lodge. He tuned in again. Even though the grownups were speaking quietly, he could hear everything that they said.

He could hear his
father
—Jimmy wasn’t quite ready to accept that, but he didn’t see how he had much of a choice for the moment—his
father
saying, “I found the minivan, but the money wasn’t there, and the keys are probably locked in that store, lying in a pool of Greta’s blood.”

“What money?” asked Jimmy’s mom.

Karl looked at her. “Greta stole a lot of money from us, and then left us stranded here with nothing but the deed to the premises.” He turned to Scratch. “We’ve been working on fortifying this place. It might stand up to a disorganized horde of zombies, but otherwise the place is like a sieve. It would never stand up to a dedicated assault by professional soldiers. If those survivalists you were telling us about want to get in here, there’s not going to be a lot we can do to stop them.”

“Sure, but our first priority,” said Scratch, “has got to be getting Penny out of jail. I know exactly how vulnerable
that
place would be in a zombie attack. Even if Crosby could hold them off for a little while, it would get overrun in no time. She’d be locked in a cell trying to break out, just like I was when we first met. I don’t want her to have to go through that again.”

“You guys really believe that whole zombie story, don’t you?”

All three of the men turned to look at Michelle with comically shocked looks on their faces.

Karl spoke first. “Ma’am, not only are there really zombies, but if Scratch is right, we haven’t got much time before they are all over this area.” He turned back to Scratch. “How reasonable is this constable person?”

“Carter seems like a good man,” Scratch said. “I knew him as a kid. I’d say he takes his duties pretty seriously, but when things get troublesome he relies on the Larimer Sheriff to back him up.”

Michelle said, “He’s not power crazy, but he’s not going to let your friend out of jail without a really good reason. And I doubt he’ll release someone he thinks is a murderer without the Sheriff’s say-so.”

“Would he let her out on bail?” asked Terrill Lee. Clearly smitten, he studied Michelle like a man looking at a priceless work of art. “If we could find that money Greta stole from us, maybe we could bail her out.”

“I don’t know,” Michelle said. “I don’t think so, since it wouldn’t be coming from a judge or the Sheriff.”

“We gotta bust her out of there,” Scratch said. “I don’t want to hurt Carter, but I will if I have to.”

Sheppard frowned. “If we could convince the constable that Penny killed a zombie and not a human being, maybe he might let her out. He’s heard the news reports by now. He must be in denial.”

“Yeah,” Scratch said, eying Michelle, “guess you could say a lot of folks are.”

Upstairs, Jimmy felt something tugging on his right arm.

“Jimmy, Jimmy. Come look!”

“Shh,” Jimmy whispered.

The smaller boy was pulling at his shirt, excited, gesturing to something he’d seen outside, through the window. The kid was all wired up.

“Stop,” whispered Jimmy. “I want to hear this.”