Dead Hunger: The Flex Sheridan Chronicle (29 page)

But the other eight zombies were making decent progress.  Three of them were completely nude, and I hadn’t seen that before.  It disturbed me; it just brought home that everything was gone.  Their modesty, awareness, just everything they had ever known, and now it was just food that they craved.

“I want to shoot now,” Gem said, when they were twenty feet in front of us.

It obviously wasn’t a request.  T
he reverberating,
staccato
sound of round after round exploding from Gem’s
window mount machine gun
explained that to me in terms that I – and possibly other guns – could understand.
  I joined her.  We took out seven of them, their heads exploding into particles of blood, brains and skull fragments, their bodies jerking like marionette dolls until they finally fell to the ground
in heaps of gore
.

But with the side mounts, there was one more
son-of-a-bitch wearing a
n
“Obama/Biden 2012” tee shirt that neither of us could hit.

“Fucker’s in a no-kill zone,” Gem said, grabbing Suzi from the floorboard.  She hefted the Uzi and tried to lean out of the window for a shot, but the
Daewoo
mounted on the door frame blocked her.

“Fuck, Flex, I can’t get him.”

And he was at the hood.  And he climbed onto the hood.  And now he crawled directly toward the
windshield
, his dead face staring at us or through us, and we were freaked out and mesmerized at the same time.

He started mouthing the windshield, his bulbous tongue licking the smashed bugs there, trying to get to us, but unaware that the thick tempered glass wouldn’t allow it.

I stared at the thing gnashing and sucking the glass, its nostrils flaring wide, and I turned on the windshield wipers.  I know.  It was dumb.  This wasn’t a bug I could just wipe away.

“Me or you,” I whispered. 

“You this time,” Gem said, completely out of typical Gem fashion.

“Okay.”

I opened my door and looked quickly behind the car to make sure none of them had come out from somewhere else to overwhelm us.  None had.  I swung the door closed and stepped to the side of the hood, my Daewoo leveled at its head.  He was still pressed against the windshield, and I already regretted not having side windows.  I wasn’t going to accidentally blow out the
windshield
, that was for sure.
  I wished like hell that the Suburban had a gun like the Ford.  I’d have to put it on Hemp’s list.

“Here, freakshow,” I said, in a sing-song voice.
 
“Come on,
you ugly fuck,
I’m right here.”

This one was an older man, thick in the middle, but
still
muscular.  He was wearing Nike tennis shoes, which were probably what helped him
gain enough purchase to
climb up on the hood in the first place.

“You’re scaring my woman, you asshole!” I finally yelled, and though my words likely had no affect, he
finally looked directly at me.

And his eyes captured my attention.  Even here, in the bright daylight, I could see a slight fog over them, yet they didn’t appear obscured.  I swore I could see this fog almost misting off them, like a low-hanging
cloud
on a field of grass.  I shook it off and focused on the sight of my weapon.

He quit trying to bite through the glass.  He started to crawl sideways across the hood toward me, and I backed up two steps. 

My eyes on him, I also took some quick glances at the crawlers and walkers down the street.  They were clearly hurting, for their progress was nowhere near as fast as their zombie counterparts.  But they were coming.  Like mosquitoes to a bug zapper.

And then I was suddenly very tired of this shit.  I put the K-7 directly to the side of
the
thing
’
s
skull
, and as its arm
rose jerkily
up to
grab
the gun, I blew all awareness – and half of its brain – clean out of its ugly fucking head.
  The blood and skull frags splattered onto the windshield, but it didn’t crack or shatter.  Gem reached over and hit the washer and wipers.  Now the glass was smeared with bloody streaks until about the fifth swipe – then it cleared enough that I wouldn’t have to clean it before driving.

But now I had a dead, bloody zombie sprawled on my hood like some kind of fucked up, morbid prize hunter. 
I might as well have mounted his
destroyed
head as a hood ornament.

I looked through the window and Gem shrugged and gave me a nervous smile.  Then she did a little “pushing” motion with her hands, like I should get this thing off there. 

I hopped back in the truck, threw it into reverse, and punched it.  The body slid in its own muck, then rolled quickly off the hood, leaving a nice muddy-blood smear in its stead.

“The others are yours,” I said, throwing the Chevy into drive.  “Your window.”

I came to within ten feet of them, cranked hard left, and lined Gem up.  In a show of talent, she used very short bursts with her new best friend Suzi, and sent each one of them to the Hell they should have – and might have already been – living in.

When we got back on the road, we didn’t say anything.  I held her hand in mine as they rested on the seat between us.  The hospital loomed ahead, and I knew then that our little shopping trip was just getting started.

And I was already fucking sick and tired of this new zombie world.  I wonde
red when they would all be dead, or if they ever would be.  I didn’t know what had created them, what continued to create them, and how we had avoided becoming one of them.  We’d all struggle to learn the answer.  But one thing was for sure.  I knew wel
l that Hemp, Gem and I could not kill them all by ourselves
and set the world back onto its faltering axis
.

I pulled up to the emergency entrance and looked at Gem.  She squeezed my hand again.

“I love you, baby,” she said.

“I know.  Right back atcha.  Now let’s get us an EEG machine and I’m thinking some pain killers.”

Her eyes brightened.  “I forgot all about the weed I stole from the evidence locker!  Let’s go.  Now I have something to get back home for.
  Besides our family.
”

I shook my head and laughed, and we got out.  And that was one more reason I loved my Gem.

She sure the fuck knew how to make me laugh.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

The hospital was dark.  Really dark.  We’d worn the headlamps I’d gotten from the hardware store, and with fresh batteries, they were kickass.  Plenty of light.

But the smell was putrid.  I could practically see the ooze flowing out of the
broken skulls of the
decomposing bo
dies on the floor everywhere our eyes fell
. 
I wasn’t sure how it was done, but their brains, in every case, were absent from their skulls
, cracked open like raw eggs.  I wondered how they accessed this part of the human body, and then I knew.

It was clear.  They did not use tools; I’d not seen any level of awareness or intelligence that would suggest they had this ability
. 
It was a primal, instinctive action.  They clearly slammed the heads of their victims into the floor until they cracked and shattered and provided access to  the meat that these beings craved.

Gray matter.  Brains. 

I had no idea what this part of the human body provided them or what drew them to it.  But based on what we saw, it was what they wanted.  Had to have.

It was what they craved.

But Gem and I didn’t want to see
any more
.  We watched for movement as we made our way through the lobby and followed the signs
to
neurosurgery
.

Gem walked slowly, moving her head from side to side, her light illuminating the hallway intersections we came to.  So far nobody else appeared.  And nothing else.

“You see why I did this now?” Gem asked.

“You mean put a headlamp on Suzi the Uzi?”

“Yep.  I’ll tell you why.”

I hadn’t asked, but I was up for some conversation.

“I did it because I might be shooting at some zombie or other, and hear something off to the other side.  I don’t necessarily want to have to find the fucker again if I look away and look back, so I want a light where I’m shooting, and one on my head, too.”

“I never questioned your motives, Gem.  I had no doubt that there was a logical reason.”

I said this, all the while thinking it was actually a damned good idea, and I should’ve done the same thing.  It would make her happy when I outfitted
my K-7 with one.

My radio crackled, and I looked at Gem.  “What the fuck?”

“Flex, you read me?”

It was Hemp’s voice.  I grabbed the radio from my belt and pushed the talk button.

“Hemp!  Where the hell are you?”

“I’m at your place,” he said, the voice crackly, but clear enough.  “I got the antenna put together and up.”

“Dude, that’s eleven miles away! 
I thought for a minute you were out front or something. 
Beautiful!”

Gem almost clapped, but she didn’t want to take her hands off Suzi. 

“We’re okay, Hemp.  We’re in the hospital, and it smells like a morgue that went out of business and abandoned about a thousand corpses, but so far no movers.”

“Okay, good.  I just wanted to test this, so get back to it.  Have you found the EEG yet?”

“No, still heading to the right department.”

“Alright.  Trina’s out here with me.  The sunshine feels good, the gate
’
s
locked
, and I’m well armed.  We’re fine here, but hurry your rear ends up and get back here safely, okay?”

“You got it, Hemp.  Out.”

“Out,” came Hemp
’
s voice.

I looke
d at Gem.  “That guy kills me.  Damned
smart!”

“Why do you think I kissed him before we left?” she said.

We walked past a row of g
urneys lined up in the hallway.  All empty except one.  That one had
a body in it with
something sticking out of its head. 
It didn’t move.

Gem approached it and saw it was one of them, an infected.
 
But it wasn’t going anywhere now.  The thing
protruding from
its head was an arrow.  Gem looked at it in disbelief, then touched
the arrow
as though making sure it was real.  Physical.

“Crossbow?” I asked.

“T
hat
,
or fucking Robin Hood is roaming the building.  Either way, someone took this one out.  See how the arrow goes in at an angle?”

I leaned over to look, my light shining on the entry point, right through the eye socket.

“Yeah.  It came from that way.”
 
I pointed down the hallway
in
our direction of travel
.

Gem and I continued our
slow progress
down the
corridor
, stepping over puddles of muck and blood, watching for moving zombie heads or anything else that might either scare the shit out of us or pose actual danger.

Then we heard a door close up ahead.  Not loud.  A light click.

“I am so sick of hearing shit when we’re in scary places!” Gem said, frustrated.  “I’d like, just once, for you and me to be able to roam around a building filled with dead bodies and not be worried about bad shit happening.”

“I feel your frustration, but I’m still compelled to fi
n
d out what that was, aren’t you?”

S
he nodded, but didn’t take another step
.
 
“
Yeah
, exactly.  That’s my point.  I can’t resist it,
but I can’t help thinking that
you and I don’t get much quality time.  Ugh.”

“Ugh?”

“Yes.”

“Are you ready to start walking?”

“I’m ready to start cursing in Spanish.”

“Let’s walk instead.”

She
took off, walking tentatively,
and I followed.  We weren’t sure
which
door
had
closed, but we figured sounds didn’t do much for the creatures, so we started calling out.