The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (118 page)

Gem brought her Uzi named Queenie, and Charlie selected her Parker Tornado crossbow along with a plethora of arrows and two Glock 9mm pistols.

As Gem threw the Crown Vic into reverse, she looked at Charlie and smiled.  “Did I ever tell you that you are one hot, crossbow-toting, motherfucking mess?”

“I think so.  So has Flex, for that matter.”

Gem’s eyes narrowed.  “Oh, now you’re pushing me.”

Charlie patted her leg and laughed with her.  “I love you too, Gemina.”

*****

Dave knew the sun would be setting soon.  Somehow Serena had fallen asleep on his lap, and his legs were numb.  He had begun crying an hour ago, and suppressed all but the tears, which had thoroughly soaked his beard and the front of his shirt. 

Like a horror movie reel on endless play, he saw his sister being attacked again and again by the undead creatures, and the vision made him want to scream at the top of his lungs and pound on the walls of their prison to drive it from his mind.

The tears would have to do.  He didn’t need to scare the hell out of Serena.

He looked around the room, and gently patted his pockets.  He needed something, some tool.  If night fell and he hadn’t come up with anything, he dreaded to think how long they might end up trapped in the building.

“Serena,” he said softly, stroking her hair.

She stirred awake and looked up at him.  “You’re crying.”

“Still?” he asked, wiping at his eyes.  His hands came back wet.  “Yeah, I guess I am.”  He wiped his face on his sleeve.

“I’m so sorry, David.”

“You know, you’re the only one who calls me David.”

“I know,” she said.  “I like it. It’s from the Bible.  He fought Goliath, you know.”

Dave wasn’t much for Bible stories, but he knew that story.  “He won, right?”

“Hell yes, he won.  And so will we.  What’s going on?”

“We have to figure something out.”  He said.  “They’re still out there.”

“All of them?”

“I don’t know.  I didn’t want to wake you.  Let’s look.”

Serena got onto her knees and crawled on all fours to Dave.  She leaned forward, pressed her lips to his and kissed him.  “Mmm.  Salty.”

Dave smiled.  “Sorry.”

She stood and held out her hands.  Dave took them in his and she pulled him up.  They went to the window and got on their tiptoes.

Dave began counting.  He lost count at forty-two.

“And that’s all we can see,” said Serena.

“Shit.  We don’t have enough ammo to make a run for it.”

“But we have light,” said Serena.  “Wait.”

She pulled her headlight out and flipped the switch backward.  A flashing red light came on.  She looked at Dave, her eyes wide.

Dave smiled for the first time since Lisa’s death.  He felt instantly guilty and his mouth fell into a straight line again.  “That will be visible from a long way off,” he said.  “They knew we were going to the Costco, so if they find the car and look around –”

“They’ll see it!” said Serena, excited.

“It’s all we got for now,” said Dave.  “If we get to morning, we’re just gonna have to kick the shit out of that door and make a break.”

He took the light from her and put it on the window sill, facing outward. 

Then they checked out the other windows for anything that might help to save their lives.

*****

Hemp, Flex and Kevin Reeves lay silently on the floor, awaiting something.

Something
.

Hemp knew in his acutely scientific mind that this was some sort of transformational process, just as a caterpillar in a cocoon, just as a baby in its mother’s womb.  It was instinctual rather than aware; it was developmental, not benign.

And it likely held wicked consequences for mankind.

Something was changing in the zombies, and it was assisted either by this new vapor – that originated from the females – or a blend of the gas and this new component.

From what he had seen in the lab with Red Dress and Blue Eyes, it had affected a part of the brain not used in life, and a power that was widely believed to be mythical:

Psychic ability.

Hemp himself had never believed in the existence of this phenomenon.  Despite the small portion of the human brain actually used, there was nothing to confirm that higher mastery of the use of the brain would result in this ability.

Thoughts automatically move to hypnosis.  Could this be what they’re capable of?

No.  Lisa had said words that were not her own.  Or she had experienced emotions or thoughts that were not her own, and these thoughts or emotions were translated into her own words through the complex workings of her own brain.

Hemp lay mesmerized, his eyes scanning the wispy vapor.  Flex and Kev had slid along the floor so that the three men could all see the glowing, red vapor, the top of which licked into the air like tiny waves of fog licking off a lake surface.

On rare occasions, a hand emerged from the mist, then sank back out of sight.  Each time this occurred, the three men tensed.  Hemp felt it, but so far nobody had reacted in a way that would give away their presence.

In a low whisper, Hemp said, “I need a sample of this vapor.”

He had told Lisa that he’d been able to get a sample from her when she was first possessed by Red Dress in his lab, but it wasn’t true.  He did not want her to feel as though it had all been for nothing, for her trauma had been great enough at that point.

Hemp felt a tap on his shoulder.  He turned to look at Kev, who did not look back.  His eyes remained trained on the hovering mist.

“I saw a water bottle on the way in.  Half full.  Can you do anything with that?”

“Sure,” said Hemp.  “I can squeeze it and release it, filling it with the vapor, then cap it.”

“Want me to go get it?”

“If you can do it quietly,” said Hemp.

“I’m already over here,” said Flex.  “I saw it, too.  I’ll be right back.”

Flex left his gun on the concrete floor and crouched low as he ran quietly to the door.  He was back in twenty seconds or so.

“Here,” he said, giving it to Hemp.

Hemp unscrewed the cap and dumped the water slowly onto the floor.  “Damned thing is brittle.”

“Gonna break?” asked Flex.

“No,” said Hemp.  “But it’s going to be louder than I’d prefer.”

“Should you chance it?” asked Reeves.  “Maybe find another way to get some of it?”

“There’s nothing else.  Just be ready.”

Hemp slowly squeezed the bottle.

Two significant pops sounded as the plastic crinkled.

He froze.

No movement.  He looked at Flex and Reeves and smiled.  He felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Easy, bud.  Take your time,” said Flex.

“Time to fill it,” he said, sliding on his belly to where the crimson mist seemed to glow as it floated above the floor.  Hemp didn’t really know how low the floor was, or where the creatures were beneath their protective layer of gas.  This would be a crapshoot.

Hemp moved his hand over the mist, still compressing the bottle.  He lowered it until half of it was obscured by the fog.  He felt his hand begin to shake.

The bottle hit something soft.

The soft thing reacted as Hemp released the pressure on the bottle, filling it with gas.  He pulled it back quickly and began to thread the cap back on.

“Hemp, watch out!”

But it was too late.  A hand charged out of the mist and clamped firmly around Hemp’s wrist; a female hand with blue-painted nails, badly chipped and broken, but intact..

A split-second later, the owner of the hand emerged from beneath the cloud of vapor, jerking the entire weight of Hemp’s body up with her.

She’s powerful
, Hemp thought.

Hemp felt Flex’s arm curl quickly around his waist as he was yanked backward. 

The hand clutched, but ultimately fell away as Flex’s power exceeded hers and Hemp was dragged back two feet.

Even as he was pulled backward, only vaguely aware of Flex and Reeves yelling,  Hemp found he could not turn his eyes away from the female; not because he was entranced, but simply because she was entrancing.

Her hair was oddly thick and decidedly different than all of the walking dead they’d encountered.  It hung down, not in sparse strands, tangled and knotted, but as straight as corn silk, reflecting in its sheen the red mist on the floor around her; the mist that even as Hemp watched in disbelief, began erupting with rising bodies.

“Hemp, damn it!  Snap the fuck out of it!” shouted Flex.

Hemp tried hard to focus, and looked down at the bottle he still held in his right hand.  He fumbled to tighten the cap more, then jammed it into the pocket of his cargo pants.

Flex held his gun out and Hemp grabbed it, but had to leap backward because Corn Silk was moving toward him.

He looked at her stomach.  Swollen. 
Moving
. 

Hemp staggered back against the wall, staring at the zombie in front of him.

She had been pregnant when the world changed, too.

The creatures regenerating beneath the red fog hadn’t come straight at them.  Instead, they moved quickly from beneath the vapor to standing positions, to stagger-rushing toward the outside walls of the building, the red mist now swirling in the air like flames licking off of a funeral pyre.

“They’re surrounding us!” shouted Reeves.  “Look around.  There’s nowhere to go!”

“Hurry!” shouted Flex.  “Follow me!”

He ran.  Hemp and Reeves followed, as Flex threw his gun on his shoulder and mounted a ladder bolted to the inside wall of the building.  There was a hatch at the top that likely opened to the roof.

Flex was fast.  Hemp scrambled up behind him, and he saw Flex reach the hatch and push it up and open.

Hemp’s speed  was driven by his own fear and exhilaration, and he felt Reeves at his back.

They were going to make it.

A scream behind him.

Reeves had stopped climbing, and Hemp turned his head to see four hands gripping both of Reeves’ ankles, attempting to pull him from the ladder. 

“Damn it!” shouted Reeves, looking down at the creatures.  He turned his face toward Hemp. 

“I … can’t use my weapon!” he cried, struggling to stay on the ladder.  “If I do … they’ll pull me … off!”

He managed to gain one more rung through sheer arm strength.  Both feet fell from the ladder and now it was all arms keeping him from falling victim to the zombies below.  His gun dangled uselessly from its strap over his shoulder.

“Hold on, Kev!” shouted Flex, pulling a 9mm from his drop holster.  He climbed back down three rungs, forcing Hemp backwards as well.

Reeves screamed in agony, and Hemp looked below to see one of the creatures had clawed its way up another rung, sinking its teeth into his ankle.

To Hemp’s horror, he saw Reeves’ fingers sliding from the rung. 

“Hemp!” shouted Flex.  “Take Kev’s wrist!  Now!”

Hemp wasted no time.  He reached down and clamped his hand around Reeves’ wrist, pulling him up enough that his fingers again curled around the steel ladder.

“Can you hold on?” he said to Reeves.

Reeves didn’t answer.  His grip renewed, he tried to kick the creature from his ankle, and in three attempts, he was successful.  Two others still gripped his other leg.

Above the two men, Flex, using one strong arm and one foot hooked on the edge of the ladder rung, swung out and held his 9mm pistol at the end of his reach.  Hemp twisted out of the line of fire as far as he could.  Flex fired four times at the heads and arms of the creatures clutching Kevin Reeves.

The fingers released as the bodies dropped away.

“Climb!” shouted Hemp, and Flex swung back onto the ladder and up through the hatch. 

Night had fallen.

Hemp and a shaky Reeves followed behind Flex, and as they all got to the roof, they fell onto their backs, breathing hard and exhausted. 

Hemp got to his knees and crawled quickly back to the hatch, slamming it closed.

Flex looked at him.  “Buddy, you think they can climb?”

Hemp shook his head, exhausted.  “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Reeves had sat up and was examining his ankles. 

Both were badly scratched.

“We’ll need to get that cleaned up soon,” said Hemp.  “Make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

Flex glanced quickly at Hemp, then turned away.

But Hemp saw it.

So did Reeves.

“Guys,” said Reeves.  “Should I worry?”

Hemp responded slowly.  “I’d come to believe that if you carried the immunity that you didn’t have to worry about infection from bites or scratches.  Gem was bitten, and we used a pure urushiol solution on her injury, but one of the kids … well, one of them turned.”