The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (124 page)

“Wish this bitch had four-wheel drive,” said Flex.

“Nice truck,” said West.  “Military issue?”

“No.  Hemp Chatsworth, expert in all firearms as well as mechanical engineer, designed it in a few minutes.  Built it in a few more.”

“Talented,” said West.  “Since I’m riding shotgun, you might want to show me how to use it.”

“Easy,” said Flex.  “See that A/B switch there, mounted to the dash?”

“I do,” said West.

Flex could feel Bell’s breath on the back of his neck as he leaned forward to join in on the lesson. 

“Okay, push it and the display changes to a camera mounted on the barrel of the gun, making the screen the sight.  Fire on the fly in any direction.”

West pushed the magazine release and lowered it.  “Easy swap.  This is a good design.”

“Smooth as a baby’s bottom,” said Flex.  “I can say that without soundin’ like a perv because my wife is pregnant.”

“Congrats, man,” said West.  “It’s a big deal these days.  Just wish we could get rid of these things before we start repopulating the planet.”

“Our kids are sure going to grow up in a different world,” said Bell.

“Yep,” said Flex.  “One with no internet, no landscaping and the walking dead running amok.”

Flex took the radio from the seat and pushed the button.  “Eddie, I know you’re on, kid.  Wouldn’t be like you to turn it off.  If you’re listening to me, turn the car around.  You hit a group like we hit earlier, and both of you are done for.”

Flex put the radio back on the seat and turned left onto Centre Street.  The truck immediately hit a patch of black ice and the steering wheel became useless for a moment.

“Shit,” he said, regaining control of the truck.  He straightened it out and accelerated.

“They have to be on channel nineteen, right?” asked West.

“Yep,” said Flex.  “Not sure why they’d change it.  Nobody’s using any other channels as far as I know.”

Flex knew the two-way in Gem’s car was on channel nineteen, because that had become Concord’s main communication channel.

“Sheridan, is that you?  Over.”

Flex looked at West and took the radio from the seat.  Common practice in Concord had become when someone heard something important, they echoed it into their own radios for others within their range to hear.  Kind of like a repeater system.  It wasn’t a bad arrangement, and people were pretty good about sharing news and announcements.

“This is Flex.  Who’s this?  Over.”  He didn’t normally say
over
, but apparently the fella on the other end was old school.

“This is Ed Black.  Over on Essex Street.  You looking for Gem?”

“No, she’s at the bar.  Why?”

“I saw her car and I caught the tail end of your transmission.  Didn’t sound like you were talkin’ to Gem, but thought I’d chime in anyway.”

Flex’s heart began to race.  “When?”

The
over
shit was over
with
.

“Not fifteen minutes ago.  I was hangin’ on my porch with Sally.”

“Have I met her?” asked Flex.

“Haven’t had reason to introduce the two of you.  She’s my shotgun.”

“Thank God for that.  Which direction were they headed, Ed?  What street?”

“They were on Washington, headed northeast.  I’m right across from the law school.”

“Do you think they heard from the other kids?  Why would they go that way?” asked West.

“Good question,” said Flex.  “No chatter about it.  I think everyone knows they’re missing by now.  Jimmy and Nikki, that is.”

“I knew,” said Bell.  “I’d have gone hunting for them with you guys earlier, but hearing what happened, I think I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Yeah, that was a shit storm,” said Flex, making a right from Centre onto Essex. 

“We’ll be passin’ by you in just a minute, Ed,” said Flex.  “Tell Sally to stand down.”

“She is,” he said. 

As they approached Washington, a bright, blue light flashed at them, and they looked over to see the almost indistinguishable figure of Ed Black seated in a rocking chair holding what must have been a mini LED flashlight.  He waved as they passed, and all three waved back.

West reached up and spun the gun as a sort of salute, Flex guessed.

“Snow’s coming harder,” said Flex.  “If it gets going, we’re not gonna be pushing very hard.”

“So the sooner we find them the better,” said Bell.  “But the clouds look like they’re headed east, and there’s not much more in the west, so that’s good.  I’ve been wrong, and this time I welcome it.”

“Put out another call on that radio, Waylon.”

West handed the radio to Bell, who pressed the button.  “This message is for …”  He released the button.  “What are their names?”

“Louis and Eddie,” said Flex.

“Louis and Eddie,” he repeated with the button pressed.  “Look, guys.  I know you got the best of intentions, but you’re putting our lives at risk, and everything, including finding your friends, is gonna be easier in the light of day.  Turn the car around and head back to the bar, and let us know when you do it.”

“Good,” said Flex.

Suddenly, Eddie’s voice came over the radio.

“They could be dead by then.”

In the background, they heard Louis say, “I said radio silence, Eddie!”  He sounded pissed.

Not as pissed as me, if I have to fight for my goddamned life tonight
, thought Flex.

“Gimme that radio,” he said.

Bell gave it to him.

Flex pulled the car to the side of the road.  “Keep an eye out, guys.”

Bell and West covered both sides of the car.  Flex didn’t see any reason to keep driving in the wrong direction if the kids were headed somewhere else entirely.

“Waylon’s right,’ said Flex.  “You’ve got us out here huntin’ for you, and I guess the first thing I gotta tell you is you’re gonna have to face Gem about stealin’ her car.  I don’t know if you’ve forgotten her.  She’s the hot Latina with the Uzi.”

“We’re safe in this car,” said Eddie.  “It’s ballistic steel and airplane glass, right?”

“It is, so I guess if you got into trouble, you could hole up in there indefinitely, right?  Is that your idea?”

“Yeah, it is.  We’ll find them, though.”

“How much food and water did you bring?”

No reply.

“Guys?  You did bring food and water, right?”

Still no answer.

“You guys on WAT-5?”

“No,” said Eddie, sounding nervous now.

“Jesus fuck,” said Flex.  “Look.  If you have some idea where Jimmy and Nikki are, then we’ll go after them with you.  If you don’t, then turn the fuckin’ car around and we’ll go out at first light.”

“Flex,” said Bell.  “Drive.”

Flex looked out Bell’s side of the car and saw two figures moving slowly toward them in the inch-deep snow that had begun to stick at least an hour ago.  They were still fifty yards away, and Flex realized he’d forgotten to take WAT-5.  He knew that neither Bell or West was on it, either.

“Are those male or female?” he asked as he dropped the gear shift into drive and pulled forward, knowing that neither West nor Bell knew the significance of the question.

“Men,” said Bell.  “I think.”

Flex fished in his shirt pocket and found a small baggie.  He pulled it out and saw that it contained only two wafers.

“Either of you take WAT-5 within the last few hours?”

“Not since this morning,” said Bell. 

“I had one maybe five hours ago,” West answered.

“We might have to chance two-thirds each,” said Flex, handing the baggie to West.  “See if you can divide these up.”

West flipped the sun visor down and slid open the mirror, which activated the light.  He pinched the small wafers between his fingernails and snapped each one into pieces.  “There.”

“You’re gonna pass out if you eat one,” said Bell.

“Yep,” said Flex.

He pulled the truck over and scanned the horizon.  Nothing.  He hit the unlock button, got out and ran around to the passenger door, opening it. “Slide over, captain.”

West slid into the driver’s seat and Flex got in the passenger side.

“You said you’re five hours in, right?” asked Flex.  “You sure?”

West checked his watch.  “Exactly five hours.  I was on a patrol earlier, so I know exactly when I took it.”

“Wake me gently,” said Flex, chewing his portion.  West popped his in his mouth, and Bell took his.

Flex awoke groggily to West shaking him by the shoulder. 

“Hey,” said Flex.  “Good.  I guess if it was enough to knock me out, it’s enough to protect my ass.”

He leaned back and saw Waylon dead asleep.  He reached back to shake him by the shoulder, when West put a hand on his arm.

“Wait.  Let him sleep.”

Flex didn’t know what to make of the idea.  “Why?”

“While you were both out I pulled a fast one,” said West.

Flex looked at him.  “What do you mean?”

“I told Eddie and Louis that you forgot you were past your time on the wafers and passed out driving.”

“Brilliant … I think,” said Flex.  “What did you say happened?”

“We hit a telephone pole.  I said Bell knocked his head and you guys were both unconscious.”

“Well, we’d better hit a fuckin’ pole then, you think?”

“Gently, I assume?” asked West.  “Just to make it look good?”

“Hell yes, gently.  I’m as bad as Gem if you hurt my baby.”

*****

Chapter Fourteen

Hemp walked around the chamber and opened the valves.  “Let’s go get Kev.”

Hemp glanced at Blue Eyes.  The head sat in its dome, her dead gaze following them across the room.  The crown that had been detached with Hemp’s saw had been fitted back on, easily removable.

Despite her containment and inability to attack or satisfy the endless craving she suffered, Blue Eyes gnashed and twitched as though she could.

“That thing gives me the creeps,” said Scofield.  “Just the thought of it would, but seeing it is a thousand times worse.”

“Wait until I get started on it,” said Hemp.

Kev still lay secured on the cot, awake.

“Hey,” he said.

“How do you feel?” asked Scofield.

“Still have the headache.  It’s a bastard.”

“We’re taking you into the lab,” said Hemp.  “Putting you in a hyperbaric chamber.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” asked Hemp.  “I don’t know what will happen.  But I know it won’t hurt you.”

Hemp caught Victoria’s eye, who was serving stew to a man and woman Hemp did not know.  She finished doling it into their bowls, put the utensil down and went over to him.

“Hey,” she said.  “What can I do?”

“You have the key, right?  To the cuffs?”

“I do,” she said, reaching into her apron pocket.  “Getting released, are we?”
Victoria asked Reeves.

“Good behavior,” he said, forcing a smile.  “Is the stew good?”

“Preservatives rock,” she said, patting his arm.

“When he’s done with me, I could use some.  I’m hungry as hell.”

Hemp glanced at the doctor, but Reeves didn’t seem to notice. 

Hunger was as much a symptom as a headache. 

When Reeves’ arm was free, he sat up on the cot and gently swung his legs down, placing his feet carefully onto the floor.

“I’m stiff,” he said.

Hemp looked behind him.  “Good thing Gem didn’t hear that.  She’d have had a lewd comeback for sure.”

Despite his pain, Reeves laughed.  “Let’s get in there.  You don’t do anything for no reason.”

They made their way to the lab, and Kev saw the chamber.  “That thing?”

“Yes.  It’s a Hyperbaric Chamber.  We’ll provide you oxygen, and nothing else.”

“What’ll it do?”

“I don’t know.  I’m hoping it preserves your humanity.”

“Interesting way to put it.”

Scofield slid the tray from the unit and patted it.  “Climb on up.”

Hemp helped Reeves into the horizontal platform, and before closing him inside, adjusted the flow of oxygen.

He and Scofield slid Reeves inside and secured the latches.

“You didn’t have to pee, did you Kev?” asked Scofield, smiling. 

“I’m good,” said Reeves, looking at them through the clear plastic.  “How long I gotta stay in here?”

“I may leave you to tell us that,” said Hemp.  “Let us know if you feel differently.  You’ll feel lightheaded at first, but that should go away.  Anything else, I want to know about.”

“Sure thing, professor.”

Hemp turned and looked at Blue Eyes.

She looked back, less than amused.

“Your turn, sweetheart,” he said.

“Pretty familiar,” said Scofield.  “She ain’t too much of a pretty thing.”

“She wasn’t bad before I cut off her head,” said Hemp.  “Well preserved, actually.  Particularly her brain and her hair.  It’s what caught our attention at the prison.  And her actions.  Sitting, awareness.  Things like that.”

“You know, I may be able to use what she’s in to create my mini Hyperbaric Chamber,” said Hemp.

He went to the drawer and pulled out his Dremel tool, then opened a second drawer and removed a roll of tubing.

Matching the tubing to a diamond-tipped, ¼” bit, he returned to the table where Blue Eyes waited, watching.

“I think she’s in love,” said Scofield.

“We’re not on WAT-5,” he said.  “We’re food and she’s hungry.”

“She’s got no belly,” said Scofield.

“Not sure she knows that,” said Hemp.  “Come hold the back side of this dome, please?”

Doc Scofield saw where Hemp intended to drill, and put his hands on the backside of the glass cake dome.

Slowly, Hemp powered up the rechargeable Dremel tool, pressing the bit against the glass side approximately an inch from the base.

He then switched the bit to a 1/11
th
inch size, and drilled a small hole in the very top of the dome.

“That should do it,” he said.  He put down the Dremel, blew in the holes, sending the fine glass dust into Blue Eyes’ face.

If she was irritated by it, she gave no indication.  Hemp uncoiled the tubing and stuffed one end into the hole in the side of the dome.  It fit snug.

“Perfect,” he said.  “We’ll pump oxygen into the dome, and create a positive pressure.  That way we know nothing else can seep in and screw up my clean, oxygen environment.”

“Do you just lay awake at night coming up with this shit?”

“No, Doctor,” said Hemp.  “Believe it or not, I make a lot of it up as I go along.”

“Why you giving her oxygen, anyway?”

“Good question,” said Hemp.  “Very good.  Yes, since they don’t breathe, it seems pointless, doesn’t it?  Well, the reason I’m doing it this way is that it’s more reliable than a vacuum. If a vacuum gives way, it draws the very air into the environment that I’m attempting to eliminate.”

“Gotcha,” said Scofield.”

“The positive pressure only has to flow very, very slowly and forces everything else in the container out.  I don’t waste a lot of it, and it does the job.”

Hemp connected the other end of the tubing to an 1.6 cubic foot medical oxygen tank and cracked the valve.  He walked back to the dome and held his hand over the small hole in the top until he felt the cool air blowing out.

“There,” he said, rolling a stool over to the head.  He sat and stared at her eyes.

She stared back.

“Think I’ll go get some stew,” said Scofield.  “Let me know if you need me, would ya?”

“Absolutely,” said Hemp, but his focus did not leave Blue Eyes.

Scofield left, and Hemp watched her watch him.

*****

Waylon Bell’s head hung down, which would further facilitate the trick they were playing on Eddie and Ian.  Flex pretended to slump over the wheel, and West stood just outside the truck with a pistol in one hand and an urushiol bottle hanging off his belt in case of Ratz.

Flex had found a broken cinderblock that when placed on its side served as a ramp.  He placed it near the telephone pole, and West drove one wheel of the truck onto it, tilting the vehicle at an unusual angle.  From a few feet away, it did appear to have crashed into the pole.

It had been West’s idea.  If the boys drove up and everything looked peachy, they might take off.  Flex didn’t want to get involved in a car chase in Zombieland with an inexperienced driver in his possessive wife’s car.

Flex felt sorry for West.  The poor guy had sprayed five Ratz since they finished staging the accident.   But it would be over soon, because headlights appeared from the west. 

Seconds later, Gem’s car came into view, and Flex lowered his head to the steering wheel, his arms down by his side.

The car pulled up and West staggered to them as Louis rolled down the driver’s side window.

“Jesus, are you okay?”

“I’m worried about Flex!” he said, excitedly.  “I can’t wake him or Waylon up.  We were coming to try to find you guys.”

“Jesus, Ian!” said Eddie, jumping out of the car.

“Help us,” said West, holding his head as though injured.  “Help us with Flex and Waylon!”

Ian, who to his credit was wearing his seat belt, unclipped it and got out of the car.  Flex watched through an elbow with one eye, trying to suppress a smile.

Ian came to his open window and put a hand on his shoulder.

Flex snapped up and grabbed both of Ian’s arms, pulling him hard against the door of the truck.

“Buddy, when we tell you to do something, you’d better fuckin’ well do it,” he said.  “I don’t take bullshit from anybody very well at my age.”

“I … we …”

“Don’t give me any crap, dick.”

“It’s Ian, Flex.”

“It’s fuckin’ dick, dickhead, fuckwad or whatever comes outta my goddamned mouth right now, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

“Flex, are you alright?”

“We didn’t get into an accident, Eddie,” said West.  “I lied to you to get you here.”

Eddie looked embarrassed, but didn’t say anything.

“You really should wake Waylon now,” said West.

“Nah,” said Flex.  “Then I’d have to explain a bunch of crap, and I don’t have time.  Now tell me, fuckwad, why you were headin’ the way you were headin’.”

“I really don’t like that name, Flex.  I’m sorry.”

“Answer the question,
Ian
.”

Ian hesitated, and Flex squeezed his arm hard.  “Now.  We’re vulnerable out here, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“They weren’t following the zombies,” he said.  “Jimmy and Nikki, I mean.  They were going to get guns.  You guys wouldn’t give us anything but .22s and we wanted bigger weapons.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Flex.  “I’m about the biggest pushover on God’s green earth when it comes to guns.  You didn’t think you could talk us into giving you more firepower?”

“I don’t know you that well, sir.  Would you let me go?”

Flex hadn’t realized he was still pulling Ian to the door.  He released his arms and the boy stepped back, pulling down his jacket sleeves.

“Where were they going to get guns?”

Ian looked over at Eddie. 

“Just tell him, Ian” Eddie pleaded.  “Man, they could be in trouble.”

“I don’t mean to be a party pooper,” said West, “but they could be dead.”

“Or dead and no longer dead,” said Flex.  “The sooner we find out, the better.  Where.  Now.”

“At the prison.”

Flex cringed and pounded the steering wheel.  “Are you shittin’ me?  We told everyone to steer clear of there from day fucking one.”

“You said don’t go near the cemetery,” he said. 

“Among other things,” said Flex.  “Listen to an entire sentence once in a while.”

As the words left his mouth, Flex almost laughed out loud.  He didn’t listen to any adults except his Mom and Dad when he was a kid.  With everyone else, it was blah, blah, blah.

“Have you heard from them?” asked Flex.

“No.  Not since … well, before Gem took us out to find them.”

Now Flex was pissed.  “Which begs the goddamned question, what was the point of that anyway, giving Gem and Charlie bad information?  It means the whole trip was dangerous and what’s worse, it was pointless.” 

Eddie spoke up.  “We were going to tell her where we really needed to go when we got to the end of the street, but we never made it there.  We really were.  We wanted to make sure she committed first, then we were going to tell her where to go.  Before we knew it, she turned around and went down that street where all the zombies were.”

“I’m going out on a limb here,” said West.  “I’d say you’re very lucky you didn’t get them to drive you there.  Two pregnant women being put in harm’s way like that.  You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“Not feeling so proud right now,” said Ian.

“Me neither,” added Eddie.

Flex reached back and shook Waylon awake.  He came to slowly, asked where he was, and then remembered everything in another thirty seconds, which was typical.

“Hey, you found them,” he said.  “How?”

“Long story,” said Flex.  “But we’re going to the prison.”

“Now?” asked Bell.  “At night?  In the snow?”

“Just flurries right now,” said West.  “If we’re going, we’d better go.”

*****

“My head feels better,” said Reeves, as Hemp stood beside the chamber. 

“That could be a good sign,” said Hemp.  “I want to leave you in there until tomorrow.  They dressed your wounds in urushiol, which we have known to help in the past.”

“With Gem, right?” he asked.

“Yes, thank God.  I’ve never known a Flex without his Gem, and a world like this one’s not the place to start.”

“Hemp,” said Scofield.  “Look at the head.”

The red vapor, which had been minimal anyway because Blue Eyes had not eaten, was almost gone.  Hemp walked to the dome and leaned very close to it.  The mouth was perfectly fixed, as were the eyes.  He checked his watch.