The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (33 page)

We could now get our fuel out of the ground without power and be fully dressed while we did it.

Before we left, we moved most of the guns from the car over to the van.  Hemp took the opportunity to take two nice Ruger .45 Autos and a shoulder holster for each, and he loaded them up, along with extra magazines.  He was starting to look like a bad ass.  Our own James Bond.

We left the hardware store fully loaded, and our last stop was the grocery store.  There was Winn-Dixie store on our route, completing our circle.

With me and Flex in the Crown Vic leading, we drove down a gravel road that took us right by a cemetery.  I kept my eyes peeled on both sides of the road, and saw that Flex kept his eye on his rear view mirror.  It’s a good thing he did, because he saw the box van pull to a stop.

“What the hell is he doing?” he asked.

“No idea,” I said.  “Not an advisable place to stop.”

We saw Hemp emerge from the van and close the door.  Charlie jumped out, too.

Flex quickly pulled the car over and parked.  We got out to see Hemp running full speed toward the cemetery, which hadn’t seen any maintenance crews for a couple of months now, and was pretty overgrown and spooky looking.

The sign said it was the Shambeau Cope Cemetery, the old arched sign rusted, a pair of swing gates leading inside.  Hemp ran toward it, raised one boot and kicked the deteriorated fence open with little resistance.

He now had both guns in his hands, and he ran deeper inside.  I think we were all in shock, because the three of us stood there for probably twenty seconds before Flex screamed at him.

“Hemp!  Get back here!”

Hemp didn’t acknowledge his call.  He looked toward the ground and a few seconds later he fired his gun at something.

We could guess what he was shooting at, but the rain had stopped for a few days now, so the earth was firming up again.  I grabbed Suzi the Uzi from the car and Flex pulled his K7 out and we ran.  Charlie already had her crossbow, and we hauled ass through the gates behind him.

Charlie was the next to try.  “Babe, what are you doing?  Come out of there, please!” she cried, her legs pumping as she ran to get to him.  Still, he didn’t turn.

Another shot.  He ran further.  Yet another.

As we came further into the graveyard, we saw what he was doing.  Some of the undead had made their way partially out of their graves, and they struggled to pull the rest of their bodies clear of the solidifying ground.  A few of them had only their knees remaining before they were free to crawl, walk and eventually eat human flesh.

A copse of trees and thicker brush lined the back fence of the cemetery, and Hemp was nearing the area.  About every ten seconds he’d fire again, presumably killing another of the things that needed killing.

“This is stupid, Hemp!  Max wouldn’t want this!” I shouted.

“Baby, come back out!” screamed Charlie, firing an arrow into the head of a zombie that had just freed itself and had gotten to its wobbly, bone-thin legs.  It collapsed and she yanked the arrow back out, her eyes immediately searching again for Hemp.

Then Hemp stopped and looked down.  He knelt and touched a plant of some kind that had grown up through the back fence.  This allowed us to catch up to him, and we stood there, cautious of our surroundings, but also interested in what had caught his attention.  He looked up at us.

“Look at this,” he said.  “Poison Ivy.”

“So why are you touching it?” said Charlie.

“I’ve always been immune to it,” he said.  A hand emerged from the earth two feet to Hemp’s left, and he eyed it for a moment before continuing.  The hand clawed at the earth, and a moment later, a second hand came through.  The rotted nails and exposed bones clawed into the earth.

Hemp went on: “But look at these leaves.  The size of them.  They’ve got to be more than twenty centimeters across.  The three leaf configuration tells you it’s
toxicodendron radicans.  Leaves three, let it be.  Remember that?  Berries white, poisonous sight?  Those are rhymes from our childhood so that we’d remember to avoid it.”

“I do remember the rhymes, but I’ve never heard of that plant.  What’s the big deal?” asked Charlie.

“It’s poison ivy, Charlie.  And it doesn’t get this big – ever.  The leaves, I mean.  The plants can grow into large shrubs, but the size of the leaves on such an immature plant doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m just not sure what this has to do with anything,” said Flex. 

“Me either,” I said.  “And what you did was dangerous, Hemp.  Jesus, I know you’re upset about Max, but –”

“I know.  I know, you’re right,” he said.  “But when I was in the van I saw something move over here and I know those bastards at the furniture store were diggers.  I just . . .”

He didn’t finish.

“You needed to take out some aggressions,” said Charlie.  “I know.  It’s no worse than what I did at the CDC.”

Charlie took Hemp’s hand, and he shook her off quickly.  “No, Charlie!  Damn it!”

She looked hurt and stood up, looking down at him.  Without a word, she turned and walked back toward the van.

Midway back to the van Charlie stopped, looking startled at something on the ground.  She looked down at the ground, screamed “Fuck you!” and kicked whatever it was.  She then turned her crossbow downward and fired.  She stared at it for a second and walked away, leaving the arrow sticking up.

“Charlie, it’s not –” Hemp started to call, but stopped.

He turned to us.  “I’ll explain it later.  I’ve got the Poison Ivy oils on my hands now, which means they’re on hers.  She’s going to get a nasty rash and blisters,”

“She is pissed,” said Flex.  “She left an arrow behind.”

“Shit,” I said.  “I’ll go tell her to clean her hands.  I think I have some waterless hand cleaner in the car.”

“Too late,” said Hemp.  “Once the oils penetrate the skin, you’re done.  It’s got to run its course.  But make sure she cleans the crossbow and doesn’t touch her face.”

“You tell her,” I said. “Now let’s get back to the car.  I think we’ve pushed our luck here long enough.”

As if on cue, the clawing hands pushed into the earth and the top of a head emerged.  Hemp pointed his .45 at it and blew the entire top off the rotting, reanimated corpse’s head.  The poisonous plants behind it were misted with red-black blood.

As if that never happened, he turned back to us.  “These leaves don’t make any sense, guys,” he said.  “None at all.  I want to take a plant back and do some testing.”

I shrugged.  “Dig it up, but keep that shit away from me.”

“Me, too,” said Flex.  “It might not be as bad as getting munched on, but I don’t need any more crap to deal with.”

“No worries,” he said, digging up the large plant and two baby ones, leaving the clumps of dirt around the root systems.  “I’ll pot these later and do some experiments.  Sorry for the impulsive shit.”

“Dude,” I said.  “No need for apologies.”

“Dude,” repeated Hemp.  “Even you female Yanks are so John Wayne.”

We made our way back to the vehicles.  By the time we got to the grocery store, Charlie had already forgiven Hemp.

I was glad.  Those two were fuckin’ cute together.

CHAPTER
NINE

We got back home – yes, it was home, so I might as well say it – safely with no further encounters.  We’d seen evidence of other uninfecteds having cleared out many of the shelves in the grocery store, but there was plenty left and we loaded up four shopping carts with vacuum packed and canned goods, as well as pastas, sauces, and whatever else we thought we could use, including all the remaining small propane cylinders.

There was a Ross beside the Winn-Dixie, so we were able to get enough bedding and pillows for everyone, too.  Charlie found lots of t-shirts with some of her favorite bands screen printed on them, and even replaced her favorite AC/DC shirt that she’d thrown in the grave with Jamie as her contribution to the ceremony.

We took the evening off, but the following day we got up and started building our bedroom walls.  I was carrying one end of a sheet of drywall when Cynthia came up to me and Flex.

“I think you’d better come in the office,” she said in a low voice.  “It’s Bill.  I think he had another heart attack.”

Flex and I quickly leaned the 4 x 8 sheet of drywall against the metal studs and followed her inside.

Bill’s breathing was short and raspy.  His hand was pressed against his chest, and his eyes were closed.  I pulled up a chair beside where he lay and put my hand over his.

“Bill, how are you doing?” I asked.

“Not good,” came his weak reply.  “I think . . . I think I’m getting ready to check out.”

His color was non-existent and he looked dead already.  Suddenly, he arched his back and his eyes pinched tightly closed as he moaned in pain.

I looked at Flex, who stood beside me.  I shook my head.  “Go get Hemp.”

Flex left the room.

“Bill, Hemp has something to talk to you about.  It’s important.  Think you’re up to it?”

He nodded.  “I can listen – don’t know how much I’ll have to contribute.” 

“Okay.”

I opened a bottle of water and put it to his lips and he drank a bit.  The door opened behind me and Flex came back in with Hemp at his side.

I stood up and offered the chair to Hemp.  He saw beside Bill. 

“Hello, friend,” he said.

“Hi, Hemp.”

“I hear you’re not doing well,” said Hemp.  “I’m sorry.  I wish there was more we could do.”

“I’m ready to go,” said Bill.  “I miss Irene.  My kids.”

Hemp looked at me and Flex, then turned back to Bill.  “I have an important question for you, Bill.  A request.”

“Shoot.”

“You know what we’re dealing with here.  This disease.  I’m doing everything I can to learn more about it, but until it runs its course or we can find a way to defeat it, we’re at a disadvantage, even with our weapons.”

Bill went into a coughing fit, and Hemp waited for it to subside.  He reached down and felt the man’s pulse for a moment, then looked at us and shook his head.

“I think you know, as you told Gem and Flex, that you’re nearing the end, Bill.  I’m sorry, but there’s not really any other way to put it.  I have an odd request, but I hope you’ll think of us and the kids before you answer.”

“Okay,” he said.

“First I need to know if you want us to perform CPR or any other life-saving measures should you go into cardiac arrest.”

Bill shook his head weakly.  “Nope.  None of that.  Let me go.”

Hemp nodded, though Bill’s eyes were still closed.

“I’m trying to develop a device that will neutralize, for a time, the odor of our brains.  It seems to be a major attraction to the creatures out there.  In order to determine the exact scent that draws them, I need one from an uninfected person.  One that hasn’t deteriorated or begun decomposition.  Yours is the only option for us.”

Bill opened his eyes a slit and turned his head toward Hemp.  “You need my brain.”

“Yes, I do.”

He closed his eyes again and said softly, “Take it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hemp, my friend,” he whispered.  “I won’t be using it.  If letting you do some tests with it can help you or other people down the road then it’s what I want.”

“You’ll be treated with respect, Bill.  And we’ll give you a proper burial.  You deserve that for agreeing to help us and for being the kind of man you are.”

I didn’t know this man very well, but tears came to my eyes.  Flex took my hand in his and led me out of the office.

“He’s an amazing guy,” he said after the door closed behind us.

“I wish I’d have known him before,” I said.

Hemp emerged behind us.

“I need to get some supplies from the lab,” he said.  “The tools I’ll need.  It won’t take long, but I’ll need to keep it very cool until I can get the sniffer calibrated properly for my tests.”

“There’s enough ice in the little freezer.  About ten trays,” said Flex.  “We’ve got that little Playmate cooler we can use.

“Perfect.  We’ll have to fill those trays again and freeze another batch in case I need more time.”

“Okay,” I said.  “I’ll see if Cyn will sit with him until the time comes, so Hemp, be ready.”

He nodded and walked toward the lab.

I squeezed Flex’s hand and walked over to Charlie, who was busy cutting a piece of drywall off at the proper length to fit around the doorway of her room.

“You showing any signs of the rash yet?” I asked.

Charlie looked at her hand where she’d touched Hemp the day before.  She turned it over.  “No, but Hemp says it can take as long as ten days to show anything.  Not even an itch so far.”

“Good,” I said.  “Let’s hope it didn’t get a chance to penetrate your skin.”

“Not much hope of that,” she said.  “Hemp said it only takes contact and some people will react to as little as one billionth of a gram of the poison.  So I should probably enjoy myself now.  It’s coming, I’m sure.”

*****

Bill, resigned to death as he was, hung on.  Hemp had gathered what he’d need for the small surgery and did what he could with regard to calibration and modification of his chemical sniffers for their intended purpose.

When he was done, the rest of us continued to hang drywall and build the bedrooms, and Hemp put on a pair of latex gloves from the lab and went out back to tend to his poison ivy plants, both of which he had planted in small plastic pots.  The area behind the building where trucks didn’t drive was unpaved, and there was about a twenty by thirty foot dirt area where a picnic table had been set up, probably for workers who smoked and wanted to take their breaks outdoors.

The rear of the building was south-facing, and the sunlight hit that area for much of the day, so Hemp explained he’d keep the plants out there, and warned the girls away from them in no uncertain terms. 

Cynthia came rushing from the office as we were helping Charlie put the final piece of drywall up on her and Hemp’s room.

“Where’s Hemp?” she asked.

“He’s out back,” said Flex, pointing.

“I think he’s going,” she said, walking quickly to the rear of the building.  I followed her outside. 

Hemp had put one of the planter pots on the lower rack and turned as we came outside.

“He’s going,” said Cynthia.  “I’m pretty sure of it.”

Hemp put the other ivy plant on the rack and hurried after us.

Bill had stopped breathing by the time we made it into the office.  I felt his wrist and neck for a pulse and felt nothing.  I put an ear to his chest and there was only silence.

He was gone.

We would have stopped and had a solemn moment, even said a prayer, but there was no time.  His brain had to be preserved.  I said a silent prayer as Hemp gathered his things and I dumped the ice from the trays into the Playmate cooler, placing it on the table beside him.

“I’ve got some plastic sheeting over there, rolled up against the wall,” said Hemp.  “Gem?”

I got the roll.

“Don’t let the girls come in, okay? Spread that sheet out right there,” he said, pointing to the ground beside the cot where Bill had taken his last breath.

Flex and I spread the plastic sheeting out, and he and Hemp lifted Bill’s body from the cot onto the floor, the sheet beneath it.

“You might not want to see this,” said Hemp.

He was right, and I was grateful he didn’t ask for my help.  I’d seen plenty of guts and gore to last me a lifetime, and I knew I had years more to come.  I nodded gratefully and left the office to occupy Trina and Taylor.

Hemp and Flex were only in the office for fifteen minutes.  This wasn’t a delicate surgery; it was cutting the cap off Bill’s skull and removing his brain.  That was it in a nutshell.

Jesus.  Did I really just say
nutshell
?

They emerged, Hemp holding the playmate, and he took it directly into his lab.  Flex went inside with him for a moment, then came back out.

“Those things in there seem almost comatose, he said.  “No vapor, no movement.  Just lying there with their eyes open.”

“Do they seem aware of you when you go in?” I asked.

Flex nodded.  “I wouldn’t say they salivate, but it’s probably the zombie equivalent.  They start gnashing their teeth.  But since they don’t really breathe, it seems our odor just kind of permeates through their orifices.  At least that’s what Hemp thinks.”

“Flex, we’ve got to figure out another way to kill them.  This one-by-one shit is messing with my head.”

He nodded.  “It seems insurmountable.”

“At least this is starting to look like home,” I said.  “And we’ve got a room with a bed and a door.”

“Don’t forget the shower,” he said, smiling.  “That’s worth its weight in gold.”

“I preferred your house,” I said.  “But I do feel safe here.  I know Charlie and Cyn do, too.  Damned building’s practically impenetrable.”

“I miss windows,” said Flex.

“We’ve got the skylights.  Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“I want to get that Ham radio fired up and start to monitor for other survivors,” said Flex.  “There has to be a plan other than individual survival, and I think I’m reaching the conclusion that no matter how much we want to stay lean and mean, it’s selfish and unproductive.”

I nodded.  “I know.  We need to get the new lab set up so Hemp can go full bore.  It’s too tight in there with those two gurneys full.”

“Two zombies and a brain,” said Flex.  “Sounds like a sit-com.”

“By the time we’re done, they’ll have to use animation for the zombies, baby.  ‘Cause we’re going to kill ‘em all.”

Flex threw an arm over my shoulder.  “Let’s go hang drywall on Hemp’s lab.  He’s going to be busy in there a while.  Charlie will help.”

Charlie
was
perfectly willing to help, and in fact had already completed about a quarter of the job.  We got busy cutting and putting the drywall up, and when that was done Flex hung the door.

Door hanging is an art, just in case you didn’t know.  That’s what Flex said, anyway.

There were several stainless steel sheets, about 1/8” thick, and Flex thought they’d be perfect for work counters.

When we were done with the walls and door, we cut angle iron pieces to make a framework that we could mount to the wall.  When we were finished, the stainless sheets dropped right in, making clean 30” deep counters along two walls of the approximately 12’ x 15’ room.  Hemp had showed me how to weld stainless steel too, and using the Heliarc machine, I’d gotten pretty good at it.  I tacked it down to the brackets with no rippling and perfect seams.  When the bare bones laboratory was done, we knew Hemp would be impressed and happy.

All in all, it had taken around three and a half hours from start to finish.  We didn’t bother taping or mudding the drywall, and the ceiling was open, unlike our bedrooms.

Flex went back inside the mobile lab to get Hemp.  I went with him though I didn’t like it in there.  Docile or not, the zombies stunk to high Heaven, and even wearing the mask I could taste that shit in my throat.

But I needed to see them.  I wanted to keep an eye on whatever changed, or whatever stayed the same about them.  These were essentially our enemies, and the more you knew about your enemy, the better chance you had of defeating them.

Hemp had removed a small panel from the chemical sniffer and was currently using a micro screwdriver on an adjustment screw inside.  The unit had a vent grid where a small fan drew in the air sample.  A range of lights from green to yellow to red indicated level of detection.  There were six lights altogether.  Green meant nothing.  Red meant it smelled the shit out of something.

“I’ve used a modification to the circuitry to bump up the sensitivity,” said Hemp, without looking up.  “Gray matter does have an odor, obviously, but it is very subtle to us, not so much to them.  It must be ultra sensitive.”

“Work it,” I said.  “Hey, by the way, we finished closing in your lab, buddy.  Complete with door and work counters.”