The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (45 page)

“Could the fish in the ocean be affected in the same way?” asked Charlie.

“I sincerely hope not,” said Hemp.  “Sea life will be a major source of food for survivors.  Without man interfering and killing land animals, they should flourish.  The same can be assumed for fish and other sea creatures, so long as the oxygen isn’t depleted, killing them all.  In theory, sea mammals should be fine with regard to breathing, but they feed on the fish, so they’d die, too.”

“I never really gave much thought to all the details of continuing to live,” I said.  “The food on the shelves isn’t going to last forever.”

“No, you’re eventually going to have to grow vegetables, fruit.  Learn how to process them to make other things.  Even if this thing were to go away tomorrow, there would be many steps to take in order to rebuild a functioning society.”

“Yeah,” said Flex.  “And a lot of the skills to do those things aren’t among the talents the average person out there has.”

“Anyway,” said Hemp.  “The first thing I want to do is use a high-powered video microscope to analyze the flesh from our friend in there.  It’s one of the pieces of equipment Max thought to bring.”

“What do you gain?” asked Flex.

“The abnormals are dead,” said Hemp.  “No blood flow, no pain nerves, nothing.  In living humans it works like this, and you may already know some of it.  The blood carries within it oxygen and nutritive substances, including metabolites, to all parts of the body.  Not only does it supply the tissue and organs with all they need to flourish, it also removes waste products from body to the kidneys and other organs of excretion.  Blood is life.”

“So absent blood – or circulating blood – how on earth could these things move around?” I asked.

“It should be impossible,” said Hemp.  “But clearly it’s not.  And the reason it’s not is either not from this earth or formed so deeply within the planet that we’ve never seen it before.  The more I think about it, the more I reach the conclusion that a fissure in the planet’s core is the only possible origination point of this gas.”

“And the brain?” asked Charlie.  “How could it be involved without the ability to send signals to the extremities telling them what to do through the blood?”

Hemp looked perplexed for a moment.  “I learned early on that there is no liquid blood running through the abnormals’ bodies.  There is clearly fluid in the cranial cavity, because when we shoot them we can see it spraying out.  But it’s not blood, even though it’s got the red color we associate with blood.  It’s more red-black, which means it’s a mix of various fluids.  I already have a sample of it from Jamie.”

“Did you learn anything from that?” I asked.

“Yes and no.  Nothing conclusive.  I didn’t have this microscope when I withdrew it from Jamie, and I still haven’t run it.  But now that I’m going to be testing your blood, which should contain some elements of the vapor that knocked you out, I can analyze samples of all of them at once.  So I don’t have many answers for you yet.  It’s going to take a bit.”

“It’s early,” I said.  “Hey, Cyn.  Trina wants to do some shooting today.  Can
Taylor start her training?”

Cynthia’s face hid nothing.  I’m thinking she was anti-gun in her former life.  That shit would have to change, and not just where she was concerned, but for
Taylor, too.  She wouldn’t have to worry about who to vote for in the next presidential election, but she would have to know how to kill things, and her daughter better have some idea, too.  This could literally be going on forevermore, and starting early would possibly ensure her long-term survival.

“Gem, she’s only 8.”

“Yes, and Trina’s only just turned 7 now,” I said.  “She needs to learn.  It can’t start too early.  Tiger Woods would not have become the golfer he was had his father not gotten him out on the course as soon as the kid could walk.”

“It’s for her protection, Cyn,” said Flex.  “Seriously.  She needs to become confident and proficient with at least a rifle.”

Cyn sighed.  “I’d prefer a small rifle,” she said.  “She’s less likely to be able to shoot herself with a rifle, right?”

“We’re going to teach them proper use of firearms, safety measures, A to Z.  She’ll never hold one unattended unless all of us – you, Gem, Hemp, everyone – feels she’s capable.  Fair enough?”  Flex smiled.

Cyn returned his smile, but it was less convincing.  “Okay,” she said.  “I’ll get in on it, too.  I know I need more practice.”

I stood up.  “Perfect!  I’m up for that right now.  We can go out back, get some sunshine and practice, and you can get your tests done without our stupid questions.”

“Your questions make me think,” said Hemp.  “It’s not a problem.  But I’ve got plenty to think about for now, so go have your fun.  Charlie and I will plug away.”

Charlie looked at us longingly.  I knew she’d rather grab that cool new crossbow she’d gotten and come with us, but the look passed before Hemp saw it. 

“Have fun, guys.  We’ll fill you in later,” she said with a wave.

“No passing out,” Cynthia said. 

“Promise,” said Hemp.

*****

We’d stuck several thin pieces of aluminum strap in the ground, ending at about zombie head-height.  This was only 1-2” wide strap, so it took some accuracy to hit, but the good thing was it tweaked backward sharply when it was struck, and bounced back with no need to reset targets.  The
tink!
let you know you hit it, so even if you didn’t exactly know where, you knew you were on target.

For the crossbow, we needed something that wouldn’t damage the points of the arrows, so we used the foam mattress from inside the hide-a-bed.  There was a nice piece of foam board about an inch thick and almost 3’ x 6’, so combining those over a 4’x 8’ sheet of plywood gave us a nice target.  This went up to the left of our aluminum strap targets.

Per Cyn’s instructions, we unwrapped a nice, new Winchester .22 caliber rifle and went over the basics of firearm handling with Taylor, who listened attentively to everything we had to say.  No impatience, no whining about getting on with shooting it, nothing.  She was intelligent and even asked good questions when she wasn’t sure of something.  The main lesson, as with Trina, was always to treat the gun as though it were loaded and never point it at anyone unless you wanted to stop that person by killing them.

“Think you’re ready to fire it at the target?” asked Flex.

“Yes, sir,” said Taylor.

“Flex is fine,
Taylor, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, Flex.”

“Yes, Flex.”

Flex smiled disarmingly.  “Okay, now,” he said, kneeling down on a rubber mat.  “Come over here and let me show you how to use the sight.”

Taylor
knelt down beside him and he held the gun in firing position, but out so that she could look down the barrel. 

“This is a 3-point sight,” said Flex.  “One point is close to the end of the barrel, and the other two are close to the stock, or where you hold it and pull the trigger.  I want you to line up the three sights, which means you’ll move the end of the gun up or down until as you’re looking down that barrel, all three are in a straight line.”

“Straight line,” she repeated.

“I’ll shoot first, so you can get the idea.”  Flex laid down on the rubber matt and rested on his elbows.  He raised the rifle, putting the butt against his shoulder, and the sight in front of his right eye.  “Now, if the center dot on the sight is too high, I’m going to lower the end of the barrel a tad, until it’s right in line.  If it’s too far to either side, I’m going to move it until it’s right over my target and centered side-to-side and in line with the other sight dots.   Make sense?”

Taylor just looked at him.

“I think she’ll have to try it, baby,” I said.  “That was a long dissertation.”

“It was a shitload of words, daddy,” Trina said.  “You lost me with
I’ll shoot first
.”

I burst into laughter.  Flex joined me, and even Cynthia couldn’t stop herself. 
Taylor just looked eager to get on with it.

“Here goes,” said Flex.  He fired the gun five times in rapid succession, hitting five adjacent aluminum straps, sending each one back about fifteen inches before springing forward again.  Five shots, five
tink!
sounds.

“Me now?” asked
Taylor.

“Yep.  Exactly how I showed you.”

“Okay.  I put it against my shoulder, raise the sight to my eye.  Make sure the sight is centered on the metal stick thingys and then balance the end dot between my two front dots.”

“That’s about it.”

She shifted positions until she looked comfortable, and moved the rifle into position.  She looked good, and I couldn’t find any fault with her position.

She fired the gun twice, about five seconds apart.  One miss, one hit of the third aluminum strap from the left.

“Good!” said Flex.  “Got one.  Which one were you aiming at?”

“The first one,” said
Taylor, clearly disappointed.

“It takes time.  Just like anything worthwhile.”

“I know.”

“Okay, fire away.  When you’re empty I’ll refill you.”

Cynthia looked proud of her daughter as she beaded in on the aluminum straps and was soon hitting them like piano keys, from first to last, then back in the opposite direction.  Not fast, but taking her time to aim carefully.  She began about twenty feet back, then thirty, then forty.  We thought that was good enough.  She’d need practice with the longer distances.  The slightest movement of the barrel resulted in a miss for her.

For my part, I liked shooting the crossbow and had become pretty good at it.  I preferred Suzi when it came to protection, because she was fast and deadly, and to be honest, I liked the noise associated with her.  The boom meant power. 
If you hear this, stay the fuck away from me!
  No doubt.

But it couldn’t hurt to have the crossbow at arm’s length in case the gun jams or the ammo runs out.  You can’t dig a bullet out of a zombie’s brain and re-use it, but you could sure as hell yank an arrow out and make another flesh-eating freak dead with it.

Trina was on her own, pretty much by choice.  The kid had her ear protectors on her head before we got outside, only taking them off to listen to Flex’s instructions to Taylor.  So basically, the rest of the time she wasn’t listening for shit.  She removed her gun from her case, loaded up all the chambers, checked around her and took aim. 

She plinked each aluminum rod at what must have been the upper tip, because they bent nearly halfway backward to the ground before swinging up again.  The lower you hit them, the less they’d flex.

Her little arms were steady, and her face was fixed and serious.  Trina Leighton, my new daughter, didn’t look like a 7-year-old having fun.  She looked like a police officer doing some serious weapons training.

I’d give it to her, because in both mental approach and ability to handle the weapon, she’d improved like crazy, but I sure hoped that if a situation arose where she needed to assist in our defense that she’d panic less than she had that day with Hemp and Flexy in the woods.  I’ve never been more petrified than at that moment, watching her freeze up.

I motioned to Trina as she emptied her 5-shot revolver for what must have been the tenth time.

She looked at me and dropped her ear protectors down onto her neck.

“Yeah, mommy?”

My heart skipped a beat again, and I had to resist grabbing her and pulling her into a hug every time she called me that.

“You’re starting to piss me off,” I told her, a wry smile on my face.

She looked truly distressed at the news, but my smile wiped away some of that emotion.  “Why?”

“Because you’re becoming better with a handgun than me!”

“Oh, I am not!” she insisted.  “Am I?”

“It doesn’t take an expert to spray a bunch of bullets from an Uzi, baby girl.  It takes talent to become accurate with a handgun.”

I could see that little blonde girl who carried my heart around with her inflate with pride.  The smile on her face was still there as she loaded up the weapon again, throwing me the odd glance.  I winked at her and turned to Cynthia.

“What are you waiting for?”

“What do you mean?”

I picked up the crossbow and gave it to her.  “Charlie’s busy, but I think I can show you how to use this.”

“Really?”

“Hells yes, Cyn.  Who knows?  You might prefer this weapon.  Charlie sure does.”

Flex was busy explaining some of the finer points of the .22
Winchester to Taylor again.

“He’s great with her,” Cyn said.

“He is.  I can’t tell you how many ways that man has surprised me.”

“The marriage proposal?”

“That’s one of ‘em, for sure.  A biggie,” I said.

Cynthia looked at me, on her face a sweet smile, as though she were watching a romantic scene in a movie.  “Gem?”

“Yeah,” I said.