The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (50 page)

“I don’t know – or not yet.  Is the compressor on?”

I didn’t have to await her answer, for as she said the word ‘yes,’ all hell broke loose in the store.

Suddenly there was a torrent of water spraying down on the zombies within, and they didn’t like it one bit.  They fell over one another, looking skyward as though they were under assault.  The moans could be heard through the glass, and they began frantically knocking into one another, falling over the shopping carts lined up just on the other side of the window.

“Why isn’t it killing them?” Cynthia said, horrified.  “God, Hemp!”

“As the water flows the oil is disbursing,” he said.  “It might take a few seconds more.”

No sooner had the words left his lips did we see the first results.  One second a male rotter standing no more than two feet away from where we stood looked at the water cascading from the sprinkler lines.  A split-second later, his eyes burst from his skull and red-black-green brain matter and coagulated blood shot from every orifice in his head like gooey confetti from a party popper.

“Jesus!” shouted Cynthia.

One of the zombies made a shambling run directly toward the glass, his eyes oozing greenish fluid.  He slammed into a row of five nested carts, which overturned and smashed into the front glass, shattering it into a million cascading fragments.

The store was open and the dying zombies tumbled through the gaping hole.

“Run!” shouted Flex, and we did.  As fast as we could, we spun on our heels and charged toward the parking lot.  I glanced back and saw we didn’t have much to worry about.

The urushiol was working just as Dr. Hemp had told us it would.

A puddle of dark ooze flooded the sidewalk as the zombies fell where they stood, dying in massive numbers.  Their faces seemed to sink in on themselves as the innards that made them look close to human drained from their bodies, converting them into muck and jelly.

We’d all come to a stop now.  Standing there, we watched in amazement as one by one, the creatures collapsed to the ground and became sludge.

I took one look around the parking lot, put my gun on the ground, and walked up to Hemp, whose eyes were still locked on the store.  I grabbed him and hugged him hard.

“Whoa, Gem!  What’s that for?” he said.

I pulled back and kissed him on the mouth.  “Don’t you dare tell Charlie I did that, but I love you, Hemphill Chatsworth.  I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone as much as I love you right now.”

“Now that hurts,” said Flex, smiling.  When I let Hemp go, Flex grabbed him and planted a kiss on his mouth.

“I’ve never kissed a man before, but if there was ever a time, buddy.  This was it.  Thanks, my friend.”

Hemp’s smile was fixed like it was chiseled on a stone statue.  He looked at Cynthia.  “Next,” he said.

She threw her arms around him and squeezed him, then pulled back and kissed him on the mouth.  Then she hugged him again.  “Thank you, Hemp.  That was from me and Taylor.”

“Well, well, well,” said Hemp.  “Apparently I’m a ladies man
and
a man’s man.  While we make our way back to the lab, fill in
my
lady, would you Gem?”

“You do it,” I said, handing him the walkie.  “You deserve it.”

We all heard the screams through the walkie-talkie as Charlie got the news.  When we rounded the corner the motorhome was rocking back and forth.

Because, as we discovered, the three girls inside were dancing around in circles.

We disconnected our compressor, buttoned up our coach, and made it back to the steel supply, our soon-to-be former home, with no further encounters.

All in all, it was a fantastic day.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

After cooking up and eating some of the fresh pork I’d killed, Hemp got one of our additional AK-47’s mounted on top of the Silverado, complete with the pivot and pull handle identical to that in the Crown Vic.  This time he even hung a mesh bag off the gun to catch spent brass, and attached one to the gun in Gem’s car, too. 

We’d put off mounting the gun on the Silverado because of Hemp’s other priorities, plus we didn’t really need it.  We sure needed it now; this was a trip that demanded maximum firepower from a distance. 

The oil was a great tool, but was a weapon better utilized if we became overwhelmed – taking out dozens with one sweep of the extinguisher.  It was easier to wet a face than to hit a brain.  Accuracy not required.  Plus, the spew that erupted from the zombie’s orifices could be a fucking mess.  Face mask optional but recommended.

Hemp also had another great idea.  He took an MP3 player and connected it up to our bank of batteries, which he’d kept fully charged and cross-wired to provide 110 volt power.  He recorded a detailed message in MP3 format and copied it onto the player.  It said who we were, how many of us there were, where we were heading and why.  He shared what he’d discovered so far, and set the player to forever repeat the message until it ran out of power.  He anticipated with the power draw and passage of time, that it would run up to a year, maybe more  He then took the Ham Radio transmitter and taped the “talk” button down.

We were on the air.

We began work on the fire extinguishers.  Several of the extinguishers in the building were of the type that could be refilled and pressurized, so Hemp figured out the ratio of urushiol oil to water and put the proper amount in each container.  When he was finished, he used the compressor to give them the proper charge. 

Afterward, you couldn’t detect a visible reduction in the amount of oil in the 1-gallon plastic bottle, which gave us some indication of how long the oil would last.

Since we didn’t plan on coming back here, we made the decision to simply spray our remaining creature as we made our way out the door.  In the meantime, she was not a threat to any of us while strapped to the gurney.

I wanted to be the one to take her out just because of what she’d done to me, but it seemed vindictive, even to me.  I was being stupid Gem with the kind heart, and she was only being true to her nature, too.  This meant we shared responsibility for what happened.  On the bright side, it did demonstrate that a bite from one of them didn’t necessarily mean we’d become infected. 

But since I still wanted to see her melt into a puddle of goo, I might be inclined to say thanks before I did it.  Call me angry, but it is what it is, and I am who I am.

“Have we got our route down?” asked Flex, as he sat beside Hemp at the picnic table.

“I believe so,” he said. “We’ll take Interstate 59 to the 24, then get back on I75 North.  That’s not going to take more than three hours or so if the roads are clear enough to pass, more if we have to move some vehicles.”

“We need some winches,” said Flex.

“Another stop then,” said Hemp. “Okay, I say we mount one on the truck and the motor home.  Heavy duty.  Let’s make sure our rechargeable drills are at full power so we can install them on the fly.  I’ll just use battery clamps to power them.”

“Sounds good,” said Flex.  “Gem, what’s happening with the food supplies?”

“Cynthia and the girls are packing it into the lab,” I said.  “I think they’re almost finished.”

“Don’t forget our painting,” Flex said.

“Not a chance,” I said.  “Wherever that hangs is home.”

“Travel arrangements,” said Flex.  “Who’s going with whom?”

“I’m with you, babe.”

“Goes without saying,” said Flex, smiling.  “Hemp?”

“I’ll drive the beast,” he said.  “Maybe I should lead so if we encounter any major blockages we can winch them out of the way.   We might need the weight.”

“Semi trucks will be the problem,” I said.  “Any jackknifes out there could really screw us.”

“No shit,” said Flex.  “What about Cyn and the girls?”

“I want Trina with us, but she can drive the Crown Vic,” I said.  “It’s fortified enough that I think she’ll feel secure.  We can sandwich her in the middle.”

“Good.  Check with her, would you?” said Hemp.  “Sounds like a good plan to me, though.”

“Cool,” I said, sliding out of the bench seat.  “Everyone gets their own extinguisher.”

“Absolutely,” said Hemp.  “Enough to go around.”

I stopped and put a hand on Hemp’s shoulder. 

“So do you realize how lucky we got when we found you?”

“I’m lucky, too,” he said.

“I have a feeling if you ever got out of that cell you’d have been fine on your own.”

“Gem, I’d have died in that cell.  You two saved my life.  Now you’re my friends.”

He stopped and shook his head.  “No, I have a correction.  Now you’re my
family
.  And you brought me my Charlie.”

“You can lead a horse to water,” I said, smiling.  “You made her want to drink.”

I patted him on the back and went to find Cynthia.   She was going through the refrigerator in the office.

“Hey, Gem.”

“Hi, Cyn.  About got it?”

“Yeah.  I want to bring as much of the meat as I can, but the fridge in the lab is small.  I’m making as much ice as I can before we head out.”

“Good.  You okay driving the Ford?  We’ll situate you in the middle with the motorhome in the lead and me and Flexy behind.”

“With
Taylor?”

“Absolutely.  I kind of want Trina with us, but she might want to spend some time with
Taylor on the way, if you don’t mind.”

“How far is the trip, Gem?”

“A little over 1200 miles.”

“Wow.”

“I know.  It’s going to be quite a run.  In a normal world it would take two or three days.  Who knows, now.”

“What about fuel?”

“We’ve got the hand pumps, so if we can’t get it one way, we can get it another.”

“How’s Flex’s shoulder doing?”

“He’s a fast healer, so I don’t expect him to be down long,” I said.  “But don’t let him fool you.  He’s in pain.  The Tylenol seems to be working pretty well so far.”

“Good.  As for the girls, if Trina wants to ride along and play Go Fish with Taylor, their chatter will keep me awake.”

“Thanks, Cyn.  Let me know if you need help.  I’m going to start packing up our stuff.  I think we’re hitting the road tomorrow, early.”

“You got it,” she said.

Charlie was almost done gathering their belongings, so I let her work and started moving our stuff into the truck bed.  The storage compartments on the motor home held Hemp and Charlie’s things, and there was plenty of room in the Crown Vic’s trunk for Cynthia and Taylor’s clothes.

The guys had installed the bed cover on the Silverado the week before, so it was ready to keep anything in the bed clean and dry.

We wouldn’t be taking any beds, but pillows and bedding would get tossed into the trailer after our sleep tonight.

I watched Hemp and Flex from across the warehouse, and to be honest I was a little fucking distressed.  I knew we couldn’t stay put; that wasn’t it.  It was the unknown that bothered me.  When our first encounter would be, and how serious.  I had complete faith in our new weapon, but I worried about Trina and
Taylor, and how they’d process everything. 

A world like this one could play hell on a young mind.  I wanted my new little daughter to grow up feeling confident in herself and as happy as possible, despite all she’d already been through.  I worried that no matter how much love and protection I poured on her, it wouldn’t be enough to suppress forever the horrors her little eyes and mind had already been exposed to.

But I’d never give up.  Through thick and thin we’d stick together, this little family of ours.  And now that I write those words, I wonder; which is the bad part?

The thick?  Or the thin?

Whichever one it was, I wanted a whole lot of the other.

*****

The next morning everyone but the girls was somewhat subdued.  Fuck that.  Everyone was pretty damned morose.

Flex woke up about as stiff as I’d ever seen him, and no, I don’t mean that way.  His shoulder and back.  I made him lie in bed before I stripped it, and massaged him as best I could.  In the end, he sat up and stretched, flexed his shoulder, and stood.

“Thanks, babe.  I feel better.”

“It’s gonna take time, you know.”

“I know.  It already feels better.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah, I am.  Let’s get this shit packed and go.  I want to get fueled up as early as possible and see what’s ahead of us.”

By 10:00 AM we were fully packed and ready to hit the road.  The weather was clouding up but so far no rain had fallen, so we’d be able to put some miles under our belt before worrying about weather.

“Ready, Gem?” asked Flex.  Everyone stood around, and they all knew what he meant.

“Absolutely,” I said.

The dead thing in the other room was about to die for the last time.  I shook the extinguisher in my hands for some quick mixing and unclipped the hose.  The lab door was closed, and Flex reached over, turned the knob, and opened it.

“Don’t dilly-dally,” he said.

“No intention,” I responded.

I walked in and saw the thing twitch-jerking under the sheet.  It moaned, which was a disgusting sound that I had grown to fucking hate with a passion.

Lifting the sheet from near the thing’s feet, I slid it from over her and let it drift to the floor.  She looked at me, her dead, lidless eyes staring, her tongue doing its poke-thing through the hole in her horrific face.

“Sorry about what you’ve been through,” I said.  “I promise this is the last thing you’ll ever go through.”

I stepped back six feet, pointed the nozzle at her face, and gave it just a split second spray of the oil/water mix.  Her face erupted like a fountain of puke, and I turned away so that I wouldn’t have to watch her facial features sink down into her dissolving, single-minded brain.

I gave it fifteen seconds or so until I could hear only the slightest remnants of her innards oozing from the table, and took one glance back.

Ding fucking dong, the bitch was dead. 

Finally, dead.

When I emerged, I put the tank down and Flex put his arm over my shoulder. 

“Good job, babe.  Now let’s go save the fuckin’ world.”

“The dogs are already in the motor home,” said Hemp.  “I’m hoping they’ll sleep most of the way, but they’re going to need potty breaks like everyone else.”

“Mommy, can Bunsen ride with us?” asked Trina.

“I think she’s going to want to stay with her puppies,” I said.  “But you can say hi to them whenever we stop.”

Bunsen and her brood were taking up more space with each passing day.  The puppies chewed everything they could get their teeth on, and all of us had fallen victim to their tremendously powerful obsession with chewing.

I didn’t say anything to anyone, but before my physical discovery, a joint had disappeared from beside my bed, and I was certain I saw Pipet teetering around a bit that day – and quite possibly smiling.  This was all followed by an extraordinary amount of sleeping, which really solidified the culprit for me.  If there had been cookies, I’m sure they would have been missing, too.

It’ll just be our little secret.

Everyone was relatively silent as we moved toward the vehicles.  Hemp called to us before closing the door.

“I found a Tractor Supply store in Moody.  About 21 miles northeast of here, not far off our route.   We can get the winches there, and if I can’t bolt them on, we’ll use the welder from the workshop trailer.  We can probably get fueled up there, too.”

“Sounds good, professor,” said Flex.  “Onward, my friend.”

*****

The road was littered with vehicles, but nothing that required more than an altered route to get around.  The biggest challenge was the large motor home with the workshop trailer, but while both lumbered across the rough shoulder and adjacent grass fields, all the vehicles made it.

We saw a few walking rotters along the way and were a bit surprised to see Cynthia swing her roof-mounted machine gun around to take at least five of them out. 

I was glad I’d spent the few minutes with Cynthia before leaving to show her the GPS alternate screen button and how to line up the shots.

From my vantage point behind her vehicle, I couldn’t see her face, but I’m fairly certain she didn’t enjoy it like I did.  Her face was more likely fixed in a grimace than smiling like a Cheshire cat – and yes, that would be me.  I
loved
that gun.