The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (63 page)

Nobody said a word or cracked a smile at my attempt at humor.  Instead, everyone turned and charged for a vehicle.  We were back in with doors closed in under twenty seconds.   Engines fired, and we were rolling.

Instinctively, everyone went back to original vehicle configurations, aside from Todd, who got in the bus with Dave, Lisa and their charges.

From our vantage point in the lead of the caravan, I couldn’t see how close the rats had gotten before we were on the move.  To be honest, I didn’t want to know.

But I now had two more things on my already jam-packed mind. 

Rory and Pete and their intentions.

The pile of rats we’d encountered in the warehouse charged back into my mind.  Dead.  Not decomposed.

Charlie sat beside me again, staring.  Before I could say anything, she looked at me, touched me on the shoulder.  I turned to her, keeping one eye on the road ahead.

“What, Charlie?”

“Baby.  Are those zombie rats?”

I shook my head, my face grim.  Unfortunately, I think we both already knew the answer; I was just reluctant to put my thoughts into words.

Charlie wasn’t.

“Fucking zombie rats,” she said.  “Sweetie
.  How many can there be?”

The radio crackled, and I heard Flex’s voice.

“Hemp, Dave.  Come in.”

“I’m here,” said Dave.

“Hey, Flex,” I said.  “I’ve a feeling I know what you want.”

“Hemp, what are you thinking?  About the rats.”

I looked at Charlie, then back at the road.  A green sign with reflective, white lettering appeared on the roadside. It said we were 10 miles from Concord, New Hampshire.

“Guys, I don’t know what to think.  We all saw the ones at the warehouse.  I assumed they were dead.”

“That’s the problem,” said Dave.  “They probably
were
dead.   The problem that has arisen, and I’m so sorry for what must seem like a bad pun, is that they are still dead – they’re just on the move.”

“We don’t know any of that, Dave,” I said.  We didn’t get close enough.  They could just be foraging.  Normal rats.”

“Have you ever seen rats move like that?” asked Flex.  “It’s Pied Piper shit.”

“Only the German piper was hired to lead the rats away,” I said.  “I’m hoping we don’t need to find one.  For now let’s not make any assumptions, but at the same time I’ll start thinking about how to deal with it, whether they’re reanimated or not.  I suggest you all do the same.”

“I’ve dealt with small infestations, but nothing on a scale like that,” said Dave.

“The problem as I see it is this: regular rats tend to be more nocturnal, moving mostly at night,” said Flex.  “These suckers, if they’re what we suspect, won’t ever get tired, and will likely abandon any former aversions to daylight they ever had.”

I hadn’t even thought of that.  I would have eventually, but it’s exactly why more minds are better.

“Okay.  We’re almost to – hey, guys.  We’ve got company.”

Ahead on the road, there was a swinging double-gate manned by at least six guards.  All of them had guns equal to or larger than the ones we carried.

I pulled the motorhome to a stop about twenty feet in front of them and put it in park.  Charlie’s grip on my arm tightened, and I looked into her eyes.  She was tough, but it felt good when she looked to me for answers.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said.

“Are you sure?” asked
Victoria from behind me.

“Not really, but they’re just protecting their safe zone, the same as we would,” I answered.

Then I clicked the radio.  “It’s a welcoming party, guys.  We’ve got survivors and what appears to be some organization.  If they don’t shoot us, this could be a very good sign.”

Their guns did not lower as quickly as I’d hoped.

****

Chapter 4

The people guarding the gate weren’t dressed in uniforms.  There were four men and a woman, and all wore jeans, long sleeved shirts or tee shirts and sunglasses.

They looked nervous.  Even though I couldn’t see their eyes, the way they held their weapons told me two things: They were not experienced with firearms and they were jumpy.  Both situations could be dangerous.

I raised my hands up and smiled.  I lifted my MP5 from the floor in both hands and held it high over my head, then put it on the dashboard, raising my hands again.

“Now they know we’re armed, but we’re coming out without our weapons,” I said.  “C’mon, ladies.  Let’s go say hello.”

We walked down the two steps and opened the door.  Flex and Gem were already coming around the passenger side of the trailer and mobile lab, out of view of the strangers.  When they approached us, I pointed to Flex’s weapon.

“Better put that down.  You, too, Gem.  Let’s show a little trust.  It might go a long way.”

Flex looked hesitant.  He unclipped his radio from his belt and said, “Dave.  Do me a favor.  Tell Cyn and the girls and everyone in your bus to stay there.  You have a fully loaded weapon ready, and you stay there, too.  I’ll put my radio on voice activation.  You hear any bullshit, figure out a way to put a stop to it.”

“Fair enough,” said Dave.  To his credit, Flex spoke softly and had the volume turned way down on his radio.

We raised our hands instinctively and walked around the corner of the motor home, coming into view.

“That’s close enough,” said a tall man in a baseball cap.  He was in a long-sleeved Quicksilver tee-shirt and jeans.

“Where you guys coming from?”  He had a southern drawl, possibly
Alabama or Tennessee.

“
Alabama,” said Flex.  “By way of Georgia and Florida.  I’m Flex Sheridan.  The gorgeous piece of work beside me is my wife Gem, and this fine couple consists of  Charlie and Hemp Chatsworth.”

The man looked at Flex a long moment.  “What brings you here?” he finally asked.

“Can we get you all to lower your weapons?  And after that, how about your name?” asked Gem, looking the man in the eyes.  “We’re quite civil when we’re dealing with uninfecteds.”

The man looked at the others for a moment, then nodded.  He motioned with his hand toward the ground, and all the weapons except one lowered.  The man who held that one was on the younger side.  He wore a straw cowboy hat and round John Lennon sunglasses.  The gun in his hand was one I was very familiar with.  It was an H&K MP5 just like mine.

“We don’t know these folks from shit, Whit.”  His mouth turned up at the edges as though he thought his rhyme was amusing.

“They have weapons, Jacko, and they came out unarmed,” said the man Jacko had called Whit.

“Will you please just lower your weapon, Jacko?  You don’t have to put it down, just don’t point it at ‘em.”

He turned back to us.  “Name’s Whit Sanger.”

I spoke.  “Mr. Sanger, I’m a scientist.  I’ve done work in the past for the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta, and that is where we obtained the vehicle behind us.  It’s not a motorhome, rather a mobile lab.  With the extensive help of these three with me, among others, we’ve learned an awful lot about what creates and what kills these zombies.”

“Zombies?” It was a black man, thin and lanky, about three inches above six feet.  “That what you’re calling them?”

“We referred to them as abnormals for some time,” I said.  “But they have no consciousness or language skills that would allow them to be offended, so we call them what they essentially are.  The stuff of fiction.  They’re zombies, by any definition.”

“My wife was one of them,” the man said, raising his weapon again.  “I don’t appreciate the –”

“So was my sister,” interrupted Flex.  “We did everything we could for her until we realized there was no coming back from this shit.  So we put her out of her misery. 
I
put her out of it.  My own sister.”

The man looked to be somewhere in his mid-sixties.  His face was worn and tired.  His short hair was curly and grey, and as he looked at Flex with true sadness and compassion in his eyes and lowered his gun once more.

“Name’s Dan.  Dan Cox.  Sorry for the loss of your sister.”

“We gonna dick around here all day or turn these folks around and send ‘em on their way?” asked Jacko, impatiently.

“Look,” I said.  “There is a specific reason we’re here.  I’ve told you who I am – my field of expertise.”  I looked around for a body of water.  There was none.

“Hold on,” I said.  “Just one second.”

I went back into the lab and grabbed a bottle of water from the cupboard.  I jumped back out and opened up the forward-most storage hatch on the outside and grabbed a small gardening shovel.  We had a bit of everything.  You never knew when you’d need it.

With these two items, I went back to the roadway, then to the shoulder.

“I’m not sure how visible this will be because of the very reason we’re here, but something should show.”

I jabbed the tip of the spade shovel into the earth and twisted it.  I removed three small shovelfuls of earth and got out as much of the loose dirt as I could.  Then I uncapped the bottle of water.

“Come over here.  Bring your guns if you must,” I said.

They all looked at one another.  I glanced at Charlie, Flex and Gem, who stood there with there arms folded, slight smiles on their faces.  Their smugness might have been why the hell these people weren’t trusting me completely yet.

“What are you doing?” the woman in the group said.  She was a brunette with her hair pulled high into a ponytail.  Her clothing hung on her as though she’d lost a ton of weight and hadn’t had time to go shopping yet.

“I’m about to show you what’s wrong with the world,” I said.  I poured the water in slowly.

If you pour it, they will come.

And they did.  As I emptied the bottle and the five inch hole was filled, I turned my face upward and saw them all standing around me, looking down.

Except for Jacko, who didn’t move a muscle.  His gun slung over his shoulder, he stared at Flex, and Flex at him.  I should have had the presence of mind to tell Jacko to give it up.  Flex would win a staring contest, hands down.

“The granite substrate in
New Hampshire, particularly the area of Concord, is why we’ve come here,” I said.

I looked at the water in the hole, but it was dark and I couldn’t see any bubbles.

“Does anyone have a flashlight?”

Whit turned and looked at Jacko, who was still staring at Flex.

“Jacko!” said Whit.  “Gimme your damned flashlight, would you?  You heard him.”

“Am I the only one who comes prepared for anything?” Jacko complained.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small LED flashlight and tossed it to Whit, who deftly caught it and passed it to me.

I hit the power button and shone the light on the water, about an inch away from the surface.

“There.  Not much, which is wonderful, but it’s there.  Do you see it?”

Whit shook his head.  “I don’t think so.”

“It’s worth a kneel.”

I moved away, gave the light to Whit, and he knelt down beside the small hole, several of the others joining him.  The water was beginning to absorb into the hard soil, but there was still plenty there.

“Guys, the small bubbles you see coming up through the water is a gas of unknown origin.  I believe it is emitting from every surface of the planet.  I’ve yet to see a body of water where these bubbles aren’t present, and I believe the gas is the cause of this widespread epidemic.”

“Would you look at that?” said Whit.  “How come we didn’t notice this?”

“Because of where you are, I’d guess.  The granite beneath your feet is protecting you.  Allowing the gas to dilute enough with oxygen that it’s not causing any great epidemic here.”

“What is it like out there?” the woman asked.

“It’s bad as shit,” Gem said.  “And that’s an understatement.  We do nothing but eat, sleep and kill them.”  She suddenly smiled, looked at Flex, and added, “We fuck a bit, too, which explains why I’m pregnant.”  She patted her stomach.

The woman laughed and the men looked uncomfortable.  I knew Gem cared less.

“Despite Gem’s bluntness, She’s correct.  It’s much worse in other areas,” I added.  “Have you been overrun here?  How many of your population has turned?”

“Under half,” said Whit, scratching behind his left ear.  “Mostly we take ‘em out when see ‘em coming into town, which is why we guard nearly every road coming from somewhere with any significant population.”

“Has anyone been bitten?” asked Flex.

“Why?” asked the woman.  “Name’s Janine, by the way.”

“Because, Janine, if you’re bitten there’s a good chance you’ll turn.”

“I didn’t turn,” said Gem.

“You were bitten?” asked Jacko, pointing his gun at Gem.

“Buddy,” said Flex, his muscles tensed.  “If you don’t put that motherfucker down in about two seconds, I will come over there and shove it up your ass, then pull it out and beat you with it.”

“You don’t have a gun, pal,” said Jacko, but he lowered the MP5, the barrel aimed at the ground.

“See the turrets on the sides of that rig behind me?  Uh-huh.  Didn’t think so.  Now there’s a Crown Vic behind it with an AK-47 mounted on the roof and a woman behind the wheel who knows how to use it.”

“We don’t know who the hell you –” the man started.

Flex moved toward him in a flash, and a split-second later his hands were locked on Jacko’s weapon.

Jacko’s words caught in his throat as Flex towered over him.  It wasn’t that Flex was
that
big, it’s just that Jacko was about 5’9”. 

Flex put his face an inch from Jacko’s, and I knew the man could feel Flex’s breath with every word he spoke.

“Don’t you have enough fucking enemies in this world,
pal?
  ‘Cause believe me, you don’t want to add us to that list.”

Jacko’s fingers slowly released the MP5, and Flex  stepped away from him, holding the weapon.  Then Flex nodded at him and held the weapon toward the man.

Jacko took it, an unreadable expression on his face, and it was over.

Flex had won the staring contest.

“We were talking about Gem getting bitten.  Yes, she was.  Almost her entire thumb taken off.  I immediately soaked the wound in a special solution we’ve come up with.  I believe it’s what stopped the infection from taking her.  Look.  Do you have someone in charge?  Is it one of you?”

“We kind of split duties, but I’d say Kevin Reeves is the guy you’re looking for.  He used to be the mayor of
Concord, and people like him.  Got a good head on his shoulders.”

“Do you have radio communication with him?” asked Gem.

“We do.”

“If you don’t mind,” Flex said, “Will you call him and get approval for us to come in?  We’ve got women and children who could use some rest in a place they feel safe.”

“They seem like good folks,” said Dan.  He held out his hand and shook each of ours.  “The guy you haven’t met yet is Larry.”

Larry held out his hand, and Whit followed suit, along with the others.   All immediate introductions had been made for the moment.  Their names aren’t important now. There were too many for me to hold onto as I wrote this anyway, so suffice it to say the only one in the group I would consider a problem was Jacko.

As Whit clicked off his radio, having gained approval from Mayor Reeves to allow us into town, I had a funny feeling that Flex would ultimately end up shoving that MP5 up Mr. Jacko’s ass.  And quite possibly beating him with it afterward.

We got back into our caravan, notified the others of our success, and we moved forward to downtown
Concord, New Hampshire.

With granite beneath our wheels.

****

The roads into
Concord were clear and passable.  It was easy to see why.  There were many, many broken down vehicles on the side of the road, but you could see drag marks or tire marks where they’d either been winched or pushed out of the roadway.

Sooner the better, because once the tires all went flat, the job would be far more difficult.

As we got to the main entrance to town, we saw that they’d gotten creative with the unused cars.   Wherever there was a narrow spot in the road, they’d used a crane or some other equipment to stack cars one on top of another, blocking off all but enough room for one vehicle to pass.  They’d made sure it would accommodate a large semi rig, so gave it roughly twelve to thirteen feet across. 

It looked like after the first car was placed, they nearly dropped the next car down, to create an indentation that fit together like a puzzle, creating a more stable stack.  The bottom car had bare rims on it, making the space beneath it almost impassable.