The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (7 page)

Hemp did know his weapons.  He charged forward toward them for a good, predictable shot, and in six short bursts, took seven of them down.  For my part, I’d taken five out,
and from our first estimate, we should’ve had right around thirty-five to go.  We were wrong.  There were dozens of them outside of our line of fire, making their way toward us along the shoulder behind the many cars that either crashed or had been hastily parked there.  In my peripheral vision, I could see a few of them flanking us, and that didn’t make any sense at all for things with just one emotion – hunger.

“Hemp, do you see what’s happening?” I ran back to the truck and yanked open the door.  “Trina, no matter what you hear, you keep your head down, do you hear me?” 

“Yes, Uncle Flexy,” she answered from under her comforter.

“Okay, sweetheart.”  I pulled the key and leaned over and pushed the lock down on the passenger side, then locked the driver’s door and slammed it.  I wanted to leave the rear doors open for quick access to the other weapons and ammo in case we needed them.

“Hemp, what do you think?” I called.  Gem was focused.  I glanced at her every now and then, in between shots.

“I think I’m glad we got these high-capacity magazines,” he said.  “It’s going to be close.”

“Gem, watch!  There’s two on your right!”  I had my share of them working their way on my left, too, so took careful aim in the lightening sky and brought down six more in a spray of crimson that painted the gravel red.

We were in a isosceles triangle formation with Hemp out front, Gem on the right side of the Suburban, and me on the left. 
Hemp was using his M960 efficiently, and with minimal use of rounds, he was taking them out down the middle, leaving the side trackers to us.  There was a car just to Gem’s right, and that’s how they got so close to her.

Gem turned and blew the heads
completely off the two closest when they were just feet away from her.  The light breeze blew the blood spray back toward her and she turned away momentarily to keep it out of her face.  As she did so, she saw two more behind her.  I had ducked down low to see beneath the Suburban, and saw their legs moving toward her.  I heard her gun click.

“Run toward Hemp!” I shouted at Gem, and dropped to my stomach on the pavement.  I fired a long burst, turning the creatures’ legs into stumps.  Then I ran around the truck and turned their gnashing faces and heads into pulp.  “That’s the fucking way we do it, asshole!” I shouted.  This fucker had almost gotten the jump on my woman, and that shit was NOT acceptable.

“Gem!”  She turned toward me, gratitude on her face.  I threw my gun to her and she deftly caught it.  In one swift motion she turned and took out no fewer than ten of the slow walkers on her right.  I was back at the car, yanking the rear door open to grab another fully loaded rifle.  This was one of the newest machine guns in the mix, A Daewoo K7 from the early 2000’s.  It only had a 32 round magazine on it, so I set it to the three-round burst mode.  With speed, I could take out two or three of them per burst.

I slammed the door in time to turn and find one of them almost right behind me.  Behind him were four more, coming out of the ditch from behind an old Nissan Sentra.  I shot him i
n the mouth, and his head broke into two sloppy halves that slid down his body.  As he fell, the others came into my sights, and I used two more quick bursts to take them down. 

One of them could have been no older than sixteen years.  I stared at the body on the ground for a moment.  Somebody’s son.  Maybe
they’d been on their way down to Orlando to see Disney World for the first time. 

But this was no longer that family.  These were not people now, and it was becoming
clearer to me with every one of them I . . . murdered.

Stop that shit, Flex.  Stop it.

Subconsciously I heard the gunfire all around me grow more and more infrequent.  I shook off my heavy thoughts and ran around the rear of the trailer, scanned the freeway exit we’d driven up as far as I could see, then ran around the other side of the Suburban where Gem was in the process of shooting what used to be a woman wearing a “I’m With Stupid” shirt featuring an arrow pointing up.  Stupid went down in a pool of muck.

“How we doin’
, guys?” Gem called, her eyes peeled for movement, her head moving side to side as she focused on the fading shadows around her. 

I respected that woman more than ever.  I never knew what was inside her,
her strength, the pure will she possessed.  I knew she had all the things I wanted, but I had no idea she also had what I needed. 
Everything
I needed.  There were so many things I wanted to say to her, but we hadn’t had the time since this whole thing began.  When we got back to my house, I’d make the time. 

“Good,” Hemp said.  “I’m thinking . . . almost afraid to say it, but I’m thinking we’ve got them.”

I checked the area behind the cars again, and walked forward.  Hemp followed while Gem stayed near the Suburban and peered inside to check on Trina.  Hemp and I scouted about fifty yards or so out in front of our vehicle.  We both got to our knees and searched under the cars.  All the bodies we encountered were either half-eaten human beings or abnormals with serious – and I mean deadly serious – head trauma.

“Hemp,” I said, pointing at a Toyota Highlander
that was rocking back and forth.  I used hand motions to him as we separated and approached the vehicle from two sides.  I saw the cause of the rocking almost immediately.  Feet stuck out of the rear passenger side door.  We’d been unable to see it as we walked by earlier on the other side of a crashed minivan.

I walked slowly, gun held at ready, and moved closer so I could see what was happening inside.  When I finally could see, I wasn’t sure what I
was
seeing.

It looked like a man in the throes of a fight with a polar bearskin rug.  He moaned and thrashed, and I stood there for a moment in shock at the sight.  But if he was alive, I needed to get to him.  I
leaned my gun against the van and reached down and grabbed both his ankles.  Before I realized that his skin mashed like putty in my grip, I was pulling him out of the SUV.  When his body rolled over as he slid off the seat and onto the ground, I saw his gnashing, bloody teeth, and massive bite marks in his vein-riddled face.

Faster than I could have imagined possible, he leaned forward, his hand snatching for my wrist, and he had me.  His grip was much stronger than I could have imagined, and he was also far more flexible, bending almost in half to bring his horrifying face to where his hand held me.  His mouth str
etched open, his nose wrinkled and his lidless eyes grew wide as he prepared to take a bite of me.

An explosion rang out beside my ear, and I felt the burn of hot powder, followed by a high-pitched ringing, like a fucking tuning fork was embedded in my brain.

The hand loosened, and I fell back hard.  I recall thinking I was going to hit my head on the pavement and there was nothing I could do to stop it. 

It was the last thing I remember until I felt the wet towel on my face.

Only it wasn’t a towel.

*****

“Flex.  Flex, baby, wake up.” 

It was . . . could it be?  Gem’s voice?

“C’mon, baby.  You’re the one who’s always on a time schedule.  All your structure and bullshit.  We gotta go.”

Something wet slid across my mouth and cheek.  Was Gem licking me?  I tried to open my eyes, and found they worked.  Light flooded into them, and I saw a white and pink blur over me.    I squeezed them closed again, flushing away the haze, and opened them.
  Another lick.   A big one.

“Jesus, you two, get that thing away from me!”  I wasn’t even sure what it was yet, but it was
licking
me.

“C’mon,
now,” said Hemp’s voice.

I opened my eyes again, and this time I saw Hemp pulling the collar of a giant white dog with blood matted in
the fur on its chin and all along its front legs and chest.

“Is he okay?” I asked.   “Where the hell did he come from?”

Gem answered.  “Well, a couple of things first.  He’s a she, and you saved her, Flex.  Damned zombie was – sorry, I mean
abnormal –
was trying to eat her for breakfast.”

Cobwebs still abounded in my head.  “Shit,
that
was the rug?  I didn’t know what I was seeing!  I thought the guy was freaking out, trying to bury himself under a big fur rug or something.  When I grabbed his legs, it felt wrong, but . . . fucknuts!”

“Fucknuts?” Hemp said, amused.  “This is what you come up with after almost being partially eaten?”

Gem looked at Hemp and smiled.  “It’s an inside joke.  It’s a pretty universal exclamation, actually.”

“The thing was gnawing on this big girl’s leg, and she was taking off a good portion of his face,” Hemp said.

“And you were letting her lick me?  What if she’s infected?”

Hemp might as well have called me a moron.  His face went absolutely sarcastic, and the only thing he left out was rolling his eyes.  “Flex.  We’ve driven across north
Florida and did you see one zombie – shit – abnormal dog?  Did you see any dogs feasting on human flesh the entire way?  This tells me – and granted, I’m only a scientist who specializes in epidemics – that it doesn’t spread to dogs.   Perhaps other animals, but not canines.  You’ll be fine.”

I sat up and stretched out my arms.  “How’s Trina?”

Gem held out her hand to me and I took it.  “She’s great.  I fed her a few handfuls of Cheerios and some of the fruit rollups you got.  Then I gave her a Benadryl, and she’s back out.”

“Did she see any of –”

“No,” Gem said.  I rolled up a blanket in the side window put the sunshade in the windshield.  She’s okay.  And I want to take this girl with us, too.”

“What the hell is it?”  I stared at the dog.  “She’s
big, and fat as hell.”

Hemp laughed.  “She’s a Great Pyrenees, and she’s pregnant.”

I brushed off my pants and looked from Hemp to Gem to the giant blood red and white cotton ball looking up at me, panting and smiling.  “Well, if we aren’t turning into one big fucking happy family.”

“I’ll drive,” Gem said.  “You look like you could use a can of chili and a nap.”

I didn’t argue.

CHAPTER SIX

We made it to the CDC in
Atlanta well into the morning.  Our encounters with others, either alive or otherwise, was limited.  Nothing seemed to make sense.  Visible people on the streets were almost non-existent, aside from the abnormals – it was as though the survivors were holing up somewhere, avoiding the creatures that seemed to have only one purpose.

The guard gate at the entrance to the Center for Disease Control complex of buildings was far more fortified than the flimsy bar
we’d breached to enter the parking lot at the police building back in Tallahassee.  As we approached the barrier and small building, we saw a man inside, slumped over his keyboard, the back of his head and neck raw meat and being worried by a swarm of flies.  Hemp and I got out of the truck and cautiously approached the open door.  One of the abnormals was on the ground with a hole in the back of its skull, apparently caught in the act of feasting on the guard.

“Wonder if the head shot was lucky, or from experience,” Hemp pondered. 

“Bothers me that the radio is dark now,” I said.  It had been nothing but static and canned music from automated stations for the last two hours.  “That means that as far as these radio towers can transmit, life has changed.”

A sound came in the distance. 
A high-pitched, yet deep shriek.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked, and Hemp answered, the engineer that he was.

“Airliner!” he shouted.

It grew louder and louder
as Hemp and I turned and looked all around us.  The deep, rumbling sound became ear-shattering, a deafening roar.  We instinctively ducked down and ran back to the truck, our knees bent and our eyes scanning the sky.  Over the horizon from behind the gate entrance, an enormous Japan Air passenger plane came into view, no higher than half a mile off the ground, losing altitude fast.  The trajectory had it coming right over the top of us, but we had no idea how fast it was dropping.

“What the fuck?” yelled Gem through the open window.  She had no view
of the sky from inside the Suburban, but turned in her seat and saw the plane looming larger than life through the rear window, and heading straight for the truck.

“Jesus Christ!”
she cried, and instinctively threw herself over Trina as they both tucked down, pressing their bodies into the seat.  The enormous Boeing 777, now no more than five hundred feet above, thundered directly overhead, beginning to angle sharply to the left.  The left wing cut through the top of the guard building we were just in, and it shattered into a million pieces that blew into the sky, mostly following the trajectory of the plane itself.

Hitting the guard building did nothing to the plane’s momentum or angle, insignificant as it was in size and construction. 
Hemp and I had dropped down onto our stomachs beside the truck, our necks craned as we watched the plane rocket overhead slanting to a greater and greater degree.  The whooshing jet blast kicked a torrent of dust and gravel up into our faces, sandblasting the truck, and nearly blowing us beneath it, even as it rocked the entire vehicle on its suspension.  Then, within an eighth mile, the tip of the huge wing punched into the paved drive ahead, sending chunks of asphalt as big as Volkswagens flying into the air. 

The huge
plane with its nearly 200 foot wingspan cartwheeled three times before exploding in a ball of flame and searing heat that blasted our dazed faces even from that distance.  Its speed ensured forward momentum, though, and it eventually slammed into the solid concrete CDC building identified with a large sign as Building #1.  The walls collapsed into a fiery mishmash of stone, metal and bodies as the aircraft finally came to rest, now unrecognizable in its complete destruction.

Hemp and I shook off the dust and dirt as we slowly got to our feet, unable to take our eyes off the devastation.  Then I thought of the girls.

“Holy shit,” I said, pulling open the door of the SUV.  “You guys okay?”

“Had to happen,” Gem said.  “Pilots aren’t immune, are they?”

“He was probably headed to land at Hartsfield-Jackson,” said Hemp.  “Didn’t quite make it.”

We all knew, but didn’t really discuss the fact that there was more than one possibility.  Either the pilot had become infected or the co-pilot had metamorphosed and had attacked him.  The other scenario is that while the flight attendants were accessing the cockpit, multip
le passengers overtook him or her, and all hell ensued.

“Well, we can scratch that building off our list,” I said.

“Not too big a deal,” said Hemp.  “It’s mostly administrative.  “I mean, it would not be where people would go if there was an outbreak of some kind.  The buildings with secure airtight bunkers are deeper within the complex.”

“Did you spend a lot of time here?” Gem asked.

“Absolutely.  I did quite a bit of work here during the swine flu scare, as well as some pretty intense research on some other viruses that were never shared with the public.”

“Doesn’t keeping epidemics from the public defeat the purpose of the CDC?
” I asked.  “Aren’t they supposed to tell the public how to avoid contracting diseases and viruses?”

Hemp looked somber.  “Flex, there was no preventing the ones I’m referring to.  It only would have served to send people into a panic.  But that said, the one that seems to have gained a footing
– this one – is more devastating than any I saw.  If not for us, I’d call this one a world-ender.”

“If not for us?”

Gem interjected.  “I think Hemp means that with us alive and uninfected, there’s a chance this thing runs its course.  People like us will be left to repopulate and rebuild.”

“It remains to be seen how long these people last once they’ve become infected.  I won’t know anything until I’m able to study some of them; learn about their new physiology, heart, lungs, brains, motor skills, communication skills, if any.”

I shook my head.  “I don’t think there are any communication skills.  Just body language, and that’s always the same.  I’m hungry, and you’re food.”

Gem
smiled at me.  “Flexy, was that a joke?”

“Fuck, don’t I wish,” I said.  “Let’s get through this barrier and past that mess and see what we find in these other buildings.  Hemp, lead the way, brother.”

“First things first,” he said.  He walked over to the automatic barrier and analyzed it for a moment.  Then he removed a plastic cover, pulled a lever, and the gate unlatched.  A moment later he was rolling it open.

“You
are
an engineer,” Gem said.

It had
taken him under sixty seconds.

“Yes, I am,” he said, smiling. 

The heat from the blazing aircraft could be felt through the side windows of the Suburban as we drove past the tangled wreckage.   There were torsos, trunks, arms, legs, and various other unidentifiable body parts strewn among the seats, metal and burning plastic chunks.  We had to skirt over a hundred and fifty feet to the left just to get the Suburban past the debris.

“That was close,” Gem said, hugging Trina to her side.  “You okay, baby?”

Trina looked up at her and nodded.  “Yeah.  But I’m hungry.”

“We’ll get some food when we stop.  Want more Cheerios?”

“I guess.  Do we have any milk and sugar?”

“I’m afraid not, sweetie.  Maybe Gemmy will stop and get us some.  It might not be that cold, though.”

“Okay,” Trina said.

I was a bit worried about
her.  She seemed to be in shock.  I was no expert, but wouldn’t be surprised.  I was even happier to have Gem with her.  Trina loved Gem.

“Pull up here, to Building #3,” Hemp said.  “If their emergency systems are up, then they’ve got cameras and
should be able to see us at the entry.  There are two large bunkers beneath this building, with storage garages, and laboratories are on the upper levels.  We should be able to achieve whatever we might expect right here.”

“And what do we expect?” I asked.  “I don’t think I really had any idea.  Just seemed like the place to go.”

“Equipment, maybe some explanations, too.  If anybody here is still . . . well, human.”  Hemp shrugged.  “And you’re right.  It’s our best bet.”

We got out of the Suburban
and Gem scooped up Trina and carried her in her arms.  We relegated the dog to the vehicle for the time being – there was not much sense in having her running around in her condition, not sure exactly what might come around the next bend.

There were no abnormals around – at least not yet – so we felt relatively safe, what with the tremendous firepower we’d obtained, now
strapped across our shoulders.  Gem, holding Trina, had settled for the Glock tucked into her waistband, her precious Uzi left behind for the time being.

The door looked secure.  The camera was there as Hemp said it would be, and we all looked up at it and waved our arms.  Gem had had an idea for a sign, which we made in the truck before coming out.  It said:

UNINFECTED
.
 

NEED HELP
!

I had a black Sharpie in the glove compartment and we’d used the inside cover of the old Suburban’s maintenance record book.  It wasn’t that big, but it should do it if anyone was inside to read it.  While we realized it would be clear we were not one of
them
, we wanted to stress the point that we were well aware of them.

“Do you hear that?” I asked.

Everyone was quiet for a moment.  “Yes.  Sounds like a generator,” said Hemp.

“Then somebody’s alive?” Gem said.

“Here’s hoping.”   I pounded on the door, and we stood back and looked again at the camera.  I thrust the sign right in front of the camera again.

An intercom clicked.  “Dr. Chatsworth, is that you?”

Hemp’s eyes brightened.  “Uh, yes, it is.  Who is that, please?”

“It’s Max, Dr. Chats – I mean, Max Romero!”

“Max, God it’s good to hear your voice.  Can you allow us to come in?  What’s the situation inside?”

“Jesus, Dr. Chatsworth.  I can’t tell you how happy I am you’re here.  I’m . . . well, I’m
locked inside one of the labs right now.  Some of our people were infected, and I barely made it in here.  Jesus, Dr.  Franklin Lang – or what used to be Dr. Lang – attacked me.  And what the hell was that noise?  About ten minutes ago I heard a loud rumbling sound and the ground actually shook beneath my feet!”

Gem spoke up.  “A passenger plane crashed outside and slid into your building number one.  It was an enormous explosion.”

“Jesus.  I was on the phone with Dr. Snipes and Dr. Wilder.  They were in building one working on some documentation.  I guess they’re . . .”

“They’re gone,
I’m afraid,” said Gem.  “That building is rubble, and what’s not destroyed is burning.  I’m sorry.”

The smoke was beginning to build where we stood, and it was getting thick and hard to breathe.  There was a light breeze blowing the smoke and fumes in our direction, and along with the wind created by the fire itself, I knew we couldn’t stay out here for long.  I tried to be tolerant as Hemp got a feel for the landscape of things.

Hemp looked at us and shook his head.  “They weren’t exactly friends, but I did work closely with Dr. Lang.  He was an excellent scientist.  Max, do you have control of the door switch from there?”

“Yes, Dr. Chatsworth, I can buzz the door from here, but you have to be careful.  I see you’ve got weapons, and that’s good, because at this point, I have no idea what you’ll find in the unsecured areas of the building.”

“What of the EIS staff?” Hemp asked.  He turned to us and said “Epidemic Intelligence Service.  These are the ones to get busy when a new threat appears.”  He looked again at the camera.  “Have any of them been able to initiate an analysis of this?”

I was getting impatient.  “I hate to inter
rupt Hemp, but would you mind if he buzzes us in?  We’re pretty exposed out here.”

Gem spoke up.  “Flex, we’d better get as much information as we can before we go inside.  Hemp’s talking to him now, but once we gain access, we have no idea what we’re going to run into
or if we’ll ever get to him at all.”  She looked up at the camera and shrugged.  “Sorry, Max, but there’s no guarantee we’ll make it to you or that you’ll be alive if and when we
do
get there.”

“I understand,” Max said.  “What else can I tell you, Dr. Chatsworth?”

“Can you tell me if the abnormals – that’s what we’re calling them for the time being – are concentrated or more prevalent in a particular area of the building?  So we can avoid it if possible?”

The click came again.  “This started yesterday evening,” said Max.  “I was having some dinner in the cafeteria, and it seemed as though after some initial complaints about headaches –
severe, migraine-type  headaches from what I understand – those who had them just dropped.  Like they passed out.  When they got back up, they’d . . . well, they’d just
changed
.  Eyes, skin, motor skills.”