The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (77 page)

“Latch it!  Slide that latch up!” shouted Gem.  “They’re coming, Flex!”

The rats moved as the others had.  Like a tidal wave of black, clawing and climbing over one another as they advanced along the ground.  When they reached the building, it was like a wave crashing against the face of an oceanfront cliff.  The doors pressed against their latches as they slammed into them, clawing and scratching, some making it three to four feet up the glass by pure momentum, then curling back over and falling among their dead compatriots like whitewater after the break.

Thousands of them.  You could no longer see the ground.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said Dave.  “We’d have been dead, Charlie.”

Nobody answered him.  His exhilaration had vanished now, replaced by pure fear.  Then he pointed.

“Look,” he said.  “Over there.”

“They’re different,” said Flex.  “They’re not interested in us.”

“What are there?  Like thirty or so?”

The rats looked the same as the rest.  The only difference is they weren’t pressing against the glass, drawn to us.  They stayed on the outskirts of the pack, looking confused.

“They’re not infected,” I said.

“I think you’re right, Charlie,” said Gem. 

“So … just like people?” asked Lisa.  “They’re immune to the poison ivy oil?”

“Hemp would know,” said Charlie.  “But I’m guessing the answer is yes.”

“Those look like diggers to you?” asked Gem, looking up at Flex.

“Oh, yes,” he said.  I imagine there’s another cemetery beyond that ravine somewhere.  The zombie rats seem to accept them as the same.  They don’t show any interest in or fear of them.”

“Please,” said Lisa.  “I don’t want to be standing here when the … human ones make it here.”

“C’mon,” said Dave.  “We still have work to do before we leave anyway.”

We all turned away from the door.  Flex released it slowly, and it held, even as it shuddered against the hinges and latch.

“I hope we find it,” said Gem.  “The numbers, I mean.  But after we do …”

“Don’t say it,” said Flex.  “You want to know how the hell we’re getting out of here.”

Lisa held up her bottle of urushiol mix.  “Spritz, anyone?”

“Good,” I said.  “That ought to get us five feet or so.”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” said Dave.  “I saw a door marked Federal Aviation Administration when we came in.”

We got to the door and it was locked.  Flex tried to look through the glass, but the blinds were down.  He put his ear to the glass and listened.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Hold on,” said Dave.  He pulled his shoe back and kicked the door.

“Okay, now listen.”

Flex put his ear to the door this time.  “Shit,” he said.

“Someone in there?”

Flex nodded.  “Charlie?  Honors?”

I nodded.  “Flex knew I needed a zombie kill to settle me down.  I didn’t wear my Highway To Hell shirt for nothing this morning.  I had to wear long pants because of the chill in the air, but these pants said Okay To Stare on the ass.

I backed up five feet from the door.  “Ready when you are.”

I raised the crossbow, my arrow set and waiting.

Flex put the key in and turned it.  “Say when, Charlie.”

“When,” I said.

The moment the door was open, a man in a white button down shirt and a face adorned with pustules and maggots staggered out.  I pulled the trigger, sending the arrow right between his nose and his right eye.  Several maggots scattered to the floor, displaced by the bolt, and he fell to the floor with a squishy thud.

“Oh, my God!” cried Lisa, and turned away.  She bent over and was sick on the floor.

And there was another.  This one was a woman, and she barreled out of the door so fast I didn’t have time to load another arrow.  She stumbled on the creature I’d just killed and fell forward toward me, her arms out, her hands clutching.  I staggered back, but she hooked one of her black, swollen hands around my ankle and held tight.

“Lisa!” shouted Gem.  She turned to see Flex with his K7 pointed at me, but unable to fire.  Likewise, Dave held his MP5 on the thing, but I was in the way.

“Spray it, Lisa!” shouted Gem, her face a horrified mask.

I slammed the creature’s head with the side of the bow, but the beast doubled her grip on me and I was beginning to panic.

Lisa turned and dropped to the floor, pulling the spray bottle trigger again and again and again, soaking the thing that was attacking me.  No blood had been drawn, but I feared that any moment, that is exactly what would happen.  I struggled to pull my legs away, and in mere seconds I was able to.

The woman became a hissing blob of gooey shit as it succumbed to the oil and water blend.

Lisa continued to spray.

“Stop, sis,” said Dave, taking the bottle.  “Good.  You got her.”

Flex reached down and lifted me into his arms, then put me on the floor again away from the mess.

“You okay, Charlie?”

I leaned forward and checked my legs.  Ran my hands up and down them.  “Yeah, I think so.  I don’t feel any sting or anything.  Check the backs.”

Flex did.  “Nothing.  You’re good.”

“Maybe,” I said.  “But why do I feel like I could take an urushiol bath?”

“No safer place in the world,” said Dave.  “Not right now, anyways.”

“Can we get done here and figure out how to get back to the car?” asked Gem. 

“There had better be a pot of gold in this office,” said Dave.  “We so need a payoff.”

We went in, headlamps on.  There were no battery backups on the computer terminals, no hope of accessing any cached data.

But since the FAA was basically living in the 1970’s, they did keep printed logs of all aircraft that had flown into Concord Municipal over the last five years.  And we had the log books.

Turns out there were five books.  And five people.

We got busy, one eye on the diggers and rats outside, the other on our jobs.

An hour and twenty-two minutes later, Dave Gammon made me pee my pants.  Just a little.

****

“I got it!” shouted Dave, startling everyone. 

“Jesus, Dave,” said Gem, “Just for future reference, screaming out suddenly when you’re surrounded by zombies and walking dead rats is bad.  Very bad.”

Dave smiled.  “Sorry, but this is good, very good!”

I checked my pants.

“Are you saying we can close these logs now?” asked Flex, his voice hopeful.

“Not yet, but listen,” said Dave.  “Here’s another plane.  It’s a Learjet 55 with the number N389RC.”

“What’s our number again?” I asked.  “I was looking for the RC, mainly.”

“That makes sense, and it’s the first RC I’ve seen besides the number we were looking for,” said Dave.  “And this wouldn’t seem like a sure thing except it’s only two numbers off the number on the chopper.”

“Who owns it?”

“It’s registered to Carville International.”

“Ryan Carville?” Flex asked.

“Yep.  The real estate guy.”

“Doesn’t he live in
Vermont?” asked Gem.  “I only know that because everyone always makes a big deal out of the fact that he does all his real estate business in New York City, putting his name on buildings and crap, and he doesn’t even live there.  Pisses New Yorkers off.”

“Everything pisses New Yorkers off,” said Flex.  “Dave, is there a date on that log?”

Dave ran his finger down the book, then across the page.  “Yep.  The entry is from last year.  November.”

I felt a simultaneous surge of relief and adrenaline in my veins.  I wanted to jump in the Crown Vic and floor the gas pedal until we were in
Vermont.

Gem put a hand on my back, clearly seeing the relief on my face.  “Baby, we’re a step closer.”

I nodded.  “I know, Gem.  I want to go.”

“Charlie, we need to investigate this a bit more before we do anything,” said Flex.  “We need a solid plan.  It wouldn’t do any good to get deeper in the shit and end up not rescuing him.”

I looked at him.  “Flex, we can find Carville’s address.  We can get there.  Where’s Vermont?  Just one state over?”

“Makes sense,” said Dave.  “I thought at first, you know, what if he’s out of the country or something.  That would kill that idea.  Anyone could’ve stolen one of his helicopters.”

“We have to assume it was him,” said Gem.  “It’s all we’ve got.  We have to eliminate him as the guy first.  Then we move on.”

“But what would he want with Hemp?” I asked.

“Maybe it didn’t matter which one of you they got,” said Lisa.  “Just whoever was isolated long enough to grab.”

“But why take any of us?” Gem asked.  “Doesn’t make sense.”

“It does make sense if they were going specifically after Hemp,” said Flex.  “He’s the guy figuring all this crap out.  He’s the CDC guy.  Hemp is a benefit to anyone fighting this thing and looking for help.”

“Then maybe,” said Dave, “we can find him and convince Mr. Carville that we’re willing to work with him.  It’s not like you guys haven’t shared your knowledge.”

“The first thing we need to do is check the perimeter of this building and figure a way out,” said Flex.

“Please,” said Lisa.  “Which brings me to what I needed to talk to you guys about.  Gem, Charlie, I want you to teach me stuff.”

“Stuff?” I asked.  “Weapon stuff?”

Lisa nodded.

“We’re always up for a training session,” said Gem.  “As long as we’ve got the down time.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Crossbow would be cool,” she said.  “And I think handguns.  I used to do a little target shooting with my dad when I was a kid.  We used a little .22 target pistol.”

“Were you any good?” asked Dave.

“Actually, I was,” she answered.  “After a while.”

“A .45 or even a .38 is a bit different,” I said.  “Far more kick, harder to control.  I take it your .22 had a long barrel?”

Lisa nodded.  “I think so.  Seemed pretty long, like a six gun in an old western.”

I nodded at Gem.  “Okay.  We’ll dig through the remaining arsenal, maybe see what Kev has lying around.  We’ll get you trained, right Gem?”

“Absolutely.  Why did you decide this, Lisa?”

Lisa’s face drew downward, and it looked as though she might cry.  “I didn’t know Cyn very well, but I liked her a lot.  I watched her with
Taylor, and she made me feel like there was hope.  She was confident, even though I could see she struggled inside, worrying about her daughter in this crazy new world.”

She swiped a tear away that she could no longer fight.

“I don’t want to end up that way.  I want to have a fighting chance, and I just feel that today that term is real; it’s literal.  You need to know how to fight.”

Gem scooted next to her on the floor and pulled her into a hug.  “We’ll get you there,” she said.  “You’ll be a regular Annie Oakley.”

She sniffed.  “Thanks.  Dave and I got lucky when we met all of you.  I want to help you find Hemp.”

“Can’t promise you that,” said Flex.  “It’s going to happen fast, and you’re going to be needed in
Concord.  Patience, Lisa.  There’ll be plenty of time and you’ll contribute in a lot of ways.”

He stood up and held a hand out to Gem, who took it and allowed him to pull her up.  “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

We all followed suit.

****

The Ford was parked right outside the main entry doors at the front of the terminal building.  We looked though the windows and saw several hundred rats bunched up close to the building.  So far, none had found any gaps to make their way inside.

“I fucking hate rats,” I said to Gem.  “Lisa’s just got the one bottle of urushiol.  We should have brought the other ones in.”

“I know,” said Gem.  “It was a dumb move.  We need to give these little bastards the respect they deserve, considering what they did to Cyn and Todd.”

“I have an idea,” said Dave.

“I have one, too, said Flex.

They looked at each other.

“I’ll run –” they both began at the same time.

“I need to contribute, Flex,” said Dave.  “Let me take the risk this time.”

“Dave, no!” said Lisa. 

Dave shot her a look.  “I’ll be fine.”

I watched Gem.  I know she didn’t want Flex to go.  How many times had they pushed their luck and squeaked by, unharmed?  How long could their luck hold?  I knew all of these things were on her mind.

“I’ll go,” I said.

“No way,” said Flex.

“Bullshit, Flex,” I said.  “We’re here because my husband is gone.  I’m as fast as anyone here, and probably faster.  Don’t forget I’m younger than any of you old coots except Lisa here.”