The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (80 page)

I missed her during those days.  I missed her laugh, her smell, the way her skin felt beneath my hands.  These impressions and memories of her were so powerful that I knew I would see her again.  I didn’t have a doubt.  So I guess what I’m saying here is that from my end, I knew I would do everything in my power to get out of here and back to her.

What I could not control is what she would do, and her safety.  I could only trust that Flex, Gem, Dave and the rest of them would keep her safe until we were together again.  Unfortunately, a large part of the responsibility of that was in Charlie’s hands, and she could be impulsive.

So, amidst all my plotting and thinking, I did a bit of worrying, too.  Worry is a hindrance that only serves to muck up everything else you intend to do.  Worry never prevented bad things from happening.

Only action can do that.  I tried to focus.

I picked up the small, sealed glass tube from rack sitting on the stainless steel counter.  I needed to find a way to blend a portion of this with the two other components.

Using a syringe, I withdrew 1cc of urushiol oil from the sample they had provided.  The zombies lay nearby on their examination tables, and I never once considered using it on them.  I’d like to say it is to my credit, but my lack of desire to be cast outside covered in blood had a lot to do with it.  I didn’t intend to do any experiments at all with these living cadavers in mind, though.

Carville didn’t need to know that.

Suddenly, Tom Petty’s
Refugee
drifted from the ceiling speakers, and I smiled.  I looked over at Billy, and he gave me a thumbs up and a smile.

It was a good choice of one of the best American bands ever.  I kind of thought it would help take my mind off other things and keep it on my work.

But I did wonder what happened to Petty.  He’d make a skinny, but scary zombie.

Refugee
was followed by
Here Comes My Girl
, so I knew they’d put on the
Damn The Torpedoes
record.  I worked to it, actually moving faster and feeling as though I were in a rhythm.

By the time
Even the Losers
came on, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to dance, but I realized even more pointedly how I missed the hell out of Charlie.  Rather than feeling better, I felt a couple of tears roll down my cheeks, and I knew then how much I loved that woman.  Crying because she wasn’t with me to enjoy something proved it.

It just did.  It was like watching a great comedy by yourself.  You find yourself turning to say, “That was hilarious!” and you realize there’s nobody to share it with.

Enough of the sentimental moments I went through.  Back to my experiments.  Sorry for the digression.

I took a sealed glass container with a valve inserted in the bottom for adding liquids and gases.  For this experiment, I would merely mix the zombie gas with the eye vapor and attempt to quickly freeze it using liquid nitrogen.

I injected a known volume of both gases into the sealed container.  I then topped it off with oxygen.

Now I knew how much oxygen and how much of the other gases were in the jar.  My next step was to bleed off the oxygen and freeze the gases.  Since both gases were lighter than the oxygen, I had only to withdraw the known amount of oxygen from the container and as Charlie might say, “Fuckin’ voila!”

Of course, she would be kissing me first, because when I demonstrate intelligence, there is no greater aphrodisiac for that woman.

I held up the glass beaker containing the z-gas and eye vapor.  Because of the coral color of the vapor, I could see minute swirls of the two gases intertwining around one another, as though borne of opposite poles of a magnet. 

How could I get these two to blend?

I looked around the lab, and put down the vessel.  Though I’d not had a need for it prior to this idea, I’d seen the dewar on the back wall counter.  I found it and brought it back with me to the table.

I placed the sealed jar containing my dueling gases in a jacketed beaker of approximately 100 ml in size.  It fit perfectly.

I opened the top nozzle and produced a tempered glass funnel from the tray on the counter.  Holding the tab on the edge of the funnel, I removed the vented stopper from the dewar of liquid nitrogen, and poured it quickly into the jacket reservoir, filling it.

And I watched.

The gases within hyper-responded.  I felt as though I could see the molecules fighting one another, then almost emulsifying as they whipped faster and faster within, until the clear and the coral molecules began to occupy the same space.  The interaction became what I could only refer to as frantic as the two separate gases within appeared to merge together becoming a very fine pink, and finally, nothing.

I peered over the edge, looking down at the bottom of the container.

There was a fine gel at the bottom of the jar.  Not a powder as I’d expected.  It sat there, challenging my intellect.  All of it challenged my intellect, because nobody had ever done any of this before.

I quickly withdrew the container from the liquid nitrogen and unscrewed the jar at its center seal.  Using a small, plastic scoop, I captured the fruits of my experiment and sealed it within five different glass microscope slides.

Semi-solidified versions of both gases, blended for the first time.

I looked at them.  One was the cause of the change in human beings, turning them into zombie-like creatures; the other was an organic byproduct of human decomposition, combined with whatever genetic changes the z-gas wreaked.

I put one of them under the microscope and lowered my eye to it.

And I held my breath.  The blend I was witnessing was complete and unthinkable. 

I was witnessing glandular epithelium.  Cells secreting other cells, creating something from seemingly nothing.

From nowhere, the light pink cells would emerge, as though being born before my eyes.  The other cells rotated around the pink ones, like ball bearings around a track.  With each rotation of the cells, a countless amount of pink cells would form.

One was helping the other to generate and reproduce.

I stared at it for so long I lost track of time.  When I removed the slide from the microscope, the size of the sample had doubled.

How to stop it?  What if I didn’t?  Would it become a super vapor, knocking out everyone in the building, me being its first target?

I quickly took the other slides and dropped them into the jacketed beaker, using the liquid nitrogen to slow whatever was happening, if it could.  I just didn’t know.

As I ran to the rear of the lab, I saw Frank and Billy watching me, their eyes wide.

“Professor!  What’s the problem?  Everything okay?”

It was Billy.

“Yes, yes,” I said, unsure whether I was lying or not.  “I’m just performing an experiment that requires quick action.”

I put the gas mask over my face and saw Frank and Billy draw their sidearms.  I waved them off, but had no time to calm their fears.

I opened the refrigerator and withdrew my sample bottle of urushiol.   I inserted the tip of a syringe into the oil and removed .25cc.  I went back to my sample, which had now grown to four times the size.  I slid the glass apart and dropped the tiny sample of oil in the center, and used the tip of the needle to mix it as best I could.

The top piece of the slide was put back in place, and I slid it quickly under the microscope again.

I pulled off my mask and put my eye to the microscope again.

Everything had stopped. 

But not quite everything.  The three components were congealing, as though I’d added flour to water.  I could feel heat now, wafting up into my face over the microscope, and I lifted my head to see what it looked like.  I withdrew the slide, and saw that it looked like a wafer now.

No longer growing, but it had expanded so much that the slide had cracked.

I put on goggles and checked my gloves.   No tears or rips.  I separated the glass slide pieces and took a tiny, stainless steel spatula from the tool tray.

And I easily scraped a dime-sized wafer containing the three most important elements of our time off of the glass.

Like a tiny cookie.  Now I needed a rat.

I wasn’t sure why, but I knew in the back of my scientific mind that this mixture would do
something
.  Three components that all affected our physiology in some way could not, when blended, be ineffective, whether in favor of what I hoped to achieve or against.

But the strange thing was, I had just performed an experiment where I had no idea of what outcome I even hoped for.  Usually I had a target in mind; a desired result.  What had happened was completely unexpected, and yes, it could have created a little wafer that, when ingested, would do nothing. Or one that would kill you.

I looked over at my other samples.  The liquid nitrogen had stopped the multiplication of the cells.  That was a good thing.   I didn’t need the Blob on my hands, like that old horror movie from the sixties where the massive jelly ball kept on growing and growing, consuming everyone in its path.

But the very fact that it
would
increase in size on its own meant that theoretically, I’d never have to blend these two components again – just keep them inert until I needed more, remove it from the liquid nitrogen and allow it to get as large as I needed it, then add the appropriate amount of urushiol.

Charlie came back in my mind.

Fuckin’ voila.

Chapter 13

The first day of oil distribution went very well.  Kev figured that nearly sixty percent of the town had gotten their juice.  But things had taken a turn.  This morning, while some others were on their way to the governor’s mansion, things went to shit.

We were in Reeves’ office, listening.

“Jesus, Whit!” shouted Kevin Reeves into the radio.  Gem, Flex, Dave, Lisa and I stood around him.

“Get on channel 19 and tell everyone to stay inside and grab what they have of the oil spray.  If they didn’t get a chance to get it yet, they’re on their own, and there’s nothing we can do but warn them.  Basement doors closed, and for God’s sake, tell nobody to even look outside!”

Reeves slammed the radio down on the desk, brushed his hair off his forehead, sweat glistening on his forehead.
  He turned toward us and shook his head. 

The entire town was freaking out.  It began when several people were on the way from the north part of town to the governor’s mansion to pick up their supply of urushiol and spray bottles.  A flood of rats had overtaken them, and among the rats were dozens of the human zombies.  The two species had fed together, almost as if in cooperation with one another, at least according to those lucky enough to get all the way to the governor’s mansion.

Nightfall had come and gone since that horror, and the new day arrived with a chill.  There was no weather report to watch, but everyone who lived in this area knew it felt like snow.

Reeves stared up at us from his desk.  “I don’t know what happened.  “We’ve had a few days of rain just before you got here.  A little since.  Guess it softened up the dirt enough.”

Flex shook his head.  “Kev, I tell you, it looked like the rats were burrowing into the graves.  Maybe tunneling.  When they busted through, it was like a flood gate opened.  A fuckin’ dam.”

“You know what you did before we got here, Kev?” said Gem.  “You got groups together and you went out hunting?  You need to do it again.  You need to rig some vehicles – I don’t know, like street sweepers – with different nozzles.  Something that makes the water jet out rather than just spray the ground.”

“Yeah, Gem!” I said.  “Fill that tank with our z-juice and drive it right over the cemetery.”

“Everywhere,” said Dave.  “Keep the windows rolled up and just get on the prowl for the dead fuckers.”

“It’s a good idea,” said Kev.  “We’ve got four of them.  All in good shape.  Just a couple years old.”

“I know this sounds like a Hemp idea,” said Dave, looking at me.  “At least I hope it does.  We need some sort of system for injecting this building’s sprinkler system with that urushiol mix.  Kind of like a Miracle-Gro sprayer that draws the liquid from the jar as you spray water through it.  It wouldn’t hurt any non-zombies, but once we have it set up, we could just turn it on if they break through the barriers.”

“I tell you what,” said Kev.  “Let’s save that job for when Hemp is back.”  He nodded at me and gave me a reassuring look.  “He’ll know just how to install it, I’ll bet.”

“Oh, don’t worry about keeping him busy, Kev,” I said.  “I’ll give him plenty to do, believe me.”

“I want to help,” said Lisa.  “Gem, you want to drive one of the sweepers?”

Gem shot a quick glanced at Flex, who was already looking at her.  “Absolutely,” she said.  “So will Flex.  We need to go on an eradication mission.”  She turned to Kev.

“You know, Kev?  I liked this goddamned town when we drove up.  People walking on the streets like nothing ever happened, shit we hadn’t seen in months.  I want to see it again.  Hell, wasn’t it only a few days ago?” 

She turned to Flex and worked her eyebrows, smiling at him. 

He shook his head and laughed.  “I never worried about you babe, not really,” he said.  “Beyond trying to get up close and personal with that chick zombie in Hemp’s lab, anyway.”

Gem held up her hands, showing her missing thumb.  “Won’t happen again.  Distance, baby.”

“I’m riding along with you, Gem,” said Lisa.  “Sounds like a good time.”

“You sure?” asked Gem.  “Dave?”

“He’s not my keeper.”

Dave shrugged.  “She can go if she wants.  She’s right.  I’m not.”

“You could be an asshole about it if you wanted to be, and I’d get that, too,” she said to Dave.  “Thanks for not doing that.”

Dave smiled, and said “That reminds me.  Kev, you knew that Hemp soaked Gem’s thumb in urushiol oil when she got her thumb bitten, right?”

“Yeah,” said Kev.  “That’s right, but I haven’t really gotten word around.  Good point.  You know how soon it has to be done?”

“Hemp jumped right on it, so I’d say the sooner the better,” I said.  “We don’t know that it’s a cure-all or a sure thing, but if it even works sometimes, it’s worth taking the time.  Especially for the potential zombie.”

“Okay,” said Lisa.  “I have a question.”

We all looked at her and smiled.  She was very cute and she listened to everything we said with ears that might as well be pricked like a German Shepherd’s.  I didn’t think she missed much.

“Shoot,” said Flex.

“The snow.  The cold.  How cold does it get here, Kev?”

“This time of year, usually 50s in the daytime and sometimes dipping into freezing at night.  Two more weeks though, and we’ll be looking at snow every time there’s precipitation.”

Lisa looked at us.  “What will cold do to them?  Slow them down?  Anything?”

“Good question,” I said.  “Stop the vapor?  Give ‘em rigor mortis?  I know who I’d like to ask, damn it.”

Everything reminded me of him now.  Anything I needed to know, I’d ask him.  Hemp would look at me, that twinkle in his eye, that fucking British accent making him sound so damned sexy and smart – and he’d spit out the answer.

“Don’t worry about that yet,” said Reeves.  “We get around four inches in November, but the heavy stuff doesn’t really start falling until December and January.”

“Everyone’s saying that despite your history of snow in late October, it feels like it’s on the way.  I’m hoping it really messes with the bastards.”

“And the rat bastards,” said her brother, with a grin.

I had to get back to what was on my mind.

“We have the day ahead of us,” I said.  “If we’re gonna be in for weather, I don’t want to put off going after Hemp any longer.  So tell me the plan.”

“Let’s get this taken care of today,” said Flex.  “Let’s do what we can to make sure this town is safe to bring Hemp home to.  Charlie, you know I’m thinking about him all the time, too.”

“Sounds logical, Flex, but it’s fucked,” I said.  “We don’t know what they’re doing to him.  We don’t even know if he’s alive, or on the verge of death.  You know he’s counting on us.  Right, Gem?  You’ve both known him longer than me.”

Gem looked into my eyes, and I knew both she and Flex shared my pain.  “Charlie, tomorrow.  We’ll go in the morning, early.  We’ll get him back, sweetie.  I think Kev is trying to find someone who can fly one of the planes at the airport.”

“I am, but so far I can’t get any of the pilots I know of to leave the city,” said Reeves.  “I understand – they don’t know Hemp, so they don’t have a stake.  Plus, they’re scared.”

“So am I,” I said.  “Really fucking scared for my husband.  I think I’ll pass on the street sweeping.  I’m not in any mood to go on patrol.”

“I got it,” said Gem.  “You take the Ford home.  But be careful.”

“Are the girls still with the ladies?” I asked.

Vikki, Kimberly and Victoria had volunteered to keep them.  Flex and Gem had made damned sure they had a huge supply of urushiol, and a bottle of it by every door and window.  They might have a gooey mess by the time it was over, but they’d survive.  Plus they knew the rules.

“Yep.  In good hands, probably cringing while the girls play
Fuck Off
.”

“Good,” I said.  “Dave, will you come with me to the house?  You can take the car after if you want to come back and help.  I’m just nervous.  Not sure why.”

“Go home, lock the doors and rest your mind,” said Gem.  “I know it’s been spinning.”

Dave looked at the others.  “Sure, Charlie.  Absolutely.  Guys, I’ll be back over in a bit.  Work out a route for me.”

“Got it,” said Reeves.  “We’ll see you later.

“Be safe, Lisa,” Dave said, then slapped his forehead.  “What the hell am I talking about?  You’re riding with Gem.  Never mind.”

They laughed as Dave and I headed out.

I felt bad lying to them. 

****

The others left and we kept our radios on in case something happened on the way.  I saw the rats, moving slower than normal rats, but not that much slower, moving in huge groups.  Among them I saw about five very deteriorated zombies staggering, but with the population levels as they were in the city, I couldn’t chance taking them out with the AK on top of the car.  The bullets that didn’t hit their targets might kill innocent people hiding in their homes.

Right now, this town looked as bad as many of the others we’d gone through.

“Punch
Vermont into that GPS, Dave, would you?”

He stared at me.  I turned to stare back.

“I’m going.  Now.  I can’t wait for them.”

“I knew that,” he said. 

“I think I thought you knew.  Will you come with me?”

“I’m not letting you go the fuck alone, Charlie, but this is a crappy idea.  Tomorrow’s not that long.  Can’t you wait?”

I shook my head.  “Not another second, Dave.  I want to go to the house, grab more urushiol and my stuff.  I might be gone a while.”

“Well, I’m glad my shit’s there, too,” he said.  “But I’m leaving a note.”

“It’s not like you have to,” I said.  “They’ll know instantly where we went.”

“Either way.  And the town we want is Shelburne.” 

He tapped in the city-to-city directions, and the display said it was 157 miles, two hours and thirty-seven minutes.

“I love the northeast,” I said.  “Everything is so close together.”

“Let’s just hope there’s not a ton of bullshit to deal with along the way,” said Dave. 

I pulled into the driveway and we went inside to pack.

I found some suitcases in the garage.  The house had a lot of supplies, so I guessed whoever had lived here had turned.  Not while they were in the house, because there was no sign of zombie goo or destruction in the home, which is one of the reasons we picked it.

The couple that had lived here were big into beanie babies, and it was stupid and irritating.  Every shelf, every ledge, every stair had a damned beanie baby sitting there, staring out like little zombies.

Hope they didn’t invest too much.  I kicked fifteen or so of them off the steps as I trotted up with my case.

I passed Dave’s room, and he was stuffing his clothes into a duffel. 

“Don’t forget the Colgate,” I said, smiling.  “I’m bringing my lipstick and Scope.  That’s a big deal, ‘cause I don’t wear that shit, and I want to have it on and fresh breath when I find him.”

“He’d take you in a burlap sack with a head full of lice, I’d bet,” Dave laughed.  “Hurry up.  I’m going to change my mind.”

“No you won’t,” she said.  “Because you know I’ll go anyway.”

“You would,” he said.  “Yes, you would.”

We were out the door in ten more minutes.  We lifted the garage door and took two five-gallon cans of gasoline out to the car and filled it up.  Dave grabbed one of the hand-crank fuel pumps along with twelve feet of extension hose, and I took a third 5-gallon can and we put all of it in the trunk along with the empty gas cans. 

Dave walked around to the trunk.  He leaned over and pulled a Daewoo and an HK MP-5 from the trunk.

I stopped him.  “No.  That’s Hemp’s.  He’ll want it.”

Dave looked at me and nodded.  “I know that.  I’m putting them inside the car.  The K-7’s for me, and I’m expecting Hemp will want his gun back when we find him.  I’ll grab some more magazines for them.”

He went back into the garage and dug in a shallow plastic bin.  “These them?”

I knew them well.  They were identical to the ones Gem and I carried to the edge of the woods near Flex’s place when he and Hemp were surrounded by zombies.  “That’s them,” I answered.  “Grab about twenty boxes of ammo.”

“We expecting a fight?” he asked?

“Always, I said.”

“Ready?”

I hopped in the driver’s seat and popped the magazine from the AK mounted on the roof.  It was full.  I slammed it back home.

“Yep.”

I fired the engine of Gem’s baby, and put the car in reverse.  As I backed out and accelerated along the path of the GPS, I asked, “You write the note?”

“I did,” Dave answered.

“What did you say?”