Dead Hunger II: The Gem Cardoza Chronicle (16 page)

“I’m trying to develop a device that will neutralize, for a time, the odor of our brains.  It seems to be a major attraction to the creatures out there.  In order to determine the exact scent that draws them, I need one from an uninfected person.  One that hasn’t deteriorated or begun decomposition.  Yours is the only option for us.”

Bill opened his eyes a slit and turned his head toward Hemp.  “You need my brain.”

“Yes, I do.”

He closed his eyes again and said softly, “Take it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hemp, my friend,” he whispered.  “I won’t be using it.  If letting you do some tests with it can help you or other people down the road then it’s what I want.”

“You’ll be treated with respect, Bill.  And we’ll give you a proper burial.  You deserve that for agreeing to help us and for being the kind of man you are.”

I didn’t know this man very well, but tears came to my eyes.  Flex took my hand in his and led me out of the office.

“He’s an amazing guy,” he said after the door closed behind us.

“I wish I’d have known him before,” I said.

Hemp emerged behind us.

“I need to get some supplies from the lab,” he said.  “The tools I’ll need.  It won’t take long, but I’ll need to keep it very cool until I can get the sniffer calibrated properly for my tests.”

“There’s enough ice in the little freezer.  About ten trays,” said Flex.  “We’ve got that little Playmate cooler we can use.

“Perfect.  We’ll have to fill those trays again and freeze another batch in case I need more time.”

“Okay,” I said.  “I’ll see if Cyn will sit with him until the time comes, so Hemp, be ready.”

He nodded and walked toward the lab.

I squeezed Flex’s hand and walked over to Charlie, who was busy cutting a piece of drywall off at the proper length to fit around the doorway of her room.

“You showing any signs of the rash yet?” I asked.

Charlie looked at her hand where she’d touched Hemp the day before.  She turned it over.  “No, but Hemp says it can take as long as ten days to show anything.  Not even an itch so far.”

“Good,” I said.  “Let’s hope it didn’t get a chance to penetrate your skin.”

“Not much hope of that,” she said.  “Hemp said it only takes contact and some people will react to as little as one billionth of a gram of the poison.  So I should probably enjoy myself now.  It’s coming, I’m sure.”

*****

Bill, resigned to death as he was, hung on.  Hemp had gathered what he’d need for the small surgery and did what he could with regard to calibration and modification of his chemical sniffers for their intended purpose.

When he was done, the rest of us continued to hang drywall and build the bedrooms, and Hemp put on a pair of latex gloves from the lab and went out back to tend to his poison ivy plants, both of which he had planted in small plastic pots.  The area behind the building where trucks didn’t drive was unpaved, and there was about a twenty by thirty foot dirt area where a picnic table had been set up, probably for workers who smoked and wanted to take their breaks outdoors.

The rear of the building was south-facing, and the sunlight hit that area for much of the day, so Hemp explained he’d keep the plants out there, and warned the girls away from them in no uncertain terms. 

Cynthia came rushing from the office as we were helping Charlie put the final piece of drywall up on
her and Hemp’s room.

“Where’s Hemp?” she asked.

“He’s out back,” said Flex, pointing.

“I think he’s going,” she said, walking quickly to the rear of the building.  I followed her outside. 

Hemp had put one of the planter pots on the lower rack and turned as we came outside.

“He’s going,” said Cynthia.  “I’m pretty sure of it.”

Hemp put the other ivy plant on the rack and hurried after us.

Bill had stopped breathing by the time we made it into the office.  I felt his wrist and neck for a pulse and felt nothing.  I put an ear to his chest and there was only silence.

He was gone.

We would have stopped and had a solemn moment, even said a prayer, but there was no time.  His brain had to be preserved.  I said a silent prayer as Hemp gathered his things and I dumped the ice from the trays into the Playmate cooler, placing it on the table beside him.

“I’ve got some plastic sheeting over there, rolled up against the wall,” said Hemp.  “Gem?”

I got the roll.

“Don’t let the girls come in, okay? Spread that sheet out right there,” he said, pointing to the ground beside the cot where Bill had taken his last breath.

Flex and I spread the plastic sheeting out, and he and Hemp lifted Bill’s body from the cot onto the floor, the sheet beneath it.

“You might not want to see this,” said Hemp.

He was right, and I was grateful he didn’t ask for my help.  I’d seen plenty of guts and gore to last me a lifetime, and I knew I had years more to come.  I nodded gratefully and left the office to occupy Trina and Taylor.

Hemp and Flex were only in the office for fifteen minutes.  This wasn’t a delicate surgery; it was cutting the cap off Bill’s skull and removing his brain.  That was it in a nutshell.

Jesus.  Did I really just say
nutshell
?

They emerged, Hemp holding the playmate, and he took it directly into his lab.  Flex went inside with him for a moment, then came back out.

“Those things in there seem almost comatose, he said.  “No vapor, no movement.  Just lying there with their eyes open.”

“Do they seem aware of you when you go in?” I asked.

Flex nodded.  “I wouldn’t say they salivate, but it’s probably the zombie equivalent.  They start gnashing their teeth.  But since they don’t really breathe, it seems our odor just kind of permeates through their orifices.  At least that’s what Hemp thinks.”

“Flex, we’ve got to figure out another way to kill them.  This one-by-one shit is
messing
with my head.”

He nodded.  “
It s
eems insurmountable.”

“At least this is starting to look like home,” I said.  “And we’ve got a room with a bed and a door.”

“Don’t forget the shower,” he said, smiling.  “That’s worth its weight in gold.”

“I preferred your house,” I said.  “But I do feel safe here.  I know Charlie and Cyn do, too.  Damned building’s practically impenetrable.”

“I miss windows,” said Flex.

“We’ve got the skylights. 
Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth
.”

“I want to get that Ham radio fired up and start to monitor for other survivors,” said Flex.  “There has to be a plan other than individual survival, and I think I’m reaching the conclusion that no matter how much we want to stay lean and mean, it’s selfish and unproductive.”

I nodded.  “I know.  We need to get the new lab set up so Hemp can go full bore.  It’s too tight in there with those two gurneys full.”

“Two zombies and a brain,” said Flex.  “Sounds like a sit-com.”

“By the time we’re done, they’ll have to use animation for the zombies, baby.  ‘Cause we’re going to kill ‘em all.”

Flex threw an arm over my shoulder.  “Let’s go hang drywall on Hemp’s lab.  He’s going to be busy in there a while.  Charlie will help.”

Charlie
was
perfectly willing to help, and in fact had already completed about a quarter of the job.  We got busy cutting and putting the drywall up, and when that was done Flex hung the door.

Door hanging is an art, just in case you didn’t know.  That’s what Flex said, anyway.

There were several s
tainless steel sheets, about 1/8
” thick, and Flex thought they’d be perfect for work counters.

When we were done with the walls and door, we cut angle iron pieces to make a framework that we could mount to the wall.  When we were finished, the stainless sheets dropped right in, making clean 30” deep counters along two walls of the approximately 12’ x 15’ room.  Hemp had showed me how to weld stainless steel too, and using the Heliarc machine, I’d gotten pretty good at it.  I tacked it down to the brackets with no rippling and perfect seams.  When the bare bones laboratory was done, we knew Hemp would be impressed and happy.

All in all, it had taken around three and a half hours from start to finish.  We didn’t
bother taping or mudding
the
drywall, and the ceiling was open, unlike our bedrooms.

Flex went back inside the mobile lab to get Hemp.  I went with him though I didn’t like it in there.  Docile or not, the zombies stunk to high Heaven, and even wearing the mask I could taste that shit in my throat.

But I needed to see them.  I wanted to keep an eye on whatever changed, or whatever stayed the same about them.  These were essentially our enemies, and the more you knew about your enemy, the better chance you had of defeating them.

Hemp had removed a small panel from the chemical sniffer and was currently using a micro screwdriver on an adjustment screw inside.  The unit had a vent grid where a small fan drew in the air sample.  A range of lights from green to yellow to red indicated level of detection.  There were six lights altogether.  Green meant nothing.  Red meant it smelled the shit out of something.

“I’ve used a modification to the circuitry to bump up the sensitivity,” said Hemp, without looking up.  “Gray matter does have an odor, obviously, but it is very subtle to us, not so much to them.  It must be ultra sensitive.”

“Work it,” I said.  “Hey, by the way, we finished closing in your lab, buddy.  Complete with door and work counters.”

Now Hemp looked up.  “Really?”

“Yep,” said Flex.  “Now we can move all the larger equipment in there and leave this area for your finer detail work.”

“Perfect,” said Hemp, smiling.  “Hey, preliminarily, this looks like it’s going to work.  Watch this,” he said. 

He had the sniffer running off four AA batteries.  He pressed the power button and a tiny fan whirred inside.

“This is drawing the air in, but at a very low velocity,” he explained.  “Take a look.”

He held the sniffer up to my arm, my chest.  The lights remained on green.

He raised it to my head, right beside my nostrils.  The row of lights on the sniffer now moved from green to yellow.

“That shows a moderate degree of detection,” said Hemp.  The odor of the brain coming through your nostrils.  Open your mouth.”

I felt stupid, but I opened my mouth.  He moved the sniffer in front of it, and the green light flickered on, then back off.  When I exhaled, it flickered on again.

“Okay, so you were right.  Did you test a fart yet?”

Flex laughed.  “So now what?”

Hemp was excited.  It was easy to tell when he got that way, because his accent got stronger and he spoke too fast.

“First check this out,” he said.  He led us outside the back room and closed the door.  “I don’t want to tease them, so I’ve left Bill’s brain outside.”

He slid the Playmate cooler toward him on the counter and opened it.  The first green light of the sniffer went on solid.  He moved it to within a foot of the brain, and the lights pegged full green, practically pulsating with the strength of the signal.

“Got it,” said Hemp.  I’ve isolated the odor.  That is what draws them,” he said.  Now I’ve got to use my calculations to reverse the characteristics.  Once I’ve done that, voila!  BSN.”

“What kind of tests have you done on them?” I asked, nodding my head toward the closed door.

“None yet,” said Hemp, “but when I first brought Bill’s brain in here I didn’t think.  The moment I walked in I thought they’d snap their restraints. 
It was t
hat powerful a draw to them.”

Flex shook his head.  “
We know they’re not particular about the rest of the human body, though.  They eat every part of us, save the bones.  So I guess the rest is the hamburger and the brain is the steak.”

“Let me know when we can kill them, Hemp,” I said.  “I don’t like having them here.  N
ot
just because of
the girls
, but for the danger to all of us
.”

“
Gem, the restraints are extremely secure, but I’m aware of the anxiety they can cause,” said Hemp.  “Don’t think I don’t feel it, too. 
I don’t intend to use them very long
, I promise
. 
Just
another week or two to fine tune the BSN
.  A
fter that we can dispose of them.”

Flex looked at
me, a crooked smile on his face
.  “We need for him to do this,
Gem
. 
We both agreed
we need to do more than survive.”

“I know,” I said.  “It’s all necessary.”

Flex
turned back to Hemp.  “Good work,
professor
,” he said, patting the scientist on the shoulder.  “I’m going to grab a little dozer from the industrial supply next door and dig a resting place for Bill in the back corner of the yard.  You don’t need him for anything else, do you?”