Dead Hunger II: The Gem Cardoza Chronicle (7 page)

“No military out there?” Max asked.

“We haven’t seen any,” I said.  “I’d think that some of them would have survived and joined together.  We haven’t ventured out that far, though.”

“Look, Max,” Flex said.  “I understand there are
quite a few military facilities near
Birmingham
.  We can take Hwy 20 straight across the s
tate in
to
Alabama
.”  He looked at the others and shrugged.  “Check out another state, have access to a shitload of weapons and
maybe even
a good stock of MREs in case cooking food goes out the window.”

“Why
Alabama
?” asked Max.  “There are military bases right here in
Georgia
, of course.”

Flex shrugged.  “
We
know this is widespread, but we need to find out how widespread.  We’re not going to learn anything by staying in one place.”

“But you were content at your place,” I said.

“And I guess I’d have stayed that way if it hadn’t been penetrated,” Flex said.  “But I was talking to Charlie on the way over here, and I think we need to change our approach.  Others may have come up with ideas we haven’t thought of, so we need to connect with other survivors and see what we can learn.”

“I don’t really want to start a community,” I said.  “I like people as much as the next girl, but it doesn’t mean we need to take on the responsibility of a huge group.”

It wasn’t that I lacked compassion; I had plenty of love for my fellow humans.  But I didn’t have any desire to make our group any larger than it had to be.  Hell, I’d be happy if Max, Cynthia and Taylor wanted out anywhere along the way.  Call me selfish, but I had my Flex and Trina, and both Hemp and Charlie were as good as family to me now.  I didn’t want major logistical issues every time we had to move.

“I lean toward Gem’s feelings on that,” Hemp said.  “Flex, you told the group at the 7-Eleven that you didn’t want to be a leader, and I get that.  I’m happy to share that duty among all of us, but the bigger the group the more cumbersome we are.  We lose fluidity with each new member of our little tribe here.”

Max looked uncomfortable, and Cynthia
, absentmindedly twirling a finger in her shoulder-length, wavy red hair,
sat beside a sleeping
Taylor
and lightly stroked
her
daughter’s back as she listened
. 

Flex noticed and stepped in to set his mind at ease.

“Max, we’re not talking about you,” he said.  “The three of you are not going to dramatically change our approach to any issues that come up.  We’ve already got a little girl, so one more isn’t going to change things much.  Plus, they could both use a friend.”

He walked up to Max and put a hand on his shoulder.  “You helped us beyond measure, and we’ll help you without a second thought.  Stay with us as long as you like.”

“I’d like that.  And I know these two don’t have anywhere else to go.  I trust you all, and not just because of my relationship with Dr. Chatsworth.  You’re good people and I like you.”

“Settled.  Let’s head toward
Birmingham
.  Everyone okay with that?” Flex looked around.

“Bama or bust,” I said.

“Roll Tide,” said Charlie.

“Bloody hell, let’s go.”  It was Hemp.  “I’ve no idea what either of you girls are talking about.”

Charlie laughed.  “That’s because you’re a fucking limey,”
she said
, taking him by the
arm
.

We gathered supplies and let Trina wake
Taylor
.  As we headed for the vehicles, the two girls held hands as they walked.  They were getting a feel for one another, and
despite their age difference,
when they started swinging their linked arms, I knew they’d be BFFs before long.

We didn’t bother locking up.

CHAPTER
FIVE

We hit the interstate and realized it would be slow-going.  Whenever we came across any ghouls we put a quick bullet in their brains whether or not they were a threat.  It was the only way we were going to eradicate them.  Letting them
walk on by
because they weren’t bothering us didn’t make any sense.

All of them had to die, and we knew it.

The full day of rain we’d experienced had apparently been a massive storm system, and several sections of the roadway were heavily flooded, so this slowed us down, too.  And it is precisely because of this heavy flooding that we discovered a condition that gave us all great pause.  And along with that pause, came a feeling of realization and actual terror.  And while I’m at it, I may as well toss in a little despair, which, like the word
delicious
, is a word I don’t use frequently.

I save delicious for Ruth’s Chris steaks and King Crab, and the occasional lobster.  I save
despair
for shit like what I’m about to tell you.

The highway had been blocked by abandoned and wrecked cars, as well as flooding that was indeterminately deep.  The only way to get around it was to backtrack for two miles and exit at the previous off ramp.

While on that particular detour, about forty-five minutes outside
Birmingham
, we passed a cemetery.  As I mentioned earlier, the rain had soaked the earth through.  This soaking served to soften up the ground.

Trina, Taylor and Cynthia rode in the car with me.  Just
us
girls.  Since playing the “Spot a VW Beetle” game was not going to fly, they were just chattering and talking about what was outside.

Oh, boy.  This gave them something to talk about.

“There’s a man, Gemmy!” shouted Trina as we were midway past the cemetery.  I looked over, slowed the car,
and
grabbed the radio off the seat. 

“Flex, do you
copy
?”

“
Gotcha
.  What’s up, darlin’?”

No pun intended
, I thought
.

“What’s
gotten
up
might be the question.  Stop the truck and take a look at the cemetery.”

He did.  I pulled behind him, and Hemp lined up behind me.  My radio clicked again.

“What’s the problem?” Hemp asked.  Max Romero had ridden with him despite the stink of the deteriorators in the back
.  Charlie rode with Flex as she had on the way to the CDC
.

“Park it.  We need a confabu-fucking-lation in the street about now.   See you out there.”

Cynthia and the girls stayed inside
the car
and I’d asked Cynthia to keep them busy doing anything except watching us.

We all stood and watched the graveyard intently.  Every few moments we saw little movements of mud here and there.  Not everywhere, but over the period of ten minutes, we probably saw fifteen.

And we saw three of them completely break free of the earth and crawl out of their graves.

“Oh, my God,” Flex said.

I knew what he was thinking.  He was thinking about little Jesse and the fact that she was only buried about three feet
deep
.  I shook it from my mind.
  I never wanted the thought to come back.  But it would, I knew.  Again and again.

“They’re reanimating,” whispered Hemp.
  “They might have awoken days ago, but the rain’s allowed them the soft earth to dig their way out.”

“That’s determination,” said Flex.

Invisible worms slithered along my spinal column and I shuddered involuntarily. 

Charlie was incredulous.  “But how, if they’ve been embalmed?  Their brains would be gone.”

“Embalming isn’t required by law, except for an open casket viewing, mostly,” said Flex.  “And it’s not cheap, so lots of families just do a ceremony and a thick cardboard casket.”

I looked at him.  “And how the fuck do you know that?”

He would’ve smiled, I know – but what we were seeing negated any smirking that otherwise would’ve gone on.

“I did a
rewiring
job at a funeral home once,” he said.  “In a rural area.  I asked
,
and the director explained that very often, people without a lot of money just opt out of the embalming
services
.”

“And we’re in an area where people don’t have a ton of money,” Max said.

Charlie and the rest of us were mesmerized as we watched.  A flesh-eater of indeterminate gender pushed itself out of its grave, crawled for four feet, then stood on prisoner of war-thin legs covered only by the tattered remains of some sort of pants.  Apparently the six-foot
dirt
trip north effectively tore whatever shirt it had been wearing from its body.

The rotter, having gained its footing, turned its strange eyes toward us.  It then tilted its head up as a distant dog might do that
just
caught the scent of its quarry.
  Next, it
started stutter-walking in our direction
like an evil marionette doll controlled by Satan himself
.

“Time to go,” I said.  “As much as
I
want to rid the world of these things, this could take too long.  I want to get to where
we’re going, but we still have to figure out exactly where that is.”

“I’m thinking nowhere near a cemetery,” said Flex.

“Unbelievable,” added Hemp.  “Actual zombies.”

He looked at us each for a brief moment.  “Guys, I know this sounds crazy, but I need one of them, too.  The diggers.”

“Diggers?” I asked.

“We need some way to differentiate between them, so I guess diggers about covers it.  As for grabbing one, I’m pretty sure we’ll know where to find them.”

Everyone
stared in silence for
a
moment
before returning to their respective vehicles
.  Flex took my hand briefly before releasing it.
  I knew what it meant.

You and me, babe.

“Good catch” he said.

“Thank Trina,” I said as I closed the door of the Crown Vic.

The walking corpse was
now about fifteen yards
from the road.

I swung my roof-mount gun toward it, hit the B switch on my GPS screen, and lined t
he dirty fuck up in my crosshairs.  I turned to the back seat.

“Eyes on your knees, girls.  Now.”

They both obeyed.  I noticed Cynthia looked at her knees, too.  I didn’t blame her.

I reached up, and w
ith a quick jerk of the trigger cord,
the thing’s
head exploded from its body
and it collapsed in a heap of rotten clothing, dried blood and brittle bones
.

I locked the gun back into forward position and calmly put the car in drive.

We
pulled away, all of us feeling
quite a bit
less optimistic about the future than we had just
twenty
minutes earlier.

Of that I have
no
doubt
at all
.

*****

We re-entered the freeway about three miles up the road at the next onramp and made it to the outskirts of
Birmingham
just after nightfall.  The weather was warm – steamy, really – and we were all exhausted.

Trina and Taylor had fallen asleep, having worn one another out with the rock, paper, scissors game.  What should have been just over a two-hour drive had turned into four. 

By the time we got there I wanted to wad up the paper, take the rock and scissors, and toss all that shit out the window.

But we still needed a place to put up our feet.  I was thinking for the night we could find a house that seemed well-protected.  I radioed Flex.

“Babe?  I’m thinking a house might work for tonight.  Wanna look for a residential area?”

“Or a motel,” he said.  They’d only have one entry per room, so if we can get a few rooms next to one another it might keep us from having to guard too many approaches.”

“Good idea,” said Hemp, listening in.  “And this thing is getting low on fuel, so my kingdom for some diesel.”

“Gem, we’re going to need that hand pump.  We might be able to get diesel right out of the ground at a gas station.”

“Screw that, Flex.  You’re an electrician, right?  Why don’t you just run a cable from our generator to the electric panel on the station pumps?  Shut off all the breakers we don’t need and leave the pump power on.”