Dead Hunger V: The Road To California (44 page)

“Uncle Bug,” I whispered.  “Is she … okay?”

“She is,” he said.  “She’s perfect.  Just doesn’t sleep, like I said.”

“She
has
to sleep,” said Rachel.  “Babies all sleep.”

“Like I said.  Not her.”

She was cute as a button.  Her hair was dark like Bug’s and her face was round and cherub-like.  Everything about her, save for her eyes, which you could tell were blue beneath the red, looked like any other baby.  Pink skin, perfect fingers and toes.

She looked at us with some trepidation, it seemed.  Her little, red eyes went from one of us to the other, and started over again.

Bug put her down, and she walked very well.  She went immediately to Rachel – I wondered if it was because she was the closest to her height – and raised her arms.  Rachel leaned down and lifted her up.  Now Isis gave everyone a closed-mouth smile.

“She’s a little beauty,” said Rachel.  “Nelson, look at her.”

“Dude’s pretty cool,” he said.  “Makes me miss little Flexy.”

“That would be a dudette in your language, Nelson,” said Rachel, bouncing her in her arms.

“There’s something else,” said Bug.  “The moment she was born, the floodgates opened up top.”

I looked at him.  “What do you mean?”

“The zombies, man.  They started coming.  In hordes, if you’ll excuse the use of a cliché.”

“I wonder why,” said Rachel.  “You did have quite a concentration of the pregnant red-eyes up here.”

I stared at the baby and wondered if Angela’s last word came from her, or from outside.  It was as though a revelation came to me.  I squeezed Serena’s shoulder.  She’d been around more red-eyes than probably anyone besides me.

“What if Isis is the draw?  What if she’s the only reason they’re coming here?  Blocking you in?”

“What do you mean?” asked Bug.

“You said it yourself,” I said.  “The moment the baby was born, Angela said baby, and the horde got thick.  Has it ever died down again?”

Bug shook his head.  “Nope.  Just keeps growing.”

I decided to let that go for the moment.  I wasn’t sure I was right, and I wasn’t sure he was ready to think about it.  But I just kept thinking of Lola’s power and how coincidence was often not that at all.

“Where’s your ventilation come out?” I asked.  “You said this place is sealed up tight, but you have to vent fresh air.”

“That fresh air vent has multiple filtration systems,” said Bug.  “and it comes out a pipe that runs underground for about six hundred feet.  Well away from here.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I figured it might carry some heat with it, and I wanted to eliminate signatures.  I can cut off the generator if I need to and let the pipes cool, but I can’t stop breathing.  I’d switch to oxygen tanks if things got dicey, but I still have to exhale.”

“So there’s absolutely no reason for these things to be gathering here.  You’re sure they can’t smell you or the folks trapped in that middle chamber.”

Bug shook his head again.  “No way.”

Hemp’s gonna shit,” said Nelson.  “This is new knowledge.  He loves that.”

“What you’re saying sounds more scary than helpful,” said Bug.  “The question is, can it help us?”

Jim Morrison’s voice floated through my mind and I thought,
My brain is squirmin’ like a toad …

*****

While the still did its job – and it was working very efficiently, having created around four ounces of the crucial oil already, we discussed our plan for freeing the people in the middle chamber, including Albert’s mother.

Bug had given Albert permission to get back on the microphone, as he said he often did, to talk to the people trapped inside.  Albert learned that two people had died since they were trapped in there, which was actually impressive. 

There was still quite a lot of food left, but the water had run out after two months.  Since that time, they had been living on the trickle seeping in from up on the mountain.  The extra just trickled down into the garage area through the door that was held open about an inch by the bones of an unfortunate escapee.

Nelson asked him why they didn’t just use water from the toilet for a drinking supply, but Bug told him he’d installed an incinerator toilet.  He didn’t want to plumb the water in and electric was already available, so it seemed to make sense.  Unfortunately, with all those people down there, Bug had to turn the power on more than he liked, though he had plenty of fuel.  They had even used it for an emergency heating source during the cold months, but Bug had extra blankets and towels stored in one of the closets there, so it was only for when temperatures dropped to their lowest.

Albert put the microphone away after telling everybody we were working on a solution – finally – and telling his mother again that he loved and missed her.  I was happy for the kid. 
Really
happy.  I’m sure in his heart he had believed she was dead.  When he came back over to where we were monitoring the urushiol progress and Bug was preparing to feed Isis, he actually looked to be at a sort of peace for the first time since we’d met him.

As he watched the oil slowly dripping into the container, he suddenly turned toward me.

“Davey, I got it.”

“Holy molars!” shouted Nelson, and we all turned to look.  “Dude, what are you using on her teeth?  Fertilizer?”

“What do you mean?” asked Bug.

The baby hadn’t opened its mouth for any purpose other than a shy smile at the girls, so I hadn’t noticed what had caught Nelson’s attention.  Isis’s teeth – she had a mouthful for a baby of her age.

“Wow,” said Serena, putting the spoonful of food in her mouth.  Isis immediately spit it out and if it was possible, looked disgusted. 

“Not hungry, are you?” asked Serena.

“Oh, she’s hungry alright,” said my uncle.  “Just not for creamed corn.  Sorry, I should have told you.”

“What does she prefer?” Serena asked.

“Meat.  Any kind of meat.”

Serena ran her finger up and down over the infant’s lips and Isis opened her mouth and made sounds while Serena apparently counted.  “Nineteen teeth at what, eleven months old?”

I looked at Serena, then back at Uncle Bug.  “You think there’s any tie-in to her red eyes?”

Bug looked at me.  He wasn’t smiling.  “What are you gettin’ at?”

“I’m not as smart as Hemp,” said Nelson, “but you got a red-eyed baby here – cute as a button, though I’ve never really figured out what’s so cute about a button – and all she likes to eat is meat?  Have you looked outside lately?  Seems to be an epidemic.”

“Shit,” said Bug.  “I’ve thought about it, but she’s never tried to use those choppers on me.  Never had a baby before, so I didn’t know if that was normal.”

“I’ve seen babies with a lot of teeth before,” said Rachel, “but these grew fast, and it’s not just the size.  They look a bit more pointed than normal, especially the molars.  And just so much bigger than those of an ordinary eleven-month old.”

I was wondering if it was time for me to go back to what I’d begun to think about earlier.  Isis and the connection to the red-eyed hordes and their minions.  We’d kinda broken the ice and my uncle would know that none of it was Isis’s fault. 

I decided it was time.

“Uncle Bug,” I said.  “I’m going back to what came to my mind earlier.  You said the rotters started to gather outside when Isis was born, right?  You’re sure?”

“Yeah, that’s about the time the numbers got enormous.  Before that they were just milling around, just downstairs.”

“So they never showed up at the upper entrance until the birth?”

“No, just down by the garage.”

“You only had cameras on the entrances, correct?” I asked.  “So you wouldn’t know if they were other places, right?”

“No, I got cameras all around the surrounding woods.  I only saw them in any big numbers outside my place.”

“And how long were you in here before Isis was born?”

“Just about three weeks,” said Bug.

“And you’re sure there were none by this entrance?” I asked, pointing at the steps leading up.

“No.  Davey, just down at the garage.  What are you gettin’ at, man?”

I ran my hand over my mouth and down my beard and looked into his eyes.  “I’m seriously wondering if there’s something about Isis,” I said, finally re-stating my suspicion.  “Can your daughter be the draw?”

“How so?”  Bug was confused, and I understood why.  He’d been confined in this bunker for over a year.  He’d recently heard Hemp sharing information, but you had to be out in the real world, confronting them, being hunted by them and being surprised by them to really grasp the full potential of what powers the red-eyes truly possessed.

Serena looked at me.  “David, are you saying that the red-eyes are drawn to Isis?  Like they call one another?”

I nodded.  “It first hit me when Uncle Bug said they started showing up right after she was born.  I understand why they’d have gathered at the lower door, because at the time there were lots of uninfecteds running for this place.  Even after the doors closed, there were lots of our kind in there that could have drawn them through scent.  I don’t know how long it took for them all to be changed or … well, you know.  Eaten.”

“So what brought them up top?” asked Bug.  “You saying it could be proximity to Isis?”

I nodded again.  “Maybe it’s an involuntary thing.  As long as she’s awake – and you said she never sleeps – she’s … I don’t know … broadcasting or something.”

“Or they sense her,” said Rachel.

“That’s what I was thinking,” said Nelson.  “I thought I was just spooking myself, so I didn’t say anything, but if that’s what you’re thinking, too.”

“A maternal pull?” asked Serena.  “It’s possible that there aren’t many like Isis.  Where the pregnant woman was exposed to the red-eye vapor but not infected, and the baby was born.  I can’t imagine that scenario would have played out very much.  Isis may be one of a kind.”

“Wow and shit and fuck,” said Bug.  “Like a fuckin’ siren calls sailors from the sea onto the rocks.”

“I’d take rocks over zombies any day,” said Nelson.

While people often joked about dogs chasing cars and what they would do if they actually caught one, I thought the same thing about the red-eyes.

It was my guess they’d do more than stand there and stare at little Isis.  I suspected that she would either become their Oracle or their delicacy.

*****

             
Chapter Eighteen             

Isis was a trip.  Bug was concerned about her lack of vegetables, so he told Serena that he often mixed in some creamed corn, spinach, and other veggies with her puréed meat.  Beef was her favorite, but she also liked pork, and last on her list was chicken and lamb.

When Serena had put the first spoonful of the creamed corn and beef mix in her mouth, she closed her lips, worked her mouth around, and through her lips, she excreted only the corn. Isis busily chewed the rest and swallowed, then opened her mouth again for more.

Serena grabbed a towel, wiped Isis’s chin and the bib off and looked at the cloth.  Then she looked back at us.  “There’s not a shred of beef in this.  It’s just the corn.”

“It’s what she does,” said Bug.

We all gawked at him.  “She filters out the veggies?” asked Rachel, her mouth open.

“I keep hopin’ she’s getting some of the nutrition from the vegetables I put in there, but she’ll only eat what she eats, and it’s pretty much meat.”

“As I’ve heard Flex say,” said Nelson.  “This gets curiouser and curiouser.”

*****

As Bug had told us, he had dismantled his brewery and essentially converted the equipment into a still using other supplies, quite like we had done to the brewery in Concord.  Based on Hemp’s detailed instructions, he had added some heating elements and re-worked it, but could never get outside to get the main ingredient – the poison ivy.

Now, with what we had brought, the makeshift still had done its job.  When it was all complete, our harvest of poison ivy had yielded six and a half ounces of pure urushiol oil.  It was enough to destroy literally thousands of zombies.  Not the red-eyes, but it would slow them down.

There was enough seating when we moved some chairs from the dining table over by the sofa and armchairs.  Once we arranged all the chairs in a circle and sat, I checked my watch and said, “We need to check in with Lola and Russell.  We’ve been in here four hours now.”

I got on the handheld.  “Russell, come in.  You read?”

He came right back.  “I was just about to call you,” he said.  “We keep retreating, but they keep moving on us.  I had to shoot two of the red-eyes already – they started flying toward Lola, and I swear I’m not exaggerating when I say that.  Those things can move.  Took me five rounds to take them both out.”

“They
can
move,” I said.  “Sorry, Russell, but we have to figure out how to get about thirty people trapped in a middle chamber out before we can leave.  We need you to keep them occupied a bit longer.”

“Well, Lola’s like a damned Pied Piper over here, and we’re gonna be out of radio range soon unless we circle them back around to the north.  That brings them too close to the Railroad Park for my taste.  Maddie and the girls are down there alone, and Lola looks like she’s exhausted.”

Four hours was a hell of a long time, and I had no idea what Lola was going through.  “Okay, just hang in there a little longer,” I said.  “Bug said he has an idea to get them out safely using our urushiol.  After that, we’ll all get out, radio you and we’ll make a run.”

“Hurry,” said Russell.  “Seriously.”

“Gotcha,” I said.  “Talk to you later.”

“What’s your plan?” I asked Bug.

“See that hatch in the ceiling there?” said Bug, pointing.

“Yeah,” I said.

“My water supply tank is up there.  The one that’s fed by rainwater and runoff and supplies the shower and flush toilets up here.  None of the lines lead into the middle chamber, but I have extra hose that we’re going to need to plumb in.  It’s up there in the crawlspace, by the tank.  Only it’s more of a walkspace.”

“I don’t get it.”

“We dump the urushiol in that water tank,” said my uncle.  “Then we run the hose from the drain valve on the tank and connect it to the electrical conduit leading to the middle chamber.  I got shitloads of duct tape, so I can secure it pretty well.  In the chamber, we’ll need a couple of them to lift someone up high enough to reach the light fixture, take out the bulb and try to break the fixture out.”

“Why?” I asked, not sure where he was going.

“Davey, I used a waterproof conduit – one of the things I did think of – so if we run the water through it, it’ll be just like a hose.”

“What good will it do to pump it into their room?”

“Because,” said Bug.  “That skeleton has been lodged under that door the entire time.  That’s a gap for the water to flow downhill.  Down the steps it goes and floods the garage.  What do you think?”

I smiled, and everyone’s eyebrows went up.  “That’s a damned good idea,” I said.  “Really good!”

“You think it’ll work?” asked Albert.

“If it touches them, it takes them out,” said Nelson.  “The junk will eat up their legs, dude.  When they fall down it’s all over.  They’re like freakin’ mashed potatoes.”

*****

Isis was closed in the nursery.  She was a good little girl, and like any infant, she was still mesmerized by mobiles and angelic music, so Bug got her set up and closed away for the moment.

As for our plan, everything had gone like clockwork.  Using a ladder, Nelson entered the hatch wearing one of our headlamps, and located the lower drain.  He was able to stretch up high enough to access the lid of the tank – which held about 3,000 gallons and was partially embedded into the wall of the building. 

Bug said it had to be inserted into the wall and held on the other end with 4” x 4” steel legs because when the tank was full, it held over 400 cubic feet of water, and at just over 62 pounds per cubic foot, it would weigh almost 25,000 pounds.

We didn’t need to know this stuff, but Bug offered, and we knew he’d most likely be leaving his sanctuary soon.  He might as well be able to brag a bit in the meantime.

Albert turned on the lights and got on the microphone.  “I know you’re all tired and weak,” he said.  “I can see that.  But we need two or three of you – more if that’s what it takes – to get someone up high enough to take out that light bulb and see if you can rip down that light fixture.  We need to have that conduit disconnected.”

Nobody asked why.  Three of the men got slowly to their feet and looked up at the nine-foot, concrete ceiling.  “We should be able to do that with a foot boost,” said an older man.  He had the remnants of a dress shirt on, both sleeves torn off, and he had wispy, grey hair.  He was bone skinny, and had lived like a rat for the last year.

“Do it then, Larry,” said Albert, who had talked to several of them and knew many by name.  “Just get it done.  It’s the last step.”

“Bug,” said Albert.  “Go ahead and cut the power to that chamber so they don’t get shocked.”

“Good call, kid,” said Bug and went to the electrical panel.

In fifteen minutes – which encompassed several tries before the plastic electrical junction box broke free – Larry held it in his hand, up to the camera.

“Ready to try this?” Bug asked.

I shrugged.  “Hell yes.  Let’s do this.”

“Wait a minute,” said Serena.  “That oil’s in the tank, but it’s not mixed.  How are you going to mix it?  It’s got to be blended somehow, or it might not disburse properly.  The oil might come out last and just dribble onto the floor.”

“Jesus, you’re right.”

“You got a compressor, dude?” asked Nelson.

“I do,” said Bug.  “Little portable jobbie.  Why?”

“We’ll aerate it,” he said.  “I’ll jump back up there, hook the air to the bottom of the tank real quick, and just crank the compressor on.  We force enough air up the bottom of that tank, it’ll bubble to the top, churn it up real good, then we re-connect the hose and let ‘er flow.”

“Where did you get this guy?” asked Bug, looking at me.

Serena answered.  “I don’t know who he is,” she said.  “He’s not the same Nelson Moore who rode up on his scooter a few days ago.”

“Oh, he’ll be back when he’s needed,” said Nelson, climbing the ladder.  “I got my kook on standby.”

Nelson yelled a signal and Bug cranked on the compressor.  We could hear the churning from down below, so it seemed to be working.  Nelson closed the bottom valve, dropped the compressor hose back down, connected the spare hose back to the tank’s drain line, and taped the other end to the conduit.  “Should I open it now?” he asked.

“Wait,” said Rachel.  “That gap.  The garage is pretty big, right?  That water needs to build up a while so it really cascades down those steps and gets all the way across that floor.”

“Wait,” I said.  “That room is big.  There won’t be enough water to get any depth.”

Everyone’s faces drooped.

“Bullshit!” said Bug.  “That entire floor angles toward the door.  Never leveled it, ‘cause I didn’t need to.  So it’s got a good slope and it’s all gonna flow that way anyway.”

“Perfect!” said Rachel.  She studied the room for a minute, swiping her short, brown hair behind her ear and biting her lower lip.  “Okay.  Tell them to pack something around that gap below the lower door first.  They can wait until the water builds up a bit in that chamber, then let it go.”

I didn’t know if it was military training or what made Rachel such a great thinker, but she was right there with the new Nelson.

Though I kind of missed the old Nelson.  Just a bit.

I shared the information with our refugees and soon, several of them grabbed towels and packed them under the base of the door, tucking them tightly around the skeleton as well.  It was effectively sealed off.

Bug got on the microphone.  “Okay, everyone.  We’re gonna need three or four guys down by that lower door.  Keep your feet pressed on those towels.  The chamber’s going to start to fill up with water, and in that water is something that’s going to kill those bastards on the other side of the door.  They are the reason you’ve been locked in there for so long, but it’s almost over.”

“When it gets around a foot deep in there, pull those shirts off and rush toward the upper door,” said Rachel, taking the microphone from Bug.  “Bug, can you turn on the cameras in the garage so we can see what’s happening?  Then you’ll know when to open the door.”

“There are going to be red-eyes in there, too,” said Serena.  “Right, David?”

“We saw them on the camera,” I said.  “A couple, anyway.  Give me the microphone real quick.”

Rachel did.  I said, “When this upper door starts to open, so will the lower door.  That’s why I want all of you up by this door ready to get your asses through it fast.  Leave room for me to slide by on your left, so hang right.”

“I’m smaller,” said Rachel.  “Let me do it.”

“She’s right,” said Serena.

I shrugged.  “I can’t argue with that, but Rachel, be careful.”

Nelson did not look happy.  “Rach, are you sure?’

“I am,” she said.  “I’ll worm by them and take out any pursuing red-eyes that come through that door.”

I handed her my AR-15.  “Use this.”

“Fuck that,” said Bug, walking to his arsenal door.  He withdrew a tactical-looking weapon of some kind and gave it to her.  “Mossberg 500 Persuader.  Not an expensive weapon, but it’s reliable.  It should blow the heads off two or three at once.  It’ll give you plenty of time to slide another shell in it.”

Nelson scrambled back up the ladder.  As he got in position, the radio clipped to my belt erupted.

“Dave!  Dave!  Come in!”

I snatched it and pushed the button.  “Russell, what’s going on, man?” I said.

“It’s Lola,” he said, breathing hard.  “She was standing there, and I knew she was getting tired.  She moved her foot and tripped.  She fell backward, and rolled down the hill.  I was far enough away from the things, so I scrambled down after her, but I’m not down there yet.  I can see her from where I am.  She’s laying there.  Knocked out, I think, Dave.  I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

“Jesus,” I said.  “You have to get down to her, Russell?  Can you?”

“I can, but as soon as I was in the clear I had to call you.  They’re going back.  Back up the trail.”

“Who?”

“Who the hell do you think?  The zombies, man.  The minute she fell they turned back toward the trail and they’re moving.”

“Hurry up with that water, Nelson,” I said.  “Open the valve now!”

*****

Bug still had cameras in the center chamber, but no lights.  For this reason, you could see some images, but nothing was very clear, and it was very grainy.  The lights had been turned on in the garage, capturing the attention of the many rotters milling around in there, all in various stages of dress and decomposition.

We counted four red-eyes in the room.  The moment the lights went on and the cameras panned, their ugly faces turned toward it and they moved forward with bone chilling speed.  I shuddered. I suppose everyone else was doing what their own bodies commanded.