The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (105 page)

“Jesus, I gotta think!” said Flex, frustrated.  He wasn’t used to his own getting in trouble they couldn’t get out of.  Spoiled rotten, being surrounded by so many damned good people with highly developed survival skills.

Dave slapped him on the arm and he looked at him.

“Flex.  I got an idea.”

“Spill it.”

“The cowcatcher.  That sucker looks strong as hell.”

“Hemp welded the shit out of it.  I’ve pushed tons of walkers with it – half of that with you in the truck.”

“Exactly,” said Dave, excited.  He stroked his beard, then took the radio from Flex’s hand. 

“Lisa, you on?”

Two seconds passed, and her tiny but strong voice came on.  “Yeah, Davey?  Have you got something?  A plan?”

“I do.  We’re gonna have to find you with sound.  Those bastards can’t hear anyway, so it’s not a risk.”

“What do you want me to do,” asked Lisa.

“I’m going to bang on the outside of the building.  It’s metal, so it should be easy to hear.”

“Then what?”

“When that bang sounds like I’m right outside, I want you to get to the wall and bang back.  I don’t know which side of the building you’re on, though.”

“When I came in, I stayed left,” she said.  “But Davey, I’m upstairs!”

“Shit!” Dave said, looking at Flex.

“Don’t worry about it, Dave.  It’s a way to find out where she is.  But what then?”

“Hold on,” he said, pushing the talk button on the radio.  “Lisa, that’s good.  You’re on the same side of the building as we are.  Are you safe right now?”

“I’m locked in a room.  I ran into one, but I beat him.”

“Literally?”

“Pretty much.  Hurry, Davey.  I don’t know how long that door will hold.”

“Got it, sis.  Got any rounds left?”

“Two, and about one or two sprays of repellent.”

“Cute.  Only use it if you have to, sis, but don’t hesitate if you need it.  We’re coming.”

Dave clicked off and handed the radio back to Flex.  He nodded and ran over to the building.  Flex hopped in the truck and fired the engine, following Gammon.

Dave started at the front corner and ran along the sides, pounding on the corrugated metal sides.  Twenty-five yards.  No return sounds.  Fifty yards.

A sound.  Pounding.  Frantic.

“Flex, time to test that fuckin’ cow catcher for all it’s worth.  Hold on.”

Flex got it.  Use the wedge-shaped cow catcher to pierce the outer skin of the building and make a new door.  He collected the two spray bottles of urushiol from the seat and put them in his lap.

Dave pounded until it rang hollow in return.  He then banged on either side of it to see how wide it was.  He turned, a tentative smile on his face, and called, “We’ve got an eight-foot gap between support beams here, Flex!”

Flex stopped the truck ten feet from the building.

“Get in, buddy.  We’re gonna thread the fuckin’ needle.”

Dave ran and yanked open the passenger side door, jumping in beside Flex. 

“Slap a new mag in the AK, Dave.  Then spin the gun around.  I don’t want to damage the barrel.  That sucker might be our saving grace.”

“I didn’t even think of that!” said Dave.

“We’ll see how it fares, buddy. Buckle up and hold on!”

Flex reversed the truck another ten feet, giving him a twenty-food running start. 

“Say a prayer, dude.”

He gunned it.  They had reached twenty-four miles per hour when the Chevy slammed into the side of the building, splitting it open like a watermelon at an old Gallagher comedy show.

What they didn’t know was what lay beyond that wall.

It was a series of tall, metal racks, and they tumbled like dominoes, one against the other.  Flex pulled the headlights on, and the light shone on zombies getting crushed underneath the toppling racks, and the truck stopped suddenly about twelve feet in.

The faces of the surviving, free zombies stared toward them.  Flex looked up at the catwalk, where several creatures pressed against a single, metal door.

“Spin the gun, Dave!  And start firing!”

Dave spun the gun around, but it jammed before making its entire turn.  It aimed uselessly off at a 45 degree angle to the right – where zero zombies advanced.

“Fuck it, brother, grab the portable!”

“Wait, Flex!  Grab yours and hold them off.  We’re in a great position if I can free it!”

Dave unsnapped his seatbelt and lowered the window.  He crawled out, and sat on the window frame as he struggled with what Flex assumed was a bent piece of aluminum siding.  Grunting.  His leg kicked Flex in the arm.

“Dave, if you can’t get it, fuck it!”

“I got it, man!” said Dave, dropping back inside.  He spun the gun easily around, turned to Flex, gave him a wink, and began firing, throwing spent shells all over the cab and exploding the heads of every shambler within eyeshot like giant paintballs.

When the gun stopped firing, Dave nodded at Flex.  “Let’s go get my damned sister.”

“Well then, okay,” said Flex.  They opened their doors and got out.  The big guns strapped over their shoulders, Flex had the Glock in one hand and a spray bottle in the other.  Dave had his Walther PPK, sans silencer, and his bottle of repellent, as Lisa had called it.

They moved toward the catwalk stairs, crawling under and over the fallen racks and only wasting rounds on the zombies who had any hope of getting free before they accomplished their mission.

*****

Lisa sat, her back to the door, listening to the crashing and automatic gunfire beyond her dark prison of indeterminable strength.

She wanted to yell, “Go fucking get ‘em, guys!  Kill them and get me the hell out of here!” but she held her breath.

The door behind her moved.  A full inch, she could swear.

She’d locked it, but she hadn’t checked to see if the door even latched.  Damn!  It was a military installation!  Surely they kept the interior locks in good repair!

Something hit the door hard, and she was knocked forward.  This time it had to have opened two inches. 

It was still too dark to see very far inside the room, but there was no way she could get up now.  Her weight against the door wasn’t much, but for now it was all that was keeping them out, as far as she knew.

Tears began to run down her face.  Nowhere to run.  A little vapor from their glowing eyes, and she’d be meat.

Dead meat.

“Dave!  Flex!  Hurry!” she cried, the door behind her slamming into her back as though on cue.

Calm yourself
, she thought. 
Think about what Gem or Charlie would do.

The answer came to her.  Those women would never get caught in this position.  Well armed, always ready.  She meant to learn those lessons, but there clearly hadn’t been enough time.

“No,” said Lisa, aloud.  “No way am I out of time.”

Then a thought struck her. 

Doorstops.

She’d noticed it without giving it much consideration.  The door had a pivoting door stop mounted on the outside, which made sense, since it swung inward.

She looked at the wall in the direction the door swung.  The door was mounted to clear the wall by no more than an inch.  If she could get behind it . . .

She moved her right hand down to the floor and slid her fingers beneath.  She felt around, trying to feel the base of the doorstop.

No . . . no . . . no . . .

She worried one of them was on the floor, its nose pressed against the gap underneath the door, smelling her, anticipating her taste.

No . . . no . . . yes!  She felt the coolness of the brass.  She pushed her hand farther beneath, and tried to curl her fingers behind the long piece and . . . pull . . . it . . . there!

She felt the brass stop drop, its rubber tip hitting the floor.

More gunfire outside the room gave her the final burst of courage.  She leapt to her feet and pulled the door open, sliding behind it lightning fast and pulling the knob to her.

She felt, rather than saw them fall in as the door opened.  Moans, stink and cries filled the room.

She flattened herself against the wall behind the door and laughed.  She laughed so hard that she had achieved a Gem and Charlie moment!  She did it!

“Lisa!”

It was Dave’s voice.

“Yes!”

Gunfire sounded again, and she heard some rounds ricocheting off the walls within the room, others hitting thick, wet things that fell hard to the ground.  Now two guns fired simultaneously, then silence.

And the sound of Flex’s voice saying, “Here, you rotted fuck!  Take this shit!”

The sound of spray bottles was almost comical.  Like someone was aggressively cleaning windows.  Very aggressively.

Hissing, popping sounds, then Dave’s voice.

“Watch out, Flex!”

“What the –”

“Duck!”

Gunfire again, ripping through the door just above Lisa’s head.  She ducked down, and screamed.

“Lisa!”

The knob turned in her hand, and she felt someone pulling on the door.

“The doorstop, Dave!” she cried.  “Lift it!”

“I gotcha,” said Dave.  He lifted the stop and pulled back the door.

Lisa fell into his arms, tears of joy flooding from her eyes.

“We’re here, sis.  We got you.”  He held her tight in his arms and stroked her hair.

She knew he had her.  She had never been more grateful.

“She okay?” asked Flex.

“I think so.  Sis?  You alright?”

Lisa breathed for a moment before answering.  She raised her face to look at Flex and Dave through the light now filtering in through the door and the bullet holes.

“Get me out of here, okay?  Did you find Serena and the guys?”

“Let us worry about that,” said Flex.  “Dave, help her.  I’ll lead the way out.”

*****

Chapter Six

Charlie ran into the converted RV laboratory, and closed the door behind her.  She had a bottle of Urushiol in her hands, but it was for the ratz, mostly, because apparently it was near useless against their two captives.

“Good,” said Hemp.  “We’ve got some work to do.  I want us both to put on some thicker gloves.  I’m not sure we can trust them anymore.”

“Has it gone that far, babe?” asked Charlie.  She looked over at them and made a mental note.  Neither had looked at her when she had come in, and there was no gnashing or aggression.  “They look pretty docile to me.”

“Just in case, Charlie.  I need to get one of them on that autopsy table there.  I suppose we’ll just try the old way.”

“Ugh.  Fucking autopsy table.  Is that why it’s got the big sink at the end?”

“Yes.  To catch the blood.”

“Yuck.  The old way?  So we just walk them over?”

“I’ll do it.  You just be ready.  Don’t touch a weapon, just have one nearby.  If the need arises, I’ll drop clear and you kill her.”

“This is like Christmas,” said Charlie, smiling.  “I’ll kill the shit out of her if she makes one false move.”

“It’s serious, Charlie.”

“It’s been serious as hell since the zombies showed up.  I think you know I know that.  C’mon.  Let’s do this.”

“Sorry,” said Hemp.  “Can’t help but worry about you.”

“Same here, but we’re careful.  Let’s just keep being careful.  So, thick gloves.  Hit me.”

Hemp opened a drawer and withdrew two pairs of thicker, cloth gloves.  Then he pulled out more nitrile gloves.

“Put the nitrile gloves on first.  The cloth ones over them.  Then put on a mask, too.”

They put on their gloves, then slipped on lab coats.   Charlie found a mask and put it on, but did not pull it down yet.

Without hesitation, Hemp walked to the cage, opened the door and walked inside.

“Careful, baby,” said Charlie, pulling down the mask.

“Of course,” said Hemp.

Charlie watched him put a hand on Blue Eyes’ arm and pull.  She staggered with him and did not resist, but Red Dress followed a few seconds later.

“Uh, Charlie,” said Hemp.  “Would you mind pushing back Red Dress while I get her out of here?”

“No problem,” she said, her voice muffled.  Apprehension struck her.  What if this connection was now so established that Red Dress would not be separated?  What if one was the master and one was the slave?  Charlie decided she’d watched too much S&M porno and dismissed it.

As Hemp led Blue Eyes out, Charlie stepped inside and put one hand on Red Dress’s shoulder.  She stopped, her eyes watching the other one.

Charlie, every nerve on edge stepped quickly away from the female zombie and closed and latched the door.  She decided not to share with Hemp how frightened she’d been for that brief moment.

The unknown really was a bitch.  And right now there was again, way too much new news that raised a lot of questions.

“Help me with her please, Charlie,” said Hemp.

Charlie walked over, took one more glance back at Red Dress standing in the cage, and took Blue Eyes by the arm.  “Which way do you want her?”

Hemp pointed.  “This U-shaped device is for the head.”

As they attempted to lift her slightly up onto the table, Charlie swore she felt resistance. 

“Stop,” said Hemp, obviously feeling it too.  “The table’s hydraulic.  Turn that lever there anti-clockwise.”

Charlie smiled, despite the situation.  “It’s counter-clockwise in the good ol’
USA, baby.”

She turned the lever and then pressed down on the table.  It dropped six inches or so.

“That ought to do it,” said Hemp.

They backed the zombie up to the table and pressed down on her shoulders.  She leaned back against the table and they moved her around gently, resting her back and head in the cradle mounted to the table.  Together, they straightened out her legs.

She was wearing standard prison blues.  Navy pants, and light blue, button down shirt.

“What’s next?” asked Charlie.

“We need to undress her.  But half at a time, and I want the other half restrained in case she thinks it’s threatening.”

“If she thinks it’s threatening, then I’ll
show
her threatening, babe.”

Hemp just looked at her as he slowly lifted the wide, nylon strap and wrapped it over her knees.  As he did this, Charlie repeated the process with the ankle strap.  They both moved to the other side of the table and lifted the other end of the restraints, securing the buckles snugly.

“Okay, that works.  Let’s remove her blouse.”

“In prison, I’m pretty sure they’re just shirts,” said Charlie.  “Probably not a lot of girly-girl talk going on.  Just bitch talk.”

“You’re probably right.”  Hemp began undoing the buttons and Charlie slapped his hand.

“I’ll do this.  I can’t bear to watch you undress another woman.”

Hemp laughed and stepped aside, waving a hand toward the zombie.  “Be my guest.”

“Why do you need her naked, anyway?” she asked, as she undid the remaining buttons and opened the shirt.  She still wore a bra.  Probably prison rules.  It was filthy, just a plain, white cotton with shitty support.

“Hand me those scissors,” said Charlie.

“Just tear it, Charlie.  They may see the scissors as a weapon.”

“I do
not
like having to worry about their reaction,” said Charlie.  “Fuck it, let’s just pull her up.”

Charlie and Hemp lifted her torso up so she was in a sitting position, sliding the shirt off her arms.  Charlie then unhooked the bra at the front clasp and slid it off as well.

“Her skin’s pretty preserved,” said Hemp.  “Not much flexibility, but not too many lesions.”

Her breasts were medium-sized and pustule-riddled, the nipples black and shriveled.

“Decent tits, but she still stinks,” acknowledged Charlie.

“She’s dead, Charlie.  She’s decomposing very slowly, but she is rotting.  And to answer your question, I need her naked because modesty is no longer a concern for her, and I might see something that triggers an idea.  For now, we’re going to cut the crown from her skull, and possibly more, depending on what I find.  Can you handle it?”

“I’ll let you know,” said Charlie.  She wasn’t actually sure she
could
handle that.  It was one thing shooting them and watching them go down for the last time.  It was another thing completely to watch them get cut open little by little.  She was hardened by this time, but that would be like torture if it was done to a living human being.

“Will she feel any pain, babe?”

“I believe their pain nerves are part of what is no longer alive,” said Hemp.  “So I don’t think so.  They’ve never been very vocal when dying.”

Charlie shrugged.  “I’ll turn my head if it gets too much. 

“Okay, Charlie,” said Hemp. 

“Hey,” said Charlie.   “How come I call you baby and babe and honey, and you call me Charlie?”

“Because you’re my wife and I love the sound of your name,” said Hemp, looking briefly into her eyes.

“Don’t think I don’t love the sound of your name,” said Charlie.  “I do.  But you’re my baby and you’re my honey and you’re my sweetie.  Sometimes you’re other stuff.”

“I love it, Charlie.  You call me what makes you feel good, and that’s what I’ll do.  Now let’s get her pants off.”

“
Buzz kill.”

They reversed the restraints, with one on her chest and another on her stomach just above her pants.  Hemp unbuttoned them, and lowered the zipper, and Charlie moved down to her feet and yanked the pant legs hard.  They slid off fairly easily.”

“Panties, too?” asked Charlie.

“All of it, Charlie.”

“I’ll be watching you.”

“Don’t bother,” said Hemp.

Charlie enjoyed the banter with him.  It made her feel as though all was right in a world where nearly everything was wrong.  She slid the panties down, revealing a fairly intact vagina, void of hair.

“I won’t even ask,” she said, gathering up the clothes and dropping them into a metal wastebasket.

“Charlie,” whispered Hemp.

“What?”

“Look at this.”

“Where?”

“At her stomach, Charlie.  It’s moving.”

Charlie didn’t see it.  “Are you . . . oh, my God.  It is,” she gasped.  “Is it . . . like Jennifer?”

Hemp shook his head.

“She’s pregnant, right?”

“No, Charlie.  She was pregnant.  She and the baby are dead now.  With Jennifer, only her baby turned.  Jenny didn’t.”

“But Blue Eyes isn’t really dead, Hemp.”

“You’re calling me Hemp.”

“This is serious.”

“Touché,” said Hemp.  He lay a hand over the belly, and nodded to Charlie when he felt the movement inside.

“Does that have anything to do with the reason you’re examining her?”

“Depends on whether that one is also pregnant.”

Hemp looked at Red Dress, who stood as still as a wooden cigar store Indian in the center of her small prison, her eyes appearing to be looking toward them, but likely, gazing beyond them.

“I don’t see her abdomen moving, but that doesn’t mean much.”

“Why didn’t it chew its way out?”

“Too young, perhaps,” said Hemp.  “No matter how strong, not equipped to escape.  I’m fairly certain the only reason Jennifer’s child was strong enough was because it was consuming the flesh around it from its live host, giving it strength.  This fetus would not recognize its surroundings as food, because they’re the same.”

“God.  That’s horrible.  Can you tell from the size of her baby bump how far along she was?”

“Such reality show terminology.  But I’d say she and the baby turned when she was about five months along.”

“So,” said Charlie.  “She was five months along when this gas started leaking, right?  And they both changed at once?”

Hemp nodded.  “That would be my guess.  The baby ceases to grow once it dies.  Because the mother dies at the same time, the baby may get its initial sustenance from the tissue surrounding it, but it doesn’t need to eat anyway.  It will never die.”

“Is it tied to the awareness they seem to have?  The connection with one another?”

“I’ve got some ideas,” said Hemp.  “Still sorting it out.”

Charlie stared at the zombie on the table for a long time.  She reached down and put her open palm on top of the creature’s stomach.  It did not take long to feel the movement.

“I feel like I keep saying the same thing over and over, but that’s terrible,” she whispered.

“It is.”

“What’s next?  I’d kinda like to get this over with.”

Hemp nodded.  “That Dremel saw over there.  Did you notice how the fuel in the gen’s doing?”

“It was good for a few hours,” said Charlie.

“Okay.  Put on your mask and goggles.”

Hemp pulled his on and she did the same.  They had a good supply of standard, hospital-issue surgical masks and goggles at Hemp’s insistence. 

As the Dremel saw with the two-inch circular blade began whirring, Charlie thought for the thousandth time how damned lucky they were to have this wonderful man and his vast knowledge working for the benefit of mankind’s survival.  Things could just have easily turned out otherwise, she knew.

As the blade bit into the skull, the zombie in the cage behind them began screaming, sending chills down Charlie’s spine.

Hemp stopped cutting and looked at her.  She stood, her hands held to her stomach, her face raised to the sky, and she screamed.

With what breath she created this sound, Charlie did not know.

“I’m going to continue,” said Hemp.  “Draw that curtain closed, please, Charlie.”

Charlie pulled the curtain along the track in the ceiling, and blocked the view of the creature in the red dress.  The screaming did not cease.  The sound was a gravelly noise that got inside of her brain.  It seemed not to be generated by breath at all; it was more like an intense vibration created the sound.

Hemp continued cutting, now about halfway around Blue Eyes’ head.  Charlie stared down at her face, serene and unconcerned that the top of her head was being detached.

“Hemp, why is the other one screaming, and the one you’re cutting on is just laying here?”

Hemp spoke over the noise.  “She has a self-preservation ability of some kind, but since she can’t see the tool I’m using, and can’t feel the pain, she likely has no idea this is happening to her.”

“Then how does the other one know you’re still doing it when she can’t see?”

Hemp did not answer.  He moved the blade around the zombie’s skull and bone dust rooster-tailed into the air as he turned the saw upward for his final cut to meet his initial score.