The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (128 page)

They had not all yet made it into the new space when the smoke hit them and they saw the pink glow of eye vapor moving in the back of the room.  The crimson gas was accompanied by the low moans, growls and snarling of the starving rotters that everyone in Concord – and likely the world – had come to fear and respect in their single-mindedness. 

All headlamps trained on them at the same time.  Seven.  No, scratch that.  Ten of them.  Six men, two with sparse, gray hair, and two younger females with an obvious difference:  Their eyes shone a bright red. 

One moved along the left wall, then sank from sight.  The other had broken right, and disappeared the same way.

Flex felt a chill, and not just from the cold,
New Hampshire night in a prison made of concrete.  These creatures were the smart ones; the women with whom Hemp had become so concerned.  Just from their limited exposure to them, Flex knew they rested, they strategized, and they recognized and avoided danger.

Worse, they also had some sort of control over the others who were not like them.  They were also apparently not fooled by WAT-5, and clearly had the intelligence to conceal themselves when threatened.

“Listen up,” said Flex, raising his hand.  Everyone turned their eyes to him.  “We’ve got some of the smart ones in here and the rest of ‘em have the knockout vapor, so if you’re not on WAT-5, stay back until you know they’re dead.”

When everyone turned back to the room, their headlamps criss-crossing the walls and furnishings, the creatures were gone.

  Flex was dumbfounded.  From the dead silence of his group, it was apparent they all were.  Beyond the counter was just furniture and walls.

“Where the hell did they go?” asked
Bell.  “We looked away for a second!”

It was true.  When Flex had gotten their attention, the rotters had been staggering toward them from the center of the room.  Now they appeared to be gone.

Not gone, thought Flex.  Crawling, by order of the red-eyed management.

“Back up!” shouted Flex.  “Get to the front of the room and stand on one of the chairs, now!”

The waiting room was lined with low-backed armchairs, so each of the five took positions standing on them, their backs pressed against the wall, their guns held out.

Flex noticed that Ian struggled while mounting his chair.  The kid was probably wiped out.

They trained their headlamps on the room stretching out for thirty feet in front of them.  There were several hiding places in which a determined zombie looking to wage a stealth attack could conceal itself.

“Shh,” said Flex.  “Listen.”

The wind howled in the distance, whistling through the tall grass and the heavy, chain link fencing outside.  With the lack of other ambient noise, it was a constant sound, like traffic on a distant freeway.

But inside the room, just feet away, they heard ever so faintly, the low sound of feet sliding along linoleum.

The hidden monsters advanced.  The two females appeared suddenly on the west and east side of the room and leapt – yes –
leapt
over the top of the counter, landing on the other side with agility, their legs already pumping as they hit the surface of the floor. 

Flex was taken by surprise.  The others appeared suddenly, standing upright again on the forward side of the counter, and moving toward them.  They were not as fast as the two red-eyed speedsters, but far faster than he had seen them move before.

“Fire!” shouted Flex, and his thumb quickly flipped his switch from single-shot mode to full automatic.

By the time he brought the gun up to shoot, the fast female was within three feet of him.

He stitched across her head, blowing the cap of her skull away.  The body staggered forward and crumpled to the floor, leaking its version of blood, a bile-tinged, black-red fluid that stank beyond description.  The smell was so pungent that Flex felt as though it burned the hairs in his nostrils, but he refused to breathe it into his open mouth. 

Flex forced his eyes away.  He’d lost track of the other one.  West,
Bell and Eddie were firing down the middle, taking out several of the others, but in the blind shooting, he wasn’t certain how accurate their shots were; if it would be safe to step between the growing pile of bodies for fear they were still capable of scratching and biting.

Standing on the chair closest to the door, stood Ian.  He wasn’t shooting his weapon or even holding it up.  His gun hung by his side, and he held his chest with one hand.

“Ian!” shouted Flex.  “Protect yourself!”

“I’m shot,” he said, his voice weak.  “From earlier.”

Flex wasn’t sure he heard the words clearly.  It had sounded like Ian said he was shot.  His mind whirled.  Eddie had fired into the bulletproof glass earlier.  Did the bullet pass through Ian’s body before ricocheting through the rest of the room?

He needed to get to the boy.

As Flex checked the ground to find a path through the bodies that may or may not still be dangerous, he looked up in horror to see the other red-eyed female rise up like a specter beside Ian, as if out of nowhere.

Did she know he was vulnerable?  Just how much could this new breed absorb from a situation and from their  observations?

Flex jerked his weapon up, but could not shoot.  The creature was just inches away from Ian, and closing the gap fast. 

He could only watch helplessly as her mouth opened wide and her teeth tore into Ian’s exposed neck with frightening speed and ferocity.

Blood gushed from his carotid artery as the creature’s hands clutched his shirt and yanked him from the chair, down onto the floor.  Like an entire pack of dogs all rolled into one animal, it dug in and feasted with satisfied growls.

“Oh, my God!” shouted Eddie.  “Ian!”

“I got it, Eddie!  Get the hell back!” shouted Flex.

He raised his gun.  There was no saving Ian now, for he was being torn to pieces.  As Flex sighted in on the writhing bodies, the female flipped over in one sudden motion.  Now she was on her back with Ian’s body atop hers, and she continued to tear at his flesh, the blood running into her horrible, gaping mouth.

Flex was forced to fire directly at Ian.  He fired round after round into Ian’s body, hoping they would penetrate enough to kill the zombie beneath him.

While he wasn’t directly aware of it, he heard other weapons firing at the same time, and the flashes as West and
Bell emptied their magazines were welcome.

But it seemed the feasting monster had anticipated all possible scenarios, pulling Ian’s center mass over its head, now chewing through the muscles in the boy’s back.

Magazines ran out.  Flex’s weapon clicked – empty. 

The silence was broken only by the sounds of Ian’s body being horribly violated. A bloody hand pushed through the center of the boy, reached down and tore open his chest cavity.  The hand easily snapped ribs, widening the wound, providing access to the boy’s heart.  It gripped the barely pumping organ, ripped it from the boys body and sank back inside with a sucking sound.

What became of it then, Flex could not think about.  The slurping grew louder as the female devoured Ian’s heart.

As though aware of the reprieve, the creature scrambled to its feet, hauling Ian’s body up in front of her.  Powerful, dead arms held his body up, shielding her head, and she thrust it forward with a strength Flex had no idea she or any of the others possessed. 

Ian’s heartless, shredded and bullet-riddled body flew through the air toward Flex and West.  Both men jumped from their respective chairs to the floor.  Flex hit the ground, avoiding the flying body, but Ian’s steel-toed boot caught Lawrence West on the top of the head, knocking him hard against the chair he had just vacated.

Ian’s body slammed against the wall behind the row of chairs, rolling down and landing on top of West as Flex twisted out of the way.

Now Flex was among what he hoped were corpses.  A moment later, he knew his earlier concerns had been valid.  A hand clutched his ankle.

He kicked at it, but the grip was strong.  Flex looked at the hand, and saw a creature pulling toward him, mouth open, teeth bared.  Twelve inches away.  Eight inches.  Now five.

His heart pounded.  Flex jerked his leg again, but another destroyed hand reached out, clamping him at the knee.  As he watched in horror, sure he was about to become a victim of the undead apocalypse that had overtaken the earth, the heavy stock of a gun slammed into the cranium of the biter, splitting it in two like an overripe watermelon.  The slick, cold muck soaked through his pant legs, reminding him that these were not warm-blooded, living things.

These were cold, dead, living things.

In his shock, Flex looked up to see Eddie holding his Rangemaster by the long barrel, breathing hard.  The stock dripped black blood.

He looked back where Red Eyes had been.

She was gone.  Flex wiped at his eyes.

Smoke began to pour into the room from a door in the rear, over thirty feet away.  He blinked.  It was open, perhaps by the female as she had made her escape, perhaps not.

“Are you okay, Flex?” asked Eddie.

“I am,” said Flex.  “I wish I could say the same for your friend.” 

“Where the hell did she go!” said Bell, scanning the room.  Flex knew he was concerned she would pop up beside him next.

West groaned, got to his feet and leaned over to offer Flex a hand.  Flex took it and got to his feet.

“You hurt?” asked West.

“No,” said Flex.  “No bites or scratches, thanks to Eddie.”

“Good.”

Bell
walked up, his red face dripping with sweat.  Both he and West looked back at the rear door, from which smoke continued to billow. 

“I’ve never seen anything like that, Flex,” said
Bell.  “She was here one minute, and gone the next.  Maybe through that door in the back, or the way we came in.”

“We have to go after her,” Flex said.  “She might be headed after Jimmy and Nikki.”

Flex went up to Eddie and put an arm over his shoulder.  “You want to wait for us out there?” nodding toward the visiting room.  “Close the doors and just breathe a bit?”

Eddied looked up at him.  “I heard what Ian said.  I shot him, right?  My bullet?”

“I don’t know, Eddie,” lied Flex.  “I doubt it.”

Eddie shook his head.  “Whatever.  I’m not resting.  We gotta find Jimmy and Nikki.”

*****

“Why on foot, Hemp?” asked Vikki.

Hemp stopped to answer, keeping his voice low.  “The females are intelligent, the ones I’m looking for.  I have a pretty good idea where they hide, but we’re going to have to be smarter to catch them.  They’re not far from here.”

“That’s not comforting.  Would a net help?”

Hemp looked at the redhead.  “Yes, it would help very much,” he said.  “Do you have one?”

“Yeah, sure.  It’s right on the wall of the bar.  Hadn’t you noticed it?  It has shells, a ship steering wheel, and other stuff hanging off it.  Decorations.”

Hemp smiled.  He had noticed it, but it hadn’t clicked as something useful.  But it
was
a net, and it was pretty heavy, from his memory of it.

“Let’s get it,” he said.  “It may be exactly what we need.”  They turned back to Three Sisters Bar, which was only a few strides away.

Ten minutes later, they had the décor items removed, and the net rolled up.  They again waved good bye to their friends and neighbors waiting inside.  Hemp carried the net over his shoulder as they stepped into the night once more. 

“I like this gun,” said Vikki, hefting it in her hands.  “Feels like one my boyfriend had.”

“It’s a good gun,” said Hemp.  “Glad Mason shared it with you.”

“He was getting dirty looks,” said Vikki.  “People will come around, though.  The kids need protection too, if they’re on their own.  .22 rifles aren’t enough.  Not against this shit.”

“I agree, and as you know we’ve never had issue with young people learning how to handle high-powered firearms.  It’s a requirement nowadays.”

“Where are we going?”

“Basement of the State House.”

Vikki stared at him.  “Why?”

“Because when we saw the writing on the wall, Kev and I talked about setting a trap for the smart ones.  The basement has an exterior door that can be pulled open, but not by the typical infected.  They haven’t the intelligence to pull open a door without guidance and connection to the red-eyed females.”

“And those women are smart enough to pull open doors?”

“They’ve done far more complex things,” said Hemp.  “Telling a girl to unlock a door indicates high functioning thought processes.”

“So how do you draw them to your basement?”

“The females work largely at night for better cover.”

“They’re that damned smart?” asked Vikki.

“Smarter,” said Hemp.  “The fact is, we know they’re there, because Kev watched them go in on camera.  They seem to wait indefinitely until they have numbers before attacking, if at all possible.”