The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (135 page)

“So that’s why you wanted the strong first.  Dude, I am gonna kiss you,” said Flex.  “You’re a genius.”

“Musta rubbed off from Hemp.”  He opened the door again.  “Now organize, and let the smaller, stronger ones in first.  They have to crawl through the windows, get it?”

“I do now,” said Flex. 

Gem was already hustling the girls toward the bus.  Some people stood aside and let her load them on. 

“Tony, make the girls stay there on your bus.”

“Got it, Boss,” he said.

“Hell with that,” said Flex.  “You and Charlie get on.  You’re carryin’ our kids, so it’s time to rest.”

Gem stood there, her face beautiful even in the craziness of the situation and with her complete exhaustion.  She smiled at Flex and turned to Tony.  “I suppose he’s the boss.  For now, anyway.  C’mon, Charlie.”

Charlie gave Hemp a quick peck on the cheek and climbed on behind Gem.

The line became very orderly.  Flex, Hemp and Nelson moved each person on board by size and strength, and the few inches between each bus wasn’t enough for any of the rotters to slip between them and attack the living.

Flex watched and let out a deep breath.  He walked up to Hemp and put a hand on his shoulder.  The relief on Hemp’s face was evident.

“Buddy, we scrape through again,” he said.

“And who ever would have believed who our savior would be?” said Hemp.

Flex shook his head and laughed.  “Damned right.  Fuckin’ Tony Mallette.”

“It helps to believe that anything is possible,” said Hemp.  “I got that from him while I was there, and you told me that he never once balked at your plan to rescue me.”

“Not once,” said Flex. 

The crowd was moving quickly, and the room was now half full, and emptying at a steady rate.  Flex and Hemp moved over to the Pac Man machine and slid it aside.  He had to tiptoe to look over the heads of the rotters, but in the fireglow of the Concord night, he could see the buses slowly filling up.

“I see a nap in my future,” he said.  “But I’m damned sure gonna miss my truck.”

“If I know Gem, she’s going to miss that car, too.”

“Don’t remind me.  I’ll hear about it for years.  Seriously.”

Suddenly, a tremendous vibration began outside.  Flex steadied himself.  He could feel it in the very floor of the building.  About thirty more people remained in the room, and as the buses filled more and more to capacity, the process had slowed.

Paint began to chip from the interior brick, and mortar dust floated down to the floor. 

“This happened at the State House, Flex,” said Hemp.  “The intensity of the vibration they generate … it dissolves the mortar and loosens the brick.”

Flex ran to the bus.  “You people need to move faster,” he said.  “And when you think you’re moving fast enough, go faster than that!”

The bricks began to shift beside the entry door.  The chair that had been jammed under the doorknob slid backward and fell.  Hemp ran and replaced it.

“Flex, be ready.”

Several bricks slid slowly forward, then dropped to the floor.  The men could now see through to the exterior, and several hands pushed through the holes, pulling on the other loose bricks.

Flex ran forward prepared to fire at the creatures beyond, but he saw the buses lined up, side-by-side, just beyond.  Any shot fired might blow out a tire or penetrate the thin veneer of the buses.

Ten more men remained in line.  Dave had boarded with Serena at Flex’s insistence.  He’d been through enough for one day.  Hemp, Flex and Nelson were eleven, twelve, and thirteen, and they held their weapons ready.

As the last four men waited to climb aboard, the wall fell in.  The three men ran toward the bus, changing the angle of their weapons to one that would not jeopardize the buses or their passengers.

“Hurry!” he shouted, as the last two men climbed aboard.  Moving backward, Nelson flung his silver stars with deadly, head-piercing accuracy.  Forehead shots, all.

Fifty or sixty had come through in mere seconds, crawling over one another and staggering toward them.

Nelson ran out of stars and jumped up the steps in one bound.  Hemp was firing as he moved backward, gauging his steps carefully so he wouldn’t fall.

His magazine emptied, and he jumped on the bus, almost falling forward.  Nelson grabbed his shirt from behind and pulled him back. 

They moved toward the lone occupant, and Flex placed each shot carefully, exploding the fragile skulls of their walking dead foes, until he felt his back hit the bus door. 

Then he turned and jumped on board.  The hiss sounded as the door closed behind him.  Bodies slammed against the bus door, thwarted and hungry, ever afflicted with their dead hunger that drove every move they made.

Tony Mallette waited patiently for the last transfer of passengers through the windows and into the next bus over.  

With the engine revving and wood and debris falling around them, the bus reversed away from the building, executed a perfect three-point turn, and pulled out of the parking lot, crushing rotters by the dozens along the way.

When Tony was certain that eight buses trailed safely behind him, he settled in.

Gem came up the aisle.  “Tony?

Tony looked up at her, turning back to the road frequently.  “Hey, Gem.  “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks to you.  But I’ve got two favors to ask.”

“Anything I can do,” he said.

She reached in her pocket and withdrew keys, holding them up.  “Crown Vic.”

Suddenly, Flex was behind her.  “Are you serious?”

“It’s right there in the street, Flexy.  If Tony angles the bus right, they can only get to us one way.  Dave already promised he’d drive it.  I need to stay here with Trina.”

“Gem,” said Flex.

“Flexy,” said Gem.  “I love that car.  It’s saved our lives a few times.”

Dave came up the aisle.  “Yeah, I said I would.  If you can get me to it.”  He took the keys from Gem and added, “It’s that awkward moment when you’re trying to act put out about having to drive the baddest ass Crown Vic in existence.”

Serena came up behind him.  “Hey, Tony,” she said.

“Serena, you are a sight for sore eyes!” he said.

From three seats back, Nelson said, “I need to ask Hemp why everyone’s eyes are sore.  This could be a symptom of something.”

Serena patted him on the shoulder and smiled.

“Okay,” said Tony.  He pulled the radio from the dash and pushed the button.  “Everyone, stay right where you are.  If anything goes wrong, just hit the gas and stay on the 93 until you hit the 95, and keep going south.  But if you can, just wait right here.”

Chatter came from every driver, but Tony didn’t answer them.

He set the parking brake and stood up, facing the passengers.  “This bus is making a small detour for which I apologize in advance, but that must be made.  We’ll be right back in line and moving in no time.”

He got back in the seat and drove the bus up three relatively clear streets until he pulled back out on the main drag where the bar was located.  The creatures had flooded into the building, and Gem’s car sat behind Flex’s truck in the street.  Four or five creatures were nearby, but Tony was easily able to pull the bus door beside the driver’s door of the Ford.

“If you do this fast,” said Tony, “You shouldn’t even have to fire a shot.”

“Got it.”  Dave hit the remote out of habit, though Gem never locked the door.   He looked up at Serena, behind him.  “Ready?”

“Right behind you,” she said.

Tony hit the door, they dropped to the pavement, and both jumped easily into the Crown Victoria. 

Inside the bus they could hear the engine fire.

“That sound is music to my ears,” said Gem.  She went to Tony again and squeezed him as he pulled the bus back onto the roadway, running down two zombies in the process.  She whispered in his ear, then stood up straight, awaiting his answer.

“Geez, okay,” he said.  “They better be cute and fluffy.”

Tony searched the dash, found a handset and pushed the button.  He cleared his throat and it came over the PA in the bus.  “We’ve got one more quick stop to make,” he said.  “Then we’ll rejoin the others.”

Flex called out, “What is it, Tony?” 

“Your lady can tell you that.  I’m driving, so I’m the decider.”

Flex shrugged.  “If you say so.  I’ve got a little time on my hands.  I’m pretty sure everyone else does, too.”

Tony got in the driver’s seat and pulled forward, turning right at the next residential intersection.

The road was clear, and neither the horde nor the fire was a threat as they pulled up in front of their destination.

*****

The door opened with a hiss, and the two dogs bounded up the steps, followed by Gem, Flex and Tony.

“Bunsen!  Slider!”

The sing-song tone in the young girls’ voices were a joy to hear and the sound of their glee made everyone in the bus, as tired as they were, smile.  The two fluffy, white dogs trotted up the aisle, kissing every face in their paths. 

Tony guided the bus back to the caravan, stopping just ahead of them.  Gem’s Crown Vic was a few hundred yards ahead.

All in all, it had taken them twenty-six minutes.  Flex and Gem sat behind the driver’s seat, and Flex put a hand on Tony’s shoulder.  “Thanks for that, brother.”

Tony looked at Flex in the wide mirror and smiled big, scratching his beard.  “Where to, buddy?  We didn’t have much of a plan beyond Concord.”

Flex shrugged.  “You do realize I was a minimalist, right?  That I was all about a small group?”

“You gotta go with the flow, buddy,” said Tony, laughing.  “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Flex, tired as he was, stood up and leaned over to Tony, planting a big kiss on his bearded cheek, as promised.

“That’s all I got for you right now, buddy.  You’re a literal lifesaver.  Of man and beast.”

Flex patted Tony on the shoulder, then he sat back in his seat with Gem beside him.

At first, when they’d arrived, Flex couldn’t figure out why Hemp was so excited.  He loved the dogs, to be sure, but it was way more than that, and it made perfect sense.

Hemp and Charlie now drove the mobile lab, complete with the cow catcher, at the head of the group, followed by Dave and Serena in the fortified Ford.  There was little doubt the GPS screen selector was set to “B” mode and Serena watched for anything that needed shooting.

In three more hours, the morning sun welcomed them as they continued westward, to no particular destination.

*****

Epilogue

August 22
nd
, 2013:

Good news on the Ratz front.  They’ve begun to die off on their own.

As it turns out, they did not have any symbiotic relationship with the rotters at all; they were simply moving in packs along with them because they were an assumed source of sustenance when living tissue was not around. 

The word “assumed” is used to clarify that they were wrong in their instinctive assumption.

In the cemetery that fateful day when Cynthia and Todd were overtaken by the ratz, the creatures hadn’t been helping the rotters from their graves as everyone had quietly feared.  They had been tunneling down to eat what they could of their remaining flesh.  The act of tunneling is what loosened the earth, allowing the zombies to make their slow but sure way to the surface.

The kicker was, the zombie flesh did not sustain the ratz.  Without living meat, they weakened and died within six to eight months.  Some held on longer, but ultimately, only those resourceful enough to find living flesh to eat would survive.

The flesh could be anything.  Sheep, deer, horses, humans.  Much of the livestock had died because of the cold or a lack of water and food; the ratz, because of their numbers, had likely exhausted a large portion of their available food supply in the short time they’d been alive. 

They were still out there – the good little hunters.  Which meant that with the ratz, it was survival of the fittest.  If they ate, they lived. 

Now onto the ones who can go forever without food and never die.

It had been determined, once and for all, that remote locations were better.  Now that Hemp had determined the creatures would eventually die off on their own once the seeping gas ceased, it was all they could hope for.   All they could wait for.  They had to find a way to do it safely.

The primary reasons for finding a safe, remote location could be explained in two parts:

1) With the female zombie’s inherent ability to strategize and control their male counterparts, they were all more dangerous now; 

2)  With the new vapor they possessed, allowing them to control the most valuable of our diminished society – the women capable of giving birth – it was important to use distance as the best defense.

Of course, living in remote areas made other things more difficult, including finding fuel for vehicles, and just about every other convenience.  It was important, just as in the days of early America, to live near a body of water.  That also allowed them to easily monitor the gas.

Hemp believed the emission of the gas from the planet beneath them was less than it once was, but there was no way to tell.  The density of the earth in various places would naturally create areas where the gas emitted at a higher or lower rate than in other places.

On one particular stop during the bus ride, Hemp had come onto the bus to share with the refugees all of the information he had learned about the plague, the resulting zombies, and their prospect for a long and hungry life. 

As the bus sat on the side of the road, miles and miles of desolate countryside ahead of and behind them, Hemp had explained to the tired but mesmerized group that from his test with the hyperbaric chamber, he had determined with some amount of certainty that once the gas stopped and dissipated, the creatures would all die.   The relief on everyone’s faces was clear; they were sustained by the knowledge that they would not have to individually kill each one in order to be safe.

Trina asked a very good question; she wanted to know if it was just like those front yard inflatable Santas and snowmen; when the air that blew into them stopped, they just deflated and collapsed to the ground.

Hemp said it was something very much like that.  It was a way of looking at it that Trina could understand, and it
did
work as an analogy.

Hemp further explained that with regard to the smart, semi-telepathic females, he now believed they were likely
all
pregnant at the time of their transformation.

Because pregnancy was the only condition that created a uniquely supercharged production of estrogen, this made sense, he explained.  However, there was still a strong chance that women on the last couple of days of their menstrual cycle when the gas began emitting from the earth transformed into a different breed of walking dead; the kind with some increased awareness initially, subject to a steady evolution as the months rolled by. 

Hemp warned that perhaps someday these creatures would achieve the intelligence of those who had been pregnant at the time of their metamorphosis.  Best to focus on and kill any females who exhibited any of the signs of higher thought processes.

Hemp let everyone know what he knew to be fact, and what still remained to be determined.  He told them to write it down in this order:

1.
                       
Look for a physical response to the sight of a weapon; backing up, dropping down.

2.
                       
Look for resting or sitting.

3.
                       
Look for any indicators that they can hear.

4.
                      
Be aware of red eyes, versus pink.

5.
                       
Watch for strategy while attacking; flanking, splitting up, organizing.

6.
                       
If you see males doing the things mentioned in number 5 above, seek out a red-eyed female and kill her.  Monitor the males to be sure you terminated the correct female.

7.
                       
Monitor the eyes of the female members of your group; they may have been exposed and are understandably afraid to say so.  If they wear sunglasses in inappropriate places, have them remove the eyewear to check their eyes.

8.
                      
If a girl or woman beside you says or does anything strange, as though in a trance, restrain them immediately.

9.
                       
Be particularly careful at night.  Part of their new, walking dead strategy involved a realization that they could more easily move within a given area under cover of darkness.  It was how so many had hidden at once – while most of Concord had been sleeping.

Had Hemp known it at the time, he would also have shared that an arrow, or even a tiny needle tipped with Anastrozole, or even Flaxseed Oil – both estrogen inhibitors – would work similarly to Urushiol on the smart females, and presumably, their babies within.  No matter where you pierced their skin, they would pretty much cook from the inside out and become harmless and dead, basically in that order.

Before Hemp, Charlie, Flex, Gem and the rest of their tight knit group parted ways with the remainder of the Concord refugees, the caravan that had once contained just over three hundred souls upon departing New Hampshire, had dwindled down to just under two hundred and sixty. 

With the knowledge that Hemp had shared with the survivors of Concord, it seemed most of them were now convinced  that less was indeed more; keeping the flesh footprint small was the safe way to live another day.

Several people had decided on particular farm houses and other structures along the way and had asked their drivers to let them off.  These people had made their choices, bade their farewells, and exited the buses.  They then hoofed it to their new homesteads with barebones weapons and provisions in hand.

A new frontier.  Again.

This also held true for the sisters. 
Vikki, Victoria and Kimberly had not asked to come with Flex and company, and they had not invited anyone, either.

So with that option apparently off the table, about five miles east of where Gem ultimately spotted the home in which she wanted to live,  the three ladies had noticed a small, isolated brick home tucked in the woods along a gravel side road.  When nobody else spoke up to call the home their own,
Victoria did, nervously asking Tony to stop the bus.

The ladies scratched Bunsen and Slider between the ears, hugged the girls, and thanked Hemp, Charlie, Flex and Gem for all they’d done.

Vikki still had the weapon she used to take out Jimmy Dickson, and she was confident in her ability to use it.

The remaining kids had dwindled to Amy Wilson, Nikki Haley, Eddie Palmer, Emma Love, Louis Snyder, Mason Peters and Rebecca Dovorany, who had decided that the kids were more her speed than the adults.  Plus, that put her as the oldest of the group, and she seemed to feel that might afford her some power and influence.

Hemp knew that Rebecca’s attitude would make or break her there, just as it would with an older group.  And while Rebecca had already seemed to drop some of the bitchiness that had turned off the three sisters, nothing changed overnight.

On the bright side, her eyes had cleared, and she hadn’t uttered any remote commands on behalf of the zombies since that day in the bar. 

The kids had still been on the bus when Gem saw what would become her family’s new home.

Hemp knew that his own group had never wavered in their opinion that smaller was best, least of all Flex.  Concord had seemed so promising and safe, and he had been willing to give it a try, but none of them had ever considered the intense appeal of massive numbers of the living to stoke the taste buds and attract the attention of the living dead.

Along the way, as the buses began to empty to the point where there was plenty of breathing room, Flex had appealed to Tony, for all intents and purposes the true owner of
all
the buses, to consolidate to a single bus. 

Because the entire group’s numbers had thinned out so drastically, it was an easy request to grant.  There were several smaller homes in the area where Gem had spotted her new home, mostly rural farmhouses, so there seemed to be plenty of room in the neighborhood for Nick, Jason, Nelson Moore, and of course, Doc Scofield.  And while Dave and Serena kept talking about
California, they were content to stop and rest of a while, too.  They stayed in the big house with the Sheridans and Chatsworths. 

Tony remained with them, too, sending the other buses down the road with a recommendation that they do the same thing; find a good, strong home near water, and live your life in peace as long as you can.

But that was then.

Since they settled in, they had discovered that with the arrival of Spring, they were able to see vegetables sprout and grow, despite the noxious compound the earth produced, and when tested, Hemp found them to be perfectly unaffected. 

Nearby apple orchards provided fresh fruit, and not far from their homestead were other sources of various berries, corn, cucumbers, pecans, sweet potatoes and tomatoes.  Not all at the same time, and many of them needed pruning and a bit of tender loving care to survive and produce their bounty.  Without the ability to water them regularly, it was going to be hit and miss, which of course they all knew.

As far as the urushiol was concerned, they had located a source of poison ivy, and Hemp currently produced small amounts of the crucial oil.  Thanks to some determined diggers making their way down from a cemetery eight miles north of them, they were able to harvest their vapor and produce the wafers again, making it a top priority.  Having reverted back to his mobile lab, things were done in a somewhat more crude way than in Carville’s lab or the one in
Concord, but there was enough equipment to get by, and the most important component – knowledge – was intact in Hemp’s mind.

*****

It was nine o’clock at night, or thereabouts, and candles lit the room with a flickering glow.  They used the generator only when necessary, and bottled propane for whatever possible.

Like their precious coffee.  There
would
be coffee.

At present, Gem was reclined on the sofa, holding her one-month-old son.  The pregnancy had been an easy one right up until the birth, and the eight-pound child was born breech.  Doc Scofield was there to make things right, and after fears that a cesarean section might be the only option, he was able to avoid that procedure and deliver them both from the evil that was death, but not quite a final one.

After the birth, Gem had been in bed for a long time.  She had been getting out of that bed and sneaking cigarettes, and everyone knew it.

The baby was strong.  Flex Maxwell Sheridan. 

Who the hell else had two “x” names?

Probably just little Flex.  But not so little.

They lived in a remote house on Shelton Ferry Road in Whitmire, South Carolina.  When Gem had seen the roaring river below them as the bus drove across the bridge, she had a feeling that their new home was near.