The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (6 page)

We hurried through the door and turned left, then right.  There was another steel door with a reinforced glass view hole.  I looked down, and saw two bodies
on the floor about halfway down the hallway.  The door at the far end was held open with a chair.  Nobody moved.  “Guess we go in, huh?” I said.

Gem nodded and inserted the key, turning it until a metallic click sounded.  She pushed and it opened quietly.

The moment we stepped through the door, a voice came from one of the cells.  “Hello?   Is anyone there?”

We stopped short and analyzed the
layout.  Six cells down on the right, six on the left.  We could see a nose sticking through the bars halfway down on the right.  Then hands waved.  “Hey, down here!  Down here!”

The voice had a British accent.  The hands didn’t look rough, but smooth.  In
Florida, in June, the arms were covered by long sleeves, folded back at the wrist – about as casual as a long-sleeved shirt wearer who was comfortable in them might get.

“Who are you?” Gem called, as we approached the cell. 

Trina was still out cold, dead weight in my arms, as I held my .38 pointed at the body of one of the uniform-clad officers on the cell block floor.

“
Chatsworth,” he said.  “Hemphill Chatsworth.”

We stepped into his view, me holding a little girl, sweating up
a storm, and Gem, a hot Latin woman, also soaked with sweat, hefting an Uzi.  We must have been a sight.

“Hemphill Chatsworth,” said Gem, smiling.  “Now
that’s
a mouthful.”

The man nodded, and even smiled slightly.  “Hemp.  Hemp to people who know me.”

“What are you doing in this cell, Hemp?” I asked.  “What went wrong in your life that you ended up in jail?”

“
First off he goes by Hemp,” Gem said.  “Drug dealer, naturally.”

“No, no,” he said.  “I shut the
cell door.  Locked myself in.  I’m just glad it was open in the first place so I could get away from them.”  He bent down and brought up his hand holding a stainless steel .45 Automatic.

I tensed
as Gem swung her Uzi quickly, pointing it at his head.  “Drop that shit now!”

Hemp did.   He flung the gun to the other side of the cell and it skittered off the concrete floor and into the wall.  “It’s empty!  Empty!” he shouted, cowering.

“Why’d you grab it!” Gem said, her muscles tense as she held the gun on him.

“To show you if I was supposed to be in here I would not have a damned gun!” he said, holding his hands in front of him in a defensive gesture.

Gem’s muscles relaxed.  So did mine.  She looked at me and shrugged.  “Makes sense.”

“I agree,” I said.  “I’m glad this kid’s on Benadryl.  Fuck me.”

Gem lowered the weapon, glanced again at the propped door, then turned back to the  British man in the cage.  “Who were you trying to get away from?  When was this?”

Gem stepped back and aimed the Uzi toward the open door where the chair lay angled and propped beneath the doorknob.
  Chatsworth must have noticed Gem eyeing the door nervously. 

“
I put that chair there when I ran in.  I was afraid I’d be locked in if it latched, and then this happened.  I’ve lost track of time, and – Jesus, I forgot I even had a watch on.”  He looked at his watch.  “I’ve been in here about an hour now.  These two were coming after me, and I shot them in the leg to start – thought it might deter them – but they didn’t take their eyes off me, and kept coming.  It wasn’t like they saw me – more like they were drawn to me.  I shot one in the chest, and he still kept coming.  Christ, what the devil is happening here?”

“So you figured out the head shot is all
that kills them,” I said.  “Good.  It doesn’t take long.  You take out both of these?”

Hemp nodded.  “Yes, but I only got the one in the head.  The other—”

“Flex, MOVE!”  Gem’s voice was panicked, and she pulled me hard toward her and yanked me against the concrete wall next to Hemp’s cell.  As my back contacted the wall and I dropped my gun to keep from losing my grip on Trina, I saw why.  The zombie on the cell block floor had begun to move and had pulled itself  toward me until its gaping, gnashing mouth must have been inches from my ankle.  Fucking
inches
.

Gem leapt back and pulled the trigger of the Uzi, holding
it down as at least 25 high velocity rounds separated the zombie’s head from his shoulders and nearly shattered our eardrums, echoing in the brick and steel block.  When it was over, she leaned against the cell, breathing hard, her shoulders heaving. 

I stood there speechless, as did Hemp.  He sat on his knees, staring at her back, and a second later she
turned and glared at Hemp.  “
Did
you get the other one in the head?  Are you fucking sure?”

I moved Trina into one arm and reached out and took the Uzi from her.  “Here.”  I put Trina in her arms.  “I got this.  Relax.”  I walked over to the
body lying directly across the narrow block, up against the opposite bank of cells.  With my foot, I kicked the body over so it rolled onto its back.  Yep.  It was a one of
them
.  The teeth were pulled back, the eyes staring blankly and sunken, the black veins running over every inch of its body. 

T
here were two bullet holes.  One in its forehead, and the other in the now destroyed chin.   I lowered the barrel of the Uzi to his cranium to make sure.  I gave it a short burst and felt better.

“Okay,” I said.  “Let’s get our friend out of
that cage and go get us some evidence.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Hemp was no pussy.  I could tell right away.  He grabbed the
empty .45 from the cell floor and tucked it in his pants.

“Popular gun,” Hemp said.
  “If we don’t find any ammo in evidence, I can find a bit on some of the police officers.”

I led this time, and once we got on the second floor through a stairwell, the signs directing us to evidence were pretty clear.  It was on the third floor.   We stayed keenly aware of sounds other than ours, and kept our gun barrels high.  Only head shots were of any value.  This had become instinct now.  I imagine even Hemp – especially Hemp – had learned that lesson.  He brought up the rear as the only guy without a
loaded weapon. 

Then I remembered.  Hell, how could I forget?  I reached into my waistband and handed him one of the Berettas.  “Check the clip.”

I hadn’t considered that Hemp may have never handled a gun before except during his emergency in the cell, but he quickly pressed the clip release button, dropping it into his hand.  He looked at the side of the clip at the view slots counted the rounds, and slammed the clip back home.

I shook my head. 
“Good.  You seem to know your way around a pistol.  Now just remember to aim high and don’t shoot if we’re in the general direction you’re pointing.”

“Understood,” Hemp confirmed. 

I took Trina from Gem again.  She was getting awfully heavy, and I was ready to get this done and get back on the road.

“This is it,” Gem said.  She put her key in the lock and turned it.  The lock spun and the door clicked open.  Our crew of Ghostbusters, or whatever we were these days
, walked in.  The power was out – not sure why, but the emergency lights were running on fast fading batteries and were no longer very bright.  The lighting was equivalent to that of a romantic restaurant and the more time that passed, the worse it would be come.   Flashlights were effective, but they also screamed “I’M RIGHT FUCKING HERE!” to anyone within view.

“
I’ll get the back wall and first couple of aisles.  Hemp, get these two.  We’re looking for badass firearms and ammo of any and all kinds.”

Gem found a two-tiered rolling cart with
a rubber-lined surface.  Perfect to transport our swag.  I headed down the far wall, and Gem hit the middle.  I could hear her sliding some drawers open, and Hemp was already investigating his rows.

I reached a
wide, metal two-door cabinet around three-quarters of the way down the aisle.  It was locked, but it did not appear to be designed for strength, because I was able to force the flimsy knob to turn.  I yanked hard on the handle and the door popped open.

I stood back and whistled, throwing my caution of the
things that ate people to the wind. And then I laughed so hard I almost pissed my pants.  Trina started to stir in my arms and I tried to contain myself.  But I had a damned good reason.

I’d hit the
motherload.

*****

“This one is a US built weapon, the Calico M960,” Hemp said.  His sandy, almost white-blonde hair hung into his eyes and he shook it back to the side.  “The beauty of it is the high-capacity, helical-feed magazine.  This firearm holds . . . hold on.”

He went back to the cabinet and sorted through a few of the boxes.  Wh
en he turned around again he had a round, steel magazine in his hand.  “This one holds 100 rounds.  There’s a fifty in there too, but I thought this one might make us all a bit happier.  With a full magazine it’s going to be quite heavy – not something you’d want to run too far with.”

Gem looked at me.  She was holding Trina again, who was
more awake, but nodding off now and then.  She shrugged, then asked, “And you know all this because you do
what
for a living?”

“Scientist,” he said.  “
Biology degree with a focus on epidemiology, primarily.  That’s why I’m so interested in this infection, or whatever it is.  Everything I learn and observe might help me understand more about it.  How it spreads, what it does.”

“So you study human epidemics, that sort of thing?”
I asked.

Hemp nodded.  He was
just under six feet tall, and a good looking guy.  I liked him immediately. 

“But how do you kno
w about guns?” I asked.  “That’s the obvious question.”

Hemp smiled.  “I’ve had a fascination with guns of all kinds for years.  It’s part of the reason I got my second degree in mechanical engineering.  My father used to pick me up broken guns from pawn shops – got them for next to nothing.  When I was six, I’d break them down, figure out how to re-bore the cylinders, steel wool the rods, and I’d basically restore them. 
By the time I turned thirteen I was more interested in machine guns.  They were much more interesting and complex, and being a teenager, my dad felt I was responsible enough to start breaking them down. I got a part time job and started paying for them myself, but my dad still had to go make the purchase.”  He smiled.

My eyebrows could not have gotten higher.  Gem said it first.
  “So you’ve got degrees in epidemiology and mechanical engineering.  Flex, our stories suck compared to his.  Hemp, Flex Sheridan there is an electrician, but don’t sell him short – he does do commercial work, too.  I’m an artist.  I work in several mediums, but none of them will immediately help us out of the shit storm that has befallen the state of Florida, and I’m assuming the entire world.  So if I could, I’d handcuff you to Flex now and keep you with us, because I think you are going to be very helpful.”

“You said a bad word,” Trina said in a very soft voice.

“Sorry, baby,” Gem said, stroking her hair.  “Gemmy’s had a hard day.”

Hemp threw his hands out to his sides, the magazine still clutched in his left.  “I don’t have to be convinced here,” he said.  “You are the only uninfected
s I’ve seen, and the fact that we’re not all victims of it means there’s a reason.  I don’t know what it is, but it might be something we have in common, or maybe it affects people at different rates, based on diet, physiology, whatever.  But as for me, I just drove down to Florida from Atlanta all by myself to check out the Kennedy Space Center.  I’ve got no wife or kids, and I don’t even have a girlfriend right now.  So don’t take this wrong, but you will do just fine.”

“Safety in numbers?”  Gem pulled up a wooden chair and sat in it with Trina resting against her shoulder, awake
still, but staring into space. 

Hemp nodded. 
“You already saved me once.  I might have starved to death in that cell.”

“I’d like to chit-chat all day,”
I said.  “But we need to find out which weapons we have matching ammo for and stack ‘em in that cart right there.  Then we need to work our way down the stairs somehow, get back to the Suburban and get out of here.  I think it’s about as weird as hell that we haven’t run into more of these things, but we’re bound to hit some big numbers sometime.  The sooner we’re mobile, the better I’m going to feel.”

“Especially with this one,” Gem said, bouncing Trina on her knee.

We all got to work.  Soon, all of our weapons carried the weight of full clips and magazines.

And we had plenty of ammo and firepower to spare.

*****

We
left the police station without incident at around 4:30 in the morning.  We made it to the Suburban without encountering any people or any infecteds, and I had them all get inside the SUV while I checked on Jamie.

My
gun at ready, and found Jamie still in her cocoon, undisturbed.  I thought again about her hunger.  She wasn’t moaning now.  I placed my hand on the bundle and said “Sis, if I can somehow wake you from this nightmare, I will.  I promise you.”  I got back in the driver’s seat.  I was still wide awake.

A
fter stopping at a gas station that clearly still had power, and being surprised that my swipe credit card still activated the pump, I got back in and started the engine.

I
told Hemp what the situation was as we rolled along Thomasville Road, AKA Interstate 61, heading north.  Gem volunteered to sit in the back seat with Trina, while Hemp sat in front.

“I want to warn you, Flex,” said Hemp.  “
I’ll talk about this with you, fully realizing it’s sensitive.  When I refer to your sister, I am going use the same terminology and analyses that I would with regard to any of the infected, so please, do your best to forget that she is so closely related.  It’s not my intention to offend.”

“I got it,” I said.  “Understood.”

“Okay, the first thing I want to tell you is that the likelihood that there will be a cure anytime soon for such a widespread, fast-moving disease – we’ll call it that for now for lack of a better term – is almost nil.” 

He paused for a moment, as though to allow it to sink into my thick brain.  It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, so it was probably smart of him.  I said nothing, but nodded at him.

“Okay, now, think odds.  Of the people who are capable of finding the cure to this, scientists such as myself – and many of them far smarter than me, I might add – a large portion are inevitably becoming infected.  It’s the odds playing out, which means there is at least a 50/50 chance that the person who was going to discover the cure for this, if one can be found, is one of the infected.”

Gem added,
“And judging from what we’ve run into already, I’d say it’s much greater odds than 50/50.  I’d put it at closer to 90/10.  And that’s conservative.  We’ve literally run into nobody alive who was calling for help but you.”

Thomasville Road
turned into Interstate 319.  Along the way we came across several of the dead-but-not-dead things, but we encountered no living human beings.  This was dashing our hopes, encounter by encounter.  By the time we passed, they were too far behind us to be a threat.  Most were . . . eating, and a little distracted.

“I don’t know about leaving them all alive.  They
’d kill any of us, so aren’t they the enemy?”  Gem looked at me.  “I’m sorry, Flex.  But –”

“Gem, you don’t have to walk on eggshells with me.  But I don’t want to call them zombies, or creatures
or monsters, or anything like it.  How about . . . let’s call them
abnormals
for now.”

Hemp no
dded.  “Abnormals.  That works.  And Flex, let me share with you that I think it’s good we have one of them subdued.  The only way a cure of any kind will be found is if they can be analyzed, examined.”

“I don’t want her hurt in any way, Hemp.   Not one hair.  I’m worried about her hunger.  She could –”

I stopped talking.  I wasn’t sure she
could
die.  I didn’t know enough.  I looked at Hemp.  “Can she die?”

“She can be killed, as you know already, with trauma to the head – most likely the brain.  But as for starvation?  It’s too soon.  They are clearly ravenous.  This is what drives them.  And that’s important for
you
to remember about your sister.  This is not a vindictive or vengeful thing, what they’re doing.  They are hungry, and that’s all they are.”

I nodded.  “Wolves and bears can’t be blamed for killing, either.  It’s a survival instinct.  But they kill just the same, and when their populations get too high, it’s hunting season.  Gem’s right.”  I felt her hand on my shoulder.  I was glad for it.
  What I said next, I didn’t want to say.  But I knew it was true.

“We’ve got to kill them all.”

But when we reached the state line, that seemed next to impossible.  We needed fuel again, saw a Texaco sign brightly lit, and had gotten off at the first exit inside Georgia. 

At least 50 of them blocked the road, some hunched over bodies, feasting.
Others moving toward our truck.  Some moved slowly, lackadaisically, but others, if it were possible, seemed excited at the prospect of us, and moved at a faster clip.  I hoped it was just my imagination.

“Holy fuck,” said Gem.

“You said another
really
bad word, Gemmy.”

“Baby, you get on the floor. 
Now
.
”

“Get the 100-rounders,” I said.  “We’re going to need them.”

Hemp already had one in each hand and Gem’s was leaning against her door.  With the abnormals twenty-five feet from the Suburban, we opened the doors and stepped into our biggest battle yet.

*****

“Where the fuck did they all come from?” I called out, and Gem, already firing into the group, answered.

“Not sure babe, but I plan to send as many as I can to
Hell!”  She took aim and blasted the heads off of three of them that were within twenty feet.