The Hollow Men (Book 1): Crave (26 page)

With everyone settled in, Laura resolutely started the van, cranking the air conditioner up.

They’d endured a lifetime of sorrow jammed into a few short hours. Dreams were destroyed. Death took the people they loved the most.
No more! No one else!
she roared in her mind, swearing to be as strong, as crafty, as ruthless as she needed to be to ensure there would be no more pain, no more heartbreak for her family.

She picked up speed, blowing past the pitiful zombies that were limping along the road. She and the girls had many miles to go before the night came. And the sun was beginning to set.

CHAPTER 46

G
LORIOUS
B
LOOD
R
ED

S
unset.

The bike was only yards away from him. His heart pounded against his ribcage. Blood pulsed in his ears. His cheeks burned hot. The amphetamines had kicked him into high gear.

Katie was very weak, but better after the medicine reduced her fever. In the last hour, she’d managed more water and a little food. Scott had coaxed her down from the platform and stashed her behind some nearby garbage cans. She gripped the strap of the canvas bag he had hastily filled.

Peering around the garage again, he counted the number of zombies nearest to the motorcycle. Five. They weren’t hunting. That would change quickly once he got on the bike.

The timing was going to be tight.

He sprinted over to the bike. His body falling into a familiar pattern, he threw the choke, cranked the kick-starter and throttled the gas. He feared he might have flooded the engine. Instead, it roared to life immediately.

The nearby hollow men converged on him.

Scott slammed the bike in gear and sped to Katie’s hiding spot. She barely stayed on her feet. He popped the kickstand, draped the bag over the gas tank, sat Katie on top of it and jumped back on the seat, and thundered away.

The Hales’ front yard was mostly empty as Scott and Katie rode by on the Harley. A few sorry cadavers trudged down the driveway. One of them was Bill’s.

Hollowed-out Bill stood on the lawn with its pathetic clan, staring at the bike with a contemptuous sneer curled on its lips. Its facial expression in death matched Bill’s in life.

It didn’t have the exaggerated lurching of the other dead creatures, its gait more normal. Its eyes were quick and focused as they tracked Scott. Its head cocked sideways as if searching for a lost memory.

Its arm rose sloppily and gave a mocking wave, its hand flapping like it had been given a massive dose of lidocaine. Scott considered he might be anthropomorphizing the zombie that used to be Bill, yet it seemed to him as if some vestige of the man remained.

After they raced away, Bill’s corpse shuffled after them, its ghastly disciples lurching to fall in behind it.

CHAPTER 47

C
ATCH
T
HY
H
OPE

S
cott stopped near the red Dodge Ram that he’d abandoned hours before. It seemed as if it had been weeks. He needed his hands free if they encountered any trouble. He hurriedly tied Katie’s body to his own—she barely clung to life, let alone the bike.

He kept thinking if his family had stopped, even for a few minutes, there might be time to catch them. He knew Laura would avoid the cities. There was one long country road that intersected rural highways. He had forty miles to go before arriving at the first crossroad. After that, he couldn’t predict which way she might take.

He was losing light. He knew the van didn’t have the gas to drive through the night, and neither did the motorcycle. Scott thought about options for stopping. He acknowledged the very real possibility he might drive past a house in which his family had hidden themselves for the night.

At fifteen miles, he saw the neon pink sign Emily had painted for him on the giant billboard. Of course, he deciphered his daughter’s code right away. His family knew he was alive. They would leave a sign for him if they stopped or turned.

He shouted “Wahooo!” and pushed the engine even harder. He thought he caught the scent of spray paint as he flew by. Had he not been so focused on the road ahead, he would have seen evidence that only Emily believed him to be alive—his belongings were still dumped on the shoulder of the road.

CHAPTER 48

W
ORKERS
O
F
I
LL

L
aura was tracking the diminishing fuel. She searched for a farmhouse with a barn, preferably uninhabited, surrounded only by fields. They could hide the van and sleep in beds, with miles between them and the zombies.

She would not be pulling to the side of the road to spend the night. The rear window of the van was shattered, open to any predator who happened by, living or dead. She was too tired to keep watch.

As she drove, a kernel of irrational hope took root. Despite the evidence she’d seen, she felt as if Scott might be alive. A tiny voice inside her urged her to travel to the family cabin, to wait for him. She argued against that voice as the van ate up the miles to the crossroad that would take them to her brother’s house. One mile before the intersection, she stopped.

She decided to open herself to the possibility that Scott had survived, even though she was probably deluding herself. However, she would not risk banishing her family to a remote part of the Adirondacks, waiting for her likely-dead husband to show up before they all starved to death.

Laura galvanized her resolve to continue to her brother’s house. Emily could spray paint her signs along the way. If Scott were alive, he could find them there. Decision final, she fired up the van and, out of habit, signaled to turn right at the intersection. With luck, they could be there by the next afternoon.

Boom!
The van was hammered sideways from the force of an old SUV running without headlights. It hit the van dead center. Metal shrieked on metal. Inside the car, the girls were stung by a squall of glass and plastic.

The driver’s side airbag deployed in fractions of a second, breaking Laura’s nose and throwing her diaphragm into spasm, paralyzing it. She struggled to take a breath. Her ears rang. Her body felt an incredible pain that started to get worse.

Lights flared. Men with gruff voices drew near. She couldn’t tell if they were hostile or not. She tried to call out “Help! My babies are in here!” There was so much pain. Laura slid into unconsciousness before her diaphragm relaxed. As her lungs began to push oxygen into her bloodstream, she returned to semi-wakefulness and heard the crunch of heavy feet on glass.

She wheezed, “My girls OK?” and strained to understand their answer.

Hands grabbed her roughly and pulled her out of the van and onto the warm asphalt. Two deep voices spoke.

“The girls are young. “

“They are, and there’s a baby here, too.”

“This must be the mother.”

“It’s a miracle they’re all alive. Though this one may not make it. What were you thinking, Kevin?”

“I wasn’t thinking. I just…” The Kevin voice trailed off. “Should we take her with us too?

Laura panicked. She screamed in silence, “Who was hurt? Please God – who is it? Let her be OK. Let my girls be OK.”

Can’t breathe.

Drowning.

Oblivion.

CHAPTER 49

I C
AN
L
OSE
N
O
M
ORE

N
ight had completely fallen by the time Scott arrived at the collision. He recognized his van right away. The right blinker, somehow still intact, illuminated the wreck in flashes of amber yellow.

He lifted Katie carefully from the bike and rested her against the hastily-made survival pack he carried. He retrieved the small flashlight from it and picked his way over the twisted metal to see if any bodies were inside. He held his breath and hoped against it.

None of his girls were in the van. Someone had detached Autumn’s baby carrier from the safety seat. It was nowhere in sight. The passenger bag had not deployed, which meant Maddy hadn’t been riding in front. A lot of blood covered the deflated driver’s side airbag. More blood had collected a yard away. Scott assumed it had to be Laura’s.

He raced about the scene of the wreck, looking for other signs. He checked the side of the road. The grass was untouched. No signs of scuffle. A blood trail ended in the middle of the street. At least nothing indicated Laura had died and became a dead creature, ever hungry, endlessly hunting for the living. Just the thought of it made Scott sick.

He found no other sign of them.

The van’s supplies had been raided. Only camping gear, clothing and the more perishable foods had been left behind. The shotgun was gone, too.

The big, ancient SUV was still at the scene, largely intact but a total rust bucket. He inspected the road for signs of braking and discovered none. His search of the vehicle yielded nothing other than registration and proof of insurance, which meant exactly nothing. When he slammed the door in frustration, a tiny bit of plastic skittered across the road.

Scott inspected it carefully. It was a mouth guard. And it was still wet with saliva.

No other cars in sight. No braking. Supplies gone. Family gone. Driver wearing mouth guard. World gone to hell. Scott concluded this was no accident and the people who had kidnapped his family couldn’t be far away.

He ran back to where Katie was sleeping and picked her up, ready to swing her onto his shoulder and renew his mad race to reunite his family. Katie was completely lifeless. Her lips were blue.

“Oh no. This can’t be happening.” He whispered.

He gave her CPR, wondering how long it had been since she’d taken her last breath. Three minutes after she stopped breathing and there could be brain damage. Eight to ten minutes and she’d be dead.

At first, the sounds of his exertions were the only noises that interrupted the still night. Even the insects seemed to be waiting anxiously for signs of life.

“Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.” He counted the number of chest compressions aloud and gave her two rescue breaths, watching her chest rise with each one. Then he began the cycle for the third time. After the fourth cycle, he heard the distant scuffle of feet shambling toward them.

In movies, the person administering CPR talked to the unconscious person. “Come on. Come on. Breathe!” Scott was too caught up in the rhythm of chest compressions, too acutely aware of the approaching hollow men, and too exhausted to talk to the clinically dead little girl lying on the ground in front of him.

Scott decided he would stop after the seventh cycle of CPR. The troop of hungering corpses were picking up their pace, aware now that living people were close by.

He counted in his mind now.
Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.
He leaned down to give his last two rescue breaths.

Katie gave a shallow sputter and her chest began to rise and fall on its own. He was scared to move her lest her heart and lungs stop functioning again. But he had no choice. The hollow men were on top of them, seeking to fill themselves on the meat of his and Katie’s bodies.

As if protecting the small flame of a last match in the midst of a winter storm, Scott gently picked her up along with his rescue pack and carefully walked back to the SUV, leaving behind the glowing flashlight, hoping it would lure the zombies away from them.

Old and corroded, the SUV’s passenger door gave a loud groan when Scott opened it. He softly laid Katie on the seat and took a step up into the cabin.

He fell halfway out of the SUV, his torso landing hard on the driver’s seat. At first, he thought he’d slipped on the sidestep until he felt the pressure of hands squeezing against his calves, then clawing up to his thighs. He twisted around, cursing and kicking at the zombies clambering up his body.

They were remarkably strong for their size. Sometime before, they had been two preteen boys, presumably friends. Now they were a pair of walking corpses trying to pin him down. One of them had entered puberty before the other. It was taller, with longer arms and signs of an Adam’s apple poking from the front of its neck. Next to its larynx was a jagged bite mark that intersected its jugular.

The other had long, black hair that draped from its crown in thick waves, covering its face so completely that it looked headless in the dark night.

Shaky and exhausted after the marathon sprints, after the CPR, after losing his friends and maybe his family, Scott moved sluggishly, as if he were fighting awake after a drug-induced sleep. He continued kicking at the long-haired one, connecting just enough to keep the creature at bay.

The taller creature was different. Scott swung his fists wildly at it as it scrabbled over him onto the bench seat of the SUV. It crawled forward to feed on the weak, unconscious girl inside. When it leaned over Katie, she whimpered in her sleep. “No, Dad, no.”

Scott immediately stopped kicking against the black-haired ghoul and thrust his way into the SUV. He grabbed that one in a bear hug and wrested it out of the truck. It scratched at him, trying to get back inside.

During the struggle, flakes of rusted metal came loose, showering Scott’s face and scratching against his eyes, temporarily blinding him. He refused to let go, hanging onto the lanky corpse and rolling him like an alligator twist-feeding.

He’d lost track of the black-haired zombie, imagining that one had taken its companion’s place inside the SUV, hovering above Katie, ready to attack. He blinked tears and grit out of his eyes, working desperately to regain some of his vision, even if blurry.

He was more relieved than fearful when he felt a sharp pain in his left calf. The shorter zombie had gathered a mouthful of flesh and bit down hard, sawing its teeth back and forth. If not for the tough jeans he was wearing, Scott would have lost the use of his calf muscle.