The Hungry 4: Rise of the Triad (The Sheriff Penny Miller Series) (21 page)

CRYSTAL PALACE, LEVEL 6

Rubenstein hadn’t tried to escape. He was in the middle of an observation room, standing by a glass table strewn with papers and file boxes. Two isolation tanks with thick acrylic windows were visible behind him. Rubenstein had his hands up in the air, as if to surrender, but he was smiling triumphantly. He jerked his thumb back over one shoulder.

Scratch squatted against the wall of the closest isolation tank, looking scruffy and belligerent as ever. He seemed tired. Miller almost cried at the sight of him. She was deeply relieved that he was still in one piece. Of course, Scratch couldn’t see out, so he didn’t realize she’d arrived to rescue him. Miller had no way to send a signal. Fortunately, Scratch also didn’t know what was living right next to him, on the other side of an adjoining metal door.

John the zombie was stumbling around in the second tank, chewing the air mindlessly, growing desperate for something to eat.

Miller lowered her weapon though she left it aimed it at Rubenstein’s midsection. Rubenstein was smiling because he had the upper hand. “Don’t shoot, Sheriff. I promise you want to hear what I have to say.”

“All I want to hear is that Scratch is coming out of that fish tank any minute now, and that Alex is going to be all right after that injection.”

“All in due time.” Rubenstein lowered his hands just slightly. He used his left hand to point to a small box on the table. “Open that.”

“What is it?”

“Inside of that box there is a syringe full of decelerant. Please inject yourself with it.”

“Maybe you don’t quite get this situation, Artie, but I’m on the free side of the glass this time. And I’ve got a very big gun pointed at you.”

“Decelerate, or Scratch dies,” Rubenstein said. His fear was palpable, but Miller also sensed his determination. He knew this gambit was his last chance to remain a free man, perhaps to keep on breathing. A desperate man is a dangerous man.

“How about I just come over there and beat you to death real slow, and then I just break in there and rescue Scratch myself and take him home. That sounds nicer.”

Rubenstein’s lip was trembling. “What an interesting statement, Penny. Where, exactly, is ‘home’ for you these days?”

“Let me get this straight. With all the bullshit going on around us, you’re still trying to get psychological on my ass? You let me worry about the subconscious meaning of the word ‘home.’ You should be far more concerned about me tearing your arm out of its socket and using it to beat your face to a bloody pulp.”

Rubenstein shifted to his right. His hand trailed along the glass table, leaving a long, bloody smudge. Miller followed his eyes. Behind him was a small control panel with a red, flashing button, and above that was a two-digit LED number that was already counting down. He’d planned for something like this to happen one day. She’d been set up.

“Sixty-nine seconds to go,” Rubenstein whispered.

“Turn it off, Rubenstein.”

“No.”

“If Scratch is hurt, you’ll beg me to let the zombies finish you.”

“Sixty-three seconds.”

“Sheppard,” Miller called. “Get in here!”

“Sheppard probably can’t hear you, and probably won’t help you if he does. This program is too valuable.
You’re
too valuable. We can’t let you leave. Fifty-six seconds.”

“Why do you want me to decelerate myself again, after all the trouble you’ve gone through to get me into that state?”

“Fifty seconds.”

“Nothing’s going to happen in fifty seconds. You’re bluffing.”

“Would I bluff with my life at stake? Are you willing to take that chance?”

The sounds of a struggle erupted from the other room. Something was going on with Alex and Sheppard. Miller heard what seemed like a male voice grunting and moaning. The vocalizations were muffled, distorted by the walls and soundproofing, but one thing she knew for sure. This was a truly terrible mix of human and zombie intonations. Had Sheppard betrayed her again? Was Alex turning, undead, fighting against wanting to kill Sheppard? She searched the dark recesses of her group mind. There were zombies nearby but Miller couldn’t be sure about what was going on. Time was running out for Scratch and she could not concentrate. Then something large was tipped over. Someone screamed in sheer agony.
Who? Why?

“Sheppard!” Miller called.

No response from the other room. It was over. Only silence now. The clock ticked on. Scratch sat still behind the glass, his face bored, completely unaware of the danger. Miller had to decide what to do to save Scratch. She’d at least save Scratch.

“Screw it,” Miller said. She slung the rifle over her shoulder and approached the box. “How do I know that isn’t cyanide?”

“Thirty-seven seconds.”

“And you promise Scratch will be safe if I cooperate?”

“Yes, you have my word.”

“Well, that statement is about as useless as tits on a bull because your word isn’t worth shit, you lying ass hat.”

“Twenty-eight seconds.”

Miller opened the box. There were two syringes with it, both clear plastic with orange plungers. “They’re both the same?”

“Yes. Nineteen seconds.”

Without thinking, Miller palmed one and raised the other. “I put it in my leg, like the last time?”

“Yes. Fifteen seconds.” Rubenstein was perspiring heavily. “Hurry, Sheriff.”

“Damn it.” Miller looked through the thick window to peer at Scratch. He was up now, moving away from John the zombie’s isolation tank, acting as if he’d heard something strange. Perhaps the door was starting to open? He looked awful spooked.

“Eleven seconds.” Rubenstein wasn’t bluffing. Scratch would die.

Miller knew the injection could poison or sedate her, but that did not seem likely. She was super charged and a fatal dose would have been difficult to configure, especially with the entire experiment so new. It was almost certain to be just the decelerant. She’d lose her big advantage, but Miller couldn’t see another way out of this one. She still had the rifle, so she’d have one last option. She lowered the clear liquid to hover over her leg muscle. She injected it and pressed the plunger down. Her body felt warm and her skin tingled.

“Now hand me the weapon,” Rubenstein said. “Or he dies.”

“You lousy fuck!”

“Six seconds, the clock is ticking.”

Miller handed him the rifle.

Clearly relieved, Rubenstein turned and typed a quick command into the keyboard. The red button stopped blinking with a mere three seconds left, and the terrifying numbers disappeared. Miller sagged against the large glass table. Rubenstein aimed the gun at her. His hands were shaking, but he had her covered. He’d won.

At least John the zombie did not enter Scratch’s isolation tank.

The acceleration left her body. The constant low-level anxiety and depression that had created that eerie mental connection with the zombie horde faded away. At least that was a good thing. Miller felt like herself again.

“I’m so glad you saw reason, Penny.”

“I want to talk to Scratch.”

“All in good time. He is, after all, a part of the team now.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Miller grimaced. “In a way.”

“I understand.”

“No. You don’t. What just went down in the other room? What happened between Sheppard and Alex?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Miller exploded. “What the fuck do you mean you don’t know? What did you inject him with to get away from us? And did Sheppard know about this?”

Rubenstein spread his palms. “I used whatever was handy on Alex. I didn’t prepare the syringe properly. I knew an air bubble would at least slow him down. When we are done here, I will take a blood sample from his body and see if I can document whatever has taken place within his system. I don’t want him dead if that can be avoided. Alex is valuable too.”

“And Sheppard?”

“Your friend Karl did not know what I had planned. He may or may not have survived being alone in the room with Alex. I did what I could to survive. Don’t we all these days?”

Miller felt torn about the safety of the three men in her charge. She was also damn tired of being in the dark. She needed to know. “Just answer me one question. Why are you so hell-bent on my participation in this damned program? You know I don’t believe in it, and that I’ll fight you every chance I get. So why?”

“Sheppard didn’t tell you?” Rubenstein looked genuinely surprised.

“Tell me what?”

“Why, that you’re pregnant, of course.”

Miller almost fell over. She put both palms on the cool glass table to steady her balance. When the shock wore off she managed a hollow laugh. “Bullshit. I can’t get pregnant.”

“You can, and you are.”

“That rings about as true as the brain tumor, Artie,” Miller said with as much bitterness as she could muster.

Rubenstein shrugged. “Nevertheless, it is true. It was a reaction just like the one to the wound in your shoulder. The virus merely expedited your body’s natural healing mechanisms. You’re pregnant, I assure you.”

Miller sneered. “So now what? Now you’re going to breed little super soldiers? Have your own super soldier little league team?”

“What an excellent idea!” Rubenstein smirked. “Camaraderie in the miniature ranks.”

“You’re out of your damned mind.”

“No, Penny, you see, I’m not the one with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and persistent delusions of grandeur. I’m not trying to save the world by killing one zombie at a time.”

“Then why are you doing all this?”

Rubenstein looked surprised. “Why I’m doing it for the money, of course.”

That was more than Miller could process. What use would money be on a dead planet? She guessed Rubenstein and a few others had plans to set up the high life on an isolated island, perhaps with young woman prisoners and stockpiles of food and drink. Somehow a handful of greedy pricks always seem to come out on top. They’re expert at taking advantage of everybody else.

Her heart had slowed. She wasn’t hungry. Miller felt reasonably normal again. She glanced down at the rifle. Rubenstein seemed to have forgotten about it. Miller suddenly moaned and clutched at her stomach. Rubenstein moved closer, concern in his ferret eyes.

In one smooth movement, Miller reached out, grabbed the barrel of the rifle, and snatched it out of his unpracticed hands. She almost tore his fingers from their joints. Rubenstein cowered back, clutching his injured digits, shocked by the violence of the move.

“Wait. Don’t kill me.”

“Don’t tempt me. Let Scratch out. And then do your best to save Alex, Sheppard too if he is still alive.”

Rubenstein turned. He wanted to go through the far door.

“Slowly,” Miller warned. “I’m going to be on you like underwear.”

Rubenstein opened the door. He kept his hands up. He led her around through it and down another corridor, and carefully unlocked a second door. This one was marked number seven. Someone moved around inside. Miller raised the rifle, just in case.

“Who’s there,” called Scratch.

“Local law enforcement,” Miller called back. “You’re partying too loud.”

“Penny!” Scratch came to the door. He saw her holding the rifle on Rubenstein. “Honey, you’re just a sight for sore eyes.”

“Ain’t that always the truth?”

Scratch came out of the isolation room and into the hall. He stretched and kissed Miller on the forehead. Then he turned and approached Rubenstein, towering over the man. His eyes were blazing. “Do we get to kill this motherfucker now?”

“Not exactly, Scratch.” She turned to Rubenstein. “It’s your turn, Artie.”

“What?” asked Scratch and Rubenstein together.

“Get in there, Rubenstein.”

“Me?” Rubenstein whimpered. “You can’t do this.”

“Hey, zombie dude,” Scratch called. “Dinner bell!” Scratch grinned menacingly. He grabbed Rubenstein by the shoulder. He shoved the terrified doctor Miller’s way, nearer to the entrance to the isolation tank.

“Megalomania has its price.” Miller poked Rubenstein with the rifle barrel. Scratch shoved the man from behind. Reluctantly, he went inside the second tank.

“You aren’t going to feed me to the zombie, are you? I know you have a strong sense of duty, Sheriff. That would be murder.”

Miller didn’t feel like defending her ethics. This world had changed and she’d changed with it. “Maybe, but that’s certainly one of my options.”

“Are you going to leave me locked here to starve to death?”

“That’s not bad either,” Miller said. “Wait, I’m still mulling this over.”

“You won’t get away with this! Someone will come eventually. They will find me and let me out. And then I’ll find you.”

Miller and Scratch looked at each other.

“You just might at that,” Scratch said. “I vote we just shoot him now.”

Rubenstein sat down on the cold floor. He hugged his knees like a little boy. He did not look up again. Miller finally said, “I’m so tired of all the killing.”

Scratch opened his mouth to speak. He read her eyes. He shrugged instead. They closed the door and locked Rubenstein inside. Scratch disagreed with the decision, Miller could tell, but he did not challenge it. He respected her too much to argue.

Miller set the rifle against the wall. She put her arms around Scratch. She studied his shorter hair and the stubbly beard that was finally growing out again. She decided for sure that she liked him better nice and scruffy. And Scratch seemed to know that. He’d surely be the same old biker in no time, a bad ass again, and that sat just fine with her. “Damn Scratch, am I
so
glad to see you.”

Without a word, Scratch folded her into his arms. He kissed her. Miller enjoyed the kiss, and that her mind was her own again, with her only thoughts human and loving. The nightmare was almost over. Eventually, they pulled apart.