The Doomsday Sheriff: The Novella Collection (Includes Books 1 - 3)

by Michael James Ploof

  Ned left him to mourn, and Max remained on the bank until only ashes and bones remained of the howler. When Max returned to the lodge, he walked right into a heated argument. Nearly a hundred of the cured ex-screamers stood at one end of the long dining room, and those who had been immune stood on the other.

  “I’m not sleeping under the same roof as someone who just ate their neighbors!” one man screamed.

  “How do we know that you’re not still infected?” said another of the original survivors.

  One of the cured men gave the other crowd the finger. A woman yelled back that they had the right to be there. Tempers flared, and soon a punch was thrown.

  Max took out his pistol and shot at the ceiling. The retort made everyone jump, and the fighting stopped in a heartbeat.

  “I just killed my best friend, and I’m not in the mood,” Max bellowed. “So listen up, you bunch of assholes. We’ve got a space worm invasion underway outside. The entire world may be infected, and the aliens are evolving. We’ve got enough problems to deal with without this segregation bullshit.”

  “And what happens when they change again?” said a woman, pointing at the cured.

  A dozen voices rose up with similar scenarios, all of which Max could not guarantee wouldn’t come to pass.

  “Alright, alright,” said Max. “I’ll tell you what. You guys want your clubhouse back, we’ve no right to insist that we stay. Give me a few hours to figure out where we’re going. You think you can do that?”

  The survivors agreed, and Max thought that was the end of it. But someone had more to say about it. Piper limped into the room with her arm in a sling, and her fiery eyes moved over the original survivors.

  “You people should be ashamed of yourselves!”

  Max hurried over to her to help, but she didn’t seem to need it.

  “Most of the world is dead, and all you can do is fight amongst yourselves. My husband figured out a cure, and he saved hundreds of us. The worms are gone—some of you saw it happen. We’re not spies for the fucking aliens.”

  “How do we know?” said a man, and others nodded agreement.

  Piper started across the room after the man, but Max caught her good arm and gently held her back. “Come on, babe, there’s no convincing them.”

  She allowed herself to be led into the other room, but not before lunging toward them with a loud “Booo!”

  The crowd reeled back reflexively, and Piper laughed.

  “Bunch of pussies!” she screamed over Max’s shoulder.

  “Jesus, Piper, what’s gotten into you?” said Max after he had closed the doors dividing the dining room.

  “I’m fucking pissed,” she said, pulling away from him and pacing drunkenly. “The world’s gone to shit, I lost my frigging arm, and now those assholes are making things worse.”

  “Piper, I had to put Stefan down…”

  She stopped pacing, and her anger was replaced by sorrow and pity. “Oh my God, I’m sorry,” she said, hurrying to him and hugging him.

  “He’s at peace now,” said Max, holding her close.

  They held each other in silence for a long time, only parting when someone came in the room.

  “Sorry about all that, Sheriff, but they’re adamant,” said Ned.

  “Don’t worry about it, we’ll be gone in a few hours.”

  Ned didn’t try to change his mind, nor did he offer any supplies. He stood by the door awkwardly, his eyes downcast. “Sorry about your deputy,” he said.

  “Me too,” said Max. “He was a good man. And right about now, the world could use a few more like him.”

  Ned nodded, and having nothing to say to that, he finally left.

  “Are you going to be alright to travel?” Max asked his wife.

  “Travel,” said Doctor Weinstein as he rushed into the room. “She shouldn’t even be out of bed.”

  “I feel fine,” said Piper.

  “We’ve got to leave regardless,” said Max. “Seems like the others don’t like sharing a place with the ones we cured, and that includes Piper.”

  “Well then, I’m going with you,” the doctor said and crossed his arms.

  “You don’t have to do that,” said Piper.

  “The hell I don’t. I’m not passing up an opportunity to study you—sorry, I mean the cured. Besides, you’re my patient. Where you go, I go.”

  “Works for me,” said Max.

  “We should, of course, go to the hospital,” said the doctor. “I need to study everyone’s blood, and we’re going to need supplies.”

  “Sounds like a good home base,” said Piper.

  “The food sucks,” said Max. “But we can make the best of it.”

  Chapter 5

  Doomsday General Hospital

  The drive from the lodge to Lake Placid Hospital was less than ten minutes, but the walk would take much longer, especially with the injured among the group. The fight on the ice had gone bad for the hockey players, though they had won out in the end, and there were many injured among the rest of the survivors. Those who had been screamers and had been cured were in rough shape as well. Most of them had sustained wounds during their time as mindless zombies, and many needed amputations like Piper. Doctor Weinstein told Max that he had been intending to make the move to the hospital anyway, but he needed a way to get them there.

  That’s where Max came in.

  John had decided to go along with the cured as well. It hadn’t been much of a decision; his mother and sister had been among the screamers out on the ice, and now they had been returned to him.

  Max brought Stefan’s sword along with him, and he and John headed out to find a bus that might ferry the survivors to the hospital. It was nearing noon now, and the sun was out in full force. Max had to think for a moment about what day it was—Monday. In the normal world, he would have enjoyed the weekend with Piper, laughed with her when she told him about the cancer prank, and enjoyed a sunny Sunday on the slopes.

  But this wasn’t the normal world, this was a living nightmare, and Max was smack dab in the middle of it.

  “You a college student, John?” said Max as they walked into town.

  “Fuck that. College is a scam. I’ve been working with my father for the last five years since I graduated high school. Now I’m a professional welder, and I’m licensed to work on heating and cooling units. Zero debt.”

  “Smart.”

  “Hell, I could probably live on the money from trapping alone.”

  “Ah, you’re a hunter,” said Max.

  John nodded. “Who isn’t in the Adirondacks?”

  “Plenty of people,” said Max. “You can usually spot them. They like to jog and bike a lot, and they come back from Mexico in the middle of February with a sunburn every year.”

  John laughed. It was nice to hear laughter. It reminded Max of the sound of hope.

  “What about you?” John asked.

  “College or hunting?”

  “Both.”

  “Well, I went to school for criminal justice after Afghanistan. Graduated and became a corrections officer, first downstate and then at Ray Brook. But I didn’t like that much, so when I was thirty years old I ran for sheriff. And here I am. As for hunting, I killed my first buck before I got my first boner.”

  John laughed. “That makes two of us.”

  They found a Trailside bus in one of the hotel parking lots. It had likely been used to bring the hockey players to Lake Placid for the big pond hockey tournament. The bus could seat more than a hundred, and the driver must have topped off the tank after arriving in town.

  Max drove the bus back to the lodge, expecting to be attacked by more three-headed howlers, but the streets were quiet. The day was mild for this time of year, when temperatures could dip below zero for days at a time. He wondered if all the screamers had joined together to create the horrid human pyramids, and if they would all soon burst forth with shiny black eggs and unleash more three-headed howlers. There had been hope when Ma
x discovered that alcohol could cure the screamers, but if they all morphed into howlers, they were forever doomed.

  In the lodge, the cured were preparing for the move, and of course fights had broken out as to what they could take. Thankfully, Max didn’t have to shoot the ceiling this time to get their attention.

  “Alright everyone. I need a dozen volunteers to help me scope out the hospital before we head over there. A military background is preferred. Chances are we’re going to run into some trouble in there, and I don’t want inexperienced people with me shooting themselves in the foot. So, who’s in?”

  Two dozen hands rose among the crowd recently cured, and a few of the original survivors volunteered as well.

  “Everyone with a military background keep your hands up. Everyone without, put your hands down.”

  Still more than a dozen remained.

  “If your hand is still up, you’ve got ten minutes to prepare. You’re each going to need firearms, flashlights, Molotov cocktails, and a lighter. Bring a snack if you get hangry.”

  No one laughed.

  Max glanced at John, who was at least smirking.

  “Tough crowd,” John said with a shrug.

  “Let’s hope so,” said Max. “Alright, get to it. Now you’ve got nine minutes!”

  Piper was out of bed again, which was no surprise. Max found her in the makeshift infirmary that the other half of the dining room had been turned into, tending to a young man who lay unconscious. His head and neck were bandaged, and his foot had been amputated at the ankle. Piper rose from her chair when she saw Max coming and studied his eyes.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked.

  “I’m fine. But I’ll be better once we get the hospital locked down.”

  “There are a few RNs in the cured group, and a couple doctors as well. Seems there was an office party the other night at the local clinic.”

  “Well that’s lucky. They’re going to be needed.”

  “You be careful out there,” said Piper, kissing him.

  “Always. We should be back in an hour or so.”

  A few minutes later, the volunteers loaded onto the bus. There were four women and ten men, including Max and John. A few of the volunteers wore hockey equipment and jerseys, and Max recognized them from the battle on the ice. Their presence eased his mind a bit, for they had fought like men possessed against the screamers, and he knew they could handle whatever they found in the hospital.

  He pulled out of the lodge parking lot and headed for Main Street. With any luck, they wouldn’t find any howlers in the hospital at all. But Max didn’t count on it. His luck had been a volatile thing as of late. He had rescued Piper only to lose Stefan, and now the screamers had all changed into something inhuman.

  There was no saving them now.

  The hospital shone bright in the sunlight, all shiny steal and reflective windows. The five-story oblong building looked more like an alien mother ship than a place of healing, and Max thought it fitting. In truth, the hospital and the medical supplies stored away there made it one of the most valuable places in the county. If there was going to be a future for the human race, they would need the medical knowledge of the old world.

  Max pulled into the roundabout and drove around to park facing the road. If they had to haul ass out of there suddenly, Max wanted to be prepared. The soldiers piled out of the bus and took up defensive positions.

  “You and you,” said Max, pointing at a man and a woman. “Stay with the bus.” He tossed a radio to the woman before handing out the other four. One he kept for himself. “Keep them on channel twenty-seven and keep the chatter down. We’ll break up into groups. John, you’re with me. You, what’s your name?”

  The young women he was pointing at straightened and sounded off. “Private Valentine, sir.”

  “You just back from service?”

  “Was on leave, sir.”

  “Alright, Valentine, you’re with me. Who’re my officers?” Max asked the group.

  Three of the men and one woman raised their hands.

  “Everyone else break into four equal groups around the officers.”

  They did so, shuffling around each other until they had settled into four groups of three. Max assigned them each callsigns consisting of animal names and sent them all in different directions. As the others went around the building or moved toward the parking garage, Max and his team went in through the main entrance. The electric doors were as dead as everything else and had to be pulled apart, but they gained entry easy enough. Flashlight beams swept over a waiting area, a reception desk, and a hallway leading to the ER. Max signaled to John and Valentine before starting down the hall. He checked the bathrooms on the way and gave the all-clear in the ER waiting room. John went ahead, flashlight beam sweeping toward the door. He pulled it open and Valentine moved through, crouching just inside the door and sweeping her light left to right. She gave the all-clear signal, and Max moved through while John backed into the room, covering the hall behind them.

  Another reception desk sat in a semicircle at the center of the ER, and rooms stretched out behind it, ten in all. Max, John, and Valentine searched the rooms. Finding nothing, they continued through the first floor.

  Fifteen minutes later, Max reported the first floor clear. The other captains reported the parking garage and the basement clear, but then a shaky voice came over the radio. “Sheriff, this is bear team. You’re going to want to see this.”

  “Where are you?”

  “The morgue.”

  Chapter 6

  The Unholy Dead

  Gunfire erupted at the end of the hall, and Max burst through the swinging doors with John and Valentine close behind. He skidded to a stop when he found bear team hunkered down behind overturned gurneys. At the end of the hall, a writhing mass of veiny green flesh took up the entire doorway, bulging like dough left too long to rise.

  “Hold your fire!” said Max.

  “The hell with that,” said one man. “Look at that thing!”

  “If it’s anything like the other screamer cocoons, it won’t hatch if it’s left alone. We’re abandoning the mission; we’ve got to burn this place to the ground. Move out!”

  The soldiers began to retreat, but it was too late, the gunfire had awakened the morbid mass. It exploded like a bug beneath a shoe, spewing forth blood and ichor and other unrecognizable gore that was altogether unholy. The smell was horrid, and Max choked down his gorge even as he leapt behind the wall of gurneys.

  “Fire at will!” he cried, popping up and unloading a clip into the mass.

  The black eggs shot out into the hall, and the soldiers started to retreat. Max grabbed John when he slipped in the slick gore and pushed him through the swinging doors. He urged the others on and frantically lit his Molotov cocktail, kicked the door, and tossed it into the room. Max caught a glimpse of the three-headed howlers emerging from their black-shelled eggs. They were comprised of the dead that had been stored in the morgue, that much was apparent, for stitches ran the length of their torsos, and their skin was pale gray and ashen. Max charged through the hall, covered by John and Valentine. Once he was through, they let loose their own cocktails and bolted after him.

  The soldiers scrambled out of the hospital and made a beeline for the bus. Max took up the rear, followed closely by the tortured howls of the newborn monstrosities. He watched in horror as howlers began to crash through windows by the dozens, landing on six feet and springing toward the bus. The soldiers cut them down in midair, but the thrashing beasts took dozens of rounds without going down. Even when their three heads were destroyed, the bodies kept on coming.

  “The worms,” said Max under his breath.

  “What?” said John.

  “The worms—we’ve got to kill the worms to kill the howlers.”

  “Great idea,” said John between bursts of gunfire. “But where are the little bastards?”

  Max wondered the same. They weren’t in any of the many heads, th
at much was apparent, and riddling the wide misshapen torsos didn’t seem to have much effect either. The electric tendrils, however, must have been attached to the alien host.

  “Shoot them in the back!” said Max. “Where the tendrils attach to the body!”

  “That’s easier said than done,” said Valentine as she fired her dual pistols into the chest of an approaching howler.

  She was right; the howlers were coming at them head-on, and there was no getting behind them. Smoke had begun to issue from the hospital windows, and soon dozens of howlers were pouring forth.

  “Shit! Retreat!” said Max, laying cover as the soldiers filed back into the bus.

  Someone tossed a cocktail on the ground between them and the howlers, and Max sprinted to the bus. He leapt into the driver seat and yanked the door lever. Five seconds later, the bus was in gear. He tried to floor it, but busses weren’t known forburning rubber. It got up to speed painfully slow, and howlers began leaping onto the roof and clinging to the sides, electric tendrils smashing through windows and electrocuting the soldiers.

  Max turned a corner too fast, and the back end swung out across the snow and ice. He steered for the retaining wall, and metal grated against stone as the impact scraped the howlers off the right side of the bus like bugs off a windshield. He turned left and floored it, cursing when he glanced at the side mirror; dozens of the deformed demons were racing down the road after them.

  “Where are we going?” said John from the bench seat behind Max. “What’s the plan?”

  “Our only chance is to outrun them.”

  Max pulled onto the main road and gunned it down the short straightaway. The roads around Lake Placid were winding and treacherous even when the snow plows were out, but the howlers were already falling behind at twenty miles an hour. Soon they were specks in the rearview. Max was about to give the all-clear, when a howler dropped down from the roof and spread itself like an octopus across the windshield. There had been a turn coming, and Max hit the breaks to dislodge the beast with momentum. But the thing held on, shooting its pointed tendrils through the window and puncturing the headrest an inch from Max’s face. Valentine unloaded a clip each from her two pistols, and glass flew. Electricity suddenly coursed through Max, and he froze up. He watched, horrified, as he spied the turn coming. They were sliding down the road sideways now, and by the time he regained control of his arms it was too late. The back end hit a building and shot to the right, careening down a hotel driveway, taking out a gazebo, and rocketing down the lawn toward the lake. The howler on the windshield was finally jolted free, and Max and his passengers screamed as the bus slid sideways across the lawn and hit the retaining wall near the shoreline. The bus groaned, and tires spun as it went up on three wheels and crashed over the wall, sliding across the ice on its right side.