“Go! Come on, we have to go!” Like a platoon leader, Miller ran forward and scooped up the machine gun before the old man could regain his senses. She turned and faced the hail of gunfire coming from the cellar door. She aimed carefully over the heads of her friends, who were crawling her way, and let go of a few rounds. The huge gun punched gaping holes in the walls and the tattered cellar door. The firing above stopped as the men in the kitchen and hallway sought cover and chattered nervously. The new weapon was formidable. She’d bought them a little time.
“Hurry!” Miller called. She headed into the dark void, the back wall of the cellar, the area from which the ghost seemed to have appeared. The concrete wall had slid to one side and away. She saw an entrance lit by red emergency lights, the sight giving the impression of a long, tunnel-like photographic dark room. Miller swept the space with the barrel of the gun, in case there were any more heavily armed lunatics hiding in the darkness. No new targets presented themselves. Miller turned to see what condition her own people were in.
The men in the lodge above them opened fire again but from a far safer distance. Meanwhile, Scratch, Jimmy, Lex, and Michelle were right behind Miller and crawling into the tunnel. Crosby, Brandy, and Lynn were a few feet behind them, crouched low and moving fast. Sheppard and Terrill Lee were bringing up the rear. True to form, the two medical men, Terrill Lee and Sheppard, were dragging the old ghost by the arms back into the safety of his shelter. There would be no one left behind to reveal how they’d managed to escape.
The firing from outside the cellar continued. The holes in the door widened and splinters and nails spread out in a cloud. Miller knew they were running out of time. She crouched and aimed and just then the cellar door burst open, allowing a stream of heavily-armed men to gather near the top of the steps. They were all semi-blinded by the gloom in the cellar and hesitated at the entrance, clearly reluctant to come further and possibly stumble right into a trap.
Bullets flew. Something fast-moving and hot bit Miller in the calf. Since she wasn’t knocked off her feet, she just ignored the pain.
“Close the door!” Miller ran past her people and faced the newcomers. She fired quickly, loosed a couple of three-shot bursts right above their heads. The men vanished from sight, shouting and screaming. Someone stuck an automatic rifle around the corner and got off some aimless rounds. Miller began to worry. She looked for a door handle, a knob or a mechanism of some kind, but couldn’t find one. “Somebody close the Goddamned door!”
Jimmy took one quick look around. The teen identified something on the wall and slapped at it. The impressively thick cement-covered door slid closed, making that eerie, ghostly OooOOOoohh sound they had heard before. The old man hadn’t made the noise, it was the pneumatic pump that powered the hidden entrance. On their side it was bulletproof metal.
As far as those above would be concerned, they had simply vanished into thin air.
A moment later, the lights all came back up to full. Miller and the others looked around, astonished. Concrete walls surrounded them, flat gray paint flaking away, the only features to be found the dull seams between cinderblocks. There was no furniture in the immediate vicinity. Another two corridors went off in opposite directions in a “T” configuration, with the hallway they stood in being the stem. Miller was impressed. The whole place looked like an abandoned military bunker, or perhaps a bomb shelter. No one above them stood much of a chance of breaking in. This joint had been built to withstand a nuclear war. The old man had meant to stay down here forever,
“Is everyone all right?” She surveyed each of them in turn, looking for anything obviously wrong, like blooms of red blood or clearly broken limbs.
Michelle was occupied with Lex, who had a gash on his head. Sheppard was covered in bits of glass, but had no visible wounds. Scratch was covered in red liquid, but by the smell of him, it was wine rather than blood.
Sheppard stepped toward Miller. He crouched down, his face only a few inches from her crotch. “You’re hit.”
“It’s nothing,” she said. “Go do triage somewhere else.”
Sheppard probed the wound with his fingers. Miller flinched. “Stand still,” he said. He tore her jeans a bit and studied the wound. He stood and shook his head. “You should sit,” he said. “Let me fix you up.”
“If I’m not going to die, then I’d prefer you left it alone for now.” She walked away from him and looked around. Terrill Lee was just finishing up with Lex, who was crying uncontrollably. “Is Lex okay?”
Instead of answering Miller, Terrill Lee addressed Michelle, who held her sobbing little boy. “A piece of something missed his eye by an inch. Bleeding like a mother…” He took off his shirt and pressed it against the little boy’s forehead. “Hold this here,” he told Brandy. She took the shirt from him and did as she was told.
“What is this place?” asked Lynn.
Michelle sneezed again. The sound was starting to grate on Miller’s last nerve. All they needed now was to start trading a head cold.
“I don’t know.” Miller turned back to Scratch, Sheppard, and Terrill Lee. “Who threw that wine bottle?”
“I did,” said Crosby. He seemed to have regained some of his composure.
Miller stared at him. “That was a hell of a risky thing to do. If you had missed—or even if you hadn’t—he could have wound up killing us all.”
“We had it under control, Carter,” said Scratch. He twirled his Springfield pistol like an Old West gunslinger.
“I had to do something,” Crosby said.
“What do we do now?” Michelle said. She sounded like she was on the verge of a breakdown.
Miller thought for a moment. She looked down at the unconscious form of the sorry-assed old man. He looked distinctly less ghost-like in the harsh fluorescent lighting. The blood that leaked from the gash on his forehead looked real enough. “First things first. Sheppard, check him out. He knows things we ought to know.”
Sheppard knelt down and looked for a pulse. He opened up the man’s eyelids and watched him for a second. Sheppard pinched the old man on the back of the arm, causing him to flinch and groan, though he didn’t wake up. “He’s alive, and his brain hasn’t been seriously injured. He’s pretty old, so a concussion could be serious. I won’t know more until he wakes up. When he does, he’s going to have a hell of a headache.”
Meanwhile, Crosby checked the old man for more weapons. He looked up at Miller. “He’s clean.”
Miller turned to the others. Even in the greenish fluorescent lighting, there was something very wrong with Michelle’s color. She was pale and sweating. The persistent sneezing wasn’t just annoying, a sign of allergies. She was really sick. Miller felt a flash of anxiety.
Terrill Lee had also noticed Michelle’s color. “Are you hit?” He began feeling her for bullet wounds. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll be fine. I think I just need to lie down.”
Abruptly, Michelle’s eyes rolled back into her head, and she crumpled to the floor. Jimmy and Lex moved towards her, but Brandy held them back. Miller nodded at Sheppard to take over and fast. He approached Michelle to take a second look. Terrill Lee looked like he was about to snap at Sheppard for invading his territory, but then sagged and didn’t say anything.
“Karl, help us,” Terrill Lee said plaintively.
Miller turned to Crosby. She lowered her voice. “Take the kids and the sisters, and go check out the old man’s bunker. If you find some beds in a safe room, holler.”
“We’re not going anywhere!” Brandy looked up from where she held Terrill Lee’s shirt against Lex’s forehead. From the look on their faces, Brandy spoke for all of them. They had gathered together into a tight family unit, and weren’t about to budge.
Miller didn’t have time for a mutiny. “We need to find somewhere for Michelle and that old man to recover. Go find us a med-kit and a cot, if only for Michelle.”
“I said…”
“That’s an order.”
The women had a stare down.
“Your stubbornness isn’t doing your sister or her kids any good, Brandy,” Miller said, not without kindness. “Go do something productive. Standing over her and getting in the way isn’t helping.”
Brandy changed her mind. She scooted the kids in the direction of the cross-corridor, and the four of them disappeared to the left. The emergency lights remained stable. Miller figured the old man had gone up into the lodge from time to time for batteries, to refuel his generators, and add to his supplies. He had to have been pretty eccentric to have chosen to live down below with so much luxury right above him in the lodge.
Miller turned to Scratch. “Go with them, please. Make sure they don’t blow the place up.” She smiled.
Scratch didn’t smile in return. However, he did follow the others out of the hallway. Miller wondered what had him upset. They were lucky to have escaped with their lives. It wouldn’t take long for the survivalists to realize what had happened, but they wouldn’t be able to do much about it, not with the limited gear they possessed… and not with a zombie plague rapidly approaching.
Miller walked over to Terrill Lee and Sheppard. They were consulting quietly over Michelle. Crosby was standing around like an extra finger on an otherwise expert hand.
Miller stepped up to Sheppard, and spoke softly. “What’s her problem?”
“Other than the sneezing?” Sheppard looked up. “High fever, clammy skin, and her eyes are dilated. Looks like some kind of flu virus. Other than that, we won’t know until we can talk to her and get some answers.” He pulled up Michelle’s right eyelid. “Right now, she’s out cold as the old man.”
“Is she a threat?”
“She wasn’t bitten, was she?”
Miller shook her head. “There was no time. I shot Greta well before she could bite anyone. Karl, is she a threat to the others?”
Sheppard considered for a moment. “No.”
Miller turned to Terrill Lee. She addressed him and Sheppard together. “Okay, you two stay here and watch over our two patients. Keep an eye on that wall. I’m pretty sure we’re safe, but if anything changes shout a heads up. Meanwhile, I’m going to go find the others and figure out where the hell we are.”
Miller clutched the machine gun against her chest. She headed toward the cross-corridor, and turned left.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The old man’s name was Air Force Technical Sergeant Gunter H. Vollman. Scratch and Sheppard also learned his serial number—as if they gave a rat’s ass—but that was all Gunter was willing to say. And he said that over and over again. Sheppard tried repeatedly to explain to the strange old man that he wasn’t a prisoner of war and that they didn’t mean him any harm. However, when they explained that they weren’t prepared to allow him to move around his own turf, especially where any number of deadly weapons might be hidden on site, Gunter H. Vollman had clammed up.
Sheppard and Scratch gave in. They tied him to a chair with a pillowcase. Miller joined them, got filled in, and tried to get him to answer one simple but vital question.
“Gunter, is there another way out of here?”
“Under the Geneva Convention, I am not required to…”
“Okay, okay, we get it. You’re not going to answer our questions. This is a boring conversation anyway.” Miller turned to Sheppard. “Are you sure Crosby didn’t scramble his brains with that bottle?”
“I told you, Penny, apart from the cut and a mild concussion, he’s fine. I can’t speak to his sanity, but he’s pretty much as good as he was before he tried to kill us.”
“That’s all very comforting.” She turned to look through a doorway. She lowered her voice. “And what about her? Any news?”
“I still don’t know. She’s definitely got a flu virus of some kind. Whatever it is, it’s really kicking her ass.”
“Should Terrill Lee even be in there with her?”
“Penny, we checked her for bites and infections, and we didn’t see anything. This must be something else.”
“Can you help her? Can you protect the rest of us?”
“If we had some medical supplies that hadn’t expired in 1970, we might be able to do something. As it is…” Sheppard shrugged. “I’m afraid there’s not much we can do but wash our hands a lot and keep her comfortable.”
“How’s Terrill Lee holding up?”
Sheppard lowered his voice. “Not good. He still won’t leave her side and that isn’t good. Penny, whatever she’s got is likely contagious at this point, and if Terrill Lee hangs around he’s bound to pick it up eventually. He’s playing at being their hero now, and you of all people understand how he can be when he gets like this.”
“I can hear you, you know,” said Terrill Lee without looking up. He was seated quietly at Michelle’s bedside.
Miller walked to the doorway. She felt reluctant to enter the room. She knew perfectly well what a rogue virus could do to a body, and the last thing she wanted was another one to add to her already expansive collection. The zombie virus and Sheppard’s cure were both still in her system, in remission for a time. She didn’t need to risk destroying that delicate balance.
Miller cleared her throat. “Come on out here and talk to us, Terrill Lee. She’ll be fine for a couple of minutes.”
“I really think I should stay with her.”
Michelle was now lying sideways on the cot, holding her stomach and moaning.
“Can’t you do anything else for her?” Miller asked Sheppard from the doorway.
“No. Not unless one of these tunnels leads to a fully-staffed research hospital. I’d like to get her on fluids at minimum but we don’t have the supplies.”
“She’s going to be fine,” insisted Terrill Lee. He patted her forehead. “Michelle, do you hear me, you’re going to be fine.”
Michelle opened her eyes for a moment. “I feel so bad. I’m going to die, aren’t I?”
“Not if I can help it,” Terrill Lee said.
“You’re a terrible liar, Terrill Lee. Thank you.” She smiled and reached out to him. He took her hand and knelt next to her. In the small room, Michelle began moaning again.
“Ow. Ohhhh.”
Terrill Lee wiped her forehead with a small cloth. He pulled it back to reveal her pale skin. The cloth had left an actual impression on the fevered flesh.
“Uhh,” Michelle moaned. “Uh-hunnnhh!”
“Oh, shit!” Sheppard stiffened at the sound. He fumbled for his pistol. “Penny! Look at her eyes!”
Miller raised her machine gun to fire, but quick like a cat, Michelle pulled Terrill Lee’s bare arm to her mouth. She bit down hard.
“Motherfucker!” Terrill Lee cried, pulling back.
Michelle didn’t let go of his bloody arm. Her facial expression was as dull and dead as a shark’s. She sank her teeth deep into his flesh.
Her eyes were rolled back and completely white.
Miller was still holding the Stoner. She stepped forward, put the barrel up to Michelle’s forehead, and fired a three-shot burst. It was intensely loud in the small room. The zombie’s head ceased to exist. Brains became fog and a cloud of cordite. Michelle’s corpse collapsed onto the bed with one leg twitching.
Miller turned to Sheppard. She was furious. “Jesus, I thought you said it wasn’t the zombie virus!”
Sheppard ignored Miller. He practically knocked her over running out of the room. There was the sound of breaking glass. He reappeared with a fire axe.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Terrill Lee shrank from the sight of the axe.
Sheppard shouted, “No time to argue. Penny, hold his arm!”
Miller was sickened, but she dropped the big machine gun and pulled Terrill Lee’s arm away from his side.
“Against the wall,” ordered Sheppard.
Miller shoved Terrill Lee against the wall. His eyes grew wide.
“No, wait!” he protested.
But Sheppard was already swinging the axe. There was
a sickening crunch, and Miller fell backwards, loose but still holding Terrill Lee’s severed forearm. She landed on the floor, winded.
Terrill Lee didn’t cry out. He just stared down at the bleeding stump. “It’s already gone numb.”
“Oh, shit,” said Sheppard softly.
“It didn’t work?” Miller asked.
Sheppard and Terrill Lee locked eyes.
Terrill Lee looked away first. “I think I’m fucked,”
“Don’t say things like that,” said Miller. Her mind was racing in circles. Was this really happening?
Sheppard wrapped a bandage around Terrill Lee’s stump. He looked at her, held her eyes for a long moment. He then looked at the floor. He was on the verge of tears. “Terrill Lee, Penny, I’m… I’m so sorry.”
Miller was beside herself. “How could this happen?”
“I don’t know.”
Terrill Lee put his right hand on Sheppard’s shoulder. He was calm—much calmer than Miller would have expected. “Karl, I’d appreciate it if you would let me talk to Penny for a minute.”
Sheppard stared at him for a long time. Then he tied the bandage around the stump and walked out of the room. Miller thought she heard him sob.
Terrill Lee stood in the corner. He swayed but didn’t look her way. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”
“For what?” Miller said softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“For everything. I’m sorry for betraying you way back when and breaking your poor little heart. I apologize for being such a self-absorbed jerk all these years.” Terrill Lee held up what was left of his arm. “And I’m especially sorry for fucking up like this. I knew better than to take Michelle’s illness lightly, no matter what Karl said. I wasn’t using my head. This is my fault.”
“Oh, Terrill Lee.” The tears rolled down Miller’s cheeks, but her voice never quavered. “You are a good man.” She pulled the revolver from the holster on her hip. “I’m so sorry, but…”
The Hungry 3: At the End of the World Page 15