Crespi tapped a drawer in the side of the conference table. It slid open. He picked up the hidden, secure phone. “Consider it done.”
Charlotte Williams continued to flip through the hard file. She stopped again at the official service portrait of Sheriff Miller. She stared into the other woman’s eyes. She tapped the photo lightly with a blood red fingernail. “Tell them I want Miller and Sheppard alive.”
“What about any of the others?”
“They don’t matter.”
With that, Dr. Williams rose. She tucked the file under her arm. She strode out of the large room, taking the icy tension out of the air. The door closed behind her like the click of a coffin lid.
CHAPTER ONE
Miller slung the weapons case over her shoulder and headed outside. It was time to say goodbye to Flat Rock, this time maybe for good. She looked up into the intense yellow-blue of the sky near the rising sun, which squatted just an hour or so above the horizon. The desert sand sparkled in the heat. There wasn’t a cloud or carrion bird in the sky. No planes flew over the little town. The air was still, with not even a breeze to stir the dry leaves on the unkempt lawns of the deserted neighborhood. She heard no cars, no television sets, and no radios playing country music.
Flat Rock was a graveyard. The faint smell of decaying flesh tickled Miller’s nostrils. It was an old scent, not a threat. The town was long dead, and well past rising again.
Miller closed the door to her home without bothering to lock it. She headed out to the waiting Army Hummer, but stopped in her tracks. “Do I want to know what you are doing with that shovel? It’s a little too big to pick your nose with.”
Two men stood by a small mound of earth. The scientist Captain Karl Sheppard had dark hair and movie star good looks. Next to him was a tall, muscular biker who sported loud ink, incongruously short hair, and a fresh crop of stubble on his chin. Neither man smiled.
The big biker spoke up. “Nice Penny. Here we are doing you a solid, and that’s the sweetest thing you can think of to say?”
Miller set the weapons down on the ground. “What favor could you be doing me with a shovel, Scratch?” Then a sad thought hit her. Her voice cracked when she spoke. “Goddamn it, are you burying poor little Sgt. Pepper?”
Scratch stood there proudly, fresh dry dirt clinging to his cheek and hands. His intricate tattoos practically glowed with the early morning light. He nodded. “It just seemed like the right thing to do.”
Miller turned away. She picked up the weapons case, and walked it the rest of the way to the open Hummer. She slid the case into the cargo area in the back, and slammed the lid with a thump. The two men exchanged worried looks.
Sheppard, said, “Penny, we thought you’d be pleased.”
“My cat Pepper wasn’t the only poor soul who didn’t make it out of Flat Rock alive,” Miller said. She studied the Hummer’s tires to keep her feelings hidden. “If we stop every twenty feet to bury somebody that never got covered right and say a few words over them, we ain’t going to get very far today.”
Handing the shorter man the shovel, Scratch walked the ten steps over to where Miller was standing. He lowered his voice. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He turned her around. He rested his palms on her shoulders. He did not allow her to look away. His touch felt good but Miller flinched and backed up into the vehicle.
“Talk to me, Penny.”
Miller gently removed Scratch’s hands. She looked up at him, her face devoid of emotion. It wasn’t easy to pull off. “I’m fine, Scratch. Just finish up what you were doing so we can all get the hell out of here.”
Scratch let a small, sad frown crawl across his craggy face. Miller knew she had hurt him with that impersonal response, but he was too proud to admit it. He let her go. Miller stepped to one side and strolled around to the back of the Hummer. The morning sun glinted off the bumper of an abandoned car three doors down. Scratch shaded his eyes, rubbed his newly grown facial stubble and appeared to ponder his options. He wasn’t a quitter. He opened his mouth to say something else.
Before he could continue, a woman spoke. “Leave her be.”
Scratch stopped cold. He looked at Major Francine Hanratty, the mercenary soldier who was standing on the sidewalk nearby. After a few seconds Scratch grumbled a bit but relaxed. “Since when did you become a mother hen, Rat? I thought that was Karl’s deal.”
Sheppard stepped between Scratch and Rat. He took them both by the arm and pulled them away from the brooding Miller. Rat winced when he tugged her by the wrist. Her bumps and bruises from the battle at Crystal Palace had healed up since they’d arrived in Flat Rock a few days before, though she still had some small aches and pains. The injection of Enhanced Bioweapons Serum, as Sheppard would call it, which was now wearing off, had sped up her metabolism. It had helped her recover quickly. She was almost back to normal.
“Now’s not the right time,” said Sheppard. “Let her have some space.”
Rat said, “You’re probably right. Whatever’s bothering Penny will get said when she’s damn good and ready.”
“You two,” Scratch whispered, “ought to lower your voices.”
Too late.
“You guys want to know what’s stuck in my craw?” Miller came towards them, walking fast and with a grim purpose. Her friends winced. She pointed at silent homes nearby. One next door and two right across the street. “Look around you, damn it. This was my home, and these were my neighbors, my friends. I swore to protect each and every person in Flat Rock when they made me the Sheriff, but when the shit really came down, turns out I couldn’t even protect my own damn cat.”
The others studied her, clearly worried.
Miller barely managed to hold back her tears. Since coming home to find the town wrecked and her pet cat dead, she’d been close to crying more times than she was willing to admit. In fact, the pressure in her chest had been steadily building. She hadn’t let go much since that first terrible night when the zombie plague hit her jail, not even when her ex-husband Terrill Lee had died, and Miller felt maybe she had the right now. She glared at her friends, frustrated that they didn’t understand, but her anger didn’t last long. It couldn’t have been a huge surprise to anyone that she’d maintained her control.
“Hell, if you hadn’t saved my life back in that jailhouse,” Scratch said, quietly, “I’d be dead too.”
Sheppard squinted in the morning glare. “Wait a minute. I thought you were the one who shot her than night, Scratch.”
“That’s water under the bridge, Karl. I thought we agreed not to ever bring that up.” Scratch’s face softened as he turned back to Miller. “You did what you had to do that night, and you’ve done it every damn day since, Penny.”
Sheppard nodded. “He’s right, you know. You are one amazing woman.”
The two men turned as one to Rat, waiting for her to join in the love fest.
“Don’t look at me,” Rat said. “I’m just along for the ride until I can get back to my bank account. I’m just going to shut up right now.” Miller was not surprised at Rat’s gruff response. Apart from the fact that Rat was never the touchy-feely type, Rat and Miller had a history, not all of it good, though their friendship seemed to have survived.
“Shutting up is probably a good idea,” Miller said. “You know what? I’m through hurting over all this crap. What’s done is done.” Miller opened the driver’s side door of the Hummer. “This vehicle is packed up, guys. Is the Gravedigger Patrol ready to hit the road, or do you still have some weeping and praying to do?”
“We’re ready, boss,” said Rat. She shot Scratch and Sheppard a fierce look, and they got the message. They fell in behind her. True to her word, Miller did not look back at her abandoned home, nor at the grave of her pet cat. Her eyes were dry, shoulders straight enough to have had a wooden hanger inserted in her shirt.
“Who’s driving?” Miller asked.
Sheppard stepped forward. �
�Scratch and I are driving.”
Miller raised an eyebrow. “What are you planning to do, sit on each other’s lap?”
“We talked about this while you were packing,” said Scratch. “It makes more sense if we take two vehicles.”
Miller shifted her gaze back and forth between the two of them like a woman watching a tennis match. “Who’s this we you’re talking about? I make those kinds of decisions. And do I need to remind you that we agreed splitting up in downtown Zombieville is not a good idea? Ever?”
Scratch rubbed his perpetual stubble. The rim of his sunglasses glinted in the bright light. Miller guessed he was getting irritated. Good.
“Penny,” Sheppard said, “bringing an extra vehicle with us is a good strategy. If one breaks down, we have a spare. It lets us bring extra water and spare parts and weapons. Do you really want to get caught out in the middle of the desert with only one, broken down Hummer?”
Miller grimaced. After a moment, she nodded. “You have a point. Last I checked, the Auto Club stopped honoring our memberships maybe six months ago.”
Scratch grinned, “There it is.”
Miller turned to Rat. “Did you approve of this decision?”
“First I’m hearing of it,” Rat said. “But I agree that it makes sense.”
Miller could feel more frustration welling up inside. She was used to giving orders, not answering to a committee, but she also knew a good idea when heard one. “Fine, but we wear each other like underwear the whole damn way, got it?”
“Got it,” all three said in unison.
“I mean that,” Miller said. “Belly buttons to butt cheeks. Don’t get lost.” She paused and looked up and down the street. “Where’s the other vehicle?”
Scratch looked at Sheppard, then over at Rat. Adopting a wide grin, he pulled a small object from his pocket and pushed a button. Two chirps came from the garage next door. Scratch looked like a kid surprising his Mom. “Wait till you see what we found.”
Miller had a pretty good idea already.
Scratch ran to the next house, a kid coming downstairs Christmas morning. He pulled the garage door up with a flourish. It slid open easily. Inside, hidden in shadow, was a tall black pickup with tires sturdy enough to drive over molten lava. A shiny supercharger protruded out of the hood. The red and orange flame job down the sides completed the picture. No wonder Scratch was excited. It was one hot ride.
“Damn,” said Miller as noncommittally as possible. “That’s Eugene’s new truck. He was going to let his kid have it when he left for school. It’s one hell of an all terrain truck. I’m surprised that Eugene and his family didn’t take it with them.”
Sheppard looked at the concrete driveway, suddenly refusing to meet her eyes.
“Uh, about that?” Scratch cleared his throat. “We found a couple of bodies with their heads blown off in the living room and another one in the hallway. Looks like the kid turned first and came straight back inside. Dad did the rest. You don’t need to go look, that’s for sure.”
Miller hardened her heart. She had liked the O’Neills. “It’s a good truck. It should do. Nice find, Scratch.”
“You’re okay with this, then?”
“Take it. Gene won’t mind.” Miller nodded to Sheppard. “You’re driving with me in the Hummer. Let’s go.”
Scratch stepped in front of her. “Hey, I thought you were coming along.”
“Cool your jets, cowboy. You can take me for a spin in your new toy some other time. I got something to discuss with Karl anyway.”
“You mean I got to take Rat?” demanded Scratch.
“Don’t sound so thrilled,” Rat replied. “Hell, I’m sure glad I didn’t shave my legs for this date.”
“You’ll be fine, Scratch.” Miller turned to Sheppard. “Remember what I said about staying close. Let’s go.”
Miller and Sheppard walked back to the Hummer. She opened the door and climbed up into the passenger seat. The fabric was already hot on her butt and legs. She almost looked back at her house, but caught the impulse in time. What’s dead is dead. Miller waited for Sheppard to climb in. He buckled his seatbelt, looked her way and started the vehicle. The engine roared to life. He pulled out onto the street, avoiding running over the bare skeletons that dotted the road.
“I’m not pregnant, Karl,” Miller said, abruptly.
Sheppard didn’t look at her. “What makes you so sure?”
“The test came up negative. I’m not pregnant.”
Sheppard sped up, now heading for the highway. He remained silent as he drove down to Silver Street and turned on Clark. Miller studied him, puzzled. She had expected some kind of a reaction. Finally Sheppard just said, “I know.”
Miller studied him for a long moment. The town passed by outside seem like a blurred photograph. She was having trouble identifying the precise nature of her emotions, but they were fluctuating somewhere between rage and absolute incredulousness. “You know? What do you mean? How could you know?”
“I’m sorry I worried you. I made that up to protect you. It was my last weapon against Rubenstein. I knew if he thought you could become pregnant he would never allow you to die.”
“Allow me to die, huh? There were a couple of really good opportunities for him to allow me to die back at Crystal Palace, remember. I damn near did, as I recall. So did Alex. So did a lot of people. You should know, Karl, you were there.”
“Nevertheless, when it counted, my idea worked.”
“You know something, Karl? You’re turning into a first-class manipulator. Sometimes I wonder if you’re not secretly a sociopath.”
“What kind of thing is that to say?” Sheppard took his eyes off the road to scowl at her. “I’ve always…”
Miller grabbed him by the wrist. She squeezed as hard as she could—which all things considered wasn’t that hard. A few days before she’d been accelerated and given super soldier abilities, but the declerant she had been forced to take made her lose all of the incredible strength and speed she had acquired. “I swear to God, if you say you’ve always had my best interest at heart, I will throw you out of this Hummer and let you walk all the way to Idaho.”
“You’re hurting me, Penny.” Sheppard spoke as calmly as he could. “And there is a car crash up ahead. I need to be able to turn the steering wheel.”
“Good, then you’re getting the message.” But she let go of his wrist.
“What I meant to say,” Sheppard said, as he headed toward the open highway, “was that I think that once we get back to civilization, I’ll need to take what I know right to the Center for Disease Control and the World Health Organization. It’s the right thing to do.”
Miller leaned back in the seat. The sun bored right through the tinted windshield. She closed her eyes for a moment. “All right. Now we’re back on the same page. The CDC is probably already up to its neck in zombie data. So I’d vote for the WHO.”
“I agree.” Miller felt the Hummer twist and turn as Sheppard maneuvered through a long line of wrecked vehicles. She listened to the huge engine. It accelerated as they headed out onto the relatively open highway. Miller opened her eyes. She glanced in the side view mirror, just to check that Scratch and Rat were still there. She hoped they hadn’t killed each other yet. The answers seemed to be yes and no, in that order.
“We should stop for fuel.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Sheppard said. “We managed to salvage some gas cans from the garage next door to you. I’m sure there are a lot of abandoned stations along the route, and wrecked cars to siphon from. This one has maybe a quarter of a tank left, and the truck is nearly full.”
“We don’t have to wait to top off,” Miller said. “There’s a service station just up ahead. A friend of mine used to own it—that is, before he turned zombie and Father Abraham’s cannibals got a hold of him, and all that.”
“You’re talking about your old friend Luther… something?”
Miller nodded. “Grabow
sky.” She left it at that. Luther had appeared in some very disturbing dreams, and though those had finally faded away, Miller didn’t like saying his name aloud.
“Okay, which exit?”
“Two more. Cactus Lane.”
The plague had taken most people before they’d had a chance to get far down the highway. Cars were here and there like lost toys, some had skeletons sitting inside. It wasn’t slowing them down much. Rush hour in any major American city would have been worse. Sheppard drove, sometimes slowing and using the Hummer to shove abandoned vehicles gently out of their way. Scratch and Rat stayed tight on their tail. Sheppard and Miller exchanged looks that spoke of a troubled history. They stayed silent for a long moment.
“Penny?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For everything.”
Miller snorted. “Tell it to the judge, Karl.”
CHAPTER TWO
The poor old Gas and Sip had seen better days, most of those a few decades prior to the zombie apocalypse. The four untended pumps were rusty and covered with dust, and abandoned cars littered the cement nearby. The tiny food stand next door was a collapsed wreck. The office roof was sagging. The once-bright colors had faded to a weak pastel. The main building was splintering wood, and several panes of glass were cracked or completely shattered.
There were a few skeletons lying near the door, decaying humans dressed in tattered rags. Miller shaded her eyes. She spotted a few fairly well preserved zombie corpses further out, most missing some or all of their heads. She wondered how long it had been since those zombies had been shot. They looked too fresh. The last time she’d visited Luther Grabowsky’s gas station had been well over six months before. Miller couldn’t imagine why there had been a battle here more recently than that.
The Hungry 5: All Hell Breaks Loose (The Sheriff Penny Miller Series) Page 2