The Hungry 5: All Hell Breaks Loose (The Sheriff Penny Miller Series)

by Booth, Steven

  Scratch was staring. “Penny?”

  Miller turned to face Brandon. “Listen, kid, the next time you suggest we follow a raving lunatic and his dog into the very bowels of the zombie-infested earth, I get to pick the lunatic. Just saying.”

  Brandon shrugged and nodded.

  Miller turned to follow Rolf and his cadaver dog.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Rolf and Dudley led them through the dark cave at a run. To Miller, their passage seemed incredibly noisy, but when they paused to catch their breath, the soldiers following them seemed even louder. They did not seem at all concerned about being overheard or running into a trap. That part worried Miller. The enemy knew they were virtually unarmed and not much of a threat, and apparently had a pretty damned good idea where they were headed. That did not bode well for their future. Again, she wondered if they were being driven, this time back to the surface where they could easily be killed or captured. They had no reason to believe that the Army wouldn’t be waiting at the other end of this tunnel with a gigantic butterfly net big enough for the six of them plus the dog. Had she allowed them to be led into a trap? It was too late to worry about that. They had no choice but to keep going.

  The rush of water now came from their left. Miller could smell something acrid, dirt with the taint of sulfur, and assumed it was the stench from an underground spring. But then she smelled something else, something far more disturbing. Her skin rippled and her heart beat faster. She sniffed the air and caught it again.

  The stench of the undead.

  Miller felt her pulse jump. She hurried forward to close the distance and somehow convince Rolf to slow down. If he didn’t know about the zombies working in triads, he might accidentally run them right into an ambush.

  Miller sensed their presence again before she reached Rolf.

  Zombies. She was sure of it.

  Rolf stopped walking. The dog sat down by his side. Dudley had sensed them too. He was growling low and wet from deep down in his chest.

  Rat called out, “Penny, what’s going on?”

  Miller did not answer right away. She approached as carefully as she could. Her posture alone placed the others on alert. She made it to where Rolf and Dudley stood.

  The others closed the gap. Brandon reached them first. “Why are we stopped?”

  “Huskarls,” whispered Rolf and Miller in unison.

  Scratch, Rat, and Sheppard gathered nearby.

  “Penny, I think the Army is closing the gap,” said Rat. “We’re going to have to make a decision and move quickly. If you want, I can take point. This isn’t the first set of caves I’ve been in. I can…”

  “Walter says that we must be cautious,” Rolf pronounced. The dog whined as if in support of that statement. Miller studied the animal in the waning torchlight. The fire was beginning to fade. The dog seemed to feel, much as she did, that the danger was close but not yet a direct threat. They had to keep moving or soon they’d be in complete darkness as well as caught between two enemies. Things kept going from bad to worse.

  “Cautious?” Scratch whispered. “He says be cautious?”

  Rolf nodded.

  “Wow, damn good thinking,” said Scratch. He turned to Miller. “Penny, we don’t really have time for this shit.”

  Sheppard said, “Penny, listen.”

  More racket, more voices. Their pursuers were gaining on them.

  Miller nodded. “Rolf, he’s right. I’m afraid that now is the time to throw caution to the wind.”

  Rolf turned to face Miller. At once she felt like they were two old souls, tormented to the edge of madness by a world they’d inherited. Something strange seemed to pass between them, something deep, but Miller couldn’t have said what it was if her life depended on it. Especially considering that it pretty much did.

  Uhnnnnhh-huhhhnn!

  And now they could hear the shuffling, grunting sounds. A horde of zombies was approaching. The creatures seemed to be coming from all sides, their eerie voices echoing all around the caverns. They were out there in the darkness and closing fast. Miller could hear one of the soldiers shouting something, this time with panic in his voice. The pursuers seemed to quiet down a bit. Perhaps they sensed it too, or had heard, or seen something using infrared goggles. There was no time to think about any of that now. Miller would just have to choose and live with the consequences.

  “You must rid yourself of your torches now,” Rolf whispered, almost in Miller’s ear.

  Then Rolf surprised Miller by handing her the torch he had taken from Brandon.

  “I don’t understand,” said Miller. She could feel her frustration with Rolf—and her fear of the soldiers pursuing them—rising to a crescendo.

  “You must choose for yourself. But you may not keep the torches in the lair of the huskarls.”

  Miller considered blowing it out, or snuffing it under her shoe. But the sounds of the soldiers coming for them made her realize that it didn’t fucking matter what she did, as long as she did it right away.

  She threw the torch in the direction of the shuffling sound of zombies that approached them.

  The torch shattered into sparks and fingers of white fire flared up the filthy cave walls. The flame revealed shapes and eyes in the shadows.

  Something was out there watching.

  Miller saw their faces, those dead eyes and missing limbs and gory wounds.

  The dying torchlight revealed that the place was packed with zombies. In fact, they were entirely surrounded. The hulking shapes stood motionless against the walls, staring dumbly at the intruding group of humans. They were dull appetite, ravenous rage, and mindless brutality. The eternal hunger of death personified.

  Hunn-huhh-uhhnn!

  “Yes, yes!” Rolf raised his arms. “Throw the fire. Throw it or die!”

  Both Scratch and Rat still held their torches. Rat threw hers into the darkness in the opposite direction. It splattered flames that ran down the rocks. Many more zombies packed into that area like cattle in a chute. Strangely, they all stepped forward. They seemed fascinated. They crowded around the dying torch, almost ignoring the humans. Miller found that very odd and weirdly chilling.

  A child zombie in footie pajamas caught on fire, and it was soon burning brightly. The little zombie watched itself go up in flames without complaining. It spun in circles, watching the flames. The others stared at the new disaster as if hypnotized. Their once tortured faces were devoid of empathy or fear. Whatever lived in there was intrigued by the blaze.

  Another zombie bumped into the burning one, and it also caught on fire. Soon several of the monsters were burning, standing there like a clump of stinky undead human torches. Thanks to all that the humans could see well enough now. There were dozens and dozens of the creatures coming at them from all angles. If they attacked all at once, it would be over within a minute. They did not, but the fire would not last forever. What should they do next? Miller felt pretty much out of ideas.

  “Throw it!” Rolf said. “You must.”

  “Scratch,” Miller said, “do it.”

  “Just what are we going to do for light when we get wherever we’re going?” demanded Scratch. “Rub some twigs together?”

  “Just throw the torch, Scratch,” Miller ordered. “They are hypnotized.”

  Scratch threw the torch hard, aiming directly for a zombie woman with long white hair and bony features. He struck it squarely in the head. The thing’s hair lit on fire immediately. It stood still as if fascinated by the brightness and heat. The other zombies swarmed toward her like moths. They stood in groups, calmly watched as the flames consumed her decaying flesh.

  They reminded Miller of men standing by a holiday bonfire waiting to toast their hot dogs.

  “Follow me,” Rolf whispered. “We can go now.”

  “Rolf, we’ll stick to you like snails on a mirror,” Miller said.

  “Dudley.” Rolf called. He then added something in a guttural voice. It wasn’t German—Miller would have
recognized that. Hell, she might have recognized it if it were Klingon, after having lived with Terrill Lee and those constant Star Trek reruns for all those years. But whatever the language was, the dog responded to it immediately. He jumped up and led them away.

  The burning zombies around them cast enough light to see their next destination. The group crowded forward. Together, Rolf and Dudley headed into the middle of the biggest cavern they’d yet encountered. The size was jaw-dropping. At the top some sunlight broke through cracks to help their vision a bit.

  Miller, Scratch, Rat, Sheppard, and Brandon followed. Miller had been concerned that they would be blind without their torches, but now with the zombies continuing to burst into flames all around them, and a tiny bit of light from above, the larger concern was whether there would be enough oxygen for both the fires and the exhausted, panting humans. The idea of suffocating to death underground did not appeal to her. Of course, neither did the omnipresent stench of burning flesh.

  “Where the fuck did all these zombies come from?” asked Scratch. “How did they get way down here?”

  “The cult used to worship them, remember?” replied Sheppard.

  Rat chuckled. “Used to? Think again.”

  They paused to catch their breath. One of the zombies, a compact man in a torn business suit, stumbled closer to Miller. It chewed at the damp air and raised its hands like claws. Miller got ready for the kill. She still held the pry bar, so she raised it over her head. Once through the brain.

  Rolf gave a sharp order in that odd-sounding new language, and Dudley leapt out of the darkness. The dog tackled the zombie that had been about to attack Miller. All of this was done without a sound from the dog. The zombie went over backwards and its skull shattered on the sharp rocks. Dudley returned to stand beside Rolf. He was panting and seemed perfectly happy and kind of excited.

  Rolf put his hand on Miller’s arm. “Come, Chosen One. We are now on the threshold of the Well of Souls. You must prepare yourself for the first trial.”

  Scratch was at Miller’s side in an instant. “What do you mean by the first trial? I thought the point was to get the fuck out of here, not to play more silly-assed games with those pet zombies.”

  “Silence,” hissed Rolf. “The Chosen One must face the trial.”

  “Is she still, like, protected?” asked Scratch. “Just let me in on that much.”

  “Not in the Well of Souls,” Rolf replied. “No one is.”

  “Is there any other way out of here?” Sheppard asked Brandon.

  “Not anymore.” He pointed. Several of the cult members and soldiers following them were emerging into the larger chamber at their rear. Two soldiers spread out intending to flank the opening. Big mistake. A flaming zombie fell on the first one almost immediately, biting him and quickly setting him on fire as well. The man started screaming for help. The zombies swarmed the soldiers, perhaps because the fires were dying down. Another soldier fired but went down under two starving creatures. He shrieked and fired once into the air. Blood shot straight up from his torn carotid artery. The burning zombies and dying soldiers lit the area nicely. Then a third soldier ran for the flanking position and was immediately attacked. The horde closed in at the smell of blood. Gunfire erupted as the soldiers tried to save the others, or perhaps merely fight back.

  The zombies are attacking them, Miller thought, when they didn’t attack us. Maybe this Rolf guy knows what he’s doing… Or Walter does, anyway.

  The cavern filled with smoke that obscured their view as the soldiers and the cult members leading them fought back against a zombie onslaught. It sounded like a massacre. Perhaps the zombies were winning just by their numerical superiority. It was hard to tell with all the flames and screaming and thrashing around. Everything echoed and boomed off the high walls. One thing was for sure, the humans were not going to last long at this rate. It was a slaughter.

  “Penny, we gotta go,” said Rat. “It’s your call.”

  Miller nodded in the fading light of the closest, slowly extinguishing zombies. “Okay, Rolf, show me the trial.”

  Rolf hurried them through another opening.

  “The Well of Souls.” Rolf said it proudly. “There is only one way across.”

  He paused. They waited.

  “And that would be…?” asked Miller, finally. She looked down. Something had caught her attention. It was a bright red dot on her shirt.

  A laser dot.

  One second later, Scratch tackled her, his weight sending them both sideways. They fell roughly to the ground with a whoosh of escaping breath. The popping sound was barely audible above the combat noise to their rear.

  Miller stared up, dazed. The bullet struck the wall right where Miller had been standing just a split second before. Rock fragments rained down. Scratch had saved her life again.

  Sheppard and Rat crouched down behind some boulders for cover. They opened fire. The booming noises were horrendously loud. It was like standing near the drum section of a marching band. The two of them went for covering fire only, shooting randomly and quickly, firing fast enough to keep the enemy’s heads down. The red dots appeared but then vanished again as the Army snipers found safer positions.

  Miller scrambled to her feet but stayed in a crouch behind a boulder. She looked ahead of them and up high. The faint light from the world above stopped at the lip of the next cave. It was completely dark. Miller barked an order. “Enough of this Well of Souls crap. Everyone, we’re all going through together.”

  “No! You mustn’t!” Rolf protested. “Only the Chosen One…”

  “Sheppard, hand me your pistol.” Though the sunlight above was blocked, there was just enough light from the nearest burning zombies for Miller to see Sheppard clearly. He placed the pistol in her hand.

  “Almost out, Penny.”

  Rat fired again. “Same here. Low.”

  Miller fired twice into the next chamber. The muzzle flashes weren’t bright, but they were just enough to illuminate the road ahead.

  There was another horde down there, all right. They were all standing crowded together in a large underground pit. She couldn’t count the zombies in the fraction of a second of light she had, but there were a lot of them—too many to make her feel anything but sheer panic. She’d seen men and women and children of all ages and sizes. Dozens and dozens of the enemy, jaws open wide and teeth snapping. They were awake and waiting for their next meal.

  Miller closed her eyes and reconstructed what she’d seen. Around the edge of the roughly circular chamber was a narrow ledge. Something they should be able to walk along. She had no idea how wide it was, but it curved around to the right, that much was certain. It looked to be set just above the reach of the zombies. Or so she hoped. Unfortunately, they’d have to do it one by one and in the dark.

  Miller turned the pistol on Rolf. “Okay, Idaho. You go first.”

  The odd man looked bitterly disappointed. “But you’re the Chosen One,” Rolf complained. “You’re supposed to prove yourself through this trial.”

  “Life is full of disappointments.” Miller pushed him with the pistol. “Move your ass.”

  Rolf’s eyes crossed looking down the barrel of the gun by the waning light of a burning zombie. His wobbly sense of sanity gave way to a suddenly resurgent survival instinct. He moved to the right, and disappeared into the darkness. His voice came back, “As you wish.”

  “Come on, come on,” chanted Miller. The dog followed Rolf as if sensing her instructions. Miller waited a few seconds and then moved Brandon through next, then Sheppard, Rat, and Scratch. Miller brought up the rear.

  Behind them the battle seemed to be dying down. The well-armed soldiers had won out after all, though no doubt at a very heavy cost. They were shouting orders back and forth and dispatching the remaining zombies with headshots. They sounded pissed off and wired with adrenalin. They’d catch up soon enough.

  “Stay a ways apart and watch your feet,” Miller said. She was blind.


  “Yeah, we figured that much out,” said Scratch from the darkness.

  Miller hugged the wall. She held the pistol in one hand and the pry bar in the other. She kept an eye on the entrance behind them. The flaming flesh lit the area well enough to see. The stink was awful. These huskarl zombies had been doing a good job of distracting the enemy until now, but the snipers had enough cover and time to sight a laser at them. They’d try again. They’d also have NV goggles, so darkness offered no protection. Miller’s stomach clenched as she edged along in the blackness, her feet sticking out mere inches above a put full of the undead.

  The bad guys could already be right behind them, for all she knew.

  She could still see just enough to get by. As she’d remembered from the brief look, the zombie-packed chamber below was roughly circular, and the ledge followed the wall. Miller instinctively wanted to reach out and keep a hand on Scratch’s belt for stability, but her hands were full, and she had to protect their rear. She could hear that the others were flat against the wall and inching along.

  The creatures down below were just starting to look up. Miller sensed their interest. They began to chant that hungry sound, unhhh hunhhhh hunhhh…

  Miller looked back. A long shadow moved in the dim light of the doorway.

  She fired blindly at the shadow. In the split second, Miller could see a man—not a zombie—someone wearing night vision gear. The flare from her muzzle blinded him momentarily. Miller fired again. She nearly lost her balance, but didn’t fall into the zombie pit. She must have gotten off a lucky shot that clipped the soldier somewhere where his flesh was exposed, because she could hear him grunt and gasp. Apparently he fell into the pit, because he was soon screaming in agony as the creatures of the caves feasted on his flesh.

  “Son of a bitch,” cried the soldier. “Somebody help me!”

  Miller presumed the wet choking sound at the end was right when the zombies in the pit got him in the throat.

  Another shadow appeared at the doorway. He seemed to be looking into the pit, after his companion. He pulled his head back before she could fire. Miller kept her weapon raised but noticed the balance was all wrong. The slide was locked open. She had run out of ammunition. She dropped the damned thing and held on tightly to the crowbar. It was all she had left.