“Yes,” said Miller, in a soft voice. “I understand.” Inside she was kicking herself. She should have known that Shirley wouldn’t have survived in an abandoned hotel for very long, not without some kind of help. They’d been set up. Now the enemy had a hostage, and it was all Miller’s fault. Frustrated, she raised her hands, half hoping the movement would attract attention from outside the dark room, but nothing happened. Shirley closed the door most of the way. Miller didn’t have an opportunity to know what she did next. Miller had other things on her mind at the moment.
The man reached out and took her by the arm. He dragged her further into the shadows. Miller took in that the man was also slightly overweight. She wanted an opportunity to take him out, but the gun stayed too close to her head. She had only one choice at the moment. As long as this man seemed to want to control her and not kill her, or attack anyone else in her party, she would just have to play along. She stayed in a submissive posture, with her shoulders slumped and her head down.
That raspy whisper came again. “I counted seven in your party, including you. Is there anyone else out there?”
“No,” Miller replied. So far, one-word answers were working just fine, so she stayed with the program. Her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness so she closed them. The room smelled dusty and the man’s body odor was unpleasant. Something tickled her memory, something about his voice, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“Do you have any weapons?”
“No.”
“Then you’re pretty dumb, lady.”
Miller didn’t reply. Again, she caught that familiar cadence in the speech. She blinked her eyes and some of the furniture came into focus.
“Call your friend over, the big one with the tattoos. Have him come in here.”
“No.”
The guy pushed the gun harder into her forehead, causing Miller to both wince and recoil. She blinked her eyes furiously, starting to get pissed off and impatient. She could almost see the outline of his big body clearly enough to attack.
“Do it,” the man said. “Now.”
For a brief moment, Miller thought about just a few days before, at Crystal Palace, when she’d been accelerated by the zombie virus. She had felt ready for anything. That seemed so long ago. She felt so vulnerable now, so… human. Still, the military—including Rat—had tried to control her back then, and it hadn’t worked out so well. Fuck this guy and the horse he rode in on. Miller wasn’t accelerated at the moment, but she’d a lot of experience street fighting and in unarmed combat and this whispering gunman wouldn’t know about any of that. She wasn’t wearing her uniform. Her vision cleared and she took in his posture and realized that they were standing in the living room of a small suite. She let her knees go loose. She opened her hands.
“Stay still, lady.”
Miller moved swiftly. She loosened her knees further, ducked down and turned to the right. She knew exactly how far away the man’s wrist was, since it was on the other end of the gun that was poking her in the head. She slapped her hands together high up and took him by the wrist just as she moved her head out of the line of fire. She gripped and twisted hard and yanked him off balance so that the weapon was pointed down at the floor and aimed away. A split second later, Miller dropped even lower, now using her body as a dragging weight. She pulled hard, using his size against him, and then snapped the man’s arm down, preparing to break it over her raised knee. He caught on and grunted and let go of the weapon in self defense. The gun fell dully on the carpeted floor. Miller spun the man around her to put him between her and the light from the door. Now she could see his shape and limbs clearly.
He was strong and tall and he twisted away like a professional. His left fist swung at her face, but Miller was already changing positions again. She still had her tight grip on his right wrist, and she yanked the arm high to so he was almost punching his own body. She used the angle to kick at his knee. She missed by a few inches and contacted his huge thigh instead. Her boot heel did some damage anyway.
The man grunted, but didn’t cry out. Miller held on tight. She thrust his right wrist downward, and got her left hand on his right shoulder, spun him around and yanked his arm up painfully. But the man was too strong, and fast enough to be a real threat. He managed to turn sideways. He wrenched his arm out of her grasp. He had her in upper body strength of course, not enough to make that much of a difference. He reached out, but Miller didn’t get caught. Instead, she got behind him. She wrapped her right arm around the man’s throat. She tightened it with her left hand. It wasn’t a perfect choke, but it would have to do. She held on tight and squeezed.
The man bent forward, lifting her suddenly and alarmingly off the floor. Miller hadn’t expected him to have the correct angle. Her own momentum carried her over. The thick carpet was a decent judo mat, so she slapped her palm down to break her fall. She landed on her back with a loud thud. She moved away into the darkness. Much to her surprise, the man didn’t try to kick or jump on her. But then that was not necessarily a good thing.
It probably meant he was going for the gun.
Miller flipped over and smoothly returned to her feet. She could see the outline of the big man as he reached under the couch. She decided it was better not to let him find it. She trotted over and kicked him in the face. Well, that was the idea anyway, but his face wasn’t where she thought it would be. He’d already rolled away, clearly anticipating her next move. He was much better than she’d expected. It was time to call for reinforcements. Miller backed away. Free for a moment, she gathered her breath to scream.
The man launched himself at her and tackled her. Miller went down on the couch and rolled off it to hit the carpet. She hit the ground hard. He choked her like a professional. He had the necessary mechanical advantage now, and Miller knew that she only had a few seconds to act before the blood would stop flowing to her brain. She’d be out cold and he’d have access to her people.
With his hands otherwise occupied, the man had to leave his upper body partially exposed. With the last of her strength, Miller used the edge of her knuckles to punch him hard in the throat. He gagged and went limp and let go. For a few precious seconds he’d feel like he was dying, unable to breathe, but she hadn’t crushed anything. He’d live. The blow would buy Miller the time she needed.
Miller felt light-headed as her blood rushed back into her brain. She could hear the man choking—or perhaps that was her own voice. They had both been injured. She turned over to regain her feet. That’s when her right hand touched something hard and cold, metallic and very reassuring.
The gun.
Miller gripped it and rolled away. She got to her knees. She brought it up, pointed it his way, and squeezed the trigger. She would kill him, or the noise would bring Scratch and the others to help. Either way, it was the best option.
BOOM!
The revolver kicked in her hand, but Miller kept control. The lamp behind him shattered. She had missed, but she couldn’t figure out how. The man was up again but still holding his throat, and probably not much of a threat. Miller knew she hadn’t broken his hyoid bone, but she’d hurt him badly enough to end the fight. And now she knew where to point the gun.
“Hey!” Scratch shouted. She heard his boots pounding down the hall. “Hey, Penny, are you all right?”
Miller could see his outlined frame as he stood in the light from the doorway.
“We’re in here, Scratch.” Her own voice sounded hoarse. “I’m okay.”
“I can’t see you. What do you want me to do?”
“Stay where you are.” She turned back to the mystery man, who was still in the shadows and choking quietly like a cat hacking up a hairball. The fight had obviously gone out of him.
“I’m Sheriff Penny Miller of Flat Rock County,” Miller said, “and you’re under arrest. Walk your ass toward the door with your hands in plain sight where my friend can see them, and don’t make any sudden moves. Trust me, it may be dark i
n here, but I can see well enough to blow your head off.”
Scratch took his cue. He focused on the stranger. “Do it, man.”
The stranger seemed startled but still unable to speak. He moved slowly, with his hands still at his throat. He got closer to Scratch, who backed out of the way and out into the hall. Miller followed the prisoner out of the room. She aimed at his broad back. She stayed close enough that she surely wouldn’t miss, but not close enough for him to turn around and try to take the gun back. The brightness made her squint.
By the time they got back out into the hallway, Rat, Sheppard, Rolf, and Brandon were there in force, fanned out in a half circle. Miller wondered where Vanessa had disappeared to, but that was just a passing thought. Her mind was otherwise occupied. She rubbed her own throat, feeling half tempted to shoot the bastard just on general principle, and for having scared the holy crap out of her. He kept his hands raised and his back to her. His armpits were dark with sweat and he stank like a skunk in heat. He needed the hose turned on him.
Shirley stood next to Scratch. When the big stranger emerged from the hotel room with his hands up, he was facing her. Shirley went to stand at the man’s side.
“You leave him alone,” Shirley shouted. “He was just trying to protect me.”
Miller snorted. “He’s got a funny idea of what protecting you is supposed to look like.” She turned to the others. “It was an ambush, a setup from the beginning.” She never took her eyes off the spot right between the man’s shoulder blades. Shirley hugged the man and the motion turned his body slightly. He was still gasping and choking and sure sounded a lot worse for the wear. Miller thought that served him right.
“What did you do to him, lady?” Shirley demanded, studying the choking man. “He can’t breathe.”
“Rolf, keep him covered,” Miller said. “Kill him if he does anything threatening.” Rolf nodded. “Actually, belay that order. Go ahead and kill him if he thinks anything threatening. Sheppard, get over here and see if you can help him. I hit him pretty hard.” She turned to Rat. “Keep your eyes open. There may be more of them.”
“There’s no one else,” said the man.
“Fuck you, skeezix,” said Scratch. “Why the fuck should we believe you?”
Miller let the hammer of the revolver down ever so gently. She came around the two of them to study her assailant more closely. First his voice had jogged her memory and then his profile as well. This was getting weirder by the second. Something about him was familiar, all right. Way too familiar.
“Julius Caesar on a Santa Fe salad. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Charlie?”
“Hi, Penny.” Sheriff Charlie Robinson of Elko County held his throat. He squeaked like a cartoon character. “Long time no see.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Now it was Scratch who looked ready to choke. “You actually know this piece of shit, Penny?”
“Yeah,” Miller stood there stunned. “You could say that.”
“What did you do to him?” demanded Shirley. She was all business now, and just about to get up in Miller’s face.
“I’m okay, Shirley,” he grunted.
“No, you’re not okay, Charlie. She almost killed you. How exactly does that make you okay?”
“Look, Shirley,” said Miller. She now held the gun loosely at her side, pointing down at the hall carpet. “Down shift, okay? I don’t want to have to kick your ass next, but I will if I have to.”
“Don’t you patronize me,” Shirley screeched. “You come into our home, take our supplies, and then try to kill my man? Charlie had every right to blow your head off from across the room. Christ, you lousy scavengers are worse than the damn zombies!”
Rat spoke first. “Threatening our leader isn’t going to get you very far when I start doling out the canned beans tonight.”
“Those are my canned beans, damn you!” Shirley turned to Charlie. “Aren’t you going to do something this time?”
“I tried doing something before, and it nearly got me killed. I’m calling a truce.” Charlie stopped rubbing his neck. He studied Miller admiringly. “I have to say, Penny, you sure have been eating your spinach. I knew you were top of the class in hand-to-hand combat back at the police academy, but you never could take me before.”
“Charlie,” Miller said, “the last time we wrestled, I don’t remember you bringing along a .357, or wearing any clothes, for that matter.”
“Whoa!” shouted Scratch “You mean this is that Charlie? Charlie Robinson, the dead Sheriff from out here in Elko?”
“You bet your ass it is,” said Brandon. “But he doesn’t look all that dead, or undead for that matter.”
They all turned to look at Brandon. “How the hell do you know Charlie again, Brandon?” Miller asked. “Enlighten us.”
Brandon glared at Charlie Robinson. “Should I tell them, Charlie?”
“Tell us what?” said Sheppard, Miller, Scratch and Shirley, all pretty much simultaneously. This was getting to be a routine of sorts.
“Up to you if you want to tell them,” said Charlie. “It kind of looks like we’re all going to be buddies now.”
Scratch muttered. “I wouldn’t count on that, fucker.”
“Tell us what?” This time the question came from little Shirley, who had been taking Brandon’s measure. Her pale complexion turned pink. Miller began to wonder if she might have tuberculosis.
Brandon looked away from Charlie and faced Miller. “Looks like you and I have something in common, Penny. The last time I wrestled with Charlie, there were no guns either, but there was a bottle of whisky, some baby oil, and a water bed.”
Silence followed. Charlie gave Miller a sheepish grin. As for Miller, she couldn’t get her jaw back into the proper position. Shirley seemed just as stunned.
“Man, what a lousy day, huh, Charlie?” said Rat, after a time. “You got your ass kicked by a girl and you got yourself outed, and all in the space of about five minutes. That’s kind of fucked up.”
Miller couldn’t look Scratch in the eye. She covered her own surprise by firing off a one-liner. “Hey, I seem to recall kicking your ass just the other day, Rat. So I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t go around calling me a girl. Do we have ourselves a deal?”
Rat simply winked back. She was enjoying the soap opera.
Rolf, who was still guarding Charlie, said, “O Chosen One?”
Miller looked his way. “You don’t have to call me that anymore, you know.”
“As you wish,” he said, a disappointed look on his face. “But I do need to report that Walter claims we are missing one of our party.”
“Who?” Miller counted heads. Then she remembered. “Christ, where is Vanessa?”
Sheppard said, “Oh, damn.”
Scratch said, “Uh oh.”
Miller snapped out of her reverie. She took charge at once. “Shit! Rat, Scratch, you’re with me.” She handed the .357 to Sheppard. “Karl, Brandon, and Rolf, stay here with Charlie and Shirley. And make sure they don’t get any ideas. I don’t want them causing any more trouble, at least not until I can find out what the hell is going on. Charlie, do you have any more ammo for the hand cannon?”
Charlie seemed glad to have the subject changed. He reached into one of his pockets, and pulled out three more rounds. “I’ve got a few extra bullets in our room too, but take it easy, there’s probably only another ten rounds left in the whole damn building.” Sheppard held out his hand, and Charlie put the rounds into it.
Miller headed down the stairs, followed closely by Rat and Scratch. They knew the risks and had come to anticipate her decisions. No one spoke until they reached the ground level. Then they moved double time. Dust and sand flew up from the carpet as they rushed by.
“Where was she when we last saw her?” asked Miller.
Rat shook her head. “I don’t know. On the escalator, I think.”
Scratch picked up the pace and stayed even with them. They crossed the casino floor and went
into the main lobby. There was no sign of Vanessa.
“Where do you suppose she is?” Rat said. “Do you think she was dumb enough to just wander off?”
“Let’s retrace our steps coming in,” Miller said. “Start with the front door.”
They all turned that direction, moving into the glow of the setting sun. The warmth was still comforting, but night was fast approaching. The temperature would drop precipitously and in fairly short order. Miller pondered how close she had come to getting killed today. It wasn’t the first time that her life had been in danger, but it was the most recent, though it surely would not be the last. The last few minutes had rattled her cage. This was by far the most unexpected turn of events that she could recall in recent days.
Charlie Fucking Robinson…?
They all arrived at the front of the casino and fanned out. Miller looked out at the parking lot, with all the dusty cars with rotting skeletons parked neatly in each numbered spot. A few vehicles had been squashed, and those also had tread marks on them. Miller thought it looked kind of like a tank had come through, if not a monster truck. Some fire had rained down. And that would certainly explain why the front half of the building was missing. So the Army had sent in the tanks and artillery. Jesus, there must have been one hell of a battle here. But once again, the living ultimately lost…
“Hey,” said Scratch. “I think I know what happened to Vanessa.” He was standing in the doorway staring out at the parking lot. His shoulders sagged. Miller could feel his frustration. A cool breeze rustled his dusty clothing.
“What’s that?” Rat asked. She was watching their back, not looking.
Instead of answering, Scratch just stared at Miller, who nodded and sighed. Rat turned and studied Miller’s face, realizing that she was missing something obvious. “Well, what happened? Where is she?”
Miller just pointed outside.
The SUV that they had arrived in was missing.
The Hungry 5: All Hell Breaks Loose (The Sheriff Penny Miller Series) Page 12