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

by Booth, Steven

  Miller twitched and woke with a start. She felt like she’d only been asleep for a few minutes, but the rain had died down. An electric heater was buzzing, its toasty red face only a few feet away from the group. Miller looked out the window. The weather had shifted from stormy to cool and clear. The others were resting in a wide circle. Rat was standing guard, so Miller spelled her and let Rat stretch out in her place.

  Though they could have moved on, Miller let them sleep. Huddled around the heater like this, they’d be able get most of their clothing to dry, and at least the walls kept out the cold and damp. Rat had found some supplies and laid them out on a wooden bench. A few hours later Miller woke the group and they split the last vestige of the dead man’s food between them. It was good to see everyone feeling a bit better.

  The mystery truck was empty as a politician’s heart. After the zombie assault, Scratch checked every single corner of the damned thing, even the glove compartment. Miller’s first impression held up. The driver had built the deadly vehicle intending to drive it like a tank through plague country all the way to safety, but had become infected. Either that, or he was running missions into Nevada, maybe raiding casinos or just raising hell. He’d run from the attacker and locked himself in the cab. He’d died there before he could leave and gotten trapped when he turned. The poor bastard had probably thought he was safe until the very last minute. Here he’d been inside the warehouse, working on his getaway truck for what looked like weeks, but then something had gone wrong.

  What happened? How did it happen? Those questions haunted Miller. Whatever bit him may have moved on, because we never found a body, but what if…

  Had the man gone outside to hunt? That seemed possible as there were only a few cans of food left in the kitchen cabinets. In fact, they’d just finished the last of the beef stew. Had he gone outside to look around for fresh water? That was also possible, but there were six plastic containers left, and all filled to the brim. Or had the driver risked everything by leaving in response to a strange noise outside, or a human calling for help? Would he have been that reckless, a man so clearly concerned about his own safety? Miller really wanted to know what had happened to the mysterious mechanic. Somehow, someway, he’d been ambushed and bitten.

  But where, and by what?

  An hour or so later, they heard something flying overhead. It was somewhere to the south, and probably a fixed-wing aircraft, but it did not loiter or seem to discover their location. Drones might have already passed them by, but they wouldn’t have heard that sound from down in the warehouse with all the rain. Miller prayed that their stolen vehicles stayed hidden. Seeing the two stashed cop cars would be as obvious as them all running around outside buck-assed naked holding large cardboard targets reading AIM HERE.

  Rat and Scratch seemed to have adopted what they dubbed the supertruck. It was in good working order, though not entirely completed—at least not by Scratch’s newly found Mad Max sensibilities. The two of them went to work. Scratch was in heaven. He’d found some steel plate that he wanted to cut and weld over the tires. He also discovered a mini-gun hatch on the roof that stuck and squeaked more than he was prepared to accept. Out came the WD-40. Other than seeing to all the weapons systems a little more carefully—cleaning this, checking that—Scratch announced that they could probably take off in the monstrous thing. He just needed another few hours.

  That idea suited Miller fine. Everyone would be looking for police cars, not some self-made hillbilly tank rolling through the back country. Or so she hoped, anyway.

  Sheppard thought his chance of infection was low and reported that his pain was now under control. In fact, he seemed pleasantly stoned. Miller was half tempted to join him. Sheppard, in his comfortably numb state, seemed infatuated with Brandon. Miller racked it up to some kind of reverse Nightingale effect, but it was probably because he was bombed out of his mind. Before his wound, Sheppard had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t on the market, but now that Brandon was caring for him and tending to his needs, he could be forgiven for becoming a bit starry-eyed. Brandon, on the other hand, seemed perfectly willing to take on the role he’d found himself in. Maybe there was something there.

  Rolf was now on guard duty. Miller found a mattress in one corner of the warehouse. It was stained and smelled like a rat’s nest. Hell, it probably was. But it was also relatively soft, and if it were free of bugs, would serve as a bed for the next hour or two so she could get some more shut-eye. She sat down on the lumpy edge and recalled a moment from the second day of the apocalypse. Miller, Scratch, Terrill Lee, and Sheppard, along with a couple of National Guardsmen, had stopped at Sheppard’s cousin’s house, not far from the base at Crystal Palace. They were just going to change clothes, eat, and move on. They’d been hiding from Colonel Sanchez and his ubiquitous Apache helicopters. Back then, Miller had been stuck wearing her old wedding dress, which really wasn’t very useful when killing zombies. She’d also been alone for a few minutes, and was considering catching some shut-eye. And the phrase that came to mind was, never turn down sleep, food, or sex.

  Miller looked over at Scratch. He was wearing a welding outfit he had discovered somewhere, and was lighting a gas torch to cut the steel. She felt sad that she had to give him up, but she still didn’t see any way around it. It just had to be.

  The rest of their supplies of food were back at the Two Elks Casino, left behind during the zombie attack. They’d now exhausted the stores in the warehouse, but they were getting dry and rested and Scratch claimed that their next ride was nearly ready. Rolf, chewing his finger bone and muttering about Walter, was standing guard with Dudley at his side.

  That left sleep.

  Miller was still damp, and even with the electric heater going, felt a bit cold and just generally too damn uncomfortable. She had no blanket or pillow, and no one to curl up with. She tried not to be envious of Sheppard and Brandon. Someone else to snuggle with would have been nice.

  It is what it is, she thought.

  She lay her head down on the mattress and tried to sleep. Her mind raced in circles for a while and then gradually slowed down and came to a halt. She closed her eyes and darkness enveloped her.

  Miller woke up with a start. Something was closing in fast.

  It had foul breath.

  The dog had snuggled up next to her, and was licking her face.

  “Hey, Dudley,” she said, stroking his fur.

  Then she looked up. Rolf was standing over the both of them. He was still holding his little submachine gun. He had an odd look on his face, though an odd look was certainly not unusual for Rolf. He shuddered, as if in response to a horrible thought. His jaws clenched and unclenched again, over and over. He muttered something. He blinked rapidly.

  “You okay there, Rolf?” Miller moved cautiously. She felt for her pistol, but it wasn’t where she’d left it. Something about him standing over her made her uncomfortable. Miller figured the others were sleeping or perhaps otherwise occupied. For his part, Rolf said nothing. And then Miller realized he was chewing. He had the zombie finger bone in his mouth as he stared down at Miller and the dog.

  It was quiet in the warehouse. Outside, the rain had stopped completely. No one was working on the truck. No one was doing anything.

  No one else was there.

  “What’s going on?” Miller sat up. She felt groggy as she pushed herself up on her elbows. Then Dudley the dog whined and moved away. “Where is everyone?”

  “The others are gone,” said Rolf. “They left us behind. Now it’s just you, me, Dudley, and Walter.”

  Rolf gestured to the side, and a tall man who Miller had never seen before emerged from a shadowy corner. The man walked closer and stood next to Rolf. He was ancient—in his nineties, perhaps—and his body was skinny to the point of emaciation. His wrinkled skin sagged like damp parchment. His clothing was black and dusty. He was a full head taller than Rolf.

  “Hello, Penny,” the man said. His voice was raspy and th
ick with phlegm.

  “Walter?” Miller shook her head. Something was wrong, very wrong. Walter was just a figment of Rolf’s imagination, right? He was just a second personality or something. He didn’t exist. Or did he?

  The thing called Walter nodded. “I’ve prepared dinner. It’s stew. Long pork. I think you’re going to like it.”

  “What have you done with the others?” Miller demanded. Her stomach flipped over. Her voice came from very far away. Perhaps she had been drugged while asleep, something from Sheppard’s medical kit. She backed up on her butt and elbows, struggling to put some distance between her body and the two men who stood over her leering down as if she were a lunch buffet.

  Walter held up a Bowie knife. It was red with fresh blood. He opened his mouth. He had something in it that looked like raw hamburger. A chunk fell out and landed on the cement floor with a wet plop. It had maggots writhing within it.

  “Dinner is served,” Walter said. His right eye drooped and dangled from his head, and then his nose blackened like spoiled fruit and started to rot away. Rolf did not even notice. Walter snarled. He bit at the air like a rabid dog.

  “No!” Miller cried. She struggled but she could not get away and that’s when Walter leaned down with the knife and cut her stomach wide open. A little baby zombie popped out. It ran up her chest and bit at her face and…

  “Penny,” said Scratch. “Wake up!”

  Miller sat up, thrashing at the air. Scratch held her arms down but she nearly threw him off. The dog was by her side, just as it had been in her dream, but her pistol was next to her, and she could see the others were there, all of them still working or resting in the cold warehouse. The electric heater was still going, but losing the battle against the cold in the enormous building. So not that much time had passed. Her heart thudded like a bass drum. Miller felt like she needed to throw up. The fear had reached her very soul this time. Scratch, with his stubble and messy hair, was maybe the best thing she’d seen in her life. Her love for him blossomed in her chest, but her mind shut it down fast. You’re poison for him, Penny. Don’t you forget that…

  She almost wrapped her arms around Scratch anyway, but caught herself in time.

  “You okay, Penny?”

  Miller swallowed bile. “Yes. How long was I out?”

  “Maybe for an hour or so, tops,” Scratch said. He touched her hand. His eyes were soft with concern. “How are you holding up? Do you have a fever? You started shouting in your sleep.”

  “It was nothing, I’m okay. That was just another horrible dream. I’m having way too many these days.” Miller looked for Rolf. He was there, staring morosely through a dirty window, studying the emptiness beyond. The rain had started up again, though it was much lighter this time. Rat was standing right next to Rolf, as if keeping an eye on him. They were chatting quietly. Miller shuddered. She did not look Scratch in the eye. “I think we need to get out of this place.”

  “Now?”

  “Now. We’ve already pushed our luck by hanging around this long.”

  “We’re almost ready, Penny,” Scratch said. His chest puffed with pride. “Wait until you check this out. Rat and I finished welding that steel plate over the rear wheels. Nobody can shoot them out now. We kind of abandoned doing the same thing for the front wheels. We almost covered them anyway, but Sheppard pointed out that we wouldn’t be able to steer for shit, which was a hard to argue with. Anyway, we’ve got that scooper to protect them, if we keep it low.”

  “Okay,” Miller said. She stretched her back. “If you say so.”

  “It would take us maybe an extra four or five hours just to solve that problem alone, whereas we could be having breakfast in Rat’s favorite coffee shop in Mountain Home by that time if we just skip it and haul ass. We figured you would prefer getting there sooner to getting there in genuine post-apocalyptic style.”

  “Give whoever came up with that one a raise. I want to get back to civilization as soon as possible.”

  “And alive, we assumed.”

  “That goes without saying.” Miller cracked her neck. “Dead is less permanent than it used to be. Okay, then. What else?”

  “Rat tells me the last time she was on the ground in Mountain Home was about a week before she picked you and me up at the rehab in Malibu, so that was maybe thirteen or fourteen days ago. She says they’re outside the infection zone up there, still pretty civilized, and apart from being pissed that the nearest bingo casinos got shut down, no one really noticed the disappearance of Nevada. It didn’t matter all that much to them in the first place.”

  “Gee, thanks for sharing.”

  “I just mean it should be easy to move around, kind of lax security outside of the base itself. The civilians bought the government line of shit about a nuke going off and everyone honors the quarantine zone. So it should almost be like nothing went down, once we get there.”

  “Or not,” Miller shrugged. “A lot can happen in two weeks.” She looked up at Scratch. She kept her face blank with a major effort of will. “Okay, get everyone together. Staff meeting in five.”

  “Staff meeting?” repeated Scratch, with a blank look on his craggy face. Scratch was still working on digesting his orders, or maybe putting her on, it was often hard to tell. “Wow, that’s awfully formal, isn’t it, Penny? Hell, there’s only six of us, not including Dudley and Walter. How about you and me just mosey twenty feet to where Sheppard and Brandon are hanging out, and then I call Rat and Rolf over. You can have your staff meeting right now.”

  Miller glowered at him. “Well, that’s pretty much what I meant, Scratch.” She scooted off the edge of the mattress and struggled to get to her feet. Her balance was shaky from the bad dream. Scratch put out his hand to help her up, but she shook it off. She was feeling kind of surly now. It was probably safer to stay that way.

  Miller brushed the dust from her clothes. “Hey everyone! Let’s huddle up by Karl and Brandon. I’d like to talk to y’all.”

  Rat and Rolf broke off their conversation and wandered over. Sheppard and Brandon stayed where they were. Miller felt a flash of concern as she approached. Sheppard still looked weak. He was pale and sweating a lot, though he seemed to be in decent spirits. Soon everyone was standing in a loose circle. Miller checked out the supercar on the way to meet them. It was pretty damned impressive. Scratch and Rat had done a wonderful job. They were certainly due for some good karma.

  Miller looked at her friends. Rain ticked on the window pane near her head. Cold wind was stroking the roof and, despite the heater, the air seemed moist and damp.

  “All right, I just want to go over the plan one more time before we all start riding around in the Land Shark over there. By the way, has anyone turned over the engine on the damned thing? Did I actually sleep through something that loud?”

  Scratch touched Miller’s shoulder. His palm was warm right through her clothing. “We were actually going to call this thing the Penelope Jean in your honor, Penny, but your idea wins out. Believe me, the Land Shark purrs like a thousand horses of diesel pride.”

  “Okay,” said Miller. “Land Shark it is, then. And I guess we’ll have to just test the weapons on that thing as we go along.”

  Sheppard looked relieved. “Thank God. I need a hospital more than I’d like to admit, and I need to get our treasure trove of zombie virus data to the WHO as soon as possible, before the infection spreads any further. That could save a lot of lives.”

  Miller nodded. Sheppard was consistent. You could count on him to stay focused at all times. “And what about you, Rat? You’re still retiring, right?”

  Rat looked down at the ground. She seemed a mite embarrassed. “I hope you don’t think I’m ungrateful, or abandoning the team, Penny, but yes, I’m done. My dollar bills and I have a date on an island in the Bahamas. Or somewhere. I’m done after this mission. Mountain Home is my last stop.”

  “That’s fine, Rat. None of us blame you one damn bit.” Miller thought for a second. She did not
want to make any assumptions. She turned to her two newcomers. “What about you two, Rolf? Brandon? What are your plans?”

  Brandon spoke first. “I’m going to stay at the hospital with Karl, Sheriff. After that, I figure we’ll make it up as we go once things have settled down.” He turned to face Sheppard. “Assuming that’s okay with you.”

  Sheppard surprised her by saying, “I’d like that very much.” He seemed stone cold sober now. Maybe something had happened when she was asleep.

  Rolf said nothing at all. Miller figured he was conferring with Walter, or some such thing. That was how it went with those two. Rolf stopped sucking the finger bone. He examined it like he’d never seen it before. Dudley whined and went flat on the floor.

  Rat looked at Miller for a long moment. “What about you and Scratch?”

  Miller’s heart sank. “I don’t speak for Scratch, but as for me, I’m dropping you folks off and going after the bastards you and Karl used to work for, the ones who started it all. I want this shit stopped. They won’t expect me to take it to them like that.”

  “What do you mean you don’t speak for me, Penny?” Scratch turned to face her completely. He was deeply hurt. “I’m with you every step of the way.”

  Outside, a low roll of thunder rolled down from the top of the mountain and shook the wooden frame. The huge garage rattled to its foundations. Weirdly, the rain then seemed to decrease in volume. The steady patter of drops faded to a faint drizzle. Perhaps the wind was blowing the storm south and west of them now. Miller was sick of the rain, and also not happy with the drift of this conversation.

  “I just figured that you would want to go find Jimmy and little Lex and ride off into the sunset with them,” Miller said. “They’ll need a father.”

  He just stared.

  “Sorry, Scratch. I just didn’t feel it was my place to commit you.”

  “I plan to ride off into the sunset with you, Penny. Yes, we have to go find the boys—now that I know I have a son, I won’t turn my back on him—but I want you by my side the whole time. We stick together, regardless. That’s how I feel and I don’t care who knows it. Unless you don’t want me along.”