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

by Booth, Steven

  Another burst of thunder, now from further away, provided a moment of distraction. Miller still wasn’t sure how to respond and so she didn’t. She cleared her throat. “What about you, Rolf? Where do you and Walter and Dudley want to get dropped off?”

  “I follow the Chosen One,” Rolf said simply, “and Dudley follows me.”

  Miller had nothing to say to that. The crazy bastard was loyal. Maybe having him along would make it easier for her to talk Scratch into letting go. “So it’s settled.”

  “It’s not settled, Penny!” said Scratch. “You haven’t answered me. If that’s all it takes, then I follow the Chosen One, too. But I want to hear your answer. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

  “I’m not trying to get rid of you, Scratch.”

  Scratch looked at the others, and something in his eyes changed. He put his hand on Miller’s elbow and tugged slightly. “Would you folks excuse us? It seems we need a little privacy to get to the bottom of this.”

  Miller was trapped. She couldn’t tell Scratch what she was thinking, and she couldn’t refuse to talk in private without exacerbating the situation. She felt like a helpless child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  Scratch dragged her a few feet away. “Penny, what the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you want to be with me anymore?”

  “Of course I do,” she said, surprising herself. It was the truth, but it wasn’t helping her case at all.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Scratch, you’re a great guy and everything…”

  Scratch interrupted her. “I’m beginning to see how you got elected to the office of Sheriff, Penny. You make a hell of a politician. So now I’m a great guy, am I?”

  “I don’t see what’s wrong with that, Scratch.” She was grasping at straws, but any delay was to her advantage.

  Scratch opened his mouth to respond, but as he did, they both heard Dudley growl and bark.

  Miller whirled to face Rolf, relieved for a convenient diversion. “What is it? Does he smell zombies?”

  Rolf shook his head. The dog looked up and to the west. “Walter says we have incoming, Chosen One. Humans, not zombies.”

  Scratch and Miller locked eyes for a moment, then he ran to the window. Scratch wiped mist from the dirty glass and peered outside. “Penny, he’s right, we’ve got company.”

  Rat looked outside too. “Damn it.”

  Miller went to stare out of the window. She had to look twice. They all did. “Christ on a crutch, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Dozens of vehicles, with their headlights on in the rain, were headed toward their secret lair. Miller also saw row upon row of attackers emerging from the misty woods, many more of them than she could count at first glance. It was time to get back to work.

  “I think we’d best try out the Land Shark, don’t you?”

  Miller still hadn’t answered him. She wanted to, but that conversation would just have to wait. She stared at Scratch. He broke eye contact first.

  “Come on, people, Penny is right. It’s time to go.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Miller entered the Land Shark through a hatch in the side of the aft section. For some reason, thinking of the tank in anything but nautical terms didn’t seem fitting. Miller hadn’t been inside before this—she’d been occupied elsewhere or trying to catch some sleep—but once she’d climbed through the hatch and looked around, she completely understood Scratch’s and Rat’s fascination. It was one hell of a vehicle.

  The interior of the aft section was dimly lit, with ambient light coming almost exclusively from illuminated switches and displays. The double thick, plated walls were lined with electronics. There were six laptop computers with large, widescreen displays mounted above them, three on each side. The creator of the project must have planned to run into survivors day by day and hand out assignments until he had one hell of an operation going. Or perhaps he’d been abandoned at some point, or his friends killed off one by one. Whatever had happened to him along the way, they’d been left with something of a miracle, because each of the stations had a comfortable-looking chair mounted to the floor, and each seat with a five-point harness attached for safety. Labels above each station gave them specific names: CONTROL, EECOM, GNC, INCO, COUNTER, and WEAPONS. Only the last one appealed to Miller, so she sat down and buckled in. The laptop was already up and running. She looked over her options. From what she could tell at first glance, the truck’s weapons systems could be operated from her station—assuming she could figure out how to actually run the damn thing. She got to work.

  Brandon helped Sheppard into the seat marked EECOM, and took INCO for himself. Rolf just went to the back of the aft section. There were two plain metal seats intended for passengers or possibly prisoners. Rolf sat in one and buckled his seatbelt. He stayed there, out of the way, just holding Dudley in his lap and, as usual, mumbling quietly. He had a couple of long tubes with him that made Miller think of wrapping paper. Miller looked forward and could see Scratch and Rat were now securing themselves into the seats in front. Scratch pushed a button on the dash. The hatch closed and sealed itself off.

  It felt like they were in a starship.

  “All right,” said Scratch, like a proud papa. “Please make sure that the vehicle is securely strapped to your body, everyone. This could get ugly.”

  He expertly flipped some switches that had been mounted to the roof of the cab. He wiggled his fingers with a flourish. Then he turned the key. Nothing happened.

  Absolutely nothing.

  Miller closed her eyes. She was both frightened and frustrated. She imagined the enemy outside, heavily armed and steadily closing in. She kept her voice calm. “Are we good up there, Scratch?”

  “Wait for it, Penny. It takes a minute.”

  She turned to look. A bright red light above Scratch’s head lit up, and now Miller could read the word START on the digital display. Her hopes rose. Scratch reached over and pushed the red light. He sat back with a shit-eating grin.

  The engine clunked and sputtered, but utterly failed to start.

  Miller tensed up. “And now?”

  Scratch ignored her. He turned to Rat as if for sympathy.

  “Stop pumping the gas, Scratch,” said Rat, “you’re going to flood her.”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “This is awful kind of you guys,” Miller said. “We’re sure going to be such a damn sight easier to kill now that we’re all packed into one tight place.”

  Scratch looked at the panel above his head, and flipped a few more switches. Something clicked loudly. The red START light went out, as did many of the small lights and overhead displays in the aft section. Miller’s weapons station stayed active—probably because it was running on internal battery power—but most of the other meters flat-lined, and all at the same time.

  “I think that was a circuit breaker,” said Sheppard.

  Scratch turned and shouted back at him, “I thought you didn’t know anything about diesel systems, Karl.”

  “Sorry, just trying to be helpful.”

  “Well, don’t try so damn hard.”

  Scratch reached over his head, and reactivated all the circuit breakers on the overhead panel. The lights came back on, making the interior seem almost cheery with multicolored lights. Sheppard looked at Miller and shrugged. Meanwhile, Miller found a switch marked external. She had no idea what it did, but she had a pretty good idea it wouldn’t fire a weapon, so she flipped it.

  The light above her winked on. There were four monitors over her head, and each offered a different camera placement. They were front and rear, which seemed stationary, but also on either side, and those units were able to move. With a little playing, Miller got the one on the left side to change its view. She pointed it out the high window that faced out towards the front of the warehouse to see what was going on outside the Land Shark. She zoomed in on the warehouse’s front window. Everything got larger and came into focus.
She watched as Scratch struggled with the engine.

  Through the glass pane, she could now see many of the bikers standing outside, clustered together in one large group. At first they seemed to be arguing back and forth, perhaps planning something. As she watched, they quieted down. They turned toward the warehouse as one and began to fan out. They were each carrying weapons of various sizes. No one had shot at them yet, but they likely still suspected a trap, so they were going to come at the warehouse to test its defenses. They had already worked things out. They were about to attack.

  “Scratch,” Miller said, “we need this piece of shit to start now.”

  “I know, I know, I know.”

  “Otherwise we’re going to have to find us another option, which is likely just to choose between probable death and certain death.”

  “I know, I know, I know.”

  “Scratch, I’m serious as a stroke. Get the lead out. We’re going to have company in about twenty seconds.”

  Without waiting for another repetitive answer, Miller unbuckled her seatbelt. She stood and headed toward the cab of the monster truck. Right behind where Scratch and Rat were sitting was the station for the mini-gun. Miller stood on the short platform. She found the button to release the latch and pushed open the overhead doors, thus swinging the mini-gun up and into place. She stood up on her tiptoes.

  “Everyone cover your ears. This is likely to be louder than D-Day.”

  Rat turned. “Be conservative with that thing, Penny. Best guess is you’ve got about thirty seconds of ammunition at the most.”

  “I don’t think it will take that long to make my point.”

  Through the front window, Miller could now see the line of approaching bikers. She swung the mini-gun toward them, hoping a display of force would scare them off and buy enough time for the Land Shark to start up and make its escape. Miller pointed the savage weapon, but deliberately aimed a bit too high. She was still reluctant to open up on living human beings, even though those people were coming to do her harm. They weren’t dead yet, and so her instincts made her want to fire a warning shot instead, even when she could have easily cut them down.

  Shit.

  All hell broke loose. The mini-gun was very loud indeed. And it was damned fast. The barrels came up to speed almost immediately. She had a pretty good idea what to expect, since Rat had her shooting mini-guns at a target a few days before at Crystal Palace. Shooting it was like firing a laser—what Miller aimed at just disappeared in an instant. And what she’d aimed at was the top of the window and the wooden wall, and the sky above the bikers on the other side of the glass, those angry human beings who were coming towards the warehouse with weapons and live ammo.

  The gun fired for perhaps two seconds before she released the trigger.

  Thin smoke filled the air. Miller waved her hand. She took a closer look at what had just happened. The window was completely blown out. The bikers had hit the dirt instantly, but the gun had gotten some anyway. A few who had been unfortunate enough to be hit were now long red smears spread flat on the ground. The rest of them had scattered and were still running. She hoped that one short burst would be enough to back them off. She’d bought a little time. The weapon had a limited arc, so once they changed to try and flank her, they’d again have the advantage. She didn’t want to have to kill anyone else.

  “All right, Scratch, I probably bought us about two minutes. After that, we’re going to have to come up with a plan B, C, or maybe D for dead.”

  “I won’t need that long.” Scratch was fiddling around with something on the dash, a panel Miller couldn’t see. “Almost there.”

  Miller returned to watching the external cameras. She steadfastly avoided looking at the dead men on the ground. She could see part of the group of bikers, many of whom were now on their rides. Some of them rode off into the trees. Miller hoped they were running away, not bringing back reinforcements. The others conferred, waving their arms and weapons, working themselves up. Miller felt queasy, wondering what they’d do next, and if she’d be able to stop them with the ammo she had left.

  Something on the laptop screen blinked automatically and the flicker caught her eye. Miller pointed her mouse cursor towards it. It was the key to the rocket launchers. It had disengaged.

  “Hey, Scratch. Whatever you just did, undo it. We just lost a cluster of rockets.”

  “I didn’t do anything, Penny.”

  Rat looked back at her. “I can vouch for that, Penny. What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I think I need about two months of training to get used to these controls. The light just blinked off. Any luck with the engine?”

  “No,” shouted Scratch. He turned to Rat, who was reaching for a bank of switches. “Would you knock that shit off?”

  Frustrated, Rat unstrapped herself from her seat in the front and came aft. “I think now would be a good time to start discussing that plan B, Penny.”

  “All right,” said Miller. She stood from her chair in the low cabin of the aft section and went to the hatch. There was a big wheel that presumably opened it up. She tried turning it, but it wouldn’t spin. She slapped the wall in frustration. “Screw it. We cannot stay in this junk heap any longer. It’s going to get us all killed.” Miller thought for a few seconds. “Is there any way out of the garage other than through the front doors?”

  Rat appeared next to her. “We found some cellar doors in the back corner while you were sleeping, but none of us wanted to know what the hell was down there. They had a chain and padlocks on them.”

  “Likely for a good reason,” Miller said.

  “Exactly.”

  “That may be our only shot.”

  Scratch stopped fumbling with the electronics. He interjected his opinion. “I say we take our chances here in the Land Shark. I can get this damn thing started, just buy me some time. We don’t even know for sure if those cellar doors lead anywhere.”

  “They have to go somewhere,” Brandon said. His voice was high pitched again from the rising sense of fear and helplessness. “At least we’ll have a fighting chance that way.”

  “Sure, they could be they lead somewhere,” Scratch said, “but maybe into a situation that’s even worse.”

  “That’s why we left them all locked up, dumb ass,” Rat said. “Opening them had ‘bad idea’ written all over it.”

  Sheppard said, “Let Penny decide.”

  “That’s it?” Miller asked. Her head was spinning. “No back door? No helicopter pad? No teleporter pad? Nothing?”

  “I can’t tell if you’re being funny, Penny, but yes, there is a back door.” Sweat was streaming down Rat’s pretty face. “The problem is, it leads to a big, open, empty field with no cover whatsoever. We can’t risk that. They will have laid down fields of fire for sure, and those men are heavily armed. All we could do is make a suicide charge like a bunch of Zulu warriors. We’d never stand a chance in the open. You think that is a better choice?”

  “No, at this point, our best choice is still getting this truck running,” Miller said pointedly. “But it’s starting to look grim. Our next best option would be to still have access to those two shot-up police cars, but they are outside with the bikers.”

  Rolf said, “Walter thinks we should leave now.”

  “Thank Walter for me,” Miller said. “Rat, I’d say the big, empty, open field is a very close third choice, suicide or not. But I just don’t see any advantage to going down into the cellar. It might just be nothing but a big box full of zombies, for all we know. Hell, maybe that’s where the one that got our mysterious mechanic came from in the first place. The only possible plus is the bikers might be afraid to follow.”

  “Penny?” Sheppard said, weakly. Miller ignored him. She watched Scratch and listened for the slightest sign the vehicle was going to get moving. She got not the slightest whisper of encouragement. So we are down to the cellar and a suicide charge. Great.

  “What a fucking disaster,” she said. She
immediately wished she hadn’t said that aloud, but it was too late.

  “Penny?”

  She looked up. “What is it, Karl?”

  “I need you to look at Rolf.”

  Miller turned to see Rolf. He was holding up some rolled up paper tubes.

  “Here, Chosen One,” Rolf said, moving closer. “This is what I meant.” He handed over a set of blueprints. They had been splattered with what appeared to be dried blood. “Walter told me these were probably in the mechanic’s desk but they weren’t there, so I just kept looking, and I finally found them in his tool kit.”

  Miller and Rat unrolled the plans and studied them for a moment. They exchanged looks. Miller deferred to Rat’s expertise. “Does that say what I think it does?”

  Rat nodded. “It says that there is another way out of the cellar, an exit set way over by the tree line across the road. If I’m reading this right, it looks like there will be some kind of a sloping driveway that leads up and then out into the woods. Whoever designed this place probably built and repaired race cars. The underground garage allowed him to move projects back and forth without screwing up his view or defacing his farm property.”

  “Or getting busted by the cops after a drag race,” Miller said. “The road here is pretty straight and flat.”

  The bikers were regrouping. Miller heard noises outside. “Talk to me, Scratch.”

  Scratch looked back over his shoulder. He shook his head, defeated at last. “I’m sorry, Penny. She’s toast.”

  Miller stood up. “We won’t last long against those bikers out in the open, not without transportation. Short of waiting here in the Land Shark like a can of tuna waiting to be opened, I’d say we’re going to have to go down into the cellar. We could at least clear it for zombies and try to find the exit that’s shown on the plans. I don’t much like it, but that’s the hand we got dealt.”

  Scratch agreed. “It’s our best shot, assuming it is still there, and that the exit isn’t already covered by snipers.”