Dead Hunger VI_The Gathering Storm

by Eric A. Shelman

  “One. Two. Three.” We both raised our weapons quickly and aimed true.

  As the rounds reached her and pierced her head and body, she jerked like a wind-up toy at double speed; it was as though her head and shoulders exploded from the rest of her as each round was directed toward her relatively small kill zone. She was literally split in two, the trunk portion almost intact as it dropped and sank into the soft mud.

  The moment she went down, the zombies in the river ceased their forward trek. They milled around as though unsure where to go, no longer on a mission, but wandering again. Just wandering. Looking for something to draw them toward it.

  “Flex, we gotta take these guys out, man,” said Tony. “All of ‘em. If we don’t, they might head toward your place.”

  Tony was right. “I agree,” I said. “I’ll go to the north end and start there. You go to the south side and clear ‘em. We’ll meet back up here when we’ve got them all.”

  We had plenty of urushiol, and Tony had his super soaker at ready. I decided to preserve the ammunition, too.

  There were a lot of children in this group – something that always tore me up inside. Just kids living their lives, coloring in coloring books, playin’ video games, jumpin’ rope. I sprayed each one of ‘em and turned away as they deteriorated mid-shamble, melting into the brown water and drifting away with their adult counterparts. The residue from their bodies would wash up on the banks of this river until entirely disbursed, and then they would be nothing.

  From men, women and children, to forever hungry, mindless predators, to a sticky, smelly film on the banks of a river. Then nothing.

  What a fucked up way to leave lives, that in most cases, were nowhere near finished.

  By the time we were done, there was no more zombie caravan. Not on that road, anyway.

  *****

  We were self-conscious as we moved the remaining seven cars necessary to clear the bridge. Someone had put the cars there, and based on the direction of the zombie traffic, which had clearly circumvented the roadblock by walking through the water, it seemed most likely that the responsible party lived on the south side of the bridge.

  Tony asked a good question about a mile past the bridge, now back on the road.

  “Flex, I’m not so sure that whoever blocked that bridge was on the south side.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Well, first off the red-eye was there, so we don’t really know if Isis and Lola had anything to do with drawing them this time. Might have just been her.”

  “Good point, Tony,” I said. “But Bug told us the red-eyes are drawn to both Lola and the baby. Lola, for the most part, because she can call ‘em, and Isis just because.”

  “So, that means there’s still a possibility that whoever blocked that bridge is ahead,” said Tony. “That’s all I was really getting at.”

  I turned to look at Tony and had turned to look back just a second later, and I felt my face flush hot. A line of people with guns stepped into the road about 100 yards ahead of us. Apparently my facial expression changed dramatically, because Tony turned his head to follow my gaze. I slowed the SUV to a crawl.

  “Holy fuck, buddy,” he said, reaching up for the AK firing handle. “Want me to take ‘em out?”

  I shook my head quickly. “They’re not zombies, brother. They’re alive,” I said. “They deserve a conversation first, I think. So I’m gonna explain us past this, if you don’t mind. They’re not shootin’ and they see our firepower, I assume, so maybe they’re reasonable.”

  “Okay, Flex, but it’s not like we can just spray them with urushiol if they try some shit.”

  “I know,” I said. “Just turn the AK off to the side for now so they know we’re not threatening. But keep your eye on ‘em. If I suddenly dive to the ground, spin that gun around and go at it.”

  Tony said, “Okay, Flex,” and took a deep breath. “It’s kind of a relief I don’t need a head shot to take ‘em down.”

  I’d never killed a living person, so Tony’s words really hit me. I’d just said it myself, but they were living people.

  I continued to ease the car forward so I could better see their individual faces to gauge their intensity. I idled the car to a stop ten feet back from the line of what looked like eight women and six men. There were lots of overalls and jeans involved. Some boots, too. Off to the left, I saw several horses.

  I put the Land Cruiser in park. Tony kept one hand on the pull trigger and remained in his seat while I got out of the car.

  I opened my door and swung a leg out, standing up. I stepped away from the car, my Daewoo held tightly, but raised over my head in one hand. The barrel was pointed away from them.

  A woman stepped from behind the line to the front where I could see her clearly. “Put the gun down,” she said, as I approached.

  I stopped, turned to look at Tony. With a hand motion, I told him everything was okay, and to relax. He nodded back.

  I put my K7 on the ground as I prepared to tell them why I didn’t have time to have a conversation or stay for coffee.

  I hoped the woman would understand the importance of my mission. She had good reason to.

  She was pregnant.

  *****

  “When are you due?” I asked, walking slowly forward and stopping about three feet away from her.

  The woman studied me. She held what appeared to be an Uzi similar to Gem’s, but slightly older. She had pure, red hair in a pony tail, and she stood at least six feet tall. Her face was red from sunburn, and her eyes were green and alert. She wore a white tank top and jeans. Her arms and all other exposed skin was tattoo-free. She appeared to be in her late twenties.

  “Why’d you fuck with our bridge?” she asked.

  “Why do you think?” I asked, waving my arm at the car. “We needed to get across.”

  “You could’ve walked around. Through the river.”

  “That’s what the things you’re tryin’ to block are doin’, so what good is your barricade?” I asked.

  “It slows them down,” she said.

  “They’re not coming toward you,” I said.

  “Why is that?” she asked.

  “May I ask your name?” I said. “I’m Flex Sheridan. The guy in the car is Tony Mallette.”

  “I’m Cara Blake,” she said. “Three of the guys you see here are my brothers, and two are my sisters.”

  “You guys are just like the fuckin’ Brady Bunch.”

  Despite her obvious apprehension, she smiled. “Three and three. Just like mama wanted, but I’m no Marsha and I sure as hell ain’t Jan.”

  I nodded toward her stomach. “Lookin’ at your condition, I’d say someone isn’t your brother,” I said. It was my turn to smile.

  “You’re very observant,” said Cara. “I’m seven months, or thereabouts. Haven’t seen a doctor, but I’m pretty sure.”

  “You notice any pink farts or belches?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “I know it sounds like a crazy question, but I said what it sounded like, Cara. Pink belches and farts are bad news. Any of that? Real bad cramps or anything?”

  She shook her head. “We know the pink vapor. The eye stuff.”

  I nodded. “Knockout stuff. Let me warn you right now. If you see one of the female walkers with red eyes – they’re much brighter when they’ve eaten recently – stay clear of their vapor.”

  “Why? Is it different?”

  “It is,” I said. “We’ve seen the effects of a pregnant female getting sprayed, even if she carries a healthy baby.”

  “And what are the effects?”

  “The mother rants a lot and the baby becomes a beacon, once born.”

  Cara lowered her weapon and looked back at me in confusion. “What do you mean by a beacon?”

  “I mean when she’s born, the red-eyes will be drawn to her. That means they’ll be drawn to you. Your group.”

  The girl looked at her tribe mates and then back at me. “Where are you c
oming from?”

  I didn’t want to say. My family was in Whitmire, and I didn’t know these people. “About a two day drive from here,” I lied.

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Somewhere to get something that will help you,” I said. “Something you need desperately.”

  Her expression grew confused. “And what is that?” she asked.

  “Childhood immunizations,” I said. “And something you need even more. An antitoxin.”

  Her face grew concerned now. “An antitoxin for what? Snakebite?”

  “Why? Have you been bitten by a snake?” I asked.

  “No, no,” she said. “You said antitoxin, that’s the first thing I think of.”

  “I think you mean anti-venom,” yelled Tony from behind me. I realized he had his window open.

  “The antitoxin is for Diphtheria,” I said.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  I was taken aback. “Let’s just say it can kill your kid and anyone else who hasn’t been immunized,” I said. “If you’ve already been exposed, the antitoxin will get rid of it.”

  “You got any kids that were exposed?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I do. My son Flex Jr. Our friends’ baby, Isis, and another woman in our group, Charlie, is pregnant.”

  “A girl named Charlie?”

  “A helluva girl named Charlie,” I said. “Cara, I’m so sorry about your bridge, but we have to go. I have somewhere between one to four days, and I don’t know where it falls. My boy’s just around two months old now, and I have to get the antitoxin for him.”

  “They wanted me to make you fix the bridge,” said Cara.

  “Of course they did,” I said. “But again, I don’t think it’s a good idea to block off roadways. What if there’s a huge flood and you’re attacked from the other direction?”

  “Who’s going to attack?” she asked. So far, nobody else had said a word. “We know our enemy and where they are. We’ve got stuff set up around our camp to take care of the rest.”

  “Cara, you seem like a nice person,” I said. “But my son has been exposed to Diphtheria and I have an unknown amount of time and an unknown distance to travel. If they don’t have what I need at the Carolinas Memorial Hospital, I have to drive back down to the Beaufort Naval Hospital, so I can’t stay here and explain everything to you right now.”

  “You said I need this stuff, too.” Her eyes no longer showed any aggression. I guess it’s hard to be angry at someone who offers help.

  “Your baby needs it, Cara,” I said. “Maybe the Diphtheria can’t affect you, but your baby needs it very soon after it’s born, and I’ll bring you some. I’ll be comin’ back this way, and you’ve got sentries, right?”

  “Every half mile,” she said.

  “Okay, so you’ll know when I get back. Come find me and I’ll give you what you need.”

  She looked around and caught the eyes of several standing around her. I saw some of them nod. Almost imperceptible. Then she turned back to me. “Okay, but we’re blocking the bridge again.”

  I needed that bridge open in case I found what I needed in North Carolina. “Cara,” I said. “You’ve noticed an increase in the things, haven’t you? Just today?”

  “Hell yeah, we have,” said a young man who appeared to be in his early twenties, wearing overalls and work boots. “We didn’t have shit for numbers until this morning. Now it’s like a goddamned parade. Why.”

  He didn’t say it like a question. He wanted to know, and I understood.

  “They’re drawn to us,” I said. “I can’t explain why right now, but I’ll tell you there’s nothing we can do about it and they’re heading toward us. What’s the next town up this way?” I asked, pointing north.

  “Buckfield,” said Cara. “Just about five miles. Population of about three thousand or so. We did some damage there while we could, but there’s still a bunch of deaders scattered around the town.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, you started with around 2,700 of ‘em if the usual percentages apply, and I don’t see why they wouldn’t. What about survivors?”

  “There’s a few clusters of them, too,” said the young man. He, too, had red hair, and his eyes looked almost identical to Cara’s. He was one of her brothers, to be sure.

  “What’s your name, buddy?” I asked.

  He laughed and said, “Buddy, actually. Bradley, but everyone calls me Buddy.”

  “Lucky guess,” I said. “Buddy, I’d suggest you post some defenders at a northern point, anywhere you see the things coming in. We’re gonna give you a bottle of something that can help a lot. It’s got an oil in it called urushiol. If you spray it on ‘em, they melt like shrink wrap under a heat gun. It just takes a little, so use it sparingly.”

  “What’s it made of?” asked Cara. “Maybe we have some around.”

  “Not likely,” I said. “If you can find poison ivy or poison oak, pick as much as you can carry and bring it back to your place. Where do you guys live?”

  “My daddy’s place,” said Buddy, pointing behind him. “Just about a five minute walk through them trees. But we don’t want that shit on us. The poison ivy. The kids might get into it.”

  “Trust me when I tell you that you’re all immune to it,” I said. “If you think back to times in your life someone pointed out that you were standing in poison ivy, you’ll remember that nothing happened. It’s a fact. It’s part of why you’re not one of them.”

  “I think we need to know more about this,” said Cara.

  “Look,” I said. “I gotta get back on the road, like now. Quick question. How are you all staying at one house?”

  “It’s more of what you might call a compound,” said Cara, smiling for the first time. “We got a big family. I guess you can see.”

  “Yeah,” I said, returning her smile. “I’ll give you the spray, but if you insist on blocking that bridge again, can you at least wait until we get back? We’ll need to cross it to get back home, and the zombies just cross the river anyway.”

  “Not for long,” said one of the men who had not yet spoken. He had a full beard and mustache, a plaid shirt over a tee-shirt, and overalls over those. “If this storm blows in, we’re gonna have a good flood here. Been threatenin’ for two days now.”

  “You think it’s a hurricane?” I asked.

  “It is the season,” he said. “So in other words, yeah.”

  “We have to go,” I reiterated. “I promise we’ll be back. If they have what we need at our first stop, we’ll be back before dark.”

  Cara nodded and waved. “Get back to your car and get us that oil spray stuff,” she said. “Then get outta here and go get what you need,” she said. “And please, come back. We’ve got other pregnant women. Two of them.”

  I nodded. “Thank you, Cara. I don’t make promises I don’t plan to keep. We’ll catch you on the way back. After I get back home and take care of my son, we’ll come back and teach you how to make the juice.”

  “That’ll be good,” said Buddy. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” I said. “I have another question. Why were you guys patrolling just now, when you found us?”

  “One of our boys heard you draggin’ the cars around,” said Buddy. “Thought you might be from Buckfield.”

  “You got problems with some folks up there?”

  Cara nodded. “Yeah. We take care of ourselves. Got good fishin’ in that river there, and good huntin’ in these woods. Couple of their guys shot Roland. He’s not here, but he’s okay. Lame now, but okay.”

  “So it was an accident, right?” I asked.

  “Started out that way, I think,” said another girl. This one was shorter than Cara, but as with all of the brothers and sisters, the hair was red, her face was freckled, and she had eyes that might have been interchangeable with the others. Her voice was softer.

  “I heard the shot and somebody cryin’ afterward. I’m quiet, and I moved toward the sound. When I got closer, I saw the bastard walkin’
toward Roland, pointin’ his gun. He was aimin’ it. I shot him. Killed him.”

  “How’re you handling it?” I asked.

  “Okay. It was him or Roland. I didn’t know him.”

  “So what?” I asked. “A feud started?”

  “Shit sounds so hillbilly, but I guess there’s no other word for it,” said the girl. “Since then, they’ve sent regular parties down here with guns. Tryin’ to exact their revenge, I guess.”

  “No explaining?” I asked. “Did you try?”

  A big gust of wind hit us, and almost threw me off balance. With it came a general increase in the steady breeze.

  “Gonna rain hard soon,” said Cara, shaking her head. “Anyway, Krauss and them boys in Buckfield, they’re gonna have to die before they leave us alone.”

  “Krauss?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she responded. “He’s the leader.”

  I nodded and said, “Hold on.” I walked back to the Land Cruiser. Tony still had the window down.

  “I almost came out,” he said. “They seem okay.”

  “They are, Tony. Hand me a bottle of the urushiol, would you?”

  Tony smiled and shook his head. “You’re generous to a fault, you know that, Flex?”

  “No idea,” I said. “I just do what’s right when I can.” I took the bottle from him and walked back to Cara, holding it out. A sound came from behind their group and I tipped my chin toward it.

  “Here’s your chance to try it out,” I said.

  Everyone’s gun swung around, and I called, “No, no! Try the oil. Just a tiny spray, right in the face.”

  Cara turned and the group parted. “Keep your guns on it,” she said, walking toward the zombie. Its skin hung down in tatters from its face. A large gouge was missing from its left calf and only a thumb remained on its right hand.

  Cara stepped to within two feet and sprayed once into its face. It wasn’t quite on stream or spray, but somewhere between the two. What resulted was a strong, wide spray pattern that wet the deader’s entire face, to use their own terminology.

  The gray-green skin bubbled instantly, then sank into itself. It peeled away from the skull, momentarily making the thing appear like a Halloween store decoration, but it did not stop there. The skin continued to peel down its chest. It staggered forward, but still the group holding their rifles did not fire.