Assuming Room Temperature (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 3)

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Assuming Room Temperature (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 3) Page 6

by S. P. Durnin


  “Pretty hot right now,” the voice said blandly, “No hopes for a breeze today yet.”

  “That means there are no infected in the area. They’re cold to the touch.” Kat told her and queued the microphone again. “We made some ice cubes earlier.”

  “Wanna use the sauna?”

  Kat waved through the windshield. “That’d be fun.”

  Mel was totally lost. She turned hesitantly to Elle and quietly asked. “Who is that?”

  “That’s Gwen. She’s one of the other women in our little party.” The blonde replied in a low voice, so not to be heard over the radio’s microphone. “See up on top of the building there on the Grand Cherokee Golf Course? At least one of us is on watch with a sniper rifle whenever we go out to resupply. Helps keep the maggot-heads from gathering too close, or getting too curious.”

  The voice gave a laugh. “Dead-eye and Hot Rod will be happy to help you with the steam. I’ll tell them to turn it on for you, Bluebell.”

  “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to bring extra towels.” Kat rolled her eyes and shut the radio down again.

  “Well, we have been out of contact for hours. It’s a given the others would be pretty worried and upset, considering.” Sampson scratched his ear.

  “Upset hell,” Elle chuckled from her seat on Leo’s lap. “Rae’s gonna be pissed. Anytime her precious machine here is out of her sight for more than ten minutes, she freaks. Which is strange, actually. She didn’t used to act that way when Jake—”

  “She’ll get over it.” Kat said quickly. While the gorgeous brunette was a force to be reckoned with, Kat was no push-over herself. Despite her vapid-vixen act. They had put her in charge, after all.

  A large section of the barricade slid to one side, and the indigo-haired woman dropped their Hummer into drive once more. As the barrier moved, Mel realized it was actually welded steel plate that completely covered the entire passenger side of a dump truck. Once Cho drove the Hummer through the gap, it backed up again to seal the hole—creating a solid wall once more—and the driver shut down its engine. When the driver’s door opened, Mel was surprised to see a lovely, dark-haired woman—sporting a pair of Daisy Dukes along with her twin Berettas—at the wheel.

  “That’s Deputy Penny Carson.” Henry told her as the woman hopped from the truck, slammed the door shut, and jogged for the Hummer.

  The girl noticed that Penny—like Kat and Elle—was well endowed in the lung department, even though Carson wore a many-pocketed tactical vest that didn’t really hug her figure. That was a sore spot for Mel. It seemed like she was never going to get boobs and here she was, surrounded by women that looked like they’d been pulled straight from the “Post-Apocalyptic Super-Hottie Pin-up Calendar.” Now that she thought about it, Penny looked quite a bit like that female MMA fighter, Gina Carano.

  “She’s been with our group when they were in Ohio, before I joined up. She was with the Bainbridge Sheriff’s Department, and she doesn’t take crap from stinky teenagers.” Henry attempted to keep a straight face, but failed miserably.

  Mel stuck her tongue out at him, which caused Cho to laugh as Penny hopped on the Hummer’s driver side running board. That gave the ‘stinky teenager’ a better chance to get a good look at her. Penny Carson was admittedly attractive. Dark wavy hair, dark eyes with a healthy crop of lashes, full lips, and a firm jaw rode over some feminine attributes the girl hoped she’d possess soon herself. She was short though. Barely an inch or two taller than Mel’s own diminutive five foot four height, which made the woman much shorter than any of her companions.

  “Thought you guys got chomped or something!” Penny waved at the six men standing atop the barricade as Cho dropped their Humvee into gear and drove over the first of two bridges.

  These were actually two of three dams that stemmed the deep waters of the Neosho River, south-western side of the Grand Lake O’ the Cherokees. The bridges bracketed each side of a once-lush golf course, creating a natural island that could be used as a fallback point if the town above and to the east was overrun.

  The third dam also sat upon Route 28 on the southern tip of the Cherokee Riverside State Park, east side of Langley. It was equipped with barricade as well to provide security against zombie intrusion, but with some additions.

  An observation tower just inside the wall, provided by an upturned school bus was the first. This had been done by standing it up tail-first—after removing its engine, transmission and front axle—and then using a pair of John Deere 544j Earthmovers to hold the tower in place, until it had been welded directly to the dump truck’s passenger side. The barrier also had a series of foot-long, one-inch thick, sharpened rebar spikes—pointed down at a forty-five degree angle—at the top of its twelve-foot edge. A trio of cargo vans provided a walkway on the interior side—just like the other barrier on the western side—for those on watch could view the road stretching eastward. Mel didn’t know about the blockade to the east, but she could tell these people had a safe, secure little area—and weren’t hurting for either supplies or manpower—as Cho drove them into the parking lot of the Langley Post Office.

  A stunningly beautiful woman stood just outside the threshold. She wore a pair of combat boots, black fatigue pants and a grease-stained, white tank top that kept her impressive breasts firmly in place.

  She also held a huge, mega-sized rifle that had an under-barrel grenade launcher.

  Elle rolled her eyes. “Proof, that bigger isn’t always better.”

  “Believe me, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Leo assured her. He didn’t even glance at Rae as Kat maneuvered their ride towards one of the dock doors, despite her obvious ‘endowments.’ Young Salizar only had eyes for the well-turned blonde Sargent currently occupying space on his lap.

  Elle gave him a wink. “If I thought for a second I did, I’d separate you from your dangly bits. But you’re still sweet for saying so, regardless. We’ll talk. Later.”

  Leo smiled at her compliment and reached into the bed for their weapons.

  “She almost had kittens when you didn’t come back on time.” Penny said beneath the roar of their hummer. “And let me tell you, that girl has a hell of a vocabulary. I’m still considering looking up some of the words she used bitching about it.”

  Kat shrugged one slim shoulder. “So, what else is new? Anything else happen I should know about? Someone find the Holy Grail in their Wheaties? Excalibur suddenly sticking out of a rock in front of the Town Hall? Martians swooping down in flying saucers to invade Earth? No? Excellent.”

  “You wish! I’m headed for some shut-eye. Got a date tonight, and I’m hoping not to get any sleep after dinner. Good luck with Rae. I know she’s a pain in the ass, but don’t kill her. She’s more intelligent than both of us put together, and we might need her big brain before all this is over.” Penny hopped from the running board and headed for one of the single occupancy shelters at Roger’s Rock Cabins, the local ‘theme’ lodging site.

  Rae shouldered her hulking weapon as they rolled closer, and walked next to the driver’s door as the Humvee rolled up to the vehicle door. “It’s about damn time! You’ve been gone for four hours you know. Did you stop for pizza somewhere or what?”

  Kat smiled brightly and put on her most absentminded expression. “Sorry, Rae. We checked the roads south and got sidetracked looking for supplies. Then we found another survivor! Then we had to fight some infected! Then we had to make sure the ones we killed were all actually dead, and then we had to circle the town and head south again, so…”

  “Alright, alright! Enough!” The fixer sighed and rolled her blue eyes heavenward. “Seriously Kat. You know your whole, fake bubble-head act makes my hair hurt. Why you hide your intelligence is beyond me, by that’s your choice. Next time just make sure to check in, okay?”

  “Will do! Cross my heart.” Kat set the vehicle’s parking brake, and the ot
hers gathered their gear as she hopped out to talk with the irate woman.

  Saying that Rae was attractive was like saying that water was wet, the summer sun was warm, and flies were annoying. Truth be told, she could’ve been a twin to Audrina Patridge. Her mane of light brown hair flowed around a very pretty face, displaying deep blue eyes and full kissable lips. Her waist was slim and curved pleasantly into what could only be termed as “American hips” which sat atop a pair of eye-turning, shapely legs.

  Even if they were covered by stained and oil spotted fatigues.

  Rae had been a fixer, like the aging George Foster. That meant she’d been in charge of manning—and maintaining—a clandestine safe-house filled with equipment and weaponry, for use during “domestic maneuvers.” As it turned out, the federal government had squirreled away munitions, money, and supplies of food around most of the continental United States. The caches had been well-disguised, constructed within the interiors of already existing structures, and heavily fortified. Now, after months of daily encounters with the creatures, Kat remembered the two-foot thick, steel-reinforced walls of Rae and Foster’s respective hideaways fondly. The buildings might have been built to withstand the force of a thermonuclear blast, but they were more than sufficient to hold back the dead currently roaming the streets. Their little group could have stayed within either location, and remained safe from the clutching hands of the infected in relative comfort.

  Kat and the others had found it necessary to leave their hidden haven, however. The problem was they wouldn’t have had enough food to survive long term—in either location—even if they’d been able to combine supplies from both cashes. There was no help coming, as they’d discovered prior to the internet servers all crapping out, for a minimum of three years. The powers that be—along with what was left of the military—had pulled back beyond the Rocky Mountains, and were currently licking their wounds as they attempted to create some semblance of normalcy. The troops were holding the borders of the territory, after destroying bridges and access points, but had nowhere near enough men to attempt retaking any of the once proud nation. It would be years before the resources could be stockpiled to even begin making advances into ground currently occupied by the dead. That meant anyone east of the mountains was on their own. So Jake, his best friend Allen, and Foster had come up with a plan. It was well thought out and logical, but—as Jake’s ex-girlfriend Nichole had once put it—utterly, fucking, bat-shit crazy.

  So of course, they’d all agreed it was their only chance.

  “Rae, this is Mel.” Kat motioned the filthy girl over after Sampson helped the leery teen out of their Hummer. “She found us just after we salvaged supplies—”

  “Why can’t you just say looted?” Rae gave her an amused look.

  “If there’s no one left alive it’s not looting. It’s salvage,” Kat replied. “We’ve had this discussion. As I was saying before I was interrupted? Mel found us just after we obtained some supplies at the local drug store. She’s been on her own since the day of the outbreak and she’s the last living person in Vanita, as far as we know.”

  The beautiful fixer turned and gave her a warm smile. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mel. You survived on your own all this time? That makes you sneaky and smart. Two qualities that seem to be a little thin on the ground within our group at the moment.”

  “Hey!” Kat heard the gigantic Sampson chuckle.

  “You do realize George is livid, don’t you?” Rae advised her.

  More chuckling came from the direction of the Humvee. When Cho turned to look, she saw Elle was fighting a grin as Leo faked a fit of coughing to cover one of his own. The ninja-girl gave them a level glare and raised one eyebrow. “Don’t the three of you have weapons to clean?”

  “Hi, Rae.” Mel came forward hesitantly as the still laughing trio moved off into the garage. “Nice to meet you. Um... Can I ask you something?”

  George’s counterpart smiled. “Well, sure you can.”

  Mel pointed through the open dock door. “What the heck is that?”

  Rae followed the girl’s gesture and laughed. “Ah, yes. That. That, my girl, is a MATTOC. That stands for ‘Mobile Armored Troop Transport and Command’ vehicle. It’s our primary mode transportation and sometimes home. Her name is the Screamin’ Mimi.”

  The vehicle that sat at the opposite end of the garage was massive. Almost as long as those triple-trailer, eighteen wheeler trucks had been before the outbreak, though not as tall. It had enormous all-terrain tires that provided a full three feet of clearance between the bottom of its heavily armored hull and the ground, and its axles were as thick as the filthy girl’s waist. The transport was segmented like a trio of subway cars—which would presumably allow it to make turns easily without having to jockey around—and there were no visible windows, save in the lead drive section. Its nose was an eight foot tall, vertical wedge, like a snowplow, which flowed seamlessly into its main body. Mel had no problem envisioning that blade pushing aside the dead, good sized automobile wrecks, and maybe even ramming its way through a cinder-block wall.

  As she followed Kat and Rae to the Screamin’ Mimi’s rear, clam shell-style hatch, the pretty brunette explained some its added benefits. “This vehicle was originally designed for use during possible civil unrest, when everyone was flipping out over Y2K in the late 90’s. The technical term for it is a MATTOC That stands for: Mobile Armored Troop Transport and Command. It can hold nearly a month’s worth of food which we resupply periodically from caches along our route west, enough ammunition to take over a small country, and has room inside to sleep twelve in relative comfort.”

  “Why is it pink?” Mel asked incredulously.

  “Well, from what I’m told, the SEP skin outer coating—that means Synthetically Electrified Polymer, by the way—could only be produced in one color. That would be ugly-as-sin, lawn-flamingo, Pepto-Bismol pink.” Rae laughed as they stepped close to the rear hatch. “Run your hand across the hull. Don’t lean against it, just brush it.”

  The teen did as Rae instructed. “It feels slick.”

  Kat nodded. “That stuff was produced by NASA, believe it or not. Once it’s applied? It dries into an almost frictionless surface. If you tried to stand on top of the Mimi, you’d just slide right off. Nothing clings to it, which is a good thing really, considering we all know how sticky zombie goop is. I’ve had to toss almost a dozen of my best Hello Kitty shirts because I couldn’t get the icky stuff out of the fabric.”

  Mel laughed and Rae went on. “Our blue-haired friend here has the right of it. The SEP skin is virtually impervious to damage. Bullets, rocket propelled grenades, pretty much anything short of a nuclear bomb—maybe even an armor piercing shell from a Mark-8 battleship gun—just bounces right off. The infected can’t get a grip on it either, let alone penetrate its surface.”

  “So the zombies attack and you can just stay inside? That’s amazing!” Mel followed the two women up into the transport and ogled at the pair of motorcycles strapped to its hull on the right, just inside the hatch. Large storage lockers lined the starboard side as well, competing for space with a small medical station. The port side (or left) hull was lined two-high with seven-foot long, horizontal hatches that resembled oversized coffins. “What are these?”

  “Sleeping bunks.” Rae confirmed as the three continued on into the second module. They passed through a pair of double-thick, quick-locking, airtight, steel hatches, each more than capable of sealing off the cabins beyond, then moved yet deeper into the armored machine. “Strange, I know. The engineers modeled them after budget-style rooms in Japanese hotels, which are really just like oversized coffins. They’re better than rolling out a mummy bag on the floor, but just barely.”

  “That’s debatable,” Kat murmured. Personally, she hated being confined in the bunks, and actually did sack out on the floor near the Mimi’s rear hatch on one of Foster’s extra sleeping
bags.

  Mel continued to follow them into the tight confines of the drive unit at the front of the vehicle. She wasn’t surprised to find it looked much like the rest of the rolling fortress. Conduit lined the walls along the steel bulkhead and the awesome transport’s frame remained largely uncovered. There was a communications station on the left as they entered, possessing everything from a basic short-wave radio to a portable computer and scanner/printer set up. The girl didn’t know how much good a large database would do them, seeing that the World-Wide Web was surely a thing of the past. There were six comfortable looking swivel chairs in the module; two at the communications station, two on a small slightly raised platform, and a navigator’s seat in front beside the driver’s position. The latter pair of seats were currently occupied by a very pretty, green-haired girl around the age of twenty, and a burly, older man who looked to be in his late sixties or seventies. Both were cursing up a storm as they argued how to best optimize the transport’s interior, hopefully providing their group with more space.

  “Bee, I don’t want that stupid-ass thing up here in the cab with us!” the man fumed. “We hit any major problems—like say havin’ to take the Mimi off-road for a bit—then it’ll just bounce around the compartment, an’ I don’ wanna get smacked in the damn face with it while I’m drivin’!”

  “You’re getting really fucking whiny as you get older, Uncle George.” The young woman brushed a few strands out of her face that had escaped one of her pair of long, green pig-tails. “Fine. I’ll lag-bolt my I-Home to the dash. That way you won’t have to worry about your precious nose being broken again, okay? Jeez.”

  “And just what’s wrong with the music on my cassette tapes?” George demanded.

  “Um. It’s older than dirt? Like you? And all of it sucks?”

  The older man shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re related.”

  Kat suppressed a giggle as Rae coughed politely, which caused the bickering pair to swivel their chairs around. “Guys? I thought you might want to know Kat and the others are back and they found a survivor. This is Mel. Can the two of you save the wrangling for Dr. Phil and take a minute to say hello?”

 

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