The Hungry 4: Rise of the Triad (The Sheriff Penny Miller Series)

by Steven Booth

  A wave of grief nearly knocked Miller over. She took a breath, and reminded herself to channel her feelings toward them, rather than becoming the unwilling recipient of their sorrow and pain. She sensed their response, slow but steady. Their focus shifted to the base at Crystal Palace and the soldiers and scientists within. Miller felt a fleeting twinge of guilt, but felt she had no other choice. Scratch’s life was at stake.

  Miller willed the zombies to charge the hangar doors. She directed their anger toward the creators of the virus, the people who had created their living hell on earth. She gave them marching orders. They were to rush the doors and head down into the base, where she promised them both revenge and an easy dinner.

  The zombies responded. As a group, as one, they turned toward the base—and both Miller and Alex. The stragglers waited for the horde. Even though there were only a hundred or so coming their way, the gigantic wave of damaged bodies was formidable. Unfortunately, Miller didn’t think she had it in her to make the creatures bypass her, or somehow spare Alex.

  “Uh, are they supposed to be doing that?” asked Alex. He paled and took a step backwards. “Holy hell, they’re all charging us.”

  “Follow me,” said Miller. She and Alex took off at their best possible speed, but they ran clumsily now, as their energy had diminished. They trotted down a dark alley and around the back of the building where Miller and Scratch had been quartered. The zombies did not follow. The entire horde was moving as a unit toward Crystal Palace. Alex and Miller approached the main entrance from the side. Miller could see that the big hangar doors were retracting, the immense space now appearing, a low metallic sound booming and echoing. Combat helicopters were spinning their blades, rising up from the underground base.

  The horde wouldn’t make it in time. The Army was on the move.

  “They’re coming up to wipe out the horde, and likely us too,” Miller called. “Probably mean do us all in with napalm.”

  Alex stopped running. He bent over at the waist, panting, hands on his knees. “Was that part of your plan, Sheriff?”

  “Well, it is now.” Miller also paused to catch her breath. Her head was packed with alien, highly disturbing images and thoughts. She saw bloody teeth and open wounds, smelled the weirdly delicious stench of entrails and gore, felt her stomach rumbling and aching for red sustenance. Miller pushed the zombie group mind away. She focused on her predicament. They were in trouble. She had to figure a way to stop the Army. She had to think fast. She looked around, and found what she was seeking a few yards to Alex’s right, half buried in dead sage.

  “I need that big boulder. Help me get it out of the ground.”

  Alex had learned not to question Miller. He pried the boulder—a foot across and two feet high—out of the dry hardpan. Miller was impressed. The boulder had to weigh 250 pounds. It made an odd sucking sound as it left the rocky ground. Alex walked it over to Miller and hefted it even higher. Miller took it from him easily. She braced herself and waited. The choppers were rising. The air became turbulent and shimmered with heat. The sunset had darkened the sky and the air began to chill. Miller stood for over a minute without moving. Alex watched with something akin to admiration. The world trembled at the coming military power.

  The first of the helicopters ascended out of the hangar.

  As the chopper appeared, Alex looked back and forth between the rising craft and Miller. “What are you waiting for, the napalm? Throw it.”

  “Just hold your horses, Marine,” Miller said. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Miller blocked the shrill voice of the zombie horde from her dizzy mind. She knew that some had split off to approach the two of them, not a good situation. Miller steeled herself for the effort. She had no intention of going out that way. She concentrated on the chopper. It rose up out of the ground. She counted in her head, waiting critical seconds for the right moment.

  Seconds later the huge Apache lifted gracefully above their heads, and tilted forward to pick up speed. The pilot spotted them down below. He somehow sensed the danger, because the helicopter twitched and began a graceful turn. He wanted to bring its weapons to bear. The chain gun turned too, seeking them. They had only seconds left.

  “Throw it, damn you!” shrieked Alex.

  Miller took aim. With a twinge of regret for the pilots inside, she heaved the massive boulder at the rising craft. The huge rock sailed gracefully across the void between them. The pilot looked panicked. The gunner screamed as the rock smashed right through the rotor arc of the big helicopter. The rotor exploded, sending shreds of carbon-fiber blade in every direction. The chopper fell heavily to the ground, crushing the cockpit like a beer can. The wreckage scattered.

  “What the hell was all that about?” Alex was furious. “You almost got us both killed.”

  Miller turned angrily, “There are people down there, Alex. Humans. If I had crashed the helicopter a moment before that, it would have fallen inside the base and killed a hundred innocent soldiers.”

  Alex snorted. “Innocent?”

  “As far as we know they are,” Miller said. She shook her head wearily. “Alex, I just wiped out two pilots and unleashed a zombie horde on an unsuspecting military base. Pardon me if that’s as much as my beat-up conscience can handle at the moment.”

  Alex squinted at the flaming chopper. “Okay, but what are the zombies streaming down there going to do? Play board games with those folks?”

  “Not likely, but the Army will have contingency plans for something like this. They’ll have a fighting chance.”

  “You want my opinion? Let those ugly motherfuckers go to go to town on the Army and Rubenstein too, if we’re lucky. Sheriff, I thought that was the whole damn point. This is an awfully interesting distinction you’re making.”

  “It’s not exactly that simple to me, but I don’t have time to explain. Come on.”

  They moved again. The sun finally crossed the horizon and black night fell. An inky darkness overtook them. Perfect, thought Miller. More cover for us.

  Miller and Alex ran across the desert scrub. They sprinted to the outbuilding, found the entrance and looked back. The enraged zombies were now pouring down through the hanger entrance. They dropped like a long stream of red ants on the cement below. A few milled around as if unable to home in on the group signal. None of the remaining creatures had followed them.

  I’m coming, Scratch, Miller thought. She motioned for Alex to follow her and trotted over to a camouflaged entrance she knew led to a staircase. Once they arrived at the right spot, Miller practically tore the disguised door off at the hinges. Alex went to the left, Miller to the right.

  They took the corners of the metal staircase in long strides, both hanging on to the thick railing for support. The racket in the stairwell was borderline deafening. Once they were five flights down, Miller stopped. She kicked open another door. Alex went left and Miller went right. They emerged into a chaotic gore fest in the hangar, and stood watching from the northwest corner. Miller was stunned by the carnage she’d unleashed.

  The Army had completely flubbed their response. It was a disaster inside.

  The zombies were everywhere. A large group of scientific personnel had been caught in the open. For some reason they had gathered in confusion on the hangar level. Many of them were unarmed. Miller was stunned by the lack of organization. Who was in charge? None of this made any sense. Surely they’d had protocols set up in case of another zombie outbreak? Those instructions wouldn’t have included running around and screaming while being eaten alive. Perhaps she had given the Army too much credit. The soldiers were reacting inefficiently and far too slowly. They’d completely failed to handle the crisis. In point of fact, they were now getting slaughtered.

  As if reading her mind, Alex said, “Sheriff, you couldn’t have known they’d fuck up like this.”

  Miller didn’t answer. What have I done?

  “Sheriff?” said Alex, touching her shoulder to snap her out of it. “You okay
? You’ve been standing there a long time.”

  Miller shook his hand away. “Leave me alone, I’m fine.”

  “Good, because we need you.”

  Miller knew that all too well. She pointed. “See those doors across the tarmac, underneath that big window? We need to get in there first, before the zombies.”

  “Okay, but how the hell are we going to find anything or anyone in this mess? This place is a maze even when it isn’t under attack by a horde of the undead. And right now it’s getting worse by the second.”

  “One thing at a time.” Miller gripped her rifle. “Follow my lead and let’s haul ass. On three. One… Two…”

  Miller paused. She raised her hand for Alex to wait. She squinted. She was a good seventy-five yards away from the window to Colonel Sanchez’s old office, currently Rubenstein’s lair, but she could still see well enough to recognize the occupant.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “What?”

  Miller shook her head free of cobwebs and alien voices. She turned to Alex, who was staring at her. “Okay. Three!”

  They took off, moving as fast as they could through the steadily increasing carnage. The pathway was relatively clear, but they couldn’t just take off at a dead run. They had to bob and weave. The zombies weren’t the problem. The panicked crossfire was the problem. Metal insects swarmed everywhere, as the ricochets clanged off of vehicles and doors and cement flooring. Miller and Alex made good time anyway. They bent in half, dropped down and crawled, jumped up and jogged towards their goal. Miller debated simply jumping over the fray, like she had at the zombie enclosure fence, but that might have drawn too much attention from the freaked out snipers. No sense in risking a bullet wound at the last second. By staying low and pounding out the yards, Miller managed to cross half the distance to Rubenstein’s office in less than one minute, with Alex two yards behind.

  The base was imploding. It was a madhouse. The zombies were winning easily, or more accurately the pathetic defenders were losing. They had just panicked. They were shooting each other by mistake.

  “Jesus,” said Alex. “They’re completely out of formation and shooting at shadows. This isn’t professional at all, it’s total pandemonium.”

  Miller shrugged off another sting of guilt. She had done her best to protect the living and coordinate the battle so that the humans below would have a fighting chance. If they chose to be fools or cowards, she couldn’t protect them.

  WHAM. A bullet tore at the tarmac not far from Miller’s feet then skipped away like a pebble on water—maybe a stray round, but maybe not. Miller spun to face the source. She aimed her rifle at a terrified young sniper who was crouched on the steps one floor above. “Save your rounds for zombies, cowboy, or I’ll shoot your dick off.”

  The soldier stopped firing recklessly. He just ran away. Miller tugged Alex by the arm. She took off again, boots pounding the cement, and ran the rest of the way across the hangar floor without taking her eyes off Rubenstein’s office window. Miller was still vaguely aware of the chaos around her. A group of medical personal carrying plastic containers full of drugs and first aid supplies was ambushed by a triad the second they emerged from a freight elevator. The first zombie attacked the doctor, while the other two bracketed the nurses and tore them to pieces. The doctor screamed the loudest and longest as he was eaten quite thoroughly. The nurses appeared to be just bitten and left to turn.

  Miller couldn’t believe the stupidity of the defending soldiers. She’d hate to see these jokers in real combat. She’d intended the zombies to be a diversion, not to pose any real threat. But the way the soldiers were reacting—with a complete lack of discipline or organization—was embarrassing. Yes, she had sent some of the zombies down below after the inhabitants of the base, but a bunch of third-graders with hockey sticks and bricks could have done a better job of defending themselves than these clowns.

  I’m coming, Scratch…

  Miller and Alex kicked some empty firearms and metal barrels aside. They made their way into the big double doors on the east wing of the hangar. Alex pounded and shouted while Miller stood guard. She nailed two zombies with headshots without thinking. A pair of pale, sweaty soldiers opened the doors for them. The action was quite a ways off so they appeared more confused than terrified. None of the zombies had made it that far, not yet, so the men inside were using the location as a stronghold.

  “Stairwell?” Miller braced a scared looking private, a woman in her early twenties. The girl hooked a thumb behind her. Miller nodded and headed in that direction without waiting for Alex. He caught up within a few strides.

  The female private called out after them, her voice shaking with terror. “What are our orders, do you know?”

  “Don’t get bit. Watch out for zombies working in threes. If you see one coming at you, the other two are likely setting a trap. And always make goddamned sure they’re dead. You aim for the brain.”

  “Where should we make our stand?” The woman had gone white with fear.

  Miller had to answer. “I’d say use this as a rally point, and then hold out as long as you can.”

  She and Alex turned to move on down the hall. A male private shouted something unintelligible. Miller ignored him and kept going. She tried to pretend that these lives were not her responsibility. The weak rationalization didn’t work very well. Despite the evil done at this base, Miller knew she was going to carry some bad karma over what had happened this night and what was still to come.

  Miller kicked the doors open. She and Alex pushed their way into the new stairwell. Alex’s voice echoed up and down a floor. “Okay, what’s next?”

  “We take Rubenstein’s office,” Miller said tersely. She started up the steps. “The base has changed since I was here. We are going to need us a tour guide.”

  “You’re joking, right? Dr. Frankenstein isn’t going to be able to do anything but hide behind us and shout ‘it’s alive,’” Alex said.

  Miller shrugged and kept climbing. She occasionally turned back to cover their rear. She didn’t have time to explain everything. Alex led them to the correct floor and flattened against the wall. Miller caught up and took the handle in her hand. Alex nodded. Miller yanked the door open. It slammed into the cement wall with a boom. She stepped back with her weapon raised. Alex slipped through the opening and out into the corridor. He looked both ways, relaxed a bit and motioned her inside. The two of them walked briskly down the hall and soon spotted Rubenstein’s headquarters. The firing down below seemed to be intensifying.

  Miller’s instincts kicked in. She and Alex exchanged uneasy looks. They’d expected to find guards stationed outside the office. No one was down there. That omission made Miller even more uncomfortable. Perhaps they’d all gone to previously arranged stations, or simply panicked fled from what they saw on security cameras, or when they’d heard the sound of fighting below.

  Or maybe it was a fortress inside and they were about to get shot to pieces.

  Miller needed to find Scratch, but any number of surprises could be waiting within that office. She hadn’t been able to see into the whole room while staring at it from across the hangar. It was difficult to decide what to do next.

  They tiptoed to the doorway. “You ever cleared a room before?”

  “I was a radio technician,” said Alex. “Apart from getting my ass shot at back at base in Afghanistan, I don’t know much about kicking in doors. You’re the boss, Sheriff.”

  Miller swallowed. “Keep your rifle pointed in front of you, stay frosty and don’t assume anything is safe, at least not until I say so. We each take a side of the room, stay roughly even as we move, and be sure to check out every nook, cranny, and closet before we relax so much as a pubic hair.”

  “Got it.”

  “Good. Follow my lead.”

  Miller almost kicked the door in. She had no idea what was in there, so she resisted the temptation. The sudden movement would likely draw fire, even from friendlies. For the hell
of it, she knocked once. Alex stayed back a ways to cover her. She turned the knob. It was locked. Footsteps came closer and stopped.

  No one fired at them.

  Someone unlocked the office from the inside. Miller opened the door. She went left and Alex went to the right as they entered the room. Alex closed and locked the door behind them.

  There were only two people inside. Miller focused on the one who was armed. “Drop that weapon now,” she ordered.

  “And then what?”

  “Then we can talk things out.”

  The man was wearing a National Guard uniform. He carried an M-4 slung around his neck, a holstered 9mm and wore a backpack stuffed with extra ammo. He took his hands off the rifle and held both of them out like someone balancing on a tightrope stretched across the Grand Canyon.

  The man said, “Ma’am, think we’re on the same side since we’re both still breathing. I just want to stay this way.”

  Miller pointed her rifle at an imaginary dot between his wide eyes. “Then leave the M-4, keep your side arm and extra ammo and go help the others. Go down the staircase to where the other armed troops are holding out. Tell them to stay together.”

  The worried Guardsman looked at Miller and Alex, then at the other man in the room. He quickly pulled the strap of the M-4 over his head. “You got it, lady, but what about him?”

  “He stays,” Miller said.

  The guardsman shrugged. “Permission to retreat, sir?”

  The other man stared back darkly. His forehead was damp with perspiration. He did not respond to the request.

  The Guardsman kept his own hands away from his body and the side arm. He stayed close to the wall. He peeked outside and then ran. He didn’t even look back. Alex quietly closed and locked the office behind him. He stood guard while Miller walked further into the room.