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

by Steven Booth

  Boom!

  The channeled shockwave was like a sucker punch. It hit them full force, knocking all three of them to the ground. That hadn’t been an ordinary grenade.

  Miller’s ears were ringing. Smoke was everywhere. Her vision was blurry. She rolled over and checked herself for wounds. She couldn’t find any. Then she checked Sheppard. He was out cold. He was bleeding from where his head had struck the floor, but otherwise seemed okay. Alex was already standing up, cradling his weapon. The new dose of fear had him jacked up even higher.

  Miller shook Sheppard gently. He grunted and coughed. His eyes opened.

  “Let’s not do that again.” Sheppard put his hands against his ears. “I feel like I sat through four rock concerts without ear plugs.”

  Miller stood up. She stretched and shook herself clear, but suddenly a new wave of fear and despair washed over her. She tried to shake off the queasy feeling, but it wouldn’t go. “Get up. We’ve got incoming. Fresh kills.”

  Alex tensed. Sheppard got up slowly, leaning on Miller for support. The three of them stood close together, listening.

  Sure enough, from down towards Rubenstein’s labs, a host of moans and groans wafted towards them through the smoke and haze. Huuhh-uhhhnn! Hunhh…

  Alex and Sheppard raised their weapons, but Miller gestured for them to wait. The two men obeyed without question.

  “We don’t want to kill them just yet.”

  Alex said, “Okay, but why the hell not?”

  “Just cool your jets. I have an idea.”

  Her mind was under attack again. Every instinct she had told her to run from the invaders. Miller fought those primal instincts. Instead of trying to block out the gut-wrenching feelings of terror and confusion, she leaned against the wall and deliberately opened herself up to two of the approaching zombies. Miller stiffened and mumbled. The men watched her with concern on their faces. Her features contorted. She twitched and moaned. Miller seemed completely possessed.

  Sheppard came up close. He whispered in Miller’s ear, his voice heavy with concern. “What are you doing, Penny? Please be careful.”

  “Quiet, I’m trying to complete a triad,” Miller said, without further explanation.

  Sheppard backed away. Miller kept her eyes closed. She tried to surf along the top of the sickening presences writhing in her mind. She fumbled for connections and worked to make sense of a dark new world. She had no idea of how to properly do what she was trying to do, but the basic concept seemed reasonable. So she reached out as she had before, and allowed herself to be connected with the two new zombies she was sensing. They accepted her at once, perhaps because she was clearly the most intelligent. Their fear and confusion hit her like a sledgehammer, the deep horror of their plight felt overwhelming. The persons were no longer there, just the base appetites. Their animal minds were still intact and their bodies relatively undamaged, despite their both having sustained fatal injuries. They were confused about this new state of existence. Brand new, but they would just have to do.

  Miller wished she had let Rat complete the experiment out in the desert. She would have understood more about how the triad connection should properly work. Still, she had a decent feel for it now. She had ordered an assault on the hanger, with the entire horde, so she certainly ought to be able to command a simple triad.

  “Penny?”

  “Zip it. Don’t fuck with me right now.”

  Alex said, “Whatever you’re doing, you’d better hurry up.”

  Miller concentrated. She remained against the wall, but in her mind it was just as if she’d stepped out into the corridor and was looking back at a distant image of their current position. Just a moment later, she saw another dark, blurred shape shift positions at the far end of the corridor. Miller could feel the presence of a second zombie, perhaps a few feet away, but no sense of sight was coming from that one. The experience was revolting. Her skin was crawling with disgust, but she kept focusing on her goal. She had to find and save Scratch, whatever the cost, even if it was to her very sanity.

  There was no way to know whether what she wanted to do was possible but she had to try. She seized the zombie minds and took charge of the triad. The creatures obeyed. She ordered the creatures to turn around and go back. They were to survey the area for any living humans.

  Humans! The very thought of them was suddenly delicious. Her mouth filled with saliva and her stomach complained of emptiness. Miller had to fight the connection. Her proximity to Sheppard and Alex made her want to bite them.

  Miller continued to see through her new hosts. There were more humans around, some deeper in the offices, hiding beyond the zombies. She could smell the people now and hear them whispering. Miller let go. She didn’t need to command the zombies to approach the live bait. Their hunger took over. They shambled forward, mumbling and groaning. She held on to them, needing the information they could provide. She needed to be certain where Scratch was being held. Part of Miller knew that Sheppard and Alex were watching her with real concern, unclear about what was going on inside. Miller couldn’t risk losing control of her zombie scouts to explain things. If she did, they’d slaughter the humans. Karl and Alex would just have to trust her and wait.

  Miller continued to absorb the sights and sounds flickering through her zombie charges. She could see blurry shapes scrambling to move out of the way of their assault. One of the humans was whimpering like a frightened child, but with the voice of an adult.

  “Rubenstein.” Miller spoke involuntarily. The sound of her own voice caused her to lose control of one of the zombie scouts. It immediately attacked a human being but failed to bite. It took all of Miller’s willpower to force the creature to back off and keep searching so that she could find out what lay ahead. She used it to search for her man.

  “Where are they?” asked Sheppard, impatiently. He was still near her ear. “Can you sense where Rubenstein is hiding?”

  “Wait.”

  Sheppard couldn’t help asking. “Do you see Scratch?”

  Miller ordered the zombies to leave the humans alive. She told them move on down the corridor as bait. She was their triad leader, and they would have to have to sacrifice themselves for the good of the group. They both understood that basic concept at once, though it did take all Miller’s will to coerce them into forgoing that one last meal. They were quite frustrated at being deprived. Miller focused her energy, calmed them down. She let her connection with the zombies sink into the back of her mind, and finally turned back to Sheppard.

  “Come with me.”

  Sheppard hesitated, eyes wide. “Down there?”

  Alex said, “What just happened?”

  “Look, either you’re both coming or not. I don’t have time for the two of you to lose your beer nuts now.”

  Alex and Sheppard followed reluctantly, weapons at the ready. Miller led them down the smoky, dark corridor at a dead run, just slow enough for Sheppard to keep up. Despite her desire to fully disconnect from the zombies, she could feel one fall on a human further away from Rubenstein’s group and thus knew when it started to feed. The twisted feeling was ecstatic, almost orgasmic. Miller almost lost her footing as she ran. She could hear the poor man’s screams coming down the corridor. The human part of her took over again. She headed that direction.

  “What’s going on now, Penny?” asked Sheppard. His voice was shaking. “Be careful, you’re in uncharted waters here.”

  “Never mind all that. Rubenstein is right around the corner. Both of you listen up. No matter what happens, just hold your fire until I tell you it’s okay to shoot.” Miller hoped that Rubenstein wasn’t the man the zombie was already munching on. She didn’t think so, but couldn’t tell for sure. Besides, she wanted to tear off a piece of him herself, now more than ever.

  There were three zombies in the room now, the two she had felt before and the new one who was just bitten. They seemed to have formed their own triad since she’d surrendered command. They were surrounding a
profusely sweating, terrified man. A man who cowered in a corner covered with soot and debris. He was splattered blood that had come from other people.

  “Penny, Karl, save me!” Rubenstein cried, without a trace of irony.

  Miller shot the most damaged zombie in the head. It dropped like a loose bag of sticks. She felt it die. Instead of shooting the other two, she reached out to them with her mind and told them to stand back. That it was her turn to feed. Confused and angry, the duo stopped where they were, though the smell of Rubenstein’s nervous sweat and the proximity of Miller, Sheppard, and Alex whipped them into a frenzy. Unhhhh… hunhh….

  “Where’s Scratch?” Miller said, squatting down next to Rubenstein. “Tell me or you’re dinner.”

  “I don’t…”

  “I can only hold them back for a moment or two, Artie. Where’s Scratch?”

  “I swear…”

  Miller cut him off. She turned to one of the zombies, a tall soldier with blonde hair who was missing his lower face. She mentally released him. “Okay, big guy. This one’s all yours.”

  The huge zombie lurched forward, hands raised, remaining upper teeth bared, clearly eager to consume Rubenstein’s flesh. Alex and Sheppard stepped back.

  “All right, I’ll take you to him,” Rubenstein cried. “Don’t let them eat me!”

  Miller ordered the big zombie to stop again. He raged inside but obeyed the leader of the triad. She turned to face them, ordered them to stand still, pointed her rifle, and shot each one neatly in the forehead. A wave of relief washed over her. They were free and now so was Miller. The connection was finally broken.

  Miller and Sheppard each took one of Rubenstein’s arms. They hauled him to his feet.

  “Here’s the way this is going to work, Artie,” Miller said. She slapped him hard enough to bruise his cheek. “You take us to Scratch and you live. Otherwise, I’ll kill you myself and I promise, you will ask me to hurry up.”

  “I’ll take you there,” Rubenstein whispered. “Come this way.”

  Miller was instantly frustrated. Rubenstein was limping, already slowing them down. As if reading her mind, Alex put Rubenstein’s arm over his shoulder and helped him along. His face showed his disgust at having to assist.

  “Where are they, Artie?”

  “Right through this door,” said Rubenstein. Alex took him inside, and before Alex could turn around or stop him, Rubenstein slammed the entrance closed with his foot, locking Miller and Sheppard out of the room.

  There were sounds of a struggle on the other side of the door. Suddenly Miller could feel and smell fresh zombies nearby. It was some kind of a trap. Still, Scratch was in there somewhere, hopefully still alive.

  “You’re dead, Artie.” Miller kicked the door with all her strength. It flew open, left the hinges and sailed into the room to crash down on the flooring. She and Sheppard trotted through. They found themselves in a short corridor with doors on either side. Alex was there, but kneeling and obviously in great pain. He slammed his hand against the floor. A small syringe was sticking out of his leg. “He stuck me. I fucked up, Sheriff. Sorry.”

  “Where’s Rubenstein?” Miller demanded.

  “Over there.” Alex indicated the door on the right. “Guys, whatever this shit is doing to me, I feel really sick.”

  “Sheppard, help him,” Miller ordered. She followed Rubenstein through the door and further into the unknown.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CRYSTAL PALACE, LEVEL 6

  Rubenstein hadn’t tried to escape. He was in the middle of an observation room, standing by a glass table strewn with papers and file boxes. Two isolation tanks with thick acrylic windows were visible behind him. Rubenstein had his hands up in the air, as if to surrender, but he was smiling triumphantly. He jerked his thumb back over one shoulder.

  Scratch squatted against the wall of the closest isolation tank, looking scruffy and belligerent as ever. He seemed tired. Miller almost cried at the sight of him. She was deeply relieved that he was still in one piece. Of course, Scratch couldn’t see out, so he didn’t realize she’d arrived to rescue him. Miller had no way to send a signal. Fortunately, Scratch also didn’t know what was living right next to him, on the other side of an adjoining metal door.

  John the zombie was stumbling around in the second tank, chewing the air mindlessly, growing desperate for something to eat.

  Miller lowered her weapon though she left it aimed it at Rubenstein’s midsection. Rubenstein was smiling because he had the upper hand. “Don’t shoot, Sheriff. I promise you want to hear what I have to say.”

  “All I want to hear is that Scratch is coming out of that fish tank any minute now, and that Alex is going to be all right after that injection.”

  “All in due time.” Rubenstein lowered his hands just slightly. He used his left hand to point to a small box on the table. “Open that.”

  “What is it?”

  “Inside of that box there is a syringe full of decelerant. Please inject yourself with it.”

  “Maybe you don’t quite get this situation, Artie, but I’m on the free side of the glass this time. And I’ve got a very big gun pointed at you.”

  “Decelerate, or Scratch dies,” Rubenstein said. His fear was palpable, but Miller also sensed his determination. He knew this gambit was his last chance to remain a free man, perhaps to keep on breathing. A desperate man is a dangerous man.

  “How about I just come over there and beat you to death real slow, and then I just break in there and rescue Scratch myself and take him home. That sounds nicer.”

  Rubenstein’s lip was trembling. “What an interesting statement, Penny. Where, exactly, is ‘home’ for you these days?”

  “Let me get this straight. With all the bullshit going on around us, you’re still trying to get psychological on my ass? You let me worry about the subconscious meaning of the word ‘home.’ You should be far more concerned about me tearing your arm out of its socket and using it to beat your face to a bloody pulp.”

  Rubenstein shifted to his right. His hand trailed along the glass table, leaving a long, bloody smudge. Miller followed his eyes. Behind him was a small control panel with a red, flashing button, and above that was a two-digit LED number that was already counting down. He’d planned for something like this to happen one day. She’d been set up.

  “Sixty-nine seconds to go,” Rubenstein whispered.

  “Turn it off, Rubenstein.”

  “No.”

  “If Scratch is hurt, you’ll beg me to let the zombies finish you.”

  “Sixty-three seconds.”

  “Sheppard,” Miller called. “Get in here!”

  “Sheppard probably can’t hear you, and probably won’t help you if he does. This program is too valuable. You’re too valuable. We can’t let you leave. Fifty-six seconds.”

  “Why do you want me to decelerate myself again, after all the trouble you’ve gone through to get me into that state?”

  “Fifty seconds.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen in fifty seconds. You’re bluffing.”

  “Would I bluff with my life at stake? Are you willing to take that chance?”

  The sounds of a struggle erupted from the other room. Something was going on with Alex and Sheppard. Miller heard what seemed like a male voice grunting and moaning. The vocalizations were muffled, distorted by the walls and soundproofing, but one thing she knew for sure. This was a truly terrible mix of human and zombie intonations. Had Sheppard betrayed her again? Was Alex turning, undead, fighting against wanting to kill Sheppard? She searched the dark recesses of her group mind. There were zombies nearby but Miller couldn’t be sure about what was going on. Time was running out for Scratch and she could not concentrate. Then something large was tipped over. Someone screamed in sheer agony. Who? Why?

  “Sheppard!” Miller called.

  No response from the other room. It was over. Only silence now. The clock ticked on. Scratch sat still behind the glass, his face bored
, completely unaware of the danger. Miller had to decide what to do to save Scratch. She’d at least save Scratch.

  “Screw it,” Miller said. She slung the rifle over her shoulder and approached the box. “How do I know that isn’t cyanide?”

  “Thirty-seven seconds.”

  “And you promise Scratch will be safe if I cooperate?”

  “Yes, you have my word.”

  “Well, that statement is about as useless as tits on a bull because your word isn’t worth shit, you lying ass hat.”

  “Twenty-eight seconds.”

  Miller opened the box. There were two syringes with it, both clear plastic with orange plungers. “They’re both the same?”

  “Yes. Nineteen seconds.”

  Without thinking, Miller palmed one and raised the other. “I put it in my leg, like the last time?”

  “Yes. Fifteen seconds.” Rubenstein was perspiring heavily. “Hurry, Sheriff.”

  “Damn it.” Miller looked through the thick window to peer at Scratch. He was up now, moving away from John the zombie’s isolation tank, acting as if he’d heard something strange. Perhaps the door was starting to open? He looked awful spooked.

  “Eleven seconds.” Rubenstein wasn’t bluffing. Scratch would die.

  Miller knew the injection could poison or sedate her, but that did not seem likely. She was super charged and a fatal dose would have been difficult to configure, especially with the entire experiment so new. It was almost certain to be just the decelerant. She’d lose her big advantage, but Miller couldn’t see another way out of this one. She still had the rifle, so she’d have one last option. She lowered the clear liquid to hover over her leg muscle. She injected it and pressed the plunger down. Her body felt warm and her skin tingled.

  “Now hand me the weapon,” Rubenstein said. “Or he dies.”