The Hungry (Book 6): The Rule of Three (The Sheriff Penny Miller Zombie Series)

by Booth, Steven W.

  “I appreciate all you’re doing for me, Doctor.” Sheppard turned his torso, moving very carefully, and again looked at Miller. He smiled sadly without saying anything, but Miller read his weary eyes. He had grief of his own. If she had to guess, he was thinking about Brandon, a young man Sheppard had taken a liking to over the last few days. The kid had been killed by zombies just that morning. Though Miller couldn’t be certain Brandon was the cause of the pain, it was likely. Of course there were other marks on his karmic slate. Sheppard had accidentally helped to start the zombie plague. He’d been involved in the secret research at Crystal Palace. He’d known the first zombie, another soldier named Luke Taylor, and had worked with him. Like Miller, Sheppard had many regrets to ponder now. Hell, his wan smile and misty eyes could have been about almost anything. Still, Miller would have bet the farm it was Brandon.

  Miller looked down at her weapon. She didn’t have anything to say to Sheppard at the moment, and she had absolutely no intention of absolving him of his guilt. Karl Sheppard had a lot to answer for, and his time was coming. Miller knew unquestionably that even though he hadn’t actually created the zombies, he’d helped to make the virus, and he’d been thick as thieves with the people responsible. As far as Miller was concerned, those simple facts made him an accessory to the murder of each and every human being who’d been bitten or transformed into one of those slobbering, groaning walking corpses.

  The van was silent, except for the rattling and whining of bolts and hinges as it rocked up the road to the entrance of the compound. We are all so bone tired, so burned out…

  The world weighed a thousand pounds these days. In a few short months, Miller herself had experienced more loss than she could ever begin to comprehend. She knew that even that vast number was just a minuscule fraction of the death toll that would result from the steadily growing zombie apocalypse. A top secret government project was to blame. Miller wanted to arrest or kill those responsible for the plague virus that had destroyed her home town of Flat Rock, all of Nevada, and now could quite possibly wipe out all life in the good old U.S. of A, if not the whole damn world.

  And that was why she needed Sheppard alive. He had been close to the psychopathic bastards who had started this mess. He knew their operation. All of her intelligence indicated that the motherfuckers who’d given the orders to start up the Enhanced Bioweapons program were now just a few miles away at Mountain Home Air Force Base. Sheppard was her connection to their project, and the only man she knew who understood the disease and how it really worked. Miller would be damned if she let some inconvenient little injury get in the way of nailing the people who were responsible for all this destruction. Sheppard had a job to do, and she’d make sure he did it or died trying.

  “Here we go,” Judy said. She pulled into a paved driveway, yanked the wheel hard and the truck approached a tall metal gate.

  Miller tightened her grip on the weapon in her lap. Between Sheppard and McDivitt they just might have a shot at taking down the worst mass-murderers in history. Maybe Sheriff Penny Miller couldn’t exactly bring them to justice, but she sure as hell could take a little justice to them. And she planned to ram it down their fucking throats.

  Judy turned their lights off. The brown van slowed to a crawl, rolling through gravel and rocks with a crunch, and came to a complete stop near a small outdoor lamp shaded by a wooden box. Looking through the front windshield, Miller could see bugs circling the low-watt bulb. It offered just enough light to let them inch toward the entrance. Judy gave the same signal as before, she honked twice. Scratch began to stand up, but Judy said, “Please stay seated. We’ll have to wait until they let us through the gate.”

  “Just where the hell are we now, Judy?” Miller ignored the admonishment to stay seated. She stood and put her hand on the roof of the van for stability. She looked out the front window into the night, squinting at the large, solid gate flanked by a pair of large, very sturdy-looking concrete walls. She played dumb. “And why in the world do you people need a compound, anyway?”

  “Better safe than sorry,” Bean said.

  Scobee spoke up at last. “We needed it for the same reasons we almost ended up on the wrong end of an ambush back when those three strangers showed up at the barn, Sheriff. We all have to be on the lookout for looters, the cops can’t handle them all.”

  Scratch also stood up. He moved protectively closer to Miller. He put the subject on the table. “But no zombies, at least not yet, right?”

  “Not yet,” said Leland, looking up from his medical bag. “At least not loose in the wild in our area. I’d be interested in examining one with you, Captain Sheppard.”

  Before Sheppard could respond, Judy honked the horn again.

  Bean and Judy exchanged a worried look. Bean clutched his weapon and shifted position in the front seat. Scratch looked over for instructions. Miller didn’t like the feel of this at all. “What about the local law enforcement, Leland? The police or sheriffs or even the state troopers should help you out. Where the hell are they?”

  Bean stood with the Magnum still in his hand, but now loosely pointing at the floor. “Patience, Sheriff Miller. You’re going to meet Major McDivitt in just a few minutes. If anyone can answer all your questions, it’ll be him. Piper probably left her post to use the latrine or something.”

  “Walter,” said Rolf, out of the blue, being quite uncharacteristically loud. He was addressing his invisible companion. “I didn’t know.”

  Scobee moved a bit closer to Rolf, as if approaching a wounded animal. He knelt down next to the older man. “Walter will be happy to see you again, Rolf. Just you wait.”

  “Don’t count on that, Scobee.” Bean tensed his gun hand just enough for Miller to notice. Something odd was going on around here. As she’d already noted, Bean didn’t like Rolf at all, but apparently Scobee did. As for Judy, she just ignored them all. She was an odd duck, and in a matter of minutes Miller had pegged her as something of a predator who didn’t return Bean’s affections so much as find them useful. Leland seemed oblivious to anything but his medical practice.

  They’d been waiting too long at the gate. An eerie subtext was present, but the cause was unclear. Miller wanted to understand why Bean hated Rolf, but the others either disagreed or didn’t give a damn. The scenario was just weird, and Miller didn’t like mysteries. She had gone into law enforcement because of a fervent desire to know what happened, when it had happened, and why people did the things they did. Surprisingly, becoming a cop had left her with far more questions than clear answers about human nature. The truth was always complex.

  Then something new occurred to her. Rolf’s imaginary friend was named Walter. No one had reacted. “Wait a second. You folks know about Walter?”

  Bean and Scobee exchanged a glance, but none of her hosts immediately answered the question. Miller felt another ripple of unease, as if long buried secrets were slowly rising on to the surface on thought bubbles. Judy raised her palm to double honk for a third time.

  Outside in the night the small light went on and off. Someone had signaled back. Another moment passed. Miller almost asked a question about security measures. Just then, the gate finally opened. Judy jerked the vehicle into gear and the van drove forward into the huge compound.

  Chapter Four

  26 hours, 56 minutes to Stage Three (9:04pm)

  Leaf-covered tennis courts bordered the road, their nets frayed by the weather and lack of maintenance. Miller spotted small bungalows caught in the headlights of the delivery truck but they were all clearly boarded up. In fact, except for the low watt bulbs here and there, the place looked long abandoned. Of course, that was probably on purpose.

  A wooden sign had been draped with a blank canvas that fluttered up in the wind. The sign read: Mountain Home Tennis and Shooting Club.

  Miller was grudgingly impressed. These people were flying under the radar. They seemed to possess information only high officials were privy to, but since they were still i
n operation, they had obviously done an adequate job of disguising their presence. They’d stayed safe up till this point. Of course, who knew what the future would bring?

  Judy confidently drove them forward. Bean seemed to relax. Scobee sat near Rolf, patting the dog.

  Miller squinted in the shadows. Up ahead, a large building sat at the end of a loop in the road. This was probably the lodge, or whatever tennis players called it. It was also their headquarters. Two stories high, the building ran at least a hundred feet in either direction. As with the smaller bungalows, all the windows were boarded up, and all the doors were padlocked. The building felt like a damn haunted house.

  “Kind of inviting, ain’t it?”

  Miller didn’t respond to Scratch’s wry observation. She admired their dedication to security. Now it all made a lot of sense. If the government or the military were looking for these folks, it paid for them to have a hiding place that appeared abandoned, one that also had a low heat signature that the FLIR detectors on Air Force drones and police helicopters wouldn’t pick up. She bet herself a dollar that they would all stay on the first floor of the lodge, and keep the upper floors empty, or even go down into the basement when they needed to meet and talk things over.

  Judy turned the truck to the right, and proceeded to drive over the curb and then under an awning spanning two buildings. She continued onto a long ramp and went up into what appeared to be a shipping container.

  No heat signature, Miller confirmed. McDivitt is a smart little rascal.

  “Okay, everyone out.” Judy parked the van and shut off the engine. It ticked like an egg timer. As Miller watched, Judy stood up and Bean stepped out of the way. Judy hurriedly walked directly to the back doors, almost knocking over Sheppard and Scratch in the process. She pushed the doors open. She shoved Rolf and Dudley and Scobee outside. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time. Move it people, move!”

  Scratch leaned over to Miller’s ear and said, not too quietly, “What the fuck is this, a Special Forces night drop? And who the hell hired the drill sergeant?”

  Miller ignored the jab. “Go help Rolf. He’s probably freaking out right now, and we may still need him. I’ve got my eye on Karl.” She swatted Scratch on the ass as he rose. “Don’t forget to pull the rip cord, cowboy.” She smiled. She needed to keep Scratch pointed down range, and a little humor would go a long way.

  “Geronimo.” Scratch smiled back, and went looking for Rolf.

  Miller walked up to Sheppard, who was being helped to his feet by Leland. “I’ve got him, Doctor.”

  Miller stepped up and put her shoulder under Sheppard’s armpit. He smelled like a locker room full of used jock straps, but then again, she probably did too. They all needed a bath. It had been almost a week since her last shower, while she was living at Crystal Palace and cooperating with Sheppard to find a metabolite that would render the zombie virus harmless. Since then, she had been trapped in Father Abraham’s cannibal caves, shot at, damned near eaten a couple of times, chased by crazed bikers and corrupt cops, and basically gotten her ass run ragged. A bath would be heaven. She hoped the compound still had hot water.

  Together, Miller and Sheppard followed Bean, Scobee, and Leland outside. She stepped down out of the truck as gingerly as possible in order to not re-open Sheppard’s wound. Once they were all out, Judy closed the van’s doors and finally the big container doors as well. The delivery van was now completely hidden and would be allowed to cool in safety. The people formed a line in order to stay under the awning. Judy seemed comfortably in charge, and Bean backed her up. They motioned for the others to follow them through the gloom. Dry leaves crunched under their feet and an owl hooted in the trees behind the building.

  Scratch walked next to Rolf, who was still mumbling to himself and clinging to Dudley’s collar. Scobee followed his friend, concern in his eyes. Leland walked behind Sheppard and Miller, still fussing with his bag.

  “Everyone inside,” Judy whispered. She went to the front door, did something that Miller couldn’t see, and the door swung open with the large padlock and heavy chain still in place. Apparently all the boarding up was indeed for show. They could move in and out rapidly if necessary. Smart planning.

  Judy and Bean stood at the threshold like ushers. Leland entered first, followed by Scobee, Scratch, Rolf, and Dudley, and then finally Miller and Sheppard. Once everyone was inside, the doors were closed behind them. Judy did something again and Miller heard the click of an electronic security lock of some kind. She turned around. The lights were on but still only dimly, as if the room had a few well-placed lanterns.

  A woman, perhaps fifty years old, entered from the hallway. She was thin as a rail, with dark hair tied up in a bun. The woman went straight up to Bean and Scobee, and hugged them together. “I thought we’d lost you two.” She kissed each one on the cheek. Then she stepped back and put her hands on her hips. Her eyes darkened. “What the hell did you think you were doing, anyway? Walter told you to hold your position and observe. No one said anything about infiltrating the damn base.”

  “Christa,” Bean began. “You won’t believe what we found.”

  “Save that for Walter.”

  At each mention of the name Walter, Rolf cringed again. He shrank back a bit more, though he was already hiding behind Scratch. Miller caught the connection and shook her head. She was dying to know the rest of this story.

  “Good job, Judy,” Christa said. Judy put her weapon on a flat wooden table and nodded in acknowledgment.

  Suddenly Dudley the dog barked once. He strained against the death grip Rolf had on his collar. Christa’s head snapped around, and when she saw the big German shepherd, her eyes lit up.

  “Oh, my God, you found Dudley?” Christa practically dove for the dog. She engulfed it in a bear hug. She made cooing sounds and held her eyes closed. Then, something made her open her eyes, and she found herself looking directly up at Rolf. Her expression shifted in several different ways. Rolf couldn’t seem to look her in the eye.

  Christa rose from the floor and stood facing Rolf. “Well, Rolf, aren’t you even going to say hello?”

  Rolf only managed to make a soft squeaking sound. He moved to put Scratch between himself and Christa. For a long moment, Christa stood still with her mouth open. Then she looked around at Miller, Scratch, and Sheppard. “What happened to him? Who the hell are you people, and what have you done with my brother-in-law?”

  Miller spoke first. “He’s had kind of a rough time,” she offered, somewhat lamely. Then it really hit her. Brother-in-law? Does that mean that Rolf is this Major McDivitt’s brother? Holy poop on a pedestal.

  Christa looked at them all, including her own people, and said, “Well, you might as well come inside.” She turned to address Judy and Bean. “You two love birds get the Windsor and Tudor rooms ready for our…” She paused and sighed. “Guests. I’ll take them inside. I’m sure they will have one hell of a story to tell.”

  Bean and Judy headed off to the right, as ordered. Miller noticed they were holding hands. Christa patted her own leg, and Dudley, the fickle mutt that he was, followed her obediently. She led Miller and the rest of them to the left, down a long corridor and into a large, comfortable living space lit with candles. A large table sat in the middle, with enough chairs for a board meeting. At the head sat a man in his late fifties, but fighting trim with a conservative haircut. The room smelled faintly of dust, furniture polish, and recently cooked meat. A large birdcage sat in the far corner, inside of which was some kind of raptor, a falcon perhaps. The bird watched them intently but remained silent.

  As they entered his space the man—who could only have been Major McDivitt—rose from his seat at the far end of the conference table. Miller watched his face as he attempted to identify each of the people entering. Joy, followed by confusion, passed across his expression as he took in their faces. Then his eyes finally fell on Rolf, and he actually froze in place. Miller saw that he was struggling with something. Then he s
eemed to make up his mind. McDivitt strode forward like a man on a mission, headed straight for Rolf.

  Instinctively, Miller, Sheppard, and Scratch all closed ranks in front of Rolf. Miller didn’t know what this guy’s intentions were, but Rolf was afraid of him, and whether he was in charge or not she wasn’t about to let the Major hurt one of her people. McDivitt stopped short of plowing through them to get to Rolf. Instead, he peered over their shoulders and with real emotion in his voice said, “Rolf? My God, Rolf, is that you?”

  Miller felt the hem of her jacket being tugged, and she turned to see Rolf staring at the floor. He was holding onto her sleeve like a small, insecure child.

  She turned to him. “Are you all right?”

  “Chosen One, I think this is another test.”

  McDivitt stared at them both. He seemed more concerned than annoyed. “What’s he talking about?”

  Miller played along. She whispered almost conspiratorially, “What test is it this time, Rolf?”

  “First, answer this.” Rolf gestured with his head. “Can you see him?”

  “See who?” Miller wasn’t entirely certain where all this was going.

  Rolf pointed at McDivitt. “Walter. Has he revealed himself to you yet?”

  McDivitt seemed profoundly confused now. He moved a bit closer. “Of course she can see me, Rolf! What…”

  Scratch stepped forward. “Ease off, man. He’s talking to Penny, not you.”

  McDivitt, Scobee, Leland, and Christa exchanged worried glances. They seemed almost as confused as Miller was. No one was enjoying the rising tension in the room. They were still strangers to one another, and something was very wrong. At the sound of Scratch’s harsh words to McDivitt, Rolf withdrew even further into himself. Knowing she had to do something, Miller considered her options, which lay somewhere along the spectrum of playing along and bitch-slapping Rolf until he finally snapped out of it. She chose the former.