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

by Booth, Steven W.

  “Chosen One,” Rolf called loudly. His face broke into a wide smile. “I saved your places.” Indeed, there were three seats to the right of Rolf. That would put them opposite most of McDivitt’s people, but close enough to McDivitt himself to try their gambit. Most importantly, three large white mugs of steaming hot black coffee already awaited them.

  Miller smiled at Rolf, and gestured for Scratch and Sheppard to sit in their indicated chairs. “Good morning, everyone.”

  “Sheriff,” said McDivitt, still standing. “I appreciate you and your people coming to our staff meeting.” He approached Miller and shook her hand, then Scratch’s, and finally Sheppard’s. The whole process felt very solemn and official, even a bit pretentious. Miller was tempted to make eye contact with Scratch and Sheppard, just to note their reactions, but in the end it didn’t matter. As long as they weren’t the main course at breakfast for once, they’d sit politely and listen to what these people had to say. They’d get help or they wouldn’t. If hot coffee and food and a night’s sleep was all they managed to secure from the encounter, it would still be considered a win.

  Miller looked McDivitt in the face and smiled. “It’s a pleasure, Major. Thank you very much for your hospitality. These days we’ve been on the road a lot and on the run, so it isn’t often that we get to sleep in a real bed.”

  Miller watched the reaction of the attendees out of the corner of her eye. Not a ripple of concern. These people were fairly well informed about what she and her friends had been through recently. And apparently the zombie plague as well. She was going to have to look into how they knew all that, up here in so-called civilization, and how McDivitt managed to keep his people quiet and off the beaten track like this. There was a ton she didn’t yet understand. Miller realized she’d let a lot of time pass. She chuckled. “Hey, and a hot meal sounds good, too.”

  “I’m pleased to inform you that our hospitality does extend to offering you hot coffee and home-cooked food, at the minimum.”

  McDivitt gestured to two newcomers, a man and woman who seemed to have pulled kitchen detail. They began serving the food. This duty was carried out with precision in near silence, except for the clattering of plates and forks and serving spoons. For some reason, no one spoke. Miller put cream and sugar in her coffee and studied their hosts.

  The woman waiter, a brunette, looked like she could kick the asses of everyone in the room. Miller watched her serve Scratch. Much to her relief, he didn’t so much as acknowledge her existence beyond a curt “Thank you” when she handed him his plate.

  The male waiter was short and a little on the stocky side, the round and cute kind of fellow Miller pictured as a career soldier, a bit morose but handsome nevertheless. Karl Sheppard similarly ignored his attention, concentrating on the food that was placed in front of him. Good. No relationship drama this morning. Secretly, Miller hoped that would be the trend until they took out the Triad committee. After that precious moment, Sheppard could go gaga over anyone he wished, and Scratch and Miller could finally run away together and have the freedom to settle down.

  The man served her, and Miller joined the others in eating quietly and with great concentration. McDivitt definitely set the tone for everything around here, and he was one serious eater. Using the silence and chewing with great relish, Miller let her mind drift to what life might be like after this one last mission. She knew she had post-traumatic stress disorder, and was somehow much more comfortable when dead people were trying to eat her and her tension was justified. That was much to her disgust—but she was a realist. Life had been catastrophic for what felt like years now, and after her experiences traveling from Colorado through New Mexico and Arizona to arrive in Los Angeles, what, only maybe twenty days before, she was convinced that she was going to always have a problem dealing with normal life… assuming that chance ever came.

  Jesus, did soccer moms show up at school armed and ready to battle to the death? Perhaps in some places in the country they did these days, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to live there.

  Scratch poked her, and she looked up. Bean was standing more or less at attention and seemed to be starting a report. Miller came out of her fog and tuned into the discussion just as Bean said, “And they are definitely doing experiments on base. Before Glen, Scobee, and me were captured, we observed at least twenty individuals in cages. The subjects all appeared to be in various stages of decay and reanimation. I don’t know where they were getting these test subjects, but from what we saw, they seemed to have once been airmen, possibly taken from the base itself. We speculated that maybe something got out of control and they decided to use the results of that mistake to their advantage.”

  “Did you see any indication of the possibility that these subjects might have been volunteers?” McDivitt asked, with his eyes fixed on Sheppard. Sheppard didn’t blink. Miller watched as the two men held each other’s gaze. Bean noticed and stopped talking.

  Finally Sheppard raised his hand. “Permission to speak, Major?”

  “Go ahead, Captain.”

  “I think I can shed some light on that part of the subject. While I was in command of the Enhanced Bioweapons program at Crystal Palace, nearly all of our test subjects had already been infected by the virus when we began working with them.”

  McDivitt put up a hand. “What does nearly all mean in this context, Captain?”

  Sheppard frowned imperceptibly. Miller would have missed it if she didn’t know him as well as she did. He was clearly already feeling defensive and impatient. Was he being set up? Sheppard seemed to think so. Miller tried to see if Scratch had picked up on that, but he was still looking away from her toward Sheppard.

  Sheppard took his time responding to the question. “Nearly all means that there were indeed some volunteers from among the troops, generally the ambitious or the extra reckless, meaning those in search of a promotion or a medal. People did volunteer from time to time. It was a rare occurrence, and a volunteer was only used when we felt we’d really had had a breakthrough. This was and is a very dangerous virus.”

  “That much is obvious,” McDivitt said, blandly. “How did it work out for these brave men and women?”

  “Most of the time—meaning eighty plus percent or so—the experiment was successful enough to result in the survival of the volunteer. But tragically, we did have some fatalities. It was an unfortunate consequence, but I don’t have to explain to you that joining the military involves some risks.”

  McDivitt stared. “Let me interject here that I worked on the air base for nearly a decade, back when I was still in the good graces of my superiors. I have seen firsthand what the virus can do to a human being. Forgive me if I’m a little untrusting. Tell me more, Captain. Please continue.”

  “There’s not much more to say.” Sheppard looked down at the tablecloth and continued, “Even Sheriff Miller and Scratch were volunteers at one stage for a very important part of the experiment. Believe me, their help has been invaluable.”

  The room went quiet. The Major raised an eyebrow. “Exactly what part did they participate in, Captain?”

  Sheppard hesitated. “I’m sorry, sir, but that’s classified.”

  McDivitt made a steeple of his fingers, like a villain from a James Bond movie. “While I appreciate your loyalty to duty, Captain, I think now would be a good time to fess up, as it were. Much of humanity may still be in the dark about our true predicament, but everyone in this room knows the truth, that the future of mankind is at stake and that we are all miles past the regular boundaries. Speak up.”

  Sheppard looked like he was about to recite his name, rank, and serial number. McDivitt, on the other hand, looked like he was about to order an arrest. The tension was palpable.

  Miller slid her chair away from the table and got to her feet. “Karl, may I speak to you privately for just a moment?” Sheppard rose and Miller took him by the arm. “Excuse us for a minute, Major, ladies and gentlemen. Why don’t you join us too, Scratch?”


  Miller smoothly took over. McDivitt and his people watched with a look of surprise and a low key sense of amusement as the three them walk away from the table. They probably thought Sheppard was being a pompous ass. At the moment, Miller couldn’t decide if she agreed with them or if she wanted to smash their faces in. She figured it was probably a little of both.

  “It’s classified?” Miller whispered. “After all we have been through? Who the hell do you think you’re protecting now? Those assholes back at Crystal Palace?”

  Sheppard leaned closer. He brought his mouth up to her ear. “I am protecting you, Penny. I’m not sure you really want these men and women to know about your, how should I say it, infection status.”

  This gave Miller pause. “Oh.”

  “Remember, you have a fully functioning version of the zombie virus in your system. They may not take kindly to going into a potential firefight situation with someone who could possibly infect them too, or even die and turn rogue at any moment.”

  “You know it probably doesn’t work that way, Karl,” Miller whispered. Her mouth felt dry and her stomach had flipped. “You can explain it to them.”

  “Actually, I don’t know that. Not for sure, anyway. We’ve been lucky so far, but if you were grievously injured, or God forbid, killed, you know perfectly well that that could result in you turning into a zombie.”

  “Christ, Karl,” Scratch muttered, “just shut up.”

  Sheppard sighed. He pulled his head back and looked Miller in the eye. “You’d better be sure you really trust these people with that kind of information, because I’m not.”

  Miller considered that point of view. She turned to look at the folks sitting around the conference table. They were chatting quietly among themselves. Only Rolf was staring openly at them. She did not really know anyone well. A lot was at stake.

  Miller turned back to face Scratch. “What do you think?”

  “Fuck them.” Scratch looked back at the conference table as well, then at the floor, and finally at Miller. “Silence is golden, Penny. You’re a lot more important to our cause than these bozos.”

  Miller couldn’t argue with that. “Okay, fine. But you brought up that we were experimented on, Karl, so now you get to cover all of our asses for that. Got it?”

  “Understood.”

  “We’ll back up whatever you say.”

  Together, they turned and went back to the conference table.

  “Did you reach a consensus?” McDivitt’s fingers returned to a steeple. The gesture seemed pretentious and planned, as was the kangaroo trial in progress.

  “Major,” Sheppard said, “here’s what I can tell you. With Sheriff Miller’s help, we were able to find an important key, which is the composition of the metabolite that renders the zombie virus non-fatal.” Sheppard paused for dramatic effect. Smart, because a lie should always be as close as possible to the truth. Miller watched as the others reacted to the news. Most seemed shocked, but also a bit pleased.

  “How far along are you?” Bean asked. He and Judy held hands. “Is there a cure in sight?”

  “At this stage just the metabolite, but that means we are getting close.”

  “Tell us more,” McDivitt said.

  Miller cringed. McDivitt’s pet phrase, tell us more, was about to get his ass shot off if he didn’t stop repeating it. She flexed her fists and did everything she could to keep from reaching for her Ruger. She took a couple of deep breaths and reached for her coffee. Her hands were shaking.

  “Major, one of our goals in seeking your help is to get the information regarding our progress to the World Health Organization. We have to get it safely out of the country. We have to get it into the hands of people who have no vested interest in continuing the plague, or in covering their asses for past mistakes. Major, you seem to have the resources for that purpose. Can you help us? Will you?”

  McDivitt and his wife exchanged a worried glance. For the first time, Miller realized that Christa was really the power behind the throne. From what she could tell, McDivitt was accustomed to command, but was a bit of a fake, in the end and he probably wouldn’t have made any serious decision without her approval. Seconds passed as the couple silently debated. They seemed to come to a consensus. Suddenly Christa nodded to Leland, and together they got up and left the room. For some reason, the atmosphere felt even thicker than before.

  Miller felt bewildered and uncertain. “What’s going on, Major? Why did they leave the meeting?”

  “I won’t keep you in suspense,” McDivitt said. “Christa and Leland are making arrangements to get your data to the WHO, as requested.” He turned back to face Sheppard. “If we get the data to them, Captain, is there a report that specifically explains exactly what it is and how to use it? It won’t do any of us any good if they can’t decipher your missive, or worst of all choose to ignore it.”

  Sheppard and Miller exchanged a quick glance. Miller felt her blood surge with relief. Sheppard seemed very pleased, while for her part Miller was surprised at how quickly they’d accepted the information. She had an uneasy feeling something else was going on, or maybe that was just well-honed paranoia from these long months of violence and treachery.

  “You’re right, of course,” Sheppard said. “That has to be done at once. I can write up the full report today, Major. I can have it ready in a few hours if you have a decent computer for me to work on in privacy.”

  “There’s a computer in the office, Captain. You may have access to it after the meeting is over.”

  “Thank you, Major.” Sheppard said. Still standing, Sheppard walked over to McDivitt and shook his hand. He was beaming. He seemed to have accepted the shift in tone. “This is quite a relief.”

  McDivitt retrieved his hand from Sheppard’s. He spoke again after a long moment. “You’re welcome, Captain. Have a seat.”

  And as Sheppard returned to his place at the table, McDivitt said, “Sheriff Miller, you said last night that you wanted our help to ‘take down the Triad.’ Would you shed some light on what you are planning?”

  Miller considered the question. “It’s a fairly straightforward proposal, Major. This is all out war. We need to end their ability to continue funding and operating the Enhanced Bioweapons program. If that means we have to kill every one of them in the process, then so be it.”

  “Oh, is that all?”

  Miller’s head snapped around. The person who spoke was the brunette woman she hadn’t yet met. The one who’d looked dangerous. Frost filled the air.

  Miller tried to keep her voice neutral. “And you are?”

  McDivitt spoke first. “My apologies. We should do proper introductions. Piper, would you like to start?”

  The woman stood at attention and addressed Miller, Scratch, and Sheppard. “I’m Piper Loria, Major McDivitt’s Executive Officer, and right now my role is to make sure we don’t do anything stupid. I am very good at my job, Sheriff.”

  She sat down again, with the implication made obvious.

  Miller kept her face impassive. She just nodded.

  The man sitting next to Piper stood up and at attention. “Sheriff, my name is Chuck Cunningham, and I’m Chief of Security. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He quickly resumed his seat. He did not look Piper’s way. Miller noticed the difference in tone. Chuck did not appear to share Piper’s arrogance, nor her point of view.

  Bean was next. He grinned. “I’m Don Collins, Intelligence Officer. I want to thank you folks again for saving Scobee and me, and for bringing me back safely to Judy.”

  “Our pleasure,” Miller said. She noticed that Judy did not react to the implied compliment.

  Scobee stood up. “Gus Cooper here, Sheriff. I’m Bean’s sidekick, and I gotta tell you, it was scary as hell in that damn bus, but you’re the prettiest guardian angel Bean and me could have asked for, and you sure can handle a gun.” He smiled at her flirtatiously then met Scratch’s eyes. The smile disappeared in a snap. He cleared his throat. �
��And thank you for bringing Rolf back to us as well.”

  Bean snorted. It was a quiet kind of snort, but the tone of derision was clear. Miller took note again. There was tension between Bean and Scobee with respect to Rolf, and serious friction between Piper and Chuck, the security chief, though that was possibly just some kind of turf war. Piper was the kind of woman men either loved or hated, but generally the latter.

  Next was Bean’s so-so girlfriend, their driver from the night before. “I’m Judy Payette, Transportation Officer, which is a fancy way of saying that I drive the truck.” She sat down again without further explanation.

  The next two chairs were empty, those once occupied by Leland and Christa. McDivitt waved his hand. “I’ll have Christa, our Quartermaster, and Leland, our Medical Officer, formally introduced later.”

  “Thanks,” Miller said, “but we know them and we’re fine now.”

  McDivitt turned to Rolf. “You all know Rolf Nyberg, of course. Sheriff, I want to save you for last. You can introduce yourself after Scratch and Captain Sheppard, and then you can give us your report.”

  Scratch started his routine. “Christ on a crutch, does everything have to be so damn formal around here? Loosen your underwear, people.”

  “Uh, we don’t mean to derail your meeting, Major,” Miller said, “but I’m still even wondering what kind of report you’d expect me to give.”

  “Sheriff, let’s get through the introductions, please.”

  The uneasy feeling was growing, and Scratch had fed it. Despite his deference to his wife Christa, McDivitt was out to dominate, at least among the males. Miller wasn’t about to let that go. “With all due respect, there’s not a hell of a lot to report. The zombies are already here. My friends and I have killed more than our fair share of them, and we can guarantee you they spread like bunnies in mating season.”