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

by Booth, Steven W.

  Rolf asked, “What seek you, Scratch?”

  “I don’t know for sure, just keep your ears open. Follow me.” Scratch took the lead, and headed to the right. They approached the corner of one of the darkened townhouses, and Scratch immediately signaled for the other two men to stop. They all heard it, that low and regular growling, unhh hunhhh hunh…

  Across another playground was a small horde, maybe twenty zombies—the regular kind this time, not those damned albinos—and they were attacking something or someone just on the other side of the fence. It was all happening right across from where Scratch, McDivitt, and Rolf stood. That chain saw sound came again, this time several of them at once. And high-pitched screaming started, like the voice of a child. Someone else shouted something unintelligible. It sounded like some humans were actively fighting off the zombies with power tools.

  “Let’s go.” Scratch was not just into being a humanitarian. Whoever it was apparently had some kind of weaponry, and more bodies would be damn helpful. Hell, they were down to three men total. A short detour to seek reinforcements and ammo made sense. McDivitt was already looking ragged and in over his head. Scratch stood up. He made an executive decision. He headed toward the zombies.

  McDivitt raced ahead of Scratch and stood in front of him. He whispered, “What are you doing, soldier?”

  Scratch didn’t bother to whisper. “I’m doing the right thing, as well the smart one. Get the fuck out of my way.” He stepped around McDivitt and moved forward. He ran without looking back. He entered the playground pissed off and loaded for bear. The zombies were uniformed soldiers, recently turned, and all males. They were missing limbs or chunks of facial tissue. They’d been bitten and allowed to turn immediately rather than eaten. Scratch supposed that the group mind wanted its own reinforcements.

  Scratch approached the first zombie, an Air Force Captain with most of his cheek missing, and shot it in the head. He was careful to point the shot up to avoid killing one of the humans fighting on the other side. The tall zombie dropped obligingly. The others shambled his way.

  “Hey,” Scratch called. “We’re coming to help.”

  “We’re over here,” cried a voice. A child?

  “Stay down. We’re going to clear these bastards out of the way.”

  “Help us!”

  The dead soldiers split into Triads. There were six groups of them. The bait zombies moved closer. Scratch didn’t have to turn his head to know that Rolf was standing beside him, waiting for orders. He said, “Rolf, you take the ones on the left. I’ve got the fuckers on the right. Don’t worry about conserving ammunition. Go.”

  Together it took them only a few seconds to take down the small group. The night went silent again, except for the ringing in their ears. The brightness faded as they stopped discharging their weapons. Scratch turned around.

  McDivitt hadn’t fired a shot. Scratch was actually pleased by that, because he hadn’t been ordered to. He’d conserved his own ammo. Scratch had learned many things from Penny Miller, but most of all that he liked having people do exactly what they were told in a shit storm. It reminded him of being leader of the Blood Riders. Ah, now those were the good old days.

  Scratch approached the humans he’d saved. They stood up slowly, as if looking around for more zombies. Finding none, one of them, a girl perhaps thirteen years old, jumped up and cheered. Scratch felt an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He’d hoped to find weapons as well as rescue some people. Instead, he’d signed his small group on for a ton of new responsibilities, and maybe the kind they couldn’t handle, which was not that smart a move.

  Scratch took stock of the kids. There were two girls and two boys. One of the boys was very young, six or seven years old at the most. The other children were all early to mid-teens. The girls held idling chain saws, and were both splattered with blood. Scratch wished Miller were there to see that. She would have been as proud. Well, at least they can fight…

  “Thanks, Mister,” said the older boy. “Much appreciated.”

  The youngest approached and stopped right in front of Scratch. “I knew you’d come back for us, Scratch.”

  Scratch blinked in the gloom. His jaw dropped open. He stared at the boy. “Lex?”

  The oldest male ran up and took Lex by the wrist. “Don’t mind him,” said the boy. “He’s just freaked out like the rest of us.”

  “Hold on,” said Scratch. He dropped down and took a good look at the boy in the darkness. “Lex, is that really you?”

  The older boy pulled Lex back defensively. “Wait, who the hell are you?”

  Scratch looked at the older boy. Now he was convinced. “Jimmy? It’s me. Your dad.”

  Jimmy stared back. He shook his head as if in shock. “Scratch?” Then he tentatively came forward. “No. Fucking. Way.”

  Scratch smiled. “You didn’t think I would just leave you here, did you?” He stood and approached the boy, but Jimmy backed away from him. “Ah, shit, kid. Give me a break.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Despite their problems in the past, Scratch thought Jimmy would have been happier to see him. “I came to get you,” said Scratch. And that was more or less the truth, if he’d really ever thought about it. The mission had come first because Miller wanted it that way, the kids after, but Jimmy didn’t need to know that. Scratch looked around at the chaotic base. There would be more zombies soon. The fires would spread. They needed to beat feet out of here. They could get everything straightened out off base and away from the zombies.

  “How did you find us?” Jimmy demanded.

  Somehow McDivitt had come back to his senses. He stepped forward. “Look, Scratch, we’re all excited about your family reunion and all, but we still have a lot of work to do. We have to get to that drone shack.”

  “Understood, Major.”

  McDivitt stood taller. He turned to face the kids. “Are you guys going to be okay on your own?”

  Together, Scratch, Rolf, Jimmy, Lex, and the two girls said, “No!”

  Scratch turned. He faced McDivitt with teeth clenched and hands balled into fists. “It appears we have us a situation. You’re not suggesting we leave them behind, are you, Walter?”

  “What are we going to do with a bunch of kids?”

  “Take them with us,” Rolf said simply. “The Chosen One would not hesitate.”

  “We can’t guarantee their safety, Scratch. Hell, we can’t even guarantee our own safety. A lot of us have died.” McDivitt sagged, knowing he’d already lost.

  “We’ll take those odds,” said one of the bloody girls. She gunned her chain saw to punctuate her point. “We can fight.”

  “Looks like you’re outvoted, Walter.” Scratch turned back to face the teens. “We’re going to get you to safety. You’re going to help us kill some of those ugly-assed undead sons of bitches. You ready to go?”

  He was answered with “Hell yeah,” and “Let’s rock.”

  They could hear pursuit now, coming down the alley between two housing units. Unhh hunhhh hunh…

  “How much farther is it to the drone shack?” Scratch asked, as he gathered the kids around him. Lex clung to his right thigh. Jimmy moved close enough to make Scratch feel a bit better.

  “I’m not sure,” McDivitt said. “From here maybe a thousand feet.”

  Scratch looked at the kids. They all seemed scared but ready to raise a little hell. He knelt down to Lex’s level again. “How’d you like a ride?”

  The boy put his arms out. Scratch swept him up and put him on his shoulders. He turned to McDivitt. “You’re on point, Major. Rolf, watch our asses.”

  McDivitt didn’t even bother to question the order. He simply turned and continued on in the direction of the drone shack. Rolf dropped back to cover their rear. They took off again, heading for safety.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  1 hours, 55 minutes to Stage Three (10:05am)

  The drone shack, actually a nondescript one-story beige buildin
g, squatted at the far end of the base near the edge of the worn tarmac. It looked like a cheap, unadorned desert motel. The premises were dark when they arrived. Scratch motioned everyone down and slowly circled the building on his own, checking for any signs of life… or death. The windows were painted over and security bars covered everything that might have served as an entrance. As he explored the place, Scratch heard not a peep from inside. Perhaps those assigned to the shack had beat feet. In any event, there was no other way in. They were going to have to charge right in through the front door.

  Scratch came around to the front of the building. His thighs ached from crouching. He motioned the others forward. He could see flames coming from the base and hear a few sirens but not much screaming. Human life had almost been extinguished. Scratch knew they couldn’t stay outside in plain view or they’d be next. The night air carried the faint stench of decomp seasoned with burning flesh and smoldering wood. They had one clear choice. They’d have to break into the drone shack.

  “I’ll go,” McDivitt whispered. “Cover me.”

  Scratch nodded. It was about time the Major pulled his weight. The other men spread apart, the children stayed back. McDivitt tested the door. Whoever had left hadn’t even bothered to lock the place up. The security locks were not set. The door handle turned in McDivitt’s hand. He opened it and stepped back, weapon at the ready. McDivitt was the first inside the dark building. He jogged a few steps and then hesitated.

  Scratch piled into him from behind. “What’s the hold up, Walt?”

  “Shit. Power’s off!”

  Scratch fumbled around on another wall and found a light switch. The lights came on obligingly. The men blinked. The large room, packed with electronics and giant television screens, seemed deserted. Scratch took a quick look behind the consoles and spotted tall cases of stored DVDs and banks of machines he did not recognize.

  “Power’s on now,” Scratch said simply.

  “No, I mean the computers aren’t booted up,” McDivitt said.

  “We’re exposed out here, Friend Scratch.”

  “Get them inside and lock that door,” Scratch ordered.

  McDivitt whistled and Rolf and the children came in. They slammed the door and turned all the bolts. McDivitt found and armed an alarm of some kind. The kids collapsed to sitting or prone positions and stopped to catch their breath. Jimmy pulled Lex close and they hugged. The girls secured the motors on their chain saws and set them on the floor. They took one look at each other in the harsh overhead lighting and gasped in horror.

  “Holy crap. Do I look as bad as you?” asked the redhead. At least, Scratch presumed she was a redhead. She was fairly well soaked in zombie blood, and kids died their hair these days, so who the hell knew? The other girl chuckled. “You look like you had a terminal period. We need a shower, babe. I think I maybe got some of that stuff in my mouth.”

  The other one, a blonde, looked at her hands. “Shit, you’re right, I have to get this guck off.”

  McDivitt walked past her and looked around for a minute. He opened a door and peeked in, presumably checking for zombies. “Bathroom’s in there, ladies.”

  Scratch turned to examine the room more carefully. There were large, padded pilot’s chairs before the giant monitors, with everything set up in a pristine row. A lot of choices. He counted ten drone stations, to be exact. They were all dark at the moment. Jesus, Scratch thought, we don’t even know how to turn all this shit on… We need to stop those zombie planes… I wish there was a God I believed in to pray to…

  At that moment one of the monitors blinked and then produced a boot up screen. The lights and gizmos in the pilot’s chair winked on. Before Scratch could react, the next station did exactly the same thing. A faint clattering sound rose up to dominate the room. They were going to be ready to rock and roll. Things warmed up quickly. Startled and pleased, Scratch searched for the reason the ten stations were spontaneously restarting. What he eventually found surprised him.

  Rolf was seated at the desk, expertly typing on a command console. He then flipped some switches on a big box with some computer servers in it. The guy was a professional and obviously in his element. Damn, he looked like he had been doing that job all his life. You live and learn.

  Scratch watched in fascination for a few moments. Before he could say anything, Rolf turned to Jimmy and said, “Feel like earning your wings, boy Scratch?”

  Jimmy was taken aback. “What?”

  Scratch smiled. “You get used to it after a while.” He turned to Rolf. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

  “Walter is one. With help he can be four. I would invite you, Friend Scratch, but you and I are needed at the door.”

  McDivitt stepped past Scratch and walked up to Rolf. “You’re a much better pilot than I will ever be. You should take my place. I can guard the door with Scratch.”

  “Walter, my Walter. The time has come for you to step out of my shadow and stand in the sun. I need you to fly this mission. I do not wish to make it an order, but I will.”

  McDivitt’s face fell and his shoulders drooped. “I was never in your shadow, Rolf. And I don’t take orders from you anymore.” He smiled kindly.

  Rolf did not return the smile. “Perhaps you should.” He looked up to see the girls—a redhead and a blonde, as Scratch had thought, both cute in a pimply sort of way—returning from the bathroom damp and pink with washed-away blood, but cleaner and happier. Rolf raised his chin and said, “Do either of you girls know an aileron from an elevator?”

  They didn’t hesitate. “We’re Air Force brats, mister,” said the blonde. “Sunita’s dad takes us up in his Cessna every other weekend. And my mom is a Globemaster driver. We can fly anything with wings.”

  He turned to Jimmy. “What about you, boy Scratch?”

  “I… I think I can figure it out.”

  Sunita, the redhead, punched Jimmy on the arm. “Just watch Anna Lee and me. You’ll be fine.”

  Scratch turned to Lex. “Hey, Lex, you can be the tailgunner. Come over here and sit where you can see the show.”

  “Okay, Scratch.” Lex smiled. It was a beautiful smile, and it broke Scratch’s heart. He looked so much like his late mother. Lex was someone else’s kid, unlike Jimmy, who was very much Scratch’s both physically and psychologically. He was kind of a brave pain in the ass. Scratch turned to watch Anna Lee and Sunita get Jimmy situated in one of the plush pilot’s chairs. Rolf and the girls start to brief him on how to use the controls.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  1 hours, 44 minutes to Stage Three (10:16pm)

  “The fuck?” Neil said. He and Judy exchanged a worried look. “Sheriff, you’d better come up here.”

  “What have you got?” Miller moved through the heavily armored vehicle, past tall stacks of weapons, ammo and body armor piled into otherwise empty seats. She held on to the edge of the overhead luggage rack to avoid bouncing around and quickly made her way into the forward cabin. She put her hand on the back of the driver’s seat—or as Neil insisted on calling it, the pilot’s chair—and stared out the tinted, bullet proofed front window. She could have observed what they were seeing on a computer screen at the weapons station, but she felt better using her own eyes.

  “I haven’t a fucking clue what that is, Sheriff,” Neil said. “To be honest, I’ve never seen anything quite like this.”

  Miller ducked her head down further to get a better look. “That’s just the front entrance to the base, Neil.” Judy was driving the technological monster they called the Land Shark. She’d gone back to seething again, according to the script of some unknown inner soap opera, and didn’t acknowledge Miller’s presence. Miller rolled her eyes. She just hoped Judy’s wounded ego and raging narcissism didn’t make her get in a snit at the wrong time. She might turn around and drive home before the battle was over. They’d need her to stay on mission. She was their wheelman.

  “Yes, Sheriff, I know that,” Neil said, “but check it out. Ther
e’s absolutely no one on duty. The lights are on in a few places, out in others, and the gate’s just wide open.”

  Neil had the trim build, short hair, and steady calm of a test pilot. He’d been a career Marine until “separated” from the military by budgetary cutbacks. He felt that an abandoned front entrance in the dead of night was a problem. For her part, Miller didn’t see it that way. Her heart skipped a bit, instantly hoping Scratch had gotten free and was now raising hell on the other side of the wall. If he’d escaped, they’d meet up eventually. That would be headline news.

  “Well, whatever is going on in there is probably good for us. Judy, let’s go.”

  Neil continued to stare at the guard kiosk as they slowly rolled by, the Land Shark’s oversized tires crunching through loose rocks and dirt. Miller studied the shadows and doorways and windows of the guard station. There was no one in sight. Judy picked up speed, rolled down the asphalt, and headed deeper into the heart of the weirdly empty base.

  “Keep your eyes peeled,” Miller said. “There’s a horde around here. I can sense it. We’re in a war zone.”

  Miller staggered back toward the aft section of the Land Shark, holding on to the tops of some bolted-down seats. She needed to confer with Sheppard, who sat riveted to a large screen at the GNC station. Miller wasn’t sure what part of the truck you could operate from way back there, but since Miller had taken the Weapons station for herself that had left Sheppard and Christa to man the other working spaces. The big Land Shark was a powerhouse, a thickly armored tank-like vehicle. It was filled with top-notch equipment and an alphabet soup of operation stations. INCO, EECOM, CONTROL, and COUNTER were the other choices. Christa had taken CONTROL, and that new pig-tailed young woman Sally had taken COUNTER. Sheppard opted to sit down directly across from Miller at GNC. He’d spent the entire trip from the safe house to the base playing with the switches and pretty much getting nowhere. The madman who had designed the thing hadn’t bothered to create a handbook, or maybe he’d gotten zombie bit before he could finish one.