Dead Hunger_The Cleansing

by Eric A. Shelman

  She watched as dead bodies bobbed, then floated by in the water, picking up speed as the channel narrowed. Gem found herself crying. The earlier screams had told the terrifying story. Perhaps all the urushiol in the water would kill them even before they realized their new, dead hunger.

  Many of their best fighters were still up there, food for the undead. They could not get back to them, and for all intents and purposes it was too late anyway. They could not be saved.

  Gem knew, without a doubt in her mind, that their sacrifices had saved the rest of them.

  For now.

  Another splash came. They all turned.

  Nothing surfaced.

  Isis and Max, headlights on, ran to the edge of the pool and peered into the water, then back up at the waterfall. A body blocked the light coming through the arch above for a moment, followed by another loud splash.

  Another. Another.

  Someone trained a flashlight directly on the arch, and Gem gasped as a Mother’s glowing red eyes appeared in the opening to the channel above them, just before intentionally plummeting into the pool beside them.

  Isis turned. “Gather your things quickly and run!” she shouted. “They’re following!”

  “How is that even possible?” asked Gem. “They’re not that damned smart!”

  “There are still Mothers, and I can hear their desperation, Gemina,” said Isis, using her given name. “Even diminished, they are smart enough to mimic our actions. They will not stop.”

  “But … they’ll just drown, right?” asked Colton. “They’re not floating.”

  The low murmur indicated that several others seemed to consider his point.

  “Guys, they don’t breathe,” said Max. “Which means that right now, they’re moving along with the current, and quite a few of them are likely ahead of us now. Any urushiol in that water has most likely already flowed well downstream, so I’d say they’re in the clear.”

  He looked over at the single pail against the wall. “Aunt Gem, did we lose the rest of the pails?”

  “I’m afraid so,” she said.

  “Someone get that last pail then,” added Max. “Then do what Isis said and run. Now!”

  Several more splashes came behind them. “Go!” shouted Isis, a rare desperation in her voice.

  They ran.

  *****

  “Finally,” said Nelson. “A regular damned door that’s unlocked.” He listened at it for a moment before pushing it open.

  The room was still.

  “What floor is this?” asked Hemp. “There are still no windows.”

  “It’s some kinda storage room,” said Flex, moving up beside them. “Couple of doors over there and there,” he said, pointing.

  “I say we take that one that’s marked STAIRS,” said Nelson.

  “Try Punch again, Flex,” said Hemp.

  Flex unclipped the radio and pushed the button. “Punch. You read? It’s Flex. I’m with a crew and we’re in the bank building.”

  The voice came right back. It was Lolita Lane. “Flex!” she said. “We’re on top of the building. Where are you? We heard a crackle of a voice a while ago, but we didn’t get any more. We tried to call, but no luck.”

  “You’re loud and clear now. We’re just about to hit the stairwell.”

  “No!” shouted Lola. “There are thirty, maybe forty rotters in there. Someone left some door open somewhere and they had us cornered. That’s why we’re on the roof in the first place.”

  “No way down?”

  “We didn’t try,” came Punch’s voice. “No death wish, brother. Streets are like a zombie river.”

  “You guys got WAT-5?” asked Flex.

  “Nope. Clean out, and I’m 99% sure we’re expired, which is why we didn’t take the chance. Sorry, man. I’m sure others could’ve used our help.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” said Flex. “And we’ve got maybe four hours left on our doses, but we’re out, too.”

  “Shit,” said Punch.

  “It may not matter, bud. Max and Isis found a subterranean tunnel system, probably built by Freemasons a century ago. We’re gonna try to use it to skirt around these freaks and get outta town.”

  “Seriously? Cool. Anyway, Flex. There’s no other way up here, so you guys have some work to do.”

  “Roger that,” said Flex. “You’ll hear us underway. We’ll be up once we clear the path.”

  “Roger,” said Punch. “Get to work. Out.”

  “Hemp,” said Dave. “Did you tell me once that you came up with a device that flung spinning circular saw blades through the air at to kill the rotters?”

  Hemp smiled. “Very early on, yes. Long before WAT-5 and Urushiol.”

  “Well, we could use it now,” he said, removing two Walthers from his holsters.

  “We can handle it without his primitive technology,” said Charlie, slipping the Saiga’s strap from her shoulder and positioning the shotgun. “I’ve almost got a full mag. Let’s do this. Tay, you feel like getting the door?”

  “Hey, Tay,” said Nelson. “You can pretend you’re the doorman and I’ll tip you with a Ninja star.” His held a shiny brass star up. His eyes were slits.

  Taylor smiled and tossed her red hair over her shoulder. “Two Ninja stars. And yeah, I’ll get the door, but save some kills for me.”

  “You’ll have your shot,” said Flex. “I think the best plan is to just open that door and all get back. As they come out, we blast the shit outta them,” said Flex.

  “One, two, three,” said Trina.

  Tay pulled the door.

  The advancing Hungerers came through a cloud of red vapor that had obviously filled the stairwell. Not pink. Not at all. Pure red.

  There were clearly Mothers among the stairwell dwellers. Four rotters fell out, crawled a few feet before getting their legs under them and standing, looking stronger than the ones they’d seen break into the bunker.

  “They’ve been soaking in Mother’s mist!” shouted Hemp, firing his Heckler & Koch, exploding the skulls of their first visitors. “That means they’re stronger than the rest, and will attack any of us on the directive of the Mothers, WAT-5 or not. Their immersion in the mist will likely enhance the Mothers’ connection to them. Charlie, save that shotgun for any Red-Eyes that emerge!”

  Bodies continued to pour out, the blasts blowing their heads into gory, chunky mist that painted the walls behind them.

  Suddenly, Charlie’s shotgun blasted, and a silken-haired monster fell forward, on her face.

  Two had crawled out of the main group, moving toward a metal can that sat a couple of feet off the west wall. One of them was male, missing his left leg at the knee, and the other was an emaciated rotter of unknown gender, now nothing more than a determined torso. As it moved, it eyed Flex.

  “Two of ‘em at one o’clock!” he shouted.

  Hemp turned to see. “Don’t hit that container!” he shouted. “It’s red, and we don’t know what’s in it!”

  Hemp blasted three more abnormals as they emerged – it might have been Dave or Trina’s rounds that took them down. It was a wall of gunfire and a wall of sound.

  Nelson had obviously heeded Hemp’s warning. He charged to his right, jumping over the mystery container and landing with one foot on top of each of the two crawlers. At impact, their heads slammed the floor, but their arms continued to reach, their fingers clawing the wood in an attempt to move toward their perceived prey.

  Nelson reached back and lifted the red can, shook it and tossed it across the room. “Empty!” He then planted two powerful kicks into the midsections of the zombies that had been behind the empty container, followed by foot stomps that exploded the creatures’ heads like water balloons.

  The vibration of the explosive gunfire dislodged almost two dozen years worth of dust from the overhead beams, and Flex realized he was finding it hard to breathe with all the gun smoke and dust permeating the air.

  The zombies that appeared now were easy targ
ets; if there were more Mothers sending them to their deaths below, they were obedient, undead servants. When the advancing biters reached the mound of bodies, they mindlessly crawled over them and tumbled to the floor on the other side.

  Dave, Hemp, Charlie, Taylor, Trina and Flex picked them off.

  Everyone stopped firing. Silence ensued.

  “Only two Mothers,” said Hemp. “I’m surprised. It seemed likely with all that mist –”

  Hemp stopped speaking. Flex followed his gaze and figured out why. “Shit, Hemp,” he whispered.

  Nobody else said a word except for Nelson. He said, “Whoa.”

  The Mother stood against the wall. Her head was down and her hair had nearly all fallen out. She raised her head to stare at them. If her eyes had held any of the powerful mist, it was no longer evident.

  “She’s so weak,” whispered Hemp. “She must have expended everything she had left in her effort to energize the Hungerers.”

  “She’s still on her feet, though,” whispered Taylor. “And for all her effort, it doesn’t look like her vapor helped the others much.”

  “We don’t know what the Hungerers would have been capable of without it,” said Hemp. “Just hold on.” He eyed the once powerful female.

  The emaciated Mother moved forward ever so slightly, her eyes fixed on Hemp. He raised his MP-5 and she stopped again.

  “They still possess enough cognizant awareness to recognize potential dangers,” said Hemp, glancing at Flex and the others.

  In a flash, everything changed. The muscles in her arms and legs seemed to shift and tighten. The Mother suddenly crouched and sprung over the stacked bodies of rotters, now flying through the air with her arms outstretched. She had seemingly been fixated on Hemp and his weapon, but she did not attack him.

  Instead, she turned and leapt toward Trina. She had been watching Hemp, so was not prepared for it.

  “Trina!” shouted Charlie, and the girl reacted, instinctively scrambling out of the way. Trina’s eyes found the airborne Mother and she fired the Saiga shotgun three times in rapid succession, blasting rancid chunks of the Red-Eye out of her trajectory, into the wall beyond.

  Trina had moved well clear before the Mother landed, but some of the spattering gore painted her top and pants.

  “You okay, Trini?” asked Flex.

  “Yeah,” she panted.

  The Red-Eye lay on the floor, but she was not still. The blasts had blown much of her body away, but none had hit her head. She came to rest on her side. Her eyes angled toward the floor, but Flex could see the red had not faded from them. Hemp went to her.

  “Be careful, man,” said Flex. “She was just pretending a few seconds ago.”

  Hemp reached down and pulled something from her twitching fingers. He held it up.

  “Is that … hair?” asked Charlie.

  “What’s more, it appears to be her hair,” said Hemp.

  “What does it mean?” asked Trina.

  “Dude,” said Nelson. “I know. I know what it means.” He walked up to kneel beside Hemp and the damaged Mother. “That chick tore out her own hair to make us think she was dying. She was faking it. Yeah, she might’ve been weak, but not as weak as she was trying to make us think.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Hemp. “Uncanny.”

  The ragged, guttural sound coming from the Mother changed. Hemp got back about two feet and lowered his head to the floor.

  “What are you doin’, man?” asked Flex.

  “Checking her eyes,” said Hemp. “A moment ago they were red. Now they are literally clear. No red.”

  She opened her mouth to reveal yellow and black, rotted teeth. “Where am …” she croaked in a weak voice, then fell silent.

  Hemp backed away and tripped, falling on his behind. He stared at her, his mouth hanging open.

  Her mouth moved again, but no sounds came. In the next second, her body went limp.

  “Dude, what just happened?” asked Nelson, his eyes wide. “That didn’t just … did it?”

  “I’ve got a fucking chill down my back is what just happened,” said Charlie.

  “She … died,” said Hemp. “Without brain trauma.”

  “Did she say ‘Where am’?” asked Flex. “Did anyone else hear that? Did I hear that? Like she was about to ask where she was?”

  Hemp stared down at the motionless body of the formerly dominant Mother. His mouth still hung open.

  “Hemp, baby, you’re catching flies,” said Charlie.

  He looked at his wife, looked confused for a moment, and then closed his mouth. He returned his stare to the dead rotter.

  Flex knew he was running all of the possible implications of what they had seen and heard through his mind.

  In the end, Hemp simply said, “I hope this was nothing more than a guttural noise that seemed to form words.”

  “Then we all heard the same … guttural whatevers,” said Taylor, rubbing her arms. “I’ve got chills too, mom.” Charlie moved over to put her arm around her.

  “Freaky,” said Trina. “I’ve never heard one of them talk.”

  Dave stared at her and furrowed his brow. “It’s that awkward moment when you think about all the times you’ve spoken freely in front of them,” he said.

  Hemp shook his head. “If she died without brain trauma and she actually spoke those two words before expiring, I have to question everything I’ve believed about these creatures. Primarily, that they’re more prisoners than monsters.”

  “What do you mean, man?” asked Nelson. “Like they’re still in there somewhere, maybe aware of what they’re doing but can’t stop?”

  “If she was actually confused about where she was,” said Hemp, “that indicates she had no memory of what she had been doing prior to that moment of clarity.”

  “Then that’s a good thing,” said Flex. “It’d be horrible for them to know what they were.”

  “But Flex, imagine what this means. The gas is clearly stopping. The flow is quite likely further diminished from when we looked at it this morning. If that is true, and it is actually releasing these creatures from its grip, it would also have to have been preserving their brains in some way over all these many years.”

  “Dude, the brain is super important,” said Nelson. “Without it, they never could come back as abnormals. So there’s something there, right?”

  “Yes, and it would make some kind of odd sense that the earth gas had some sort of preservation properties, essentially protecting the very thing that allowed them to rise and feed in the first place.”

  “You’re gonna cut open her noggin, aren’t you?” asked Charlie, shaking her head.

  “I’m considering it,” said Hemp.

  “So the thing died because it wasn’t a zombie anymore?” asked Nelson. “And its body was so thrashed it could only live long enough to say a couple of words?”

  Hemp looked at Nelson. “Nel, my friend. You may have hit on it exactly.”

  Nelson smiled briefly, but a moment later his expression was serious again.

  Flex, seeing Nelson’s expression, believed their thoughts had both gone to the same place. He said, “That means they’re basically gonna die all over again.”

  Charlie went to the wall and slid down to the floor. Trina and Taylor joined her.

  Flex thought they all looked wiped out. It was a good thing Taylor had made them all stop to eat and drink.

  “Dave, I could use your help if you don’t mind,” said Hemp. “Just get behind her and hold her body still while I cut.”

  “I’ll go up and get Punch. Nel, wanna join me?” asked Flex.

  “Yeah, bro,” he said, turning toward Hemp. “Professor, do what you’re gonna, but don’t wake her ass up.”

  “Speaking of that, Charlie, keep that Saiga trained on her lower body as I work,” said Hemp. “If she twitches, I know my reflexes will have me across the room. I’ve seen Dave’s reactions, so he’ll be clear. Just blow her head off once we’re out of the way
.”

  “I was going to use the Tornado, but okay,” said Charlie. “Makes more sense. Hurry up. Smells like dead zombie in here.”

  Flex and Nelson entered the stairwell.

  *****

  Flex climbed the steps with Nelson trailing until they reached a landing with a door marked 1. They forced their tired legs up the next flight until they came across another door with a 2 on it. There was a sign mounted to a low gate that was partially in front of the next course of steps that read, ‘Authorized Staff Only: Roof Access.’

  Flex trudged up the remaining eight steps or so, his legs tired and his muscles aching. It had been a long day. He pushed the radio button. “Punch, come in, man. Over.” He could hear the fatigue in his own voice.

  He felt Nelson pat him on the back. Commiseration.

  “Read you loud and clear,” Punch said. “We heard the party you threw down there. All clear? Over.”

  Standing at the top of the steps just below the roof access hatch, Flex banged on it twice and put his radio away. A second later Flex heard a mechanism turning. The hatch lifted and the cool air hit Flex’s face. He breathed it in as he stepped up onto the gravel and tar roof.

  Punch hugged him. “Glad to see you guys, Flex.”

  “Glad you guys are okay. We have a lot to fill you in on.”

  Nelson followed him up and out of the hatch.

  “Careful, guys,” said Punch. “Roof’s flat and soft. Been taking a beating over the years. Don’t want a repeat of Kings Inn.”

  “Gotcha,” said Nelson. “Hey, Lola.”

  She walked over and hugged him. “Hey, sweetie. Just you two? That was a lot of gunfire.”

  “Nah, Lola. Trini, Tay, Charlie, Dave and Hemp are down there. It’s all clear down there now.”

  “Hell if it is,” said Punch. “Maybe back the way you came, but we barely got into that room and got the door closed behind us. There were at least sixty, seventy more of them behind both doors 1 and 2. Welcome to the dead end.”

  “Fuck no,” said Flex.

  “Fuck yes, I’m afraid,” said Lola. “You guys have water?”

  “Downstairs, but Hemp’s operating, so you might want to give it a sec,” said Nelson.