Isis shook her head. “I don’t blame any predator animals for their nature, and I don’t blame the abnormals for craving human flesh,” said Isis. “But they are what they are, and we are their prey. That will never change.”
Changing the subject, Flex asked, “What’s the biggest town south of here if they get to Duncan Bridge Road?”
“Cornelia, I think,” said Isis. “Oh, hell. I know. I’m not sure why I try to be modest.”
“Oh, that’s just who you are, my darling,” said Max facetiously. “Glad that fight’s over.”
“Bite me,” she said.
“That’s what the Red-Eye said,” retorted Max.
“That doesn’t even make sense.” She turned back to Flex and Gem. “Why do you ask?”
“Because we need to make sure in case they don’t come back here. Anywhere south is closer to Lula. They can find new digs around here all they like, but I’ll kill them all if they get too close.”
“We should head back tonight,” said Gem. “We know they left, so we should be able to ride those bicycles safely back to our car. We can try to find them on our way back, while they’re still out hunting.”
“Damned Night Dwellers,” said Flex. “I agree. Not tired anyway.”
“I’ll radio Hemp and let him know,” said Gem. “He worries about his boy.”
By midnight, they had everything ready to go. Their idea of daisy-chaining two of the child carriers together worked perfectly. The wrapped Red-Eye lay cocooned atop them, little yellow shade tops cut away so she could be strapped down properly.
They made their way back up the street, which intersected with Duncan Bridge Road. Looking left, under the yellow glow of the moon, they saw body parts, tufts of hair and pieces of clothing littered all over both lanes.
They rode off in the opposite direction.
*****
CHAPTER TWENTY
With their weapons in hand, Punch and Charlie moved through the woods, staying on the animal trails to avoid crunching through the heavy blanket of dead leaves.
The heat in the woods was its own blanket, an almost physical presence.
Moving slowly, keeping an eye out ahead, Charlie was thankful for the bright moonlight; it illuminated the path ahead as it filtered through the trees, rendering the night vision goggles in their backpacks unnecessary.
“This is a good spot,” said Punch, holding up a clenched fist. He pointed. “There’s a pond over there, and they come down to drink. If we can pull it off, I’d like a deer and a hog. Good size on both of them, so let’s be choosy.”
“To be choosy, you have to have choices. But I do enjoy your optimism.”
“You haven’t been out lately, have you?” asked Punch. “Deer population’s gone wild. Hogs are more plentiful than ever, which makes this shit more dangerous.”
“Guess not,” said Charlie. “So, settle in?”
“Yeah, but not right here,” said Punch. “There’s a deer stand about a hundred feet that way,” he said, pointing. “Two-man platform mounted to a tree. It was built out of composite lumber before all this shit started, and it’s still in great shape. We’ll climb up and settle in there.”
“Fine by me,” said Charlie.
They worked their way farther down the trail and came to the tree. On the side a makeshift ladder had been created, and the stand was around fifteen feet high, with sparse branches providing decent cover.
Punch climbed up first, and once up, he waited for Charlie to make her way up the ladder. Reaching out, he took her hand and pulled her safely onto the platform.
There was a small cabinet on one end with two collapsible chairs inside, which Punch removed and set up.
They settled in.
“I miss this thing,” said Charlie, her voice low. “Killed me a lot of zombies with it.”
“Don’t miss a thing about the apocalypse,” said Punch. “Damned depressed it’s on again.”
“If we dealt with the numbers we had before, we can deal with this new outbreak.”
“Okay, let’s quiet down if we want to bag our limit.”
They were rewarded in half an hour. A lone boar appeared, around six feet long and a big boy indeed, made his way to the water’s edge. From their vantage point, Charlie and Punch watched it.
“You want to take it?” asked Punch. “Crossbow?”
“Best spot? I’m good with deer, but he looks thick.”
Punch used his index finger, placing it behind his ear. “Right there. Sight in, take your time.”
Charlie stood and leaned back against the tree. A good sliver of moonlight broke through the trees just over the clearing by the pond, so she looked through the scope and sighted in.
The hog drank its fill, then raised its head. Charlie tracked it with the bow’s sight.
She waited.
The boar turned its head to the north, availing its ear to Charlie. She adjusted her aim, took a deep breath, and fired.
In a split second, with only a short squeal that died a beat after it began, the hog fell over onto its side.
“Beautiful!” whispered Punch, standing to clasp a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Now we have work to do.”
A sound came from the south, and they both turned.
“Are you shitting me?” asked Charlie under her breath.
“Shh,” said Punch. “Don’t move a muscle.”
The horde moved steadily north towards where they were perched, not bothering to stay on the animal trails. Instead, they flowed like shambling water, filling in any passable gaps they could find between the trees and other obstacles.
Charlie reached down for her radio and found the volume button. She turned it all the way down but left the power on. She found the transmit button without looking and pressed it two times, quickly.
The zombies are here.
Wanting to slap her forehead in frustration after making the double-click, she caught herself before doing so. The sound would alert the creatures to their presence, adding insult on top of injury.
It was a dumb move to alert her husband. Hemp didn’t know where they were because he didn’t ask, and she didn’t believe either she or Punch had provided any clues. So much for the click alert system. How soon they forgot the things that kept them alive back in the first outbreak.
Hemp would do nothing about it except worry. She silently hoped he had missed the alert. It was unlikely, but possible.
Below them, the horde of sixty-seven rotters, many appearing to be recently turned, converged on the huge boar, dropping atop it, and tearing at its flesh.
The sound of groans and slurps, skin tearing, and hair being ripped out turned Charlie’s stomach.
She was also a little pissed about the carnitas they would not be preparing tomorrow.
It was Taco Tuesday, after all.
*****
Hemp stared at the radio. Had he heard what he thought he had?
His heart rate increasing tenfold, his eyes darted around the lab. He picked up his portable ham and checked the sheet.
Flex and Gem had provided the frequencies they would be on at any given time; he just hoped they were okay and had the ability to follow their plan.
He changed frequencies and pressed the button. “Flex, Gem, Max, Isis, come in. Chatsworth here. Chatsworth. Over.”
Nothing.
The quad-copter drone he had built from plans they located online before the internet went down was very short-range. It was based solely on design specifications provided by a French company called Parrot, who had not yet mass produced them, but had many hours of flight time in testing.
Hemp utilized small blades from radio-controlled airplanes, as well as the motors. He utilized RF technology to control them, again, robbing parts from remote control cars and joystick controllers.
He had never used Charlie’s Pride for anything except a quick flight around the yard. Now he would attempt to use it for something more important.
Punch had dropped a piec
e of paper on his laboratory countertop before leaving but had said nothing when doing so. The moment he and Charlie departed, Hemp unfolded it and realized it was a printed map of the forest to their east.
The area of their intended hunt was highlighted in yellow.
Hemp worked quickly, driven by adrenaline. The drone he had built already had a camera mounted below it, because that was his primary reason for its creation – to observe a wide area from high up.
The Bluetooth technology, while just being introduced in the 2010 model cars being released in late 2009, had been well-established in mobile phones since 2004. He had been intrigued by its applications, so studied it heavily.
He never intended to use his drone for any kind of attack, so it would be useless for anything other than observation. Hemp stared at the drone on the counter.
“Hemp, come in. It’s Gem.”
Hemp hurried to the radio. “Hello, Gem? Do you read?”
“Yes. What’s going on Hemp?”
“Charlie has gone hunting with Punch. I just received a double-click.”
There was a long delay, then Gem’s voice came back. “Okay. Nothing after? How long has it been?”
“About twenty minutes. I’ve been working on an idea.”
“Do you know where they are?”
“I know the general vicinity, but there are miles of forest they could be in, to the east.”
“What are you doing?”
“Where are you?”
“We’re at this outfitters place. We tried to ride bicycles back to our vehicle, but these hills are making it tough, even with multiple speeds.”
“Find a diesel and utilize Isis’ booster,” said Hemp. “If it has any fuel, even old fuel, it should start with a little coaxing. If it’s older, be sure to allow the glow plugs to heat. If Isis brought her starter fluid, use that too.”
There was another delay. “Okay, there’s a quad-cab pickup truck here, but it looks old. The tires are flat, but we can deal with that or ride on rims until we get back to the car. Isis brought everything she thought we might need, including the starter fluid and the booster. We’ll give it a shot.”
“Okay. I’m glad you’re all okay. I’m going to try something. It’s a long shot and it will destroy my drone, but that’s the least of my worries.”
“Keep us informed,” came Flex’s voice through the radio. “Punch and Charlie can take care of themselves. But if you hear that single click, you go.”
“Of course,” said Hemp. “Be safe.”
Hemp disconnected the radio and moved over to another drawer. He found several metal containers, similar to Skoal tins, and pulled two of them out. After sliding the drawer closed again, he twisted the lids off, revealing the silky gray gunpowder inside. He emptied each tin onto the countertop, then drilled a small hole in their sides, inserting a long fuse.
He quickly sealed it with fast-drying glue and put the gunpowder back in. Then he used thin baling wire to attach the tins to the drone.
Over each tin of gunpowder, Hemp wired a bladder. Leaving them empty for the moment, he took the drone to a scale and placed it atop it.
Determining how much more weight he could add and still allow the drone to fly high enough, he filled each bladder with a blend of urushiol and water, making sure the urushiol content was triple what they would ordinarily need.
Lastly, he wired in the ignitor he had secured from a BBQ parts store and a single, rechargeable AAA battery.
Everything was done and secured. He used the fully-charged cell phone to control the blades, and they whirred to life. Just to be sure, he stood back and issued the command to take flight.
It did. He brought it back down and took the drone to the car.
Hemp returned to the lab and sat in a chair. He slipped the ring on his pinky finger, the wire running from it to the electronic timer. Setting the timer for 1 minute, he started it and took the WAT-5.
His eyes closed and he slumped into the armchair. As the timer counted down to zero, the small electric shock jolted him awake. Gathering his senses, he pulled the ring off and ran out to the car.
Hemp blew gravel out behind him as he headed for the road that paralleled the trail Punch and his wife had taken.
*****
Hemp drove like a madman, the tail-end of the pickup fishtailing at every turn as he hauled ass to the trailhead, looking at his map as he went.
Reaching the mid-point of the trail paralleling the road, he skidded to a stop. The area extended for two miles either north or south, but the approximate center was the best he could do. He cut the engine, got out of the car, and went around to the passenger side door, removing the drone and placing it on the hood of the car.
Activating the switch, he got back inside the car and pulled out the cell phone, firing up the application.
With the push of a button, the drone lifted off, showing him what the camera saw as it rose above the tree line.
He thanked God for the full moon. The drone moved off to the west. He watched the screen intently.
*****
The ride was rough, but the distance to where they had parked the Blazer was not that great. If they took Duncan Bridge Road north to I-254 East, they would only have to push the vehicle six miles.
The mushy feeling of rolling on flat tires was better than the alternative of riding on bare metal rims. They weren’t custom wheels – just the standard, stock rims. A few rocks or cracks in the untended pavement and they could develop a flat spot and be walking again.
“Easy, Max,” said Isis.
“I know, I know.”
They’d seen no sign of other hordes moving around in the vicinity; to their north were more mountains, so that wasn’t a likely source for them. They sought populated areas, porous soil and/or hot springs.
Maybe the odd enclosed space with dirt floors. Barns, large farm equipment storage buildings, that sort of thing.
They finally reached I-254 and Max eased it around the corner. This road appeared to be in better shape than Duncan Bridge Road, but then again, it led to a residential area with large homes with a lot of vehicles.
Grass and weeds grew high around and between all of them, so it was clear nobody had bothered coming back here in a long, long while.
On the bright side, there were more big pickups and Chevy Suburbans around than Flex had ever seen in one location – that hadn’t been picked over by survivors of the apocalypse.
Flex decided he would remember this place after this was over. He could use a new Suburban.
Tattered remnants of American flags hung from rusted flagpoles; tin-roofed homes, some more like estates, and others single-wide mobile homes dotted each side of the winding road as it made its way northeast.
Two miles to go until their turn. They were quiet along the route, praying a rim didn’t crack and split down the middle, sending the spindle down to the asphalt, where it would bury itself before snapping off.
The relief in the car was palpable as they reached the stop sign at Twin River Road. They headed south – keeping slow and steady, and soon, the Blazer came into view.
“Well, gentlemen,” said Gem. “How did you like your first zombie hunt? We’re open from May 15th through November 15th every season. Please make time for us again soon!”
“I’d say that’s a two pointer,” said Flex. “See the bazooms on that one?”
“Uncle Flex!” said Isis. She shook her head. “Mixed company.”
“Let’s load up fast,” said Max. “I need to call Dad and see what’s up with Mom.”
“I’d gamble she’s fine,” said Gem. “If she took her trusty crossbow with her, she has stealth on her side. Plus, you know she brought backup weapons.”
They got moving. When it came time to shift the Red-Eye from the truck, they just positioned her atop the cabin of the Blazer and used thick bungee cords to secure her there.
Once everything was in place, they got in the truck. When Max fired the engine, he let it s
ettle before dropping it in gear.
“Okay, guys. Nap if you like,” he said, pulling forward and driving out of the steep lot driveway. “I’ll be sure to scream bloody murder if anything jumps out in front of us.”
When he reached the top, he turned right onto the paved road, this time towards Demorest the main highway that would lead them back home.
Max floored it.
They tried Hemp on the radio but got no answer.
Nobody slept.
*****
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Charlie and Punch breathed in and out with steady breaths, incredulous at the scene below them.
The enhanced female zombie was staring up at them, her penetrating, red eyes steady and unblinking. She had, for long moments, stared down at the still laboring boar, as though studying it.
Apparently, the bolt struck the animal in a spot that rendered his brain unable to control his extremities, but his heart kept beating for the moment.
It did not beat any longer, for the wild boar was now three-quarters devoured. The Red-Eye had somehow commanded the males to await her signal before feeding. In advance of giving this approval, she had stared hard at the arrow, even leaned down to touch it.
Just this cognizant action gave Charlie the chills.
The Mother was far more aware than Charlie would’ve previously given any of her kind credit for; she had clearly determined the boar would have been facing the water, standing on its feet. The arrow protruded from its right ear, so she made the calculations of trajectory.
Turning her head, her red, glowing eyes fell directly on them, and did not waver. With a grunt, her minions fell onto the dying animal and finished the job.
Permission had been granted.
This was a small horde, but big enough to kill Punch and Charlie many times over, even if they expended all their ammo and were successful with each shot. They had come prepared to hunt for food, not to fight off a horde; even a small one.
The sky above them was visible, thanks to a break in the trees. The tree in which they were perched had a canopy that mostly expanded outward, opposite the trail and the pond, allowing the moonlight to shine down and give them a good view of what they now faced.
Dead Hunger | Book 10 | The Remnants Page 17