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Dead Hunger: The Flex Sheridan Chronicle

Page 16

by Eric A. Shelman


  *****

  “Flex. Flex, baby, wake up.”

  It was . . . could it be? Gem’s voice?

  “C’mon, baby. You’re the one who’s always on a time schedule. All your structure and bullshit. We gotta go.”

  Something wet slid across my mouth and cheek. Was Gem licking me? I tried to open my eyes, and found they worked. Light flooded into them, and I saw a white and pink blur over me. I squeezed them closed again, flushing away the haze, and opened them. Another lick. A big one.

  “Jesus, you two, get that thing away from me!” I wasn’t even sure what it was yet, but it was licking me.

  “C’mon, now,” said Hemp’s voice.

  I opened my eyes again, and this time I saw Hemp pulling the collar of a giant white dog with blood matted in the fur on its chin and all along its front legs and chest.

  “Is he okay?” I asked. “Where the hell did he come from?”

  Gem answered. “Well, a couple of things first. He’s a she, and you saved her, Flex. Damned zombie was – sorry, I mean abnormal – was trying to eat her for breakfast.”

  Cobwebs still abounded in my head. “Shit, that was the rug? I didn’t know what I was seeing! I thought the guy was freaking out, trying to bury himself under a big fur rug or something. When I grabbed his legs, it felt wrong, but . . . fucknuts!”

  “Fucknuts?” Hemp said, amused. “This is what you come up with after almost being partially eaten?”

  Gem looked at Hemp and smiled. “It’s an inside joke. It’s a pretty universal exclamation, actually.”

  “The thing was gnawing on this big girl’s leg, and she was taking off a good portion of his face,” Hemp said.

  “And you were letting her lick me? What if she’s infected?”

  Hemp might as well have called me a moron. His face went absolutely sarcastic, and the only thing he left out was rolling his eyes. “Flex. We’ve driven across north Florida and did you see one zombie – shit – abnormal dog? Did you see any dogs feasting on human flesh the entire way? This tells me – and granted, I’m only a scientist who specializes in epidemics – that it doesn’t spread to dogs. Perhaps other animals, but not canines. You’ll be fine.”

  I sat up and stretched out my arms. “How’s Trina?”

  Gem held out her hand to me and I took it. “She’s great. I fed her a few handfuls of Cheerios and some of the fruit rollups you got. Then I gave her a Benadryl, and she’s back out.”

  “Did she see any of –”

  “No,” Gem said. I rolled up a blanket in the side window put the sunshade in the windshield. She’s okay. And I want to take this girl with us, too.”

  “What the hell is it?” I stared at the dog. “She’s big, and fat as hell.”

  Hemp laughed. “She’s a Great Pyrenees, and she’s pregnant.”

  I brushed off my pants and looked from Hemp to Gem to the giant blood red and white cotton ball looking up at me, panting and smiling. “Well, if we aren’t turning into one big fucking happy family.”

  “I’ll drive,” Gem said. “You look like you could use a can of chili and a nap.”

  I didn’t argue.

  CHAPTER SIX

 

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