The Hungry Read online

  "And just where are we going?" asked Miller. She smiled, delighted to be back in open desert again, even stuck in the same damned wedding dress. Scratch leaned back and closed his eyes. Terrill Lee just scowled. He wasn't impressed. Things seemed to keep getting worse.

  Sheppard turned away to drive. "We're heading for Carson City."

  THIRTEEN

  The sunset flooded the desert floor with dark colors and creeping shadow. The Hummer rolled on like a giant beetle.

  "All the way to Carson City?" Terrill Lee said. "How long do you think it will be before they get a couple of those unholy meat-grinders up in the sky and we wind up with a giant heat-seeking dildo right up our collective rosy-red asses?"

  Scratch seemed to agree. He glared out the cracked rear window searching the early evening clouds for danger.

  "I think you mean Hellfires, tough guy," Sheppard said. He was clearly amused by their rhetoric despite the circumstances. Sheppard drove on like a madman, the Hummer bouncing and roaring down the highway. He was a good driver. Miller thought he was cute. Sheppard said, "Anyway, I wouldn't worry about their weaponry, at least not yet."

  Scratch spoke with his eyes closed. "And why not?"

  "Look," Sheppard said, "I can tell you from personal experience it will take them at least another twenty minutes to get their shit together and open the hangar doors. Then they have to get the NV equipment going because it's getting dark. They'll eventually try and launch a Blackhawk and maybe an Apache or two."

  Miller said, "Okay, but that's not much time."

  Sheppard shrugged. "Sheriff, I ducked in there for a short while before I brought those men back up. I screwed up a few vital things here and there, just enough to slow them down, you know? Anyway, by the time they get it all straightened out and come after us, we'll be off the grid for tonight. Believe me we've got it covered for now."

  "Well, I sure hope you're right, Sergeant."

  "I am, Penny. Okay. Hang on."

  Wells shook his head. "Damn, I hate it when you say that."

  Sheppard yanked the wheel to the left. The Hummer sailed off the broken highway. It crashed down an embankment, through reluctant rows of pale sage and sharp rocks. They crushed plant life and crunched solid rock before straightening out onto a skinny dirt road—one that seemingly led to Mars.

  Miller sat back. She stared out through the smeared side window. The sun was low now, very near the horizon, and every rock and scrub tree seemed to cast long, slender fingers of shadow across the dirt road. It would be dark within minutes. This Sheppard was one smart cookie.

  "What's next?" Terrill Lee asked.

  "We have to ditch the Hummer. It's way too recognizable. There's a place I know not far from here. We can dump the military connection and look like civilians on the run. The place is close. We'll be there in less than ten minutes."

  Suddenly a small red light appeared on the dash. Said light was accompanied by a surprisingly loud beep. Scratch opened his eyes.

  "What the Sam Fucking Houston was that?" asked Terrill Lee. They all turned their attention back to the front of the vehicle.

  "Oops," said Sheppard. His features softened. His confidence dissolved.

  "What was that sound?" snapped Miller. "Tell us what's going on."

  "I don't get it," said Sheppard. His hands gripped the thick wheel, but now they were shaking. "I swear the tank was almost full when we left base."

  Miller rolled her eyes. Men. "Let me get this straight. Are you telling me we're running out of gas?"

  Sheppard stared at the gas gauge, clearly willing it to rise again. "We're less than five miles from our next stop, Sheriff. The road is sloping down a bit. I'm going to gun it and see if we can't get there before it's time to take a walk."

  There really wasn't anything for anyone to say after that. Miller considered shooting Sheppard out of spite. She searched the faces of her merry little band of testosterone-addled males. Macumber was clearly scared; being chased by US forces was not what he'd signed up for when he joined the Guard. Miller couldn't be certain what was going on in his mind, but after the loss of his team, and especially Fulton, she was amazed that he was holding it together. The guy was a dick, but he had guts.

  Miller moved on, taking stock. Terrill Lee was cracking his knuckles. He appeared calm, but Miller had seen that before. Hell, it was only that morning that he'd stared down the Blood Riders when they made a run for it in the Durango. But Miller had also known Terrill Lee a long time. The bravado he'd affected earlier was mostly good for show. Her ex-husband had proven that when the heavy shit came down, he was just as likely to become a liability than an asset. She wondered how it was that with the zombies and all, the huge shit storm they were in right now, ol' Terrill Lee was even still alive. Maybe he deserved more respect that he'd gotten. Maybe.

  She watched Wells. The kid was solid, but sure had his eyes glued to the gas gauge. Miller tried to think of a way she wouldn't have to tell him the awful truth at some point. Admit that the man who'd killed his father was sitting maybe five feet away, sleeping peacefully. The funny part was, she had no idea if Wells would try to kill Scratch as a point of honor or shake his hand. The truth was bound to come out somehow, sooner or later.

  Scratch's grizzled head bobbed around with the motion of the Hummer. Miller knew he wanted her to think he was tough as nails, and he had the true grit, but she had seen him in her jail cell that first night, almost ready to piss himself when those zombies were just outside the walls. Men, she thought. They spend so much time thinking about the size of their wieners, figuratively or literally, that they can't concentrate on what matters. And what mattered right now was survival. Damn, she felt hungry. Her stomach rumbled.

  Miller turned her attention back to Sergeant Sheppard. What the hell did they really know about him, anyway? He had helped them escape—there was no denying that—but he'd also seemed to know an awful lot about the inner workings of the top-secret military base. How much did he know about the zombies and where they came from? Miller searched her memory of their interview in the decontamination room, looking for any clue about what Sheppard was all about, but her thoughts were a blur. The only thing she was left with for certain was an uneasy feeling that Sheppard was one of them, that in the end he couldn't be trusted. He surely knew an awful lot more about what was going down than he'd been letting on. Crap, when it came down to it, who could she trust? No one.

  Time stretched like a rubber band. Finally the Hummer coughed, twitched and complained. The road seemed to drop slightly, which allowed Sheppard to let the vehicle roll in neutral from time to time, but the tank was empty and they were almost toast. Night was falling, bringing bitter cold air along for the ride. Stars popped through the sky like pinpricks in silk. Time was running out. The engine began to sputter, and their speed fell off. Miller looked through the front window. Nothing but shadows and sand. They were well and truly fucked. And then a small farmhouse and a sagging old barn seemed to appear from nowhere, perhaps a hundred or more yards up the road.

  "Are we there yet?" Miller asked. "I have to pee."

  Sheppard looked back. "Just about. We have to get the Hummer into that barn and out of sight. If we leave it out here in the open, it won't take a genius with a computer trace to guess where we are."

  "Time?"

  "Five minutes, maybe ten, and then the bad guys will be flying in over that hill. We have to move fast."

  The engine died. The giant Hummer finally rolled to a stop. Sheppard turned to Corporal Wells and Private Macumber. "Form up outside, men. We'll have to push her the rest of the way."

  Miller barked at Terrill Lee and Scratch. "Move, gentlemen. You have the upper body strength. I'll be steering."

  Sheppard stepped out. Miller unstrapped herself from her seat and moved to the driver's side. The bulky wedding dress made it difficult for her to squeeze behind the wheel, but she managed. The men piled out into the hungry dark. She heard them shouting. The vehicle rocked a bit as
they set themselves. She found herself alone in the empty Hummer. Part of her wished she could just drive away and leave them all behind, make it on her own. Every man since a drunken Daddy had figured out a way to let her down. Miller figured she'd be safer on her own.

  Nothing happened. Then Miller realized that the rest of them were waiting behind the vehicle. "Ready when you are, Sergeant."

  The men pushed. Miller steered. Maybe men are good for something after all, Miller thought. The Hummer gathered momentum. They actually reached a decent speed, and the hundred yards slipped by quickly. Meanwhile, Sheppard had sprinted on ahead to the decrepit barn. He ran well, too. He yanked the sagging wooden doors open just as Miller drove the Hummer inside. The doors closed behind her, and then it was dark again. Sheppard and the other men shouted and ran around doing all those man things, working to settle them in. Miller took advantage of one moment alone. She closed her eyes. She wanted to relax but still felt wound up and tense. Hungry and wide awake. Had she had any sleep at all the last two nights? Miller couldn't recall.

  What a wild ride. It occurred to Miller that she could use a really good lay, but she couldn't picture herself with any of the jokers along for the trip. Terrill Lee? Been there, done that. Scratch? Maybe, but only if he had ten hot showers, two stiff drinks and an attitude adjustment. Macumber? That thought just made her laugh. Wells? She still pictured him as a little kid. Sheppard? Hmmm… Now there was an idea. But no, not until she knew she could trust the bastard. Certainly not like this. He wasn't getting inside her pants tonight. Sighing, Miller guessed she was on her own, as usual.

  An idea appeared. A hot bath was in order. Well, that and a decent meal. She hadn't eaten anything except for the soup and some candy and crap all day. She wondered how Sheppard's cousins were set for food. They'd have to stock up, with or without permission.

  Someone entered the barn. Then someone else. The rest of the men filed in and collapsed on the floor. Then the wooden doors closed for good. Miller undid her seatbelt. The driver's side door of the dead Hummer opened. Sheppard shined a flashlight down to show her where to put her feet. She hopped out into a pile of dirty straw, careful to keep the dress down over her legs.

  "Where the hell are we, anyway?" Miller said. "This place looks deader than Hitler's package."

  "I told you, my cousin's farm."

  "What does he farm, dirt and pebbles? The place looks totally deserted."

  "That's the point. Relax. We'll be safe enough here for the moment."

  They heard a distant rumbling sound. Miller shivered. The sound grew louder as the searching choppers approached, right on schedule. The whump whump whump of helicopter blades passed almost directly overhead, but then were gone just as quickly. The small group sat frozen in the oppressive shadows of the barn, swatting away flies and dust. Just waiting.

  "That was close," said Scratch, finally. "Are you sure they ain't coming back?"

  "No," replied Sheppard.

  "No?" This from Terrill Lee.

  "As a matter of fact, I can pretty much guarantee they will be back." Sheppard shined the light on his own face, distorting his features. He looked like a kid at camp getting ready to tell a spooky story. "We aren't staying here for long, people. My cousin Bud is a deacon at the local church, and also happens to own the church bus. It's parked out back. So we're going to borrow that and hit the road again. This shitty night ain't over yet."

  Miller touched Sheppard on the shoulder. He lowered the flashlight. "What exactly is the bigger plan, Sergeant?"

  "The bigger plan? Get some supplies out of the kitchen, hop on the bus, and high tail it to Carson City."

  Scratch found his feet and stepped forward in the gloom. Miller sensed his irritation. "And just what the fuck is in Carson City?"

  They all heard it. The sound of helicopters returned, this time from some distance away. They were circling back around, looking for whatever they'd missed. Miller sought out Terrill Lee, now that her eyes had adjusted. He shrugged as if to say they had no choice. Sheppard was their only ticket out. They'd have to continue to go along, at least for the time being.

  "I promise," said Sheppard, "that I will explain everything on the way to Carson City. Right now, we have other problems." He flicked the flashlight in the direction of the approaching helicopters. "We have to get the hell out of here. Right now."

  "All right, Sergeant," said Miller. She was getting tired of standing around. She felt wound up, tense. Hungry. "We'll follow your lead. Let's go find your cousin."

  Sheppard nodded. He led them to the door, and turned off his flashlight. Outside, the last rays of light faded from the hills across the desert. The swarm of frustrated helicopters could still be heard in the distance. Across the yard, the splintering house stood, listing to port. The inside lights were on.

  "Somebody's home," said Wells, to no one in particular.

  "What's your cousin's name again?" asked Miller.

  Without looking at her, Sheppard said, "Jeff, but everyone calls him Bud. Wife's Wanda. They've got a kid called Jeannie. Let's move."

  Sheppard opened the barn doors. He looked around and then sprinted across the yard, followed closely by the others. They approached the front door to the old house. Sheppard put his hand on the knob, but Miller stopped him. Something felt wrong. He sensed her mood.

  "They usually leave the door open like that?" Miller whispered, "Way out here? And with all that's going on?"

  Sheppard stepped back. "No, you're right."

  Miller turned. She took the pistol from Macumber's belt. "Listen up," she whispered. "Do exactly as I say. Sheppard, Wells, Macumber. You're with me. Clear each room before going to the next. If it's undead, go for a headshot. You know the drill. Try not to shoot anyone who's alive."

  Miller licked her lips. She turned to Terrill Lee and Scratch, pointed a finger at each of them. "You two? You wait here and stay out of trouble."

  She took a couple of deep breaths. "Let's go."

  Miller pushed the door open. She entered, pistol raised. She almost shouted "police" out of habit as she moved purposefully through the living room but managed to stay quiet. The gun searched carefully, a thing with a life of its own. The men spilled into the room behind her, fanning out checking closets and behind furniture. The house smelled of cooking and a gas stove, but reeked of something else, too. Something was wrong.

  Miller paused in the center of the room. The house was a shambles. Overturned furniture, broken knick-knacks, and wide stains of what could only have been blood. Miller held up a hand for the men to hold their positions. Everyone waited for her to decide what to do. Miller scanned the room. They could all feel the presence of death. Nothing moved.

  "Clear," she said, reluctantly.

  She motioned for the Guardsmen to take the hallway to the right, and for Sheppard to follow her. Miller moved into the kitchen. It was more of the same. Broken dishes everywhere, refrigerator open, food spoiling, and some bloody drag marks leading toward the back of the house. A meal was set out on the table, some kind of stew and a vegetable. Someone whispered that another room was clear. Someone else followed.

  Miller said, "Kitchen clear."

  She glanced into the refrigerator. She could smell food rotting in the trapped heat. Whatever happened must have done so at least a few hours before. Damn. So much for a decent meal.

  Heart pounding, she headed toward the small back bedrooms, eyes following the gory drag marks. Sheppard followed her, his face pale and now contorted with grief and worry. Miller listened intently. Her wedding dress made loud whiffing noises as she passed through the door and into the back hallway. The drag marks terminated at a closed door, likely the master bedroom. Sheppard's eyes were glistening. This couldn't be good.

  Miller noticed some movement to her right. She turned, aiming the pistol. Wells stood there with his hands raised. His mouth and eyes had both gone wide with fear. Miller lowered her pistol.

  "Little girl's room is clear, Sheriff." He stare
d at the bedroom door. "We actually going in there?"

  "Looks like it," said Miller. She moved to the door. Pounded on it. "This is Sheriff Miller of Flat Rock County. Drop your weapons and come out with your hands above your heads."

  Not a sound from the other side of the door.

  "If you make me come in there, I will shoot you."

  Silence.

  Miller turned the knob. She threw the door open. She entered, wedding dress flowing, gun searching shadows. The room reeked of death. Three bodies lay on the bed, a shirtless man in overalls, a woman in a nightgown wearing brightly colored hair curlers, and a little girl in pink pajamas. Each had been shot once in the head, the man and the girl through the center of their foreheads and the woman through the temple. A .357 was still clutched in the woman's left hand. Sheppard sobbed quietly.

  The man looked like hell—he must have become a zombie before the woman shot him dead. He was clearly the source of the bloody drag marks. One foot was missing, as was a good part of his naked right abdomen. Apart from the wound to her head, the woman was untouched.

  Miller turned to Sheppard. He was crying. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry."

  Before Sheppard could respond, they heard a loud shout from the front of the old farmhouse. "Penny!" Terrill Lee. "Get your ass out here!"

  Miller moved quickly. In half a heartbeat, she was at the front door, weapon raised, ready for more trouble. She peered outside into the night. All she found was Scratch and Terrill Lee under the porch light, both looking like they were ready to beat the living shit out of each other. No zombies, no Army, no new danger. And the clock was still ticking.

  "What the fuck are you two doing?"

  "Just what the hell happened between you and this biker turd back in your jail house?" demanded Terrill Lee. "I have a right to know."