Dead Hunger II: The Gem Cardoza Chronicle (8 page)

“That’s why I married you,” he said.

I clicked the walkie again.  “You didn’t marry me, mister.”

“I’m gonna.  Just you wait and see,” he said, a smile in his voice.

I think I got those chills again, but this time it was for a good reason.  A
nice
reason, I should say.

Hemp pulled into a Kangaroo Express with a sign showing diesel fuel.  It was on a street littered with stalled vehicles called
Tallapoosa Street
.  When we pu
lled to a stop I looked around in
all directions.  I knew everyone else was doing the same thing.

Where were all the ghouls?  They had to be here somewhere.  The air was still, which meant our scent wouldn’t be blowing in all directions like chum in shark-infested water, but I didn’t want to be outside for long no matter what.

“When I get out, lock it, Cynthia.  And let them sleep, okay?”

“Okay.  Can I help?”

“Just stay with the girls.  That’s a big enough help,” I said.  “Once we get you trained, you can help in different ways, okay?”

She smiled and nodded.  I tried to remember that we all had our terrible stories of how this all began, and hadn’t really learned much about hers yet.  When she was willing to talk about it I’d sit with her.

I checked the Uzi’s magazine, and it was right where I’d left it; full.  I put the strap over my shoulder and got out of the car.  Flex waited outside for me, and Hemp had pulled the motor home up to the diesel pump.  It was unlocked, but as expected, there was no power.

Charlie got out of the Suburban with the crossbow slung over her shoulder and walked to where we gathered.

“There should be a bypass key for the pumps,” said Flex.  “I’ll look for it inside.”

He wore one of the headlamps but hadn’t turned it on yet.  He gave one to me and I passed it to Charlie.  I unstrapped the one that was wrapped around the barrel of my Uzi and put it on.

“Okay.  Hemp,” I called.  “Stay by your van and you’ll know by the bells and whistles when you’re ready to pump.”

“I’ll scream if anything goes wrong,” he said, smiling.

We went inside the gas station office and each of us, holding weapons forward, checked the rooms.  There was a decaying stench in the air, and it didn’t take long to discover what it was.

A fly and maggot-ridden body lay five feet inside the store between the bread and candy aisles of the mini mart.  The bread was all green and molded, a reminder of the things we wouldn’t have anymore unless we made it ourselves. 

The body was of an Indian man.  He lay face up – if he’d still had a face – and his tag said he his name was Rakesh.

Rakesh no longer had a brain, and his limbs had been chewed to the bone, so he didn’t appear to be a threat.  It sucked that we still had to make an evaluation when someone was in such condition, but the fact was, we did.

I stood back three feet and put a single round in
his
head.  I was done taking chances.

“I found the switches.  They’re all in the on position,” said Flex.

He was behind the sales counter.  “I’m going to turn off all the pumps but the diesel.  Our gen’s not going to power all of them.  Maybe one.”

Charlie stopped at the Twinkies.  “These things have enough preservatives to last a year or two,” she said, pulling three boxes from the shelf.  “Hey, Flex.  Hand me a couple bags from back there, would you?”

Flex did, and she grabbed three more boxes, loading them up with two packages of Hostess Cupcakes.  The chocolate kind with the white squiggly frosting on top.

A little of that weed and I’d be all over those.  No doubt. 

I walked around to the door
leading
to the service bay.  I pushed through it and saw another body
lying on the concrete floor
to the right of the door.  This was one of the mechanics
judging
from his uniform, but he was face down.  I didn’t bother with an examination; I put a bullet in his head.

Blood splattered against the wall and the floor, and the body convulsed violently.  Hands and feet twitching as the crimson liquid ran away from the body and pooled beside my feet.

Flex burst through the door.

“Gem!  Are you okay?”  He looked down at the body on the floor and saw the blood.

I looked at him.  “Flex.  He was alive.”

“Jesus, Gem, didn’t he say anything?”

“I think he was pretending to be dead.”

“He had to know we weren’t zombies.  We were talking, for Christ’s sake.”

“I don’t know.”   I was numb.  “Flex, I killed a man.  I just killed an innocent man.”

Flex knelt down beside the man
’s body
.  He’d quit twitching and now lay still.  Flex’s hand went to the man’s ear and he brought back a hearing aid.  He reached around to the other side of the man’s head and found another, then held them both up in the palm of his hand.

“Gem, he couldn’t hear us.  These are both the rechargeable kind, and he’s had no power.”

I stared down at the man whose life I’d ended.  It didn’t matter that he didn’t hear us; didn’t know we weren’t a danger.  I took his life, snuffed it out.  I should have been more careful, checked the body before I fired my gun into his brain.  I felt my legs collapsing, and before I could steady myself
on
the dirty shelf mounted on the wall, I crumpled to the ground, a wave of emotion washing over me.

I felt Flex’s arms
around
me immediately.

“Gem,” he said.  “C’mon.  Baby, you wouldn’t have done this on purpose, and you know it.  Never.”

I couldn’t speak.  I was bawling.  Maybe the guy had already lost everyone he loved, but he’d made it this long – so long after it all began, only to have Gemina Cardoza, a trigger-happy Guatemalan girl snuff his life out with a single pull of the trigger.

“C’mon, Gem.  Let me help you up.”

When I got back on my feet, Charlie stood at the door.  She looked down at the man on the ground and back at me.  She put her arm around me, too.

“Gem, let me take you back to the car.  I’ll help Flex when I get back.”

I cried harder because I loved Charlie and she’d put two and two together.  She didn’t need to be a psychologist to figure out that I was not fit to protect anyone.  I nodded my head and she took my arm.

I sat in the car, Cynthia beside me stroking my arm as I let out the rest of my tears.  I drank deeply off a bottle of water, and tried to calm myself.

And I realized Cynthia was a warm, caring person.  While comforting me, she never even asked what upset me in the first place.  She only knew what I needed.

*****

Flex walked out of the now rolled-open service bay dragging a cord.  It was nearly an inch thick and it appeared long enough to reach the generator mounted on the tongue of the Mobile Lab.  Once it was plugged in, Hemp fired the generator and five seconds later, the digital display of the diesel pump came to life, glowing yellow.

“Bingo!” shouted Hemp.  “Pump on!”

I smiled.  At least something good was happening.  I noted the other pump on the island also lit, and that was good, because it was gasoline.  We might as well all fill up.  I pulled the car over so that when Hemp moved the lab I’d be able to
reach the Ford’s filler pipe with the nozzle.

Flex walked out and tapped on my window.  I rolled it down.

“Doing better, babe?” he asked.

I shrugged, looking up at him.  “It’s going to take a while.  That shit threw me for a loop.”

Flex nodded, patted my
shoulder
and said nothing.  He went to where Hemp stood pumping diesel into the filler spout in the side of the behemoth.

“What’d you do, swipe your credit card?” he asked.

“Nope.  Picked the bypass lock.  Mechanical engineer, remember?”

“Yeah, but a lock picker?  Guns, lock picking.  Anything else you’re not telling me?”

“I suppose you’ll find out little by little.  Hey, Flex.  What happened in there?”

I heard him ask the question, and I know Hemp was aware I was distressed.

“We’ll talk about it later, Hemp,” Flex said.

“No,” I said.  “It’s okay, Flexy.  Hemp, I shot an uninfected inside.  I didn’t realize he was pretending to be dead, and I don’t trust the dead anymore.  I figured it out after it was too late.”

Hemp nodded, a look of empathy on his face.  It could’ve happened to any one of us.

“I want to bury him, Flex.”

“We don’t have time for that –”

“We’ll make time,” I said.

Flex thought a minute.  “I have a better idea.  Hemp, keep pumping.  Gem, come with me.”

I got out of the car and followed Flex into the service bay.  He pointed at the service pit. 

“Surrounded by concrete.  The tires are off that car up on the lift, so we’ll put him down in the pit and release the hydraulics, sealing him in with that car.  He’ll be more secure than in the ground.”

It worked for me.  We both put on some of the latex mechanic gloves and I got the man’s feet.  I saw his name tag said Donald.

Flex lifted him under the arms and we slid-carried him around and lowered his body down inside.  He was a thin man with short, grey hair.  Somewhere in his mid-sixties from the looks of him.

“Donald, I hope my mistake has taken you to a place where you don’t have to be afraid anymore,” I said.

I stared down at his body in the service pit for
what
I guess had to be two minutes.  Mentally I was exhausted.  This fuckup seemed to have brought every emotional ball I’d been juggling down on top of me.  I looked at Flex.

“Think you’re ready?”
he asked.

“I think so.” I said a silent prayer for Donald’s soul as the hydraulics hissed and the mechanic was sealed in with the old Chrysler sedan.

“Let’s get the other tanks filled and find a motel,” I said.  “I’m beat to shit.”

Flex put his arm around me and we walked back to the cars, finished our business and left the station, all with full tanks.

The cars, that is.  Just the cars.

*****

CHAPTER
SIX

We found an EconoLodge on
Oxmoor Road
, and it was exactly what we’d all envisioned.  Two levels, one directly over the other, rows of rooms, door by door by door.

We were hoping for available first floor rooms all in a row without a whole bunch of zombie fighting beforehand.  We were dead fucking tired, all of us, and I have no qualms speaking for everyone.  All I had to do was look around.  Blurry eyes, sunken faces, and something I’d describe, if seen on a stranger’s face, as defeat.

That did not apply in this case.  This was not the kind of group to accept or entertain the thought of defeat.  Max and Cynthia had yet to be vetted, but early exit polling was coming out in their favor.  These guys would do just fine as long as they followed our instruction and respected what we’d learned over the past few weeks.

Besides, with regard to exhaustion levels, just the mere act of being awake and aware of the earth as it was now was enough to wear you down.  Forget the added stress of keeping watch, driving, making sure your weapons were fully loaded for the next battle and all that other shit.  This was the Wild West, only it was everywhere and it was immeasurably wilder.

“Baby, you want to come with me to the office?” Flex asked.

I knew he was talking to me, because he typically didn’t call Hemp or Charlie “baby.”

I grabbed my Uzi in response.  “Why?  Am I in trouble, Flexy?”

“Always,” said Flex.  “I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

Tired as they were, everyone smiled at our banter.

I turned to Cynthia, who still sat in the back seat with the girls.  “I hate to treat you like some kind of babysitter, but would you mind?  We’ll work this thing out down the road.”

Cynthia waved off my concerns.  “Gem.  You and Flex saved my daughter and now, not only is she alive, but she has a friend.  Besides that it seems they’re going to be pretty important to one another.”

Cynthia looked down at the sleeping girls with a sad, tender look in her eyes, then back up at me.

“So no offense at all, but how you happen to see me right now couldn’t matter less.  I’ll prove myself down the road, but for now you are an inspiration, Gem.  Now you and Flex go get us some sleeping arrangements.”

“Gotcha,” I said.  I did like her.  Feisty and confident.  She’d be an easy student.

“I’m not armed yet, so I’ll stay with her inside the car,” Max said.  “But I do intend to be taught the trade and mystery of shooting techniques eventually.”