The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (67 page)

“CQ is the general call for communication, I believe.  Normally used when you just want anyone who hears you to answer.  I’m not sure what the second word is they’re saying, but that would be the transmitting operator’s handle.”

“I think they’re saying seekers,” said Dave.

The crackling static continued.

“
Foxtrot – oscar – romeo – tango – romeo – echo – sierra – sierra.  We read, Seekers
.”

“That spells Fortress,” I said.  “I recognize the first voice, and against the odds, it sounds like Pete.”

“Pretty fuzzy,” said Charlie.  “You sure?”

“No,” I said.  “Maybe wishful thinking.”

“What does it mean?” asked Dave.  “Are they nearby?”

“No way of knowing,” I said.  “They could literally be a thousand miles away or a block.”

“That’s helpful,” said Charlie.

“Not really, I know,” I said. 

We were interrupted again:  “
Nice to know you’re out there,
Fortress.  Switch to 80 meters, 3.54 Megahertz.
”

“They don’t know it, but I’ll be switching with them,” I said.

“Go get em, baby,” said Charlie.

A moment later, the Ham fired up again.  We all listened.

“
Hotel Charlie is in range
.”

“What’s Hotel Charlie?” asked Todd.

“Military alphabet,” I said.  “It means HC.”

“As in Hemp Chatsworth?” asked Gem.

“Just like it, but I’m sure that’s coincidence,” I said.  “But that is definitely Pete Windfield’s voice.”

“Seekers and Fortress?  Is this a military operation, Hemp?” asked Cynthia.

The radio crackled again.  “
Proceed with execution of operation Alpha Hotel Charlie and report,
” said Fortress.

“
Acknowledge, Fortress.  Response in 48 hours.  Seekers out
.”

The radio went back to static, and we all looked around.

“Something’s going the fuck on,” said Flex.  “Any ideas, Hemp?  Anybody?”

For once, I had no answer.  I shrugged.

“That’s it?” asked Gem.

“Fuck off!” shouted
Taylor.

“
Taylor!” said Cynthia.

“Mommy!” she said, holding her playing cards up.  “It’s the
game
!”

Cynthia looked at us, saw the smiles on our faces, then said, “Okay.  I give up.  You’ve always been responsible, and your reward is forthcoming.  Just use the language with as much civility as you can.”

“Slivity?” said Taylor?

Cynthia looked at us, then Todd.  “I’m not sure she’s ready for this.  She can’t pronounce civility.”

“Mommy, I can.  Slivirity.”

“Your mother’s just saying that you can use the language as you see fit, but remember to be nice,” said Todd.  “That’s all.”  He smiled at her and winked.

Taylor got up and jumped onto the bed with her mother and Todd.  She kissed both of them on the cheek.

“I’m always nice,” she said.  “Right?”

“Mostly, yes,” said Cynthia.  “Now, shhh.  Go play.”

We listened for another twenty minutes or so and as the radio scanned the nighttime frequencies, we heard brief snippets of conversations from places around the country.  I made brief notes about them, which channel they were picked up on, and if possible, where they were located.

The thing we found was that most people said where they were.  We discovered two more operators right here in Concord, one called
Outwit
, and the other called
Outlast
.  I assumed these were taken from the old reality television show, Survivor, and wondered when someone would take the handle
Outplay
.

Neither
Fortress
nor
Seekers
broadcasted a location, which meant to me that these particular operators didn’t want their locations known.  It added suspicion to the mix because in a world where there was safety in numbers, this kind of secrecy could only mean that these parties had something to hide or some extreme fear of others who might be listening.

And those others could be us.  We were something to fear, after all.  Particularly if your intentions were sinister in any way.

As Flex might say, we weren’t putting up with that shit nowadays.  Not from anybody.

****

The next day, showers already taken the evening before, we did some weapons cleaning – it had to be done, no matter what else was on the schedule – and got ready to head out.

We had several things to do; first off, we wanted to check out the two cemeteries to see if there was any activity there.  Second, and this was crucial, was to find a source of urushiol, whether it be poison ivy, oak, or sumac, and visit the Manchester Brewing Company to see what would be necessary to convert the stills for our purposes.  We needed the rat cages – we had enough material in the workshop to build some mazes if they were necessary for my research –  and finally, we needed to visit the governor’s mansion and see if we could secure a few rat specimens to occupy our cage.

All in all, a full day ahead.

Todd and Cynthia decided to join us, so in the end, Dave and Lisa stayed home with the kids, and Gem, Charlie, Cynthia, Todd, Flex and myself were the party.  Lucky we took the Crown Vic.  That sucker would accommodate six people, and still have a big enough trunk for the cage.

Elbow room would be at a minimum, and guns would have to be slid between legs.

Kevin Reeves had given us one of the handheld radios like we have several of, and told us to stay on channel 12.  I turned it on and pushed the talk button.

“Kev, come in.  Hemp here.”

A few seconds later, he came on.  “Hemp, good to hear from you.  Get settled in?”

“Yes, absolutely.  Thanks, Kev.  The houses could not have been more perfect.”

“You guys coming by?”

“Not right away.  We’re going to stop by after we check out the cemeteries and see what’s what there.”

“I wanted to tell you something,” said Reeves, his voice unsure.

“What’s wrong, Kev?”

“I don’t know how to say this, and we’re going to sound cruel and inhumane.”

I sat in the driver’s seat of the car and looked at the others.  Then I pushed the talk button again.  “What is it, Kev?”

“The prison,” he said.  “We never went there.”

“What do you mean?”

“The prisoners,” he said.  I could hear the guilt in his tone, even over the radio.

“Are you saying after the outbreak you just –”

“We had enough to do,” Reeves interrupted.  “Everyone knew somebody afflicted, of course.  Most people, including military personnel and first responders, just worried about their families.  Without really thinking about it, all the police and military branches just kind of disbanded, and we all became human beings trying to survive.  We only rebuilt what we found necessary to maintain order.”

“I get it,” I said.  “Do you think they’re dead in there?”

“The guards we spoke with who got out of there said they left it secured.  But who knows what’s happened inside those walls by now.  I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t our problem,” I said.  “This is everyone’s problem, and may not even be one.  You can’t blame yourself for not addressing every issue you faced, considering there are flesh-eating humans roaming the streets.  I’d say you have somewhat of an excuse if you missed something.”

“Nonetheless,” said Reeves.  “I’d steer clear of the prison.”

“I’m hoping our hands aren’t full with the graveyard,” I said.  “We’ll radio when we’re on our way to you, okay?”

“Good,” said Reeves.  “Out.”

“Out,” I said.

“Let’s hit the road,” said Todd.”

We did.

****

The cemetery was just under two miles away from our houses – a seven minute run through the residential streets.  We were fully loaded with our weapons, and had given Dave an Uzi identical to Gem’s.  Charlie had brought her crossbow with a full quiver of arrows, all tipped with urushiol – her idea.  And a good one, I thought.

There were men, women and children walking in small groups along the way, and all of them waved.  Some of them were picking herbs from small gardens roped off with twine around little stick posts.  I assumed they were picking the last of them before winter set in with conviction, killing what remained.

On every other corner I saw armed guards, who also waved as we passed by.  Word had clearly gotten around about our Crown Vic with the AK-47 on the roof, and it was apparently
the
thing to point at gawk at.

We pulled up to the cemetery.  We realized it had been around since the 1800s, and some sections were older than others.  It was obvious which areas were newer, and that was where I stopped the car.

“Do me a favor, everyone,” I said.  “Keep your eyes peeled.  If you’re not comfortable with the weapon in your hand, stick with someone who is.  Since there are only six of us, I say this to you, Dave, Cyn and Todd.”

“I’m comfortable with a firearm,” said Todd.  “I’ve had a carry permit for ten years, and I’ve been a member of the NRA for twenty.”

“Enough said,” said Flex.  “Take a Glock, sir.”

Flex handed him the handgun from his left side drop holster and two additional magazines.

“I’ve got Gem’s Glock,” said Cyn.  “I’m good.”

“Head shots are all that’s effective.  I know you’ve heard it before, but you can’t hear it enough.  Take your time.  Aim and shoot.  Let your shots be true.”

“What the fuck is this?” asked Gem.  “Braveheart?”

“Yes, it is,” I said.  “And
I
am fucking William Wallace.”

“Structure is very important when using profanity, Hemp,” said Gem.  “Sounded to me like you said you’re fucking William Wallace.  You wanna be careful there.”

I smiled and shrugged as I heard running behind me.  I turned just in time to see Charlie flying through the air.  I caught her just as the full weight of her body slammed into me.  Her legs wrapped around me, and she planted a big kiss on my mouth.  I’m lucky my H&K was slung on my back, or she would’ve had a hell of a bruise.

“Jesus, Charlie.  Lucky I caught you.”

“You’d look shitty in front of Flex and Gem if you didn’t,” she said, smiling broadly.  “Now if you don’t want me to do that anymore, stop your inspirational chitter-chatter and your cussing.  You know that turns me on more than girl-on-girl porno.”

I felt the rush of blood hit my cheeks, and I was in a full blush when I let my wife down from my arms.  I could only shake my head.

“Just be careful,” I reiterated.  “If you see any diggers, call out and shoot them.  But call out first so nobody gets trigger happy.”

****

Todd and Cynthia went about four rows in and began walking along together, their guns in hand.  They were taking no risks, and I was glad to see it.

Charlie and I took the row beside the street, and Flex and Gem were in the second row. 

“What kind of rainfall do they get here?” asked Flex.  “Judging from the green, they get a lot.”

“Do you know that, honey?” asked Charlie. 

“Why do you ask?” I said, holding a finger up to Flex, asking him to give me a moment.”

“Because if you answer that question,” she said, with a very serious face, “I will have to lay you down on . . . let me see, Mr. Harry Brice Williams’ grave here, and fuck your brains out.”

“Hold on,” I said.  Then I turned to Flex.

“Most years they get about three inches per month, consistently.  In the winter months, it’s clearly in the form of snow and sleet.”

I turned back to Charlie and smiled.  “Just calm down.  I’m clearly not taking good care of you.”

“If I weren’t modest,” she said, “you’d be in trouble, mister.”

“Guys!  Over here!” shouted Todd.

We looked over and saw both Todd and Cynthia standing away from a grave.  Todd held his gun, pointing  the barrel at the ground.  We all ran over to them.

We walked up to see the last thing we expected.

Rats.  Twenty or thirty of them, covered in dirt, and tunneling in and out of holes that clearly they had dug.

Right into the grave of a Mrs. Regina Michelle Turner, whom the engraving stated had died April 14
th
, 2010.

“What the hell are they doing?” whispered Gem.

“Digging, it looks like,” answered Charlie, her voice barely audible.

“For what?” Todd asked.

“I have no idea,” I said.  “Are they alive, or . . . can any of you tell?”

“They sure as shit look alive,” said Gem.