The Hungry 5: All Hell Breaks Loose (The Sheriff Penny Miller Series) (11 page)

“No! You mustn’t!” Rolf protested. “Only the Chosen One…”

“Sheppard, hand me your pistol.” Though the sunlight above was blocked, there was just enough light from the nearest burning zombies for Miller to see Sheppard clearly. He placed the pistol in her hand.

“Almost out, Penny.”

Rat fired again. “Same here. Low.”

Miller fired twice into the next chamber. The muzzle flashes weren’t bright, but they were just enough to illuminate the road ahead.

There was another horde down there, all right. They were all standing crowded together in a large underground pit. She couldn’t count the zombies in the fraction of a second of light she had, but there were a lot of them—too many to make her feel anything but sheer panic. She’d seen men and women and children of all ages and sizes. Dozens and dozens of the enemy, jaws open wide and teeth snapping. They were awake and waiting for their next meal.

Miller closed her eyes and reconstructed what she’d seen. Around the edge of the roughly circular chamber was a narrow ledge. Something they should be able to walk along. She had no idea how wide it was, but it curved around to the right, that much was certain. It looked to be set just above the reach of the zombies. Or so she hoped. Unfortunately, they’d have to do it one by one and in the dark.

Miller turned the pistol on Rolf. “Okay, Idaho. You go first.”

The odd man looked bitterly disappointed. “But you’re the
Chosen
One,” Rolf complained. “You’re supposed to prove yourself through this trial.”

“Life is full of disappointments.” Miller pushed him with the pistol. “Move your ass.”

Rolf’s eyes crossed looking down the barrel of the gun by the waning light of a burning zombie. His wobbly sense of sanity gave way to a suddenly resurgent survival instinct. He moved to the right, and disappeared into the darkness. His voice came back, “As you wish.”

“Come on, come on,” chanted Miller. The dog followed Rolf as if sensing her instructions. Miller waited a few seconds and then moved Brandon through next, then Sheppard, Rat, and Scratch. Miller brought up the rear.

Behind them the battle seemed to be dying down. The well-armed soldiers had won out after all, though no doubt at a very heavy cost. They were shouting orders back and forth and dispatching the remaining zombies with headshots. They sounded pissed off and wired with adrenalin. They’d catch up soon enough.

“Stay a ways apart and watch your feet,” Miller said. She was blind.

“Yeah, we figured that much out,” said Scratch from the darkness.

Miller hugged the wall. She held the pistol in one hand and the pry bar in the other. She kept an eye on the entrance behind them. The flaming flesh lit the area well enough to see. The stink was awful. These huskarl zombies had been doing a good job of distracting the enemy until now, but the snipers had enough cover and time to sight a laser at them. They’d try again. They’d also have NV goggles, so darkness offered no protection. Miller’s stomach clenched as she edged along in the blackness, her feet sticking out mere inches above a put full of the undead.

The bad guys could already be right behind them, for all she knew.

She could still see just enough to get by. As she’d remembered from the brief look, the zombie-packed chamber below was roughly circular, and the ledge followed the wall. Miller instinctively wanted to reach out and keep a hand on Scratch’s belt for stability, but her hands were full, and she had to protect their rear. She could hear that the others were flat against the wall and inching along.

The creatures down below were just starting to look up. Miller sensed their interest. They began to chant that hungry sound,
unhhh hunhhhh hunhhh…

Miller looked back. A long shadow moved in the dim light of the doorway.

She fired blindly at the shadow. In the split second, Miller could see a man—not a zombie—someone wearing night vision gear. The flare from her muzzle blinded him momentarily. Miller fired again. She nearly lost her balance, but didn’t fall into the zombie pit. She must have gotten off a lucky shot that clipped the soldier somewhere where his flesh was exposed, because she could hear him grunt and gasp. Apparently he fell into the pit, because he was soon screaming in agony as the creatures of the caves feasted on his flesh.

“Son of a bitch,” cried the soldier. “Somebody help me!”

Miller presumed the wet choking sound at the end was right when the zombies in the pit got him in the throat.

Another shadow appeared at the doorway. He seemed to be looking into the pit, after his companion. He pulled his head back before she could fire. Miller kept her weapon raised but noticed the balance was all wrong. The slide was locked open. She had run out of ammunition. She dropped the damned thing and held on tightly to the crowbar. It was all she had left.

“Keep going,” Miller ordered, and she started to edge backwards toward the entrance to the cave.

“No, Penny, wait,” shouted Scratch from next to her. “I’ll go with you.”

But Miller was already most of the way back to the entrance. She waited for the soldier to re-appear and take his shot. He did seconds later. She raised the pry bar, and brought it down in a crushing blow—not to the man’s helmeted head, but to his shoulder, the one that supported his gun hand. The bones shattered under the blow. She hooked the soldier with the end of the pry bar, and overbalanced him into the pit. The creatures down below sounded like starving sports fans let loose in a cafeteria after their team won the championship. She heard more screaming, then the man’s voice was silenced.

Miller forced herself to remain cold. This was about staying alive. Some part of her brain began shouting that this was a live human she’d killed, a soldier, and that she was in the business of destroying the undead, not the living. But then her police training kicked in, and she redefined her actions as self-defense. They were trying to kill her and hers, and that made them valid targets, too. The guilt remained, just a twinge of it, but Miller forced it down. She’d had no choice.

What’s done is done,
Miller thought.
I’ll have a lot more than that to live with before this is all over.

She edged away from the entrance. Undead hands grabbed for her boots and but their rotting fingers couldn’t get purchase.

Someone was shouting from across the cavern. It was Rolf. He said something about an overhead something or other.

Miller looked out of the cavern entrance. She could see into the lair of the flaming huskarls. Most had burned to blackened hulks by now, just one or two were still in flames. But by that fading light, she saw the next pursuer coming at her. A soldier twice her size. Her heart felt huge and jumped like an orca in her chest. The man was built like a fridge with a head on it.

Miller swung the pry bar up and overhead. It was all she could do. She probably wouldn’t survive the next couple of seconds, but she would at least go down fighting, if that was her destiny. The pry bar hooked on something overhead. She tried to pull it down, but lifted herself a short distance off the floor instead. The bar was stuck on something, but at least it held her weight. She slid forward by accident.

She was soon off balance and hanging over the pit. The creatures down below snarled and grabbed for her boots.

Miller was helpless in a way, but the angle she had was just sharp enough to give her a good opportunity to kick this new bastard in the chest. She brought her legs up and turned to face the huge soldier. She kicked hard with both feet. The big man went flying. He bounced off the cave wall with a crash and slid down, stunned. He had not fallen into the pit, no such luck this time. Miller hung there, helpless and in the dark, waiting for him to raise his weapon. She saw the flash of his teeth when he grinned. He raised a handgun. He stood up and took aim. Abruptly his legs were jerked out from under him, and he went down into the monster pit. He landed with a silent thump, perhaps on his head, and the horde began to feed.

The shock of the kick had sent Miller sliding backwards, still hanging on to the pry bar, and she found herself dangling in space and sliding rapidly along what felt like a long cable, perhaps a piece of mining equipment. A line that apparently traversed the entire cavern.

Zombies grabbed at her feet and ankles and snapped at her flesh. Miller was still dangling from the pry bar’s handle, helpless but moving fast. Her slide took her right to the middle of the room. She was still facing the door, and she could see the next soldier come in. There was no one behind him, at least for the time being. He was alert and well-armed. Miller’s friends were moving along but still exposed. There was an outcropping of rock jutting down from the ceiling. It sat just a bit up and to her right. Her hands were getting tired.

Miller wasn’t about to stay a hanging target or become zombie chow. She pulled herself up, away from the clutching fingers and gaping mouths, and managed to get a hand on the cable above. Then she brought her feet up just enough to get out of the way of the man’s aim. She now had a bit of cover from the rock face. She swung behind it and, holding onto the cable, let go of the pry bar.

She heard a coughing sound. White flashes came from all around. The man was shooting at her. A second later someone, perhaps Rat, found cover and started to return fire. Soon Miller heard a third gun, also coming from her friends’ side of the room. Someone on her side sure had a lot of ammo to spare. Who the hell was that? Whoever it was, the sniper was pinned down nicely.

Miller wanted to know where the extra gun or ammo had come from, but she didn’t have time to think about that right now. She had to concentrate on her own survival. Her people had made it to safety. Now Miller had to save her own sorry ass. If she stayed where she was, her arms were going to give out eventually and there was a ravenous horde down below. If she tried to get away she’d be exposed to the sniper. Miller decided to bet on Rat and Scratch and their suppressing fire. She’d need both hands. She’d decided to risk exposing herself in order to escape. She took a deep breath, grabbed the thick cable, and hand over hand made her way the rest of the way across the cavern. She felt naked as a jaybird with a target on her butt, but she kept moving. The sniper seemed preoccupied with returning fire and somehow missed her quick passage. Her hands were damp with sweat and rubbed raw from the cable but she kept going and got lucky.

By the time Miller got to the far end, the shooting had died down. At the other end of the cave, some sunlight again filtered down from cracks high above. It was still difficult to see. She lowered her feet, and hoped that there would be a cave floor beneath her.

There was.

The dog licked her hand. Rolf stood straight and tall.

“I knew you were the one. You passed the trial!”

Miller ignored him. She rubbed her sore palms together. The others had all made it across safely. “Who was doing all that extra shooting back there?”

“Rolf, mostly,” said Brandon in the darkness. “Damn that was loud. I can barely hear your voice.”

Miller scowled, though no one could see her features. “You had a weapon all along? Rolf, why the hell didn’t you tell us?”

“The Chosen One must face the trials without help,” he said calmly.

“Okay, Idaho. We made it. Is there anything else that I need to do before we can get the hell out of here?”

Rolf walked over to the cave wall and fumbled with it. Her eyes were beginning to adjust again. Miller wondered what the hell he was doing now. Rolf opened a door—an actual door on hinges, she could hear a faint creaking sound—and some new light from above came streaming in. Miller walked closer, feeling a sense of relief. The others were staring with astonishment.

Inside the door was a stairway, leading up. It had been carved out of solid rock, perhaps by miners long ago.

Miller’s head was full of questions but she’d just have to ask them later. She made sure everyone, including the dog, was soon headed up the stairs. Seconds later, Rolf closed the otherwise invisible door behind them, hopefully leaving any eventual pursuers mystified as to the manner of their escape. He edged past Miller and the others to take point. The light from high above was getting brighter as they climbed. Rat and Scratch and Sheppard watched Rolf with a mix of gratitude and puzzlement on their features. She was worried about the drones, but she was grateful to be out of the caves, so it was a bit of a tradeoff.

“Let’s go,” Rolf said.

Miller urged them all forward. She trudged along, bringing up the rear. Between the broken ledge, the zombie pit and the hidden exit, they’d now have a bit of time to get the ever-loving fuck out of the area—though Miller hadn’t a clue how they would pull all that off, with no transportation and the Army still nearby. She really didn’t want to tackle the desert on foot. They’d just have to think of something.

They all climbed the stairs, heading rapidly up toward the sunlight. Rolf and the strange dog led the way. The light above them grew brighter and warmer and closer by the step. The stairs leveled off and became some kind of path. Rolf started to whistle tunelessly, his cadaver dog trotting along by his side.

Who the hell is this guy?
Miller thought. Then she muttered aloud, “Fuck, that was one lousy morning.”

Scratch said, “Amen.”

Miller shaded her eyes against the sun. She searched for any signs of an ambush, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“All right, everyone. Let’s get while the getting is good.”

Right then a strange voice said, “Wait.”

Miller spun around. She had no weapons but her hands, and she bunched them into fists.

“Just hear me out.” Vanessa appeared from a shadow beneath the rocks. She had one hand up as if asking for peace and the other on her substantial belly. She was not armed.