The Hungry 5: All Hell Breaks Loose (The Sheriff Penny Miller Series) (15 page)

“Hey, I bet you’re hungry,” Shirley said.

Miller looked at her sharply. “Are you saying you have enough food for all of us?”

“Well, a little. I don’t want you to think I’m a bad host.”

Scratch and Miller exchanged a glance. “Yeah, we could eat,” he said.

“Okay, I have some supplies, but not a lot. If you want, I’ll show you.” She smiled again, this time at Miller and Scratch both.

“I’ll go, Penny,” Scratch said. “I know you like to keep an eye on everything.”

Miller thought on that for a moment. “No, Scratch. I want you, Rat, and Rolf to check the place out.” She looked at the girl. “No offense, Shirley. We can’t take any chances.”

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t trust me either.” She looked a bit sad.

Miller found herself feeling sorry for the girl. “Let’s go see what you have in the way of supplies. You lead.”

Shirley nodded and turned down the hallway. Miller followed.

Sheppard and Brandon met them on the way. “All clear, Penny. All the doors are locked.”

“Okay, good job. Stay up here and keep an eye on things.”

“Copy that.” Sheppard looked at Brandon, and they exchanged a smile. Miller didn’t have time to wonder what that was about. Maybe they were becoming friends.
Good,
she thought.
It’ll make Brandon more predictable.

Shirley smiled at her. “It’s just over here.”

Miller followed her. She was still a little distrustful of the girl, but until she did something overt, it wouldn’t be a good idea to upset her, especially if she had food and water.

Miller followed her to a corner of the hallway, and realized she was just about to be out of sight of Sheppard and Brandon. She turned to call to them, to get them to accompany her. She opened her mouth just as the door to one of the rooms opened and a hand shot out, pulling her inside.

Miller expected to get bit and finally be done for at long last. Instead, she found herself in a nearly pitch dark room looking down the barrel of a gun. A tiny bit of light came in through the blackout curtains, but not enough to make a difference. The chambers of the revolver were so close to her face she could smell the gun oil and if there had been light enough could probably have spotted the imperfections in the bullets resting inside. As her departed deputy Bob Wells used to say, “Nothing concentrates the mind as wonderfully as the business end of a pistol.”

“Don’t even think about shouting,” someone whispered on the other end of the pistol. “This gun will take your head clean off with one squeeze of the trigger. Understand me?” The voice came out in a hoarse, high-pitched whisper, but the armpit smell of the person was distinctly male.

“Yes,” said Miller, in a soft voice. “I understand.” Inside she was kicking herself. She should have known that Shirley wouldn’t have survived in an abandoned hotel for very long, not without some kind of help. They’d been set up. Now the enemy had a hostage, and it was all Miller’s fault. Frustrated, she raised her hands, half hoping the movement would attract attention from outside the dark room, but nothing happened. Shirley closed the door most of the way. Miller didn’t have an opportunity to know what she did next. Miller had other things on her mind at the moment.

The man reached out and took her by the arm. He dragged her further into the shadows. Miller took in that the man was also slightly overweight. She wanted an opportunity to take him out, but the gun stayed too close to her head. She had only one choice at the moment. As long as this man seemed to want to control her and not kill her, or attack anyone else in her party, she would just have to play along. She stayed in a submissive posture, with her shoulders slumped and her head down.

That raspy whisper came again. “I counted seven in your party, including you. Is there anyone else out there?”

“No,” Miller replied. So far, one-word answers were working just fine, so she stayed with the program. Her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness so she closed them. The room smelled dusty and the man’s body odor was unpleasant. Something tickled her memory, something about his voice, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Do you have any weapons?”

“No.”

“Then you’re pretty dumb, lady.”

Miller didn’t reply. Again, she caught that familiar cadence in the speech. She blinked her eyes and some of the furniture came into focus.

“Call your friend over, the big one with the tattoos. Have him come in here.”

“No.”

The guy pushed the gun harder into her forehead, causing Miller to both wince and recoil. She blinked her eyes furiously, starting to get pissed off and impatient. She could almost see the outline of his big body clearly enough to attack.

“Do it,” the man said. “Now.”

For a brief moment, Miller thought about just a few days before, at Crystal Palace, when she’d been accelerated by the zombie virus. She had felt ready for anything. That seemed so long ago. She felt so vulnerable now, so…
human
. Still, the military—including Rat—had tried to control her back then, and it hadn’t worked out so well.
Fuck this guy and the horse he rode in on.
Miller wasn’t accelerated at the moment, but she’d a lot of experience street fighting and in unarmed combat and this whispering gunman wouldn’t know about any of that. She wasn’t wearing her uniform. Her vision cleared and she took in his posture and realized that they were standing in the living room of a small suite. She let her knees go loose. She opened her hands.

“Stay still, lady.”

Miller moved swiftly. She loosened her knees further, ducked down and turned to the right. She knew exactly how far away the man’s wrist was, since it was on the other end of the gun that was poking her in the head. She slapped her hands together high up and took him by the wrist just as she moved her head out of the line of fire. She gripped and twisted hard and yanked him off balance so that the weapon was pointed down at the floor and aimed away. A split second later, Miller dropped even lower, now using her body as a dragging weight. She pulled hard, using his size against him, and then snapped the man’s arm down, preparing to break it over her raised knee. He caught on and grunted and let go of the weapon in self defense. The gun fell dully on the carpeted floor. Miller spun the man around her to put him between her and the light from the door. Now she could see his shape and limbs clearly.

He was strong and tall and he twisted away like a professional. His left fist swung at her face, but Miller was already changing positions again. She still had her tight grip on his right wrist, and she yanked the arm high to so he was almost punching his own body. She used the angle to kick at his knee. She missed by a few inches and contacted his huge thigh instead. Her boot heel did some damage anyway.

The man grunted, but didn’t cry out. Miller held on tight. She thrust his right wrist downward, and got her left hand on his right shoulder, spun him around and yanked his arm up painfully. But the man was too strong, and fast enough to be a real threat. He managed to turn sideways. He wrenched his arm out of her grasp. He had her in upper body strength of course, not enough to make that much of a difference. He reached out, but Miller didn’t get caught. Instead, she got behind him. She wrapped her right arm around the man’s throat. She tightened it with her left hand. It wasn’t a perfect choke, but it would have to do. She held on tight and squeezed.

The man bent forward, lifting her suddenly and alarmingly off the floor. Miller hadn’t expected him to have the correct angle. Her own momentum carried her over. The thick carpet was a decent judo mat, so she slapped her palm down to break her fall. She landed on her back with a loud thud. She moved away into the darkness. Much to her surprise, the man didn’t try to kick or jump on her. But then that was not necessarily a good thing.

It probably meant he was going for the gun.

Miller flipped over and smoothly returned to her feet. She could see the outline of the big man as he reached under the couch. She decided it was better not to let him find it. She trotted over and kicked him in the face. Well, that was the idea anyway, but his face wasn’t where she thought it would be. He’d already rolled away, clearly anticipating her next move. He was much better than she’d expected. It was time to call for reinforcements. Miller backed away. Free for a moment, she gathered her breath to scream.

The man launched himself at her and tackled her. Miller went down on the couch and rolled off it to hit the carpet. She hit the ground hard. He choked her like a professional. He had the necessary mechanical advantage now, and Miller knew that she only had a few seconds to act before the blood would stop flowing to her brain. She’d be out cold and he’d have access to her people.

With his hands otherwise occupied, the man had to leave his upper body partially exposed. With the last of her strength, Miller used the edge of her knuckles to punch him hard in the throat. He gagged and went limp and let go. For a few precious seconds he’d feel like he was dying, unable to breathe, but she hadn’t crushed anything. He’d live. The blow would buy Miller the time she needed.

Miller felt light-headed as her blood rushed back into her brain. She could hear the man choking—or perhaps that was her own voice. They had both been injured. She turned over to regain her feet. That’s when her right hand touched something hard and cold, metallic and very reassuring.

The gun.

Miller gripped it and rolled away. She got to her knees. She brought it up, pointed it his way, and squeezed the trigger. She would kill him, or the noise would bring Scratch and the others to help. Either way, it was the best option.

The revolver kicked in her hand, but Miller kept control. The lamp behind him shattered. She had missed, but she couldn’t figure out how. The man was up again but still holding his throat, and probably not much of a threat. Miller knew she hadn’t broken his hyoid bone, but she’d hurt him badly enough to end the fight. And now she knew where to point the gun.

“Hey!” Scratch shouted. She heard his boots pounding down the hall. “Hey, Penny, are you all right?”

Miller could see his outlined frame as he stood in the light from the doorway.

“We’re in here, Scratch.” Her own voice sounded hoarse. “I’m okay.”

“I can’t see you. What do you want me to do?”

“Stay where you are.” She turned back to the mystery man, who was still in the shadows and choking quietly like a cat hacking up a hairball. The fight had obviously gone out of him.

“I’m Sheriff Penny Miller of Flat Rock County,” Miller said, “and you’re under arrest. Walk your ass toward the door with your hands in plain sight where my friend can see them, and don’t make any sudden moves. Trust me, it may be dark in here, but I can see well enough to blow your head off.”

Scratch took his cue. He focused on the stranger. “Do it, man.”

The stranger seemed startled but still unable to speak. He moved slowly, with his hands still at his throat. He got closer to Scratch, who backed out of the way and out into the hall. Miller followed the prisoner out of the room. She aimed at his broad back. She stayed close enough that she surely wouldn’t miss, but not close enough for him to turn around and try to take the gun back. The brightness made her squint.

By the time they got back out into the hallway, Rat, Sheppard, Rolf, and Brandon were there in force, fanned out in a half circle. Miller wondered where Vanessa had disappeared to, but that was just a passing thought. Her mind was otherwise occupied. She rubbed her own throat, feeling half tempted to shoot the bastard just on general principle, and for having scared the holy crap out of her. He kept his hands raised and his back to her. His armpits were dark with sweat and he stank like a skunk in heat. He needed the hose turned on him.

Shirley stood next to Scratch. When the big stranger emerged from the hotel room with his hands up, he was facing her. Shirley went to stand at the man’s side.

“You leave him alone,” Shirley shouted. “He was just trying to protect me.”

Miller snorted. “He’s got a funny idea of what protecting you is supposed to look like.” She turned to the others. “It was an ambush, a setup from the beginning.” She never took her eyes off the spot right between the man’s shoulder blades. Shirley hugged the man and the motion turned his body slightly. He was still gasping and choking and sure sounded a lot worse for the wear. Miller thought that served him right.

“What did you do to him, lady?” Shirley demanded, studying the choking man. “He can’t breathe.”

“Rolf, keep him covered,” Miller said. “Kill him if he does anything threatening.” Rolf nodded. “Actually, belay that order. Go ahead and kill him if he
thinks
anything threatening. Sheppard, get over here and see if you can help him. I hit him pretty hard.” She turned to Rat. “Keep your eyes open. There may be more of them.”

“There’s no one else,” said the man.

“Fuck you, skeezix,” said Scratch. “Why the fuck should we believe you?”

Miller let the hammer of the revolver down ever so gently. She came around the two of them to study her assailant more closely. First his voice had jogged her memory and then his profile as well. This was getting weirder by the second. Something about him was familiar, all right. Way
too
familiar.

“Julius Caesar on a Santa Fe salad. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Charlie?
”

“Hi, Penny.” Sheriff Charlie Robinson of Elko County held his throat. He squeaked like a cartoon character. “Long time no see.”

Now it was Scratch who looked ready to choke. “You actually know this piece of shit, Penny?”

“Yeah,” Miller stood there stunned. “You could say that.”

“What did you do to him?” demanded Shirley. She was all business now, and just about to get up in Miller’s face.