The Hungry 5: All Hell Breaks Loose (The Sheriff Penny Miller Series) (24 page)

“The fuck?”

And now they all turned to look up on the highway, where four sets of red and blue flashing lights appeared. Someone was coming post haste. Whoever it was sure closed the distance in a hurry. It was the state police or maybe some military cops, and the vehicles were moving like bobcats with their butts on fire.

Miller spoke to Scratch. “The far side of the van.”

“You sure?”

“Go!” Miller turned and ran.

Scratch got the message, took off too, and caught up in a hurry. He was right behind her when the first shot rang out. Someone from the Demons had panicked. For a brief moment, Miller wished they’d both had ballistics vests for some kind of body cover, but it was much too late to ask heaven for one of those. They’d have to stay flat and wait it out. She dodged around the back of the van. She shouted to her friends inside.

“Incoming, get down and stay down!”

The motorcycles started up again. Someone else fired at the approaching police cars. Miller heard thumping sounds as Sheppard, Rat, Brandon, and Rolf crashed down onto the floor of the van to take cover. A stray bullet went right through the van and came out over Miller’s head with a metallic popping sound. Miller and Scratch stayed flat on the ground with their hands over their heads.

Miller prayed that the police would be there soon. She desperately wanted to have her people in the van open up on these bikers, at least to make them keep their heads down, but they had to be the good guys. Firing out from the van wouldn’t go over very well with the police. If they made it through the firefight, depending on the state of the world in Idaho, they could be looking at the inside of a prison, and after the hell that her people had been through she just couldn’t take that kind of risk. They would all have to act helpless and wait it out.

Someone on the Demons’ side of things, perhaps Coyote, made a wise decision. They didn’t circle the van as Miller would have expected. Nor did they set themselves for a pitched battle with the cops, as she’d feared. Instead, they assembled rapidly, engines roaring, and took off into the night like one living organism. The whole gang took an unseen side road and went up through the rocks heading west.

Miller breathed a sigh of relief.

The police arrived just as the last of the bikes vanished into the night, but only two of the cars split off and roared away in pursuit of the Demons. The other two flanked the parked vehicle, headlights focused right on it, and the cops got out and trained their weapons on the van. A siren whooped twice. A man’s voice called out.

“Drop your weapons and come out with your hands where we can see them. This is the only warning you’re going to get.”

Miller patted on the side of the van. She hoped that the others inside got the message not to shoot. They would just have to surrender. She got to her feet and signaled for Scratch to follow her. He rose as well.

“Hold your fire, officers,” Miller called. “There are two of us behind the van and four more inside. We’re coming out.”

Scratch hesitated. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Penny?”

“It’s our only play.” Miller came around the front of the van with her hands over her head. She looked to see Rat, Sheppard, Rolf, and Brandon exiting the van, also unarmed and with their hands up. Little Dudley trotted alongside Rolf. He seemed happy to see the police. Miller sure hoped the dog was right.

“Get down on your knees, and interlace your fingers on top of your head.”

They did.

“Cross your ankles and sit back.”

They did.

The police fanned out, weapons trained on Miller and her friends. They stayed low and in perfect formation as they approached. There were four of them, all men.

“We’re damn sure glad to see you, officers,” Miller said.

The men exchanged looks. The first one to speak said, “Jenkins, you go shoot that mutt, then cover the women. We’ll kill the men.”

Miller looked up at him sharply. “What?”

Once again, things had gone from bad to worse. Another dog howled from somewhere else, a police car in the background, the sound making Dudley visibly agitated and excitable. He barked and whined. He seemed oblivious to his own fate, but concerned about his master. Meanwhile, Rolf was chewing the finger bone and talking quietly to Walter.

Jenkins aimed his 9mm at Dudley, and then extended his arm as if he were a fencer taking right of way. Though he appeared indifferent to shooting the humans, he was clearly reluctant to kill the dog. He hesitated as Miller and her crew looked on.

“Sir?” said Jenkins.

The man in charge didn’t look up from covering the men. Scratch looked like he was about to make a move, but with his arms and legs all tangled up in prisoner of war position, there wasn’t a lot he could do. “Are we going to have another problem with you, Jenkins?”

“No sir, but… our orders are to arrest them, not kill them.”

“Winnick,” said their leader, “just shoot the damn dog, please.”

Another one of the officers raised his weapon. Dudley finally sensed the danger. He whined, sank low to the ground, and ran off to hide behind one of the van’s rear tires. The dog in the distance went silent.

“Damn it,” said the leader, “you had one job, and that was not a complicated assignment.”

“You don’t have to kill us,” Miller called, as if finally catching on. “We haven’t been bitten. We’re not infected.”

“Shut up, lady.” The apparent leader seemed overwhelmed, a bit thrown off. “Our orders are to stop any traffic from Nevada into Idaho. They don’t say a thing about infection.” He seemed to be trying to convince himself to proceed. The other officers stood with their weapons out, but they were now watching the leader. Morale was weakening.

Miller caught some movement the others missed. She didn’t turn her head, but instead shifted her eyes. At the extreme edge of her peripheral vision she saw Sheppard sit forward ever so slightly and uncross his ankles. She smiled. She had forgotten how nice it was to work with a professional. She shifted her weight off her legs, and carefully lifted one foot off the other. That brought the policeman’s attention back to Miller.

“Hold still.”

Miller didn’t know if she could reason with these lunatics, but she had to try. “Look, we’re not sick. That makes you murderers, not officers of the law.”

“Goddamn it,” said their leader, whose voice now trembled in the gloom. “I guess I’m going to have to do this myself. I’ll get the mutt, you shoot them.” He stalked off around the corner of the van to find Dudley.

Sheppard needed another diversion. Miller had gotten pretty good at those since the start of the apocalypse. She turned to the nearest officer. In the darkness, reflected by moonlight and headlights, she could just make out his nametag. “Hey, Boyington, you don’t have to listen to that dipstick. None of you do. If a superior officer gives you an illegal order, it is your duty to refuse it. That’s true anywhere in this country, maybe now more than ever.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m Sheriff Penny Miller, of Flat Rock County, Nevada. I’m not a criminal.”

“Sheriff? Jesus.”

Miller had bought Sheppard a bit of time. That had been her goal. She thought the cops would shut her up again, but surprisingly, they seemed be listening. She felt the tension as trouble brewed in the ranks. Dudley whined from beneath the van. The officer chasing him crawled around, swearing under his breath. The other cops stared back and forth at each other. Their discipline was falling apart.

Boyington turned to Jenkins. “She’s got a point.”

Jenkins nodded, slowly.

Winnick turned his attention from the men back to Miller. “Shut up, all of you. We’re following Hofstadter’s orders, period.”

“Yeah,” said Miller, “that’s just what the Nazis said, and look where it got them.”

“Look, lady, you’re not in charge here.” Winnick turned his weapon on Miller. “Shut the hell up right now, or I’ll shoot you myself.”

Miller shut up. She’d done the best she could. Scratch seemed to be pondering a move of his own.
Jesus on toast, what the hell is Sheppard waiting for?

Rolf stopped chewing the finger bone. He whispered something.

They all heard an ominous growl. Just as Miller realized what was going on, Dudley scooted out from under the van and raced in their direction. He was snapping and growling and barking at the top of its lungs. His teeth were bared. He attacked the nearest cop. The policemen flinched back instinctively.

Sheppard reached out and snatched the pistol right out of the hand of the one called Winnick. He didn’t hesitate. He shot Winnick and turned the pistol on Boyington and fired again. Boyington tried using Miller as a human shield. She thrust her fist into his crotch, and nailed him right in the nut sack. Boyington doubled over in pain. Miller tried to take the pistol away from him, but he still had a firm grip on it.

Dudley took Jenkins by the gun arm and bit down hard. Jenkins shrieked and fired one useless round into the dirt. That was enough for the rest of them. Scratch, Rat, Rolf, and Brandon got to their feet and took action. Not surprisingly, Rolf went after his dog and ordered Dudley to let go. Then he punched Jenkins in the face, who stumbled backwards. Scratch and Rat tackled Jenkins. Confused and seemingly overwhelmed at the moment, Brandon crouched down to hide next to the van. Miller found that odd, but didn’t have time to think on it.

That’s when the leader, Hofstadter, came around the other corner of the van. He saw all the commotion—bodies in motion, a growling dog, screaming men, and weapons in the wrong hands—and raised his weapon to shoot Scratch. Fortunately, Sheppard was faster. He shot at Hofstadter, clipping the van and missing him by inches. Hofstadter spun around in a crouch and returned fire.

Sheppard went down, wounded.

Miller was still struggling with Boyington. She caught the exchange of gunfire out of the corner of her eye, but was more concerned with her own troubles. She had Boyington by the gun hand, but she couldn’t manage to wrestle the pistol from his grip. She shifted her weight and forced him to point the weapon right at Hofstadter. She jammed her finger over Boyington’s trigger finger and squeezed twice. The shots went wild, but the risk was enough to keep Hofstadter’s head down.

“Brandon,” Miller shouted. “I need help!”

Brandon stayed down. Miller stopped shouting. She struggled with Boyington. Miller was powerful in her own right, but his upper body strength was bound to win out soon. “Brandon!”

But Brandon stayed by the van. Miller couldn’t see why. Maybe his nerve had finally run out. He’d sure picked one hell of a time to go chickenshit.

A form came up behind Miller. A fist struck out, and punched Boyington in the jaw. He went down on his face and rolled over in pain. The punch had weakened him. Miller wrenched the pistol from his hand. She looked up to see Scratch standing there. Rat was looming over her own man, Winnick, shaking her hand and rubbing her knuckles. They were winning.

Miller stood up with the gun in her hands. “All right, Hofstadter, we’ve got your men. Unless you want them all dead, I suggest you throw down your weapon. Come on, show yourself with your hands raised.”

But instead of Hofstadter appearing, Brandon, still hiding by the van, waved his arms. He shouted something and pointed. Miller could see more red and blue lights reflected in the windows of the van. She turned to see that there were several other police cars approaching. Dust clouds floated by the beams from their headlights. How many people were up on this damned mountain tonight? Were these good cops or bad ones? The situation was spiraling out of control.

“Brandon, grab those M-4s from the van. We’re going to need them.” Miller turned to Scratch and gestured to Boyington. “Keep his ass down on the ground!” She ran off to take care of Hofstadter. He’d have to be taken out. She couldn’t have him running around coordinating the other officers from their flank.

The sound of engines again filled the air. Armed people screamed back and forth, everyone ordering everyone else to put the gun down. It was clear no one was going to cooperate and disarm their side. Someone was going to die, and soon, if Miller didn’t protect her people and persuade Hofstadter to surrender.

Miller came to the edge of the van. She carefully poked her head around the corner. She pulled her head back just in time. Hofstadter was drawing a bead on her head. She looked into the van for Brandon, but he wasn’t there.

“Brandon, I need you!”

An enormously loud sound shattered the relative quiet. “Put down your weapons. Do it now!” The voice came from the speakers of the police cars. Their spotlights lit up the area around the van. It was now bright as day, except for someone standing in the shadows on the far side of the van.

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

Someone opened up with an automatic weapon on burst shots, three rounds at a time. Miller jumped and ducked down. A shot whizzed over her head. She saw some additional movement near the corner of the van. Hofstadter was coming for her. She whirled around, pointed her pistol and fired. It was a lousy shot, taken on the fly. She had little hope that it would do anything but keep his head down. But Hofstadter screamed and dropped his weapon. She’d lucked out and hit him in the right hand.

“Fall back behind the van,” Miller called.

The new police presence opened fire in response to the automatic weapon. A moment later, Rat, Rolf, and Scratch came around the corner of the van and crouched down next to Miller.

“Where are Brandon and Sheppard?”

She turned around. She could see that Sheppard was half in the open, now lying on the ground near the two downed policemen. He was gripping his side as if afraid to try and get to his feet. Some of the policemen’s bullets struck the ground near him. Another struck one of the downed cops. Bullets ripped right through the van and sailed over their heads. Pinpoints of bright light appeared in the metal above them. The vehicle was going to look like scrap metal in no time.