The Hungry 5: All Hell Breaks Loose (The Sheriff Penny Miller Series) (30 page)

“It’s because I made my reputation as a tunnel rat, clearing out sniper holes and terrorist caves in shitholes like Afghanistan and Iraq. Now, I didn’t say anything back at the cannibal caves because Brandon and Rolf knew the terrain way better than I did. But now that we’re in unknown territory, I’m speaking up. This is where you’ll need me and my experience.”

“We’ll have to discuss this later.” Miller never took her eyes off Rat’s. “I want Dudley up front, and that means Rolf goes with him. Those are my orders, and that’s the end of it.”

“Why?” demanded Rat, exasperated. She moved back, away from Miller’s face, and gestured widely in the light beam. “Just because the dog can smell decomp? Well guess what, Penny. We can
all
smell it. That dog hasn’t gone up against the Taliban in tunnels that would make the lair of the huskarls look like Yankee Stadium. No offence to Brandon, Rolf,
or
the damn dog, but if you follow them just because they’ve been inside caves more recently than me, they’re going to get us all killed. And if they do, it will be your fault.”

“We don’t have time for this,” she said, mostly to herself. Then something occurred to her. “Hey, what the fuck is up your ass anyway, Rat? Have I been letting you down all this time or what?”

The others watched with growing anxiety. Rat stepped closer again. She lowered her voice. “Look, Penny, you’re in command. I accepted that long ago. But right now you’re not using your assets very well.”

Before Miller could answer, they all heard footsteps in the warehouse, walking right above their heads. The bikers and the cops had moved in to search the building. Miller dropped her voice to a whisper.

“Rat, I hear you and your objection is duly noted.” Miller pointed the beam of light to her right. “Rolf, you’re on point. Anyone else have any problems to discuss? No? Good. Now let’s clear the road.”

No one argued.

“Let’s move out.”

“Follow me.” Rolf snapped his fingers and Dudley ran ahead into the gloom, leading them ever deeper into the underground garage. Rolf followed. He stepped as carefully as a man crossing a minefield. Miller stayed close behind, weapon at the ready. She turned and whispered back. “Rat, if you’re done pouting, I need you to keep us from being ambushed from behind. Scratch, you guard Brandon and Karl. Stay close, and keep Rolf and me in your flashlight beam. Got it?”

Rat moved into position, but Scratch did not answer. Miller could no longer read his face, but she could tell he wasn’t happy about being left behind.

Dudley was a courageous animal. He ran off into the shadows sniffing and occasionally peeing on things, always alert but seemingly without a care in the world beyond doing his job.

Miller wiped her face on her sleeve. She carried the M-4 high and ready for action. She followed Rolf through the gloom, but let her head swivel back and forth, up and down too, the whole way, always alert for any danger. Miller realized she’d never had a detailed conversation with Rolf about the dog, what Dudley could and could not do. Did he smell anything dead maybe a quarter mile off, or only if he was closer? Could his nose be fooled by strong smells like gasoline and motor oil, rubber tires and rusty parts? If so, they were mightily screwed.

They were perhaps five yards ahead of Scratch and the others when Miller heard someone behind them trying the cellar doors again. She caught the faint sound of chains rattling upstairs, then the distant mumble of one man’s voice. Someone started pounding on the doors. Then they heard a chain saw.

That pretty much settled things.

Going back was now absolutely out of the question, but going forward was pretty damn iffy, as well.

Dudley trotted away and Rolf vanished. Miller paused and squatted down. She couldn’t see anything ahead but shadow. Rolf was somewhere out there in the darkness. It had gone quiet, except for the racket far behind them. She could no longer hear the dog moving, or anyone else for that matter. She looked back over her shoulder and saw the others had stopped and dropped, following her example. Time slowed down and the saw noise stopped. It was still, except for her own breathing. No one moved.

The cellar had gone dead quiet.

Miller whispered, “Rolf? Are you still up there?”

That’s when Dudley began to growl.

Miller gripped her M-4. Her hands were perspiring. It was too dark to get a clean shot on anything specific, and with Rolf and Dudley just ahead, she couldn’t open up like she wanted to and sweep the whole corridor. If there were any zombies down here, and there was a damned good chance of that, they’d clearly have the advantage, especially when fighting in the near dark. Miller knew from personal experience the undead could find them by hearing or smell, even in a pitch-black room. The odds were against her.

“Rolf!”

There was absolutely no response.

Dudley barked again. Miller could hear paws splashing through puddles of rainwater that had leaked through the ground to trickle down the corridor. The noises came closer, the claws struck cement and finally Dudley appeared. Miller reached out to grab his collar but the dog ran right past her, racing back toward the others. Had he panicked and left his master behind? Miller took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She raised her weapon and aimed at the shadows.

“Rolf! Report!”

“What’s going on, Penny?” called Rat.

“I’ve lost Rolf.”

“We’re coming for you,” said Scratch. “They’re going to be on our asses any moment.”

“Scratch, stay right where you are.” Miller squinted ahead into the gloom, and called out again, this time not even trying to be quiet. “Rolf! Where the hell are you?”

“Penny,” Rat and Scratch and Sheppard and Brandon said, almost simultaneously, “be careful.”

Miller took a few cautious steps forward. Her foot found one of the puddles, sank a couple of inches, and cold rain water began to seep into her boot. But at the moment, wet feet were the least of her problems. At least she could still feel her own toes.

“Rolf!”

Miller waited. She heard nothing but water drops striking the puddles near her feet. She took another step forward, then another. The latent part of her that could still sense the presence of zombies began to kick into overdrive. There was a group mind at work nearby, though she could not tell how many of the creatures were involved. There was something odd about them, the way they waited and observed so patiently.

It had to be the albinos again. These zombies were different, not like the others she’d fought above ground. They hid down here even though they were starving for food. She could feel them. But until Rolf was found, every shot represented a high risk. She could hit him instead of the enemy. She’d have to be patient until she knew Rolf was either dead or had already been bitten. Until then, she’d just have to keep moving forward.

Miller took few more steps, and then her zombie sense began to blur. It was replaced with a very healthy sense of paranoia. All the hairs on her body began to quiver. Adrenaline made her chest tighten and her own pulse throbbed in her ear. Something was very wrong.

“Rolf!”

“Okay, Penny,” called Rat from several yards back. “We’ve all discussed it, and we’re making an executive decision. We’ve only got one move left. If you don’t fall back, we’re coming ahead in force.”

“Hold up there, folks.” She scanned the area with the almost non-existent beam of her flashlight. The damned thing would be dead in a moment. With the last bit of light, she saw a face. Rolf grabbed her and pulled her aside.

“Chosen One, it is me,” Rolf whispered.

“Where the hell have you been?” Miller whispered.

“Right here,” Rolf said.

Miller called out to the others. “I’ve found him, everyone stay right where you are.”

“You must be quiet,” Rolf said. “The albinos are waiting here, the ones from down below. I have seen them moving around. The next step awaits.”

“Rolf, Sheppard is right, you got to quit chewing that bone. You really need to get a grip…”

“Do not speak. Listen very carefully. This is your next trial. You will have no choice but to see it through.”

“Rolf, I’ve been very patient with all the Chosen One nonsense, but right now we don’t have time for any more of this crap. The enemy is coming down into the cellar after us. Our people need to find a way out. We’re out of time.”

For the first time since she had met him, Rolf actually chuckled. “We have all the time in the world, and if you don’t get this one right, we’ll have the rest of eternity. If you succeed they will live.”

Miller considered knocking him upside the head with her rifle butt, but only for a moment. They needed all the help they could muster. Besides, maybe this guy, as weird and out of touch as he was, knew something about the zombies that the rest of them didn’t. Christ, he was eating one as a snack. Maybe these silly tests really were his way of helping her. Well, and maybe she was grasping at straws, too, but cooperating still seemed her best option. Miller swallowed dryly. She wished she had a bottle of water and two minutes to squat and pee. She studied the small man in the shadowy dark.

“Okay, Rolf, what do I have to do?”

“The albinos are near. You must find a way to defeat them.”

“No offense, but I kind of figured out that much all on my own. Is there something else, something more useful?”

“They have a weakness. You must discover it for yourself.”

“Or you could just tell me,” she offered. “There’s nothing wrong with trying a shortcut at a time like this.”

“The moment has come,” Rolf said, ponderously. “You must go forth and find a way to prevail.”

With that, and no warning, Rolf shoved her forward. Miller bumped into the opposite wall. Stunned, she nearly dropped her weapon. She stepped into another puddle. Now both her boots were soaked. She stomped her foot. “You son of a…”

Miller froze. A loud creaking sound assaulted her ears, followed shortly by a loud crash. Whatever it was sounded just like a hidden door swinging closed. The world went completely dark as all the overhead light vanished. She was blind again. Her senses kicked into overdrive. The zombies had come. She could smell the foul, sweet odor of decomposition. She closed her eyes as usual, hoping to get better night vision going. She listened carefully.

They were here. Lots and lots of them.

“Rolf!” Miller shouted. She tried to go back but ran head first into a solid wall—the door she had heard slamming shut. She still could not see anything. She felt for a handle or a seam, but she couldn’t find one. She was trapped and alone and she could feel the zombies closing in on her, their rotting feet sliding across the cement, their stench acrid in her nostrils, their hungry voices louder in her ears. She opened her eyes, but still couldn’t see a damned thing. She felt helpless and trapped.

Miller knew she had to see the enemy to kill them. The only source of light she had was the muzzle flash from her rifle. She already knew that if she didn’t hit them in the brain stem, these albinos wouldn’t go down, so that wasn’t the secret that Rolf was referring to. So there had to be something else, something she hadn’t considered.

Miller heard the footsteps of the zombies. Some were very close. She couldn’t retreat any further. She had no choice. She set the rifle to single shot, listened carefully, and fired ahead of her into the gloom.

BAM! The sound was enormous in the enclosed space. The muzzle flashed white.

And she was able to see for one wonderful instant. There were about a dozen zombies scattered throughout the darkened area, which was considerably wider than the corridor she had been following. It was some kind of side room, perhaps an entirely different storage area that had long been abandoned. Miller placed the creatures in her mind, and tried to allow for their slow, shambling progress forward. She concentrated. She moved the M-4.

She fired again.

The zombies were a little closer, of course, about where she’d expected them to be, but that wasn’t what she was looking for. She wanted a better sense of the room. It was not a storage area after all. In fact, the walls seemed to be white but covered with some kind of decorations. And on the wall near her, she caught sight of a small square. It had a good chance of being a light switch. All she had to do was find it by memory, and pray that it actually turned something on.

Only now one of the creatures was right on her ass.

Miller groped for the light switch. As she reached it, something foul and dripping gore touched her bare arm. Slimy fingernails scratched at her skin and clothing, seeking purchase. She lashed out with the rifle butt and knocked it reeling backwards. She went back to the switch, and turned it on. It worked.

The place went from pitch dark to psychedelic in an instant. The lights that came on were black lights—UV bulbs. The decorations on the walls were of scantily clad and often downright naked women in various poses, each of them more pornographic than the next. Best of all, the zombies were all lit up like green gnomes under the UV light.

Miller didn’t hesitate. She took aim at the first one, a male in a fancy suit. She aimed and fired, hitting it square in the forehead. The brains blew out the back in a cloud. She watched and waited.

It kept coming.

Miller adjusted her aim for the mouth, and shot the thing through the brainstem. It dropped to the ground and stayed down. Miller calmed down. She was in control of the situation. She aimed and fired.

Something tugged at her leg. Miller aimed down and proceeded to shoot the one she had knocked to the ground. It stopped, too. She took stock of her situation. She counted eight other zombies coming toward her. She had enough ammunition. She backed up against the wall. They had fanned out into a half circle.