The Hungry 5: All Hell Breaks Loose (The Sheriff Penny Miller Series) (32 page)

“Lost in the dark. I think Brandon is…”

“Rolf, can you find Karl and Brandon?”

No response.

“Rolf?”

“Shh!” hissed someone. Rolf, probably. “I hear the third one.”

“Scratch, you and Rat fall back to the end of the tunnel. We’ll regroup there.” Miller turned and went back. She felt with one hand as she headed back the way they came, toward Karl and Brandon and Rolf.

“We’ve got company!” Miller shouted.

Two bright flashes accompanied the report of a rifle. As in the UV room, the tableau was briefly revealed. Miller could see that Rolf was standing over a semi-headless body, with Dudley sitting quietly at his side, panting and dangling his red tongue like something out of a cartoon. His teeth glowed strangely blue-white in the UV light.

They had nailed the third albino. Behind Miller, someone else chambered a round.

“Hold your fire,” cried Miller. “What’s going on?”

“The third zombie is no more,” reported Rolf in a soft, almost conversational tone. “Walter says he thinks that was the last one.”

“Karl, do you have Brandon? Is he ok?”

Sheppard’s tone was even quieter than Rolf’s. “Brandon’s down, Penny.” There was a third shot and flash. In that instant, Miller saw Brandon on the ground with brains, blood, and skull fragments splattered everywhere and Sheppard standing over him. As darkness returned, Sheppard sobbed quietly and dropped to his knees. When he spoke again his voice broke. “It’s done, Penny. He’s not going to get up again.”

She moved to where she had seen Sheppard shoot Brandon. “Can you stand?”

“Yes.”

Miller felt for Sheppard, and found his hand. It still held the pistol. Miller grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet. “We need to move. What’s done is done. You’ll just have to grieve later, understand?”

“Copy that, Penny.”

Miller tried to orient herself in the utter darkness. “Rolf, are you still with me?”

“Here,” he said. For once, he didn’t call her Chosen One.

“Come on, folks. Form up. We’re going to head for that tunnel opening and get ourselves outside into the sunshine. Start moving forward people, do it right now. Rolf, you take point.”

Miller helped Sheppard walk, and she could feel the big dog next to her leg. Rolf was ahead of them—she could see his silhouette against the slowly brightening tunnel entrance.

It took them no more than a minute to get to a place where they could see better. Rat was sitting on the concrete floor, with Scratch standing over her. His posture was stiff, like he was protecting her—or getting ready to shoot her himself. She was nursing a nasty bite to her left forearm. Miller led Sheppard over. He sat down next to Rat. He examined her arm. Miller waited for Sheppard to finish. They exchanged looks. They had already tried amputating Terrill Lee’s arm when he had been bitten, but the butchery had failed to stop the zombie virus. Miller raised an eyebrow, but she already knew the answer. Sheppard just shook his head. He did not want to put Rat through horrendous pain for nothing. Neither did Miller.

Watching this unfold, Scratch leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed, studying his boots. He looked sad enough to cry.

“How fucked am I, Karl?” Rat asked, finally. Her voice was scratchy and weak. She was breathing in short, ragged gasps. Sheppard patted her on the head.

“It’s bad, Francine.”

Miller choked back a sob. “Rat, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Penny. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t asked for the promotion. Silly fucking me.”

Miller lowered her rifle, pointing it just to the side of Rat’s head. “Jesus, I hate this, but we’ll need to…”

“I can handle it myself, thank you very much,” Rat snapped. Miller stepped back, startled. Rat softened, dug in her pants pocket and found a folded piece of paper. She held it up with a trembling hand. “But first I need to give you something, Penny. Please take this with you.”

Miller knelt in the shallow pool of water on the floor. She remembered what Rolf had said about albinos hating water. At least they’d be safe getting the rest of the way out of this cursed tunnel.
Everyone but
Rat
, that is
. “What’s that?”

“My bank accounts. I don’t need them anymore.”

Miller stopped trying to hold back her tears. “Shit,” was all she could think of to say.

“My username is Hanratty1864, as in the Civil War. Password is millerflatrock. All one word and lowercase. Can you and Scratch remember that much, you pair of dumb rednecks?”

“Rat…”

“Just answer me, Penny. I need to know.”

“I’ve got it.” Scratch walked closer until he blocked the overhead light. He took the paper from her. “Don’t worry.”

“Karl, let me have that pistol, will you?”

Sheppard handed it over, and Rat took it from him carefully. Now both of her hands were shaking. Her skin was waxen and her eyes filmed over. “I think this is where I should say something profound, right?” She gave a short, barking laugh. “I never was very good with words.”

Miller felt Scratch’s hand on her shoulder. He tugged on her shirt, trying to get her to stand. Miller resisted, but then realized he was right. Rat wanted her privacy. Sheppard edged away as best he could by scooting along on his butt. He was soon overcome by emotion. Before standing, Miller touched Rat’s cheek. She stroked it with affection.

“It’s not just you that isn’t any good with words, Rat.”

“It’s okay,” Rat said. “Go be happy, Penny. Get out of here before I lose the courage to do this.”

Miller immediately thought of Terrill Lee. He had been unable to go through with shooting himself and had then been reanimated in the end. None of them wanted to suffer that fate. “Is that a good idea? I’d feel better knowing that we don’t have to shoot you again later.”

Rat snorted with grim amusement. She licked her dry lips. The stench of decomp came from her open wound. The turning time was near. Dudley growled again, sensing the zombie that was ready to appear. “Don’t worry. I’m not Terrill Lee. I’ve been a warrior all my life. I can do this. Now go.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Those chickenshits upstairs seem to have fallen back, and the mechanic has left you a way out. So take it and take the money. I earned it, you enjoy it. And be happy together. I need you to promise.”

“We promise.”

“Good. Now get the hell out of my sight. And don’t look back.”

Miller and Scratch helped Sheppard to his feet. The three of them headed toward the last overhead light. They walked close together with Rolf and Dudley following. They were all weeping. As promised, they did not look back.

Half a minute later, the gun went off behind them.

They reached the end of the tunnel only to find another obstacle in their path. The final exit was covered with what looked very much like an old-fashioned garage door, with rectangular windows set at the top. That’s where the daylight was coming from. Scratch took one side and Miller the other and they trotted forward, staying low, and peered out the windows to have a look outside. They exchanged worried looks. The door seemed to lead out into a ditch on the other side of an empty road. Miller wondered if the garage mechanic had bothered to camouflage the exit. She certainly hoped so.

Rat was gone, and gone forever. She was just one more lost soul who would haunt their memories for the rest of their lives. She hoped Terrill Lee had been there to greet Rat when she crossed over, and maybe Psycho, too. She hoped that the church types were right, that there was something better to come. It had to be better than this.

Miller peered out the windows. It was a rather cheerful-looking day. She saw no cops, no bikers and most certainly no horde of ravenous zombies. Birds were chirping in the trees. Perhaps Rat had been right after all, and another violent response would not be necessary. It looked completely safe out there, as if they could just open the door, walk outside, and stroll into the woods free and clear.

Wishful thinking was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Not if she was going to keep the rest of them alive.

“Penny, you okay?” asked Sheppard. His voice was husky from crying. “You’ve been standing there for a long time.”

Miller ignored the question. “How much noise you reckon this door will make when it opens up? We can’t afford to call any undue attention to ourselves.”

Scratch looked around the area. “No WD-40 to cover our asses, so I’d say it’s bound to squeal like a forty-pound mouse.”

Miller shifted her M-4. She pondered the handles and hinges. Outside, a woodpecker attacked a tree like a pissed off door-to-door Bible salesman.

“There is only one way to find out,” Sheppard said.

“Scratch, what do you think?”

There was a long pause. “What do I think, Penny? Actually, I think this whole damn thing is my fault.”

Miller shook her head. “Don’t do that.”

Scratch was wiping his face on his sleeve. He looked like a little boy trying not to bawl his eyes out. “Both Rat and Brandon would be alive right now if that fucking truck had actually worked like I thought it would.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Sheppard said. “Kicking yourself isn’t going to help.”

Miller put her hand on Scratch’s bicep. She squeezed. “Knock off the drama, princess. They knew the score as well as we do. It’s the fucking plague, not us.”

Scratch stopped crying with an effort of will. He stared at the garage door.

Miller toughened her tone a tad more. “You want to brood and blame yourself, go do it somewhere else. Right now, I need you pointed downrange.”

Scratch turned his head. He looked into her eyes. He nodded silently.

“Good.” She looked up. There was an automatic door opener above. “Can’t use that,” she said, mostly to herself. “Somebody would hear it for sure. It would be like advertising where we are.”

Miller continued on with her search. She looked around for the disconnect switch, which she knew would usually be a red-handled lever. It was over their heads, on a beam on the left-hand side. Finding it, she pulled. It made a loud clunking sound as it separated. She flinched and waited for any response from above. Scratch was back in gear now, weapon raised. Sheppard just stood there sweating in pain and waiting for orders. Behind him, Rolf and Dudley stood together, watching her actions. Rolf was back to chewing on the finger bone.

Miller listened for a response to the racket. Nothing happened.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s open it up.”

Scratch and Rolf went to the door and pushed up and out. The door swung open with some creaking and scraping. It slipped into place. Fresh air rushed in and with it the scent of flowers and fresh leaves from a nearby copse of trees. There was no response to their movements.

“Rolf, Scratch, I need you to do some recon. Find out the position and number of the enemy.” Miller still hated to refer to other living humans in an inhuman way, appropriate or not. Under these circumstances she’d much rather have considered the cops and bikers allies. She didn’t have that luxury. She had her karma, they had theirs. Still, they were people. Living people.

“Guys?”

The men paused.

“Do not engage.”

Scratch hesitated. “What if they spot us?”

“Just don’t allow them to spot you, Scratch.”

They said everything with their eyes. Scratch stepped ahead of Rolf and motioned for him to follow. Outside, the woodpecker stopped but the other birds kept singing so Miller didn’t worry.

Rolf silently put Dudley’s leash in Miller’s hand. He stepped back with his rifle before walking over to Scratch. He’d trusted Miller with his best friend, and Dudley would be with them for backup zombie alert. It was all going to be okay. All they had to do was see where the cops and bikers had parked and use that information to find the best route to safety. They would check and come back to get the rest of the group.

Rolf and Scratch took a few deep breaths and rolled their shoulders and stretched. Then they headed out into the sunshine.

Miller found herself alone with Sheppard. She didn’t look at him. In the last few days they had been allies, but less than a week before they were on opposite sides of the fence. They’d had no time to process what had taken place back at Crystal Palace. As with Miller and Rat, their relationship was confusing at best, but Sheppard had been her ally more often than he’d been her opposition, and his friendship still meant a lot to her. And right now he looked so damned sad. They were both broken-hearted. The tension between them evaporated as they waited for word from the others.

Miller sat down with her back against the garage door. She watched the clouds floating by outside.

“Sorry about Brandon, Karl.”

“Sorry about Rat, Penny.”

They were silent for a long time. There wasn’t anything else to say. Someday this would all be over, or at least slow the hell down. If they survived that long, they’d have a chance to release their pent up emotions and talk things over. Right now there was nothing to do but keep on breathing.

Miller closed her tired eyes. She was running on empty, with only an hour or two of sleep in the last day and a half. Unresolved grief hung over her head like a shroud. Mixed in with the sadness was a goodly ration of fear. They weren’t in the clear yet. She still had a great deal of trepidation about the next few minutes and doubt that they’d really manage to get away.

The woodpecker started up again. Miller listened with her eyes closed. Somewhere to what she figured was the south a car engine started and another one honked. They seemed pretty far away, and that was comforting. She was so very tired. She opened her eyes and checked on Dudley, who lay flat at her side. His big eyes and twitching nose were focused on the steps leading down into the death trap they’d just escaped, but his body was relaxed. He was not growling. Sheppard was sitting in the dirt with his legs stretched out. He seemed so gaunt and unwell. They needed to find some kind of medical office so he could check himself out properly. Hell, and then check them all out.