The Hungry (Book 2): The Wrath of God (20 page)

Abraham's religious zealots lined the top of the opening of the amphitheater, which, upon reflection, really was more of an arena. Some seemed subdued, even ashamed, like the man who had just helped her. Others were wild with blood lust. These shouted and cheered. Penny Miller looked up into the afternoon sunlight. Most of the zealots were wearing hooded brown robes, aping Abraham. Miller could also see Scratch and Sheppard, Rat and Lovell sitting at the edge of the opening. They were all watching. Miller held her hand in front of her eyes as she stood alone in the middle of the space. She focused her breathing, flexed her muscles.

It wasn't a long wait.

"Brothers and sisters!" Abraham's voice came from somewhere above her head. "We are blessed. Praise be to God who brings us this bounty."

"Amen!" shouted Abraham's followers.

"Give me a fucking break," Miller mumbled. She had a pretty good idea what was coming. Her body felt engorged with energy, caught somewhere between the acceleration brought on by hunger and the virus and the energy of a good meal. She felt okay, even great.
Bring it on, cowboy, bring it on.

As if she were the star of a Gladiator movie, Miller took in her surroundings one final time. She examined the two entrances to the small arena. Heavily armed men and women occupied the openings, most smiling and chatting quietly among themselves.
Better than the Super Bowl, I'll bet
, she thought. She stood there alone, weaponless, waiting for Abraham's warriors to come and try to turn her into some kind of a bizarre zombie sacrifice. She wondered why she wasn't tied up. Was she allowed to defend herself? Why would Abraham risk losing his own people?

Miller looked up. She could just see the back of Abraham's bald head. He spoke again. "I promised to make these travelers a meal, and it is time. A meal! For soon we shall feast on their flesh."

"Amen!"

Saw that one coming,
Miller thought.
First zombies, and now cannibals. Why the hell not?

"But before we take them as flesh of our flesh, God has pronounced that one of the travelers shall consort with the Holy Host. Then the Angels of God shall feast, and the woman will become one with them. She has been chosen to feed the Angels. Praise be to God for this blessing!"

"Amen!"

This time Miller didn't choose keep her thoughts to herself. "This is all bull crap, Abraham. The zombies are not angels, and you're nothing more than a fat, megalomaniac needle-dick little cult leader." She scanned the faces of the zealots who peered over the lip of the arena. "You people, there's something that you don't know. There's a bomb, a nuclear bomb. It's set to go off at six o'clock today. You aren't safe here. My friends and I, we know where you can go. A place where there is safety, food, medical supplies. But we have to go now or everyone dies."

Someone called out, "The witch lies!"

The kind man was staring at her now. He whispered something to the man next to him. Miller felt encouraged. She walked around in a circle, waving and shouting. "Folks, I don't know what he's been telling you, but I can guess. He's told you that the world has come to an end and that civilization has collapsed. He said that God has selected you to survive the apocalypse. It's not true. None of it. It's all lies."

A man shouted, "We see the truth with our eyes. The dead have risen."

"Yes," Miller said. "There is a killer virus on the loose but it came from a military experiment that went bad. People, the world is still out there beyond Nevada. You don't have to live this way anymore. And you sure as hell don't have to die like this."

This time her words were met with utter silence.

And then Abraham looked down at her for the first time. "My poor child, fear not the change which is almost upon you. When you have become an Angel of God, all fear will be struck from your heart."

Miller laughed. "You're a fraud, you lying sack of shit."

Abraham said, "It is time."

Someone began moving rocks around. Something moaned in the darkness. Miller felt her stomach clench with adrenaline. Her heart picked up again. She wasn't certain if she were turning scared or just gearing up for the fight to come. Either way, she had only seconds before she was in deep shit.

The sounds grew louder.

"You're fucking crazy, you know that, Abraham." Miller squinted up into the afternoon sun. "And kind of pathetic, actually."

Abraham turned to the guards at the far end of the arena. The moaning and groaning intensified. Abraham shouted, "Let the Angels come forth."

Miller watched the guards step aside. They opened some kind of metal grate and covered themselves with thick wire mesh for protection. Miller knew the time had arrived. Her heart was racing. She couldn't see a way out of this mess, not anymore. If nothing else, she was determined to go down fighting. Perhaps that would buy Scratch, Lovell, Sheppard, or Rat time to find a way to escape.
And poor little Elizabeth…

There was some movement above her that caught Miller's attention. She looked up. Scratch was now leaning over the lip of the arena. "Penny!"

"I'm kind of busy right now, Scratch," Miller said. She turned to look back to where the so-called
Angels
were supposed to emerge. She was ready. It was on.

"Penny," Scratch said. He cleared his throat. "I love you."

Miller looked up at him. She blinked. Just a moment before, she'd thought that she could maybe find some way to at least save her friends, if not herself. But Scratch's admission proved that he could see that none of them had any way out. The bastard was tough as nails. If he thought they stood half a chance to get out alive, he'd never have said that sentence aloud. He figured they were all screwed. Her heart sank.

At that moment, the sound of shuffling feet came up through the opening in the rock.
Uhh-huhhh… Uhhh hunnnh…

Miller quickly assessed the situation. Seconds later three zombies came out of the doorway. She spun around. The other entrance to the arena was blocked by armed guards behind wire mesh. Miller doubted she could get past the zombies and back through the way they first came. Besides, she knew that there were more guards waiting just out of sight. She would have to stand and fight.

Miller opened her hands. She danced around. She took another look at the zombies. They were the best-fed zombies she had ever seen. They had the gray skin she was used to, the steadily rotting flesh, but they were also plumped up. They were not wasting away at all. That didn't seem normal. She wondered why. Maybe they weren't hungry enough to bother with her. On the other hand, maybe they were just too fresh.

Wrong again.

They noticed her immediately.
Uhh-huhh-hhuuuh,
the creatures grunted. Their dry eyes, clouded over with white, seemed to drill deep into her soul. Their primal hunger was unmistakable. Miller's heart began to pound. She began to regret being "cured" of the zombie virus. She sure could have used some super powers right about then. If she'd had them she'd have jumped right out of the arena and strangled Abraham where he stood. But fantasies wouldn't help her. Miller swallowed dryly. She reminded herself to stay present. Being alert just might just save someone's life. Her own, for starters.

There were two male zombies and one female. One of the male zombies wore stained jeans and a ripped bowling shirt with the named LEVON stitched on it. He wore a cowboy belt with a big buckle. The other male had been a teenaged boy, and it was wearing a rock-and-roll t-shirt and cargo pants. The female was dressed plainly and quite similarly to Miller herself—t-shirt, jeans, and running shoes. The creature had once been a blonde. If it had been a redhead, Miller would have thought she was looking at herself in a zombie funhouse mirror. She studied the three monsters. They looked like a vacationing family, and probably had been just before the change.

Miller prepared herself. Zombies were stupid. She expected them to come at her in a straight line, and wondered how long she could lead them around in circles in an arena this size. But they didn't come right at her. They sniffed the air. They grunted back and forth almost as if communicating. As soon as they knew where she was, they began to circle her, to flank her. The two males stumbled quietly to her left, the female moved to the right.
They were cooperating with each other.
This was the damnedest thing Miller had ever seen. They seemed to be working as a team.

"Penny, be careful!" Sheppard called. "These zombies are different."

"No shit?" Miller shifted to her left, kicking up dust. She was trying to keep the two males from getting past her. They promptly changed trajectories, predatory animals adjusting to her movements. It was both fascinating and horrifying. Miller kept moving around. She feinted and dodged. The zombies continued to spread apart and work to encircle her. Then they closed in as one, a hunting party. They were going to trap her soon. Miller knew she could not allow that.

Finally, one of the zombies—the male with the big belt buckle—made a move. It came at her while the other two were hanging back, covering her retreat. Miller crouched. She watched as the thing shuffled toward her. Drool ran from its broken mouth. It moaned loudly,
Uhhhh hunhhh…
These zombies may have been acting smarter than the ones she was used to, but they were still pretty slow and clumsy. Miller knew she could use that fact to her advantage.

Miller feinted away and then ran right up to the bold male zombie. It grabbed at her. She ducked as it reached out, kicked out with her right foot and tipped it over. It tumbled to the ground, lying there stunned. Miller kept moving. She now had all three together on one side of the arena. She swayed sideways like a cat, waiting for their next move.

The ragged spectators above booed and hissed impatiently. They'd expected her to die quickly like the others who had been sacrificed. The zealots were spoiled, like drunken Romans at the games. Miller had absolutely no intention of cooperating with their blood lust. She kept moving. She eyed the zombies warily. The woman zombie snarled. The teenaged-boy zombie grunted. The downed man seemed frustrated and angry. He grunted as he tried to sit up. These zombies were indeed different. Their almost human emotions puzzled her.

Then Miller saw something that startled the shit out of her.
The other two zombies helped their fallen comrade to its feet.
Then they came at her as a unit, the males to each side of the female. It was she who led the second charge. Miller again remembered what they'd noticed back in the Crystal Palace, that the zombies seemed to have learned to cooperate. One had sacrificed itself to feed the others. Sheppard was right. They were different.

Miller, light on her feet, dodged past them again, and pushed the boy into the female. All three went down like bowling pins. The boy lay on top of the pile, with the female in the middle and the other male on the bottom. They struggled to get up.

The crowd screamed in annoyance.

Miller kicked the boy in the head as hard as she could. She heard its neck snap. She kicked it a couple of more times and created a large, bowl-shaped crater in its wet skull. It stopped moving. She dodged away just before the female could bite her other leg. The audience, which had been shouting, cheering, booing, and chanting, now switched to exhibiting a stunned silence.

Miller stepped back. Her anger was high. She looked around the arena with fire in her eyes. Some of the zealots cringed. She could hear Abraham chewing someone out for the fuck-up. She wondered if they'd set more zombies free in a desperate attempt to take her out. The man who had been kind to her was openly smiling, tugging on his friend's sleeve. Some of the crowd began to walk away. They apparently did not want to see her win.

Miller moved again. It took a moment for the remaining two zombies to orient themselves. They struggled under the weight of the dead boy. While they were still getting organized, Miller closed in on the snarling female. She placed herself perfectly and kicked it in the face. The jaw immediately caved in. Miller kicked again. Brains and other goo leaked onto Miller's shoe, but that was the least of her problems. The male nearly bit her thigh. She trotted away. Two down.

That left only the male on the bottom.

Observing from yards away, blood roaring in her ears, Miller could see that the Dad zombie wasn't much of a threat. Still, she couldn't take any chances.

The crowd watched in silence, still stunned.

Miller charged. She hopped up, and landed with both feet on the thing's head, which promptly popped open.

This time some of the spectators went wild. They applauded and screamed. Others murmured in shock and horror. How could this happen? They seemed to be stunned that Abraham had been wrong.

Miller turned. She looked up at the would-be prophet. He was backing away from the ledge, his mouth open. Scratch, Lovell, Rat, and Sheppard were cheering, whooping and slapping palms.

"Is that the best you've got, Abraham?" Miller taunted. "Fuck, if that's as scary as you people get, then you might as well throw down the keys to the Winnebago. We'll go right now. We'll be leaving soon enough anyway."

Abraham shouted at the crowd, calling for silence. His control seemed tenuous at best. Finally, the audience calmed down.

"Sacrilege!" Abraham cried. "You have desecrated the Angels of God!"

"Sorry about that."

He turned to the guards who had originally let the three zombies enter. "I command thee, release the Holy Host!"

"Oh, give it a rest, Abe," said Miller. "Why don't you come down here and do your own dirty work?"

The crowd murmured. Miller readied herself. Heard
unhhh hunhhh…

A moment later another zombie appeared. Then came yet another. Miller counted as zombie after zombie entered, until the last one came into the chamber. There were five all together. Miller noticed that two were wearing torn military uniforms. Abraham had probably been going down to the base at Crystal Palace to bring captive zombies back here, and doing that for some time. That's where he'd found the severed head.