The Hungry (Book 3): At the End of the World (14 page)

Read The Hungry (Book 3): At the End of the World Online

Authors: Steven Booth,Harry Shannon

BOOK: The Hungry (Book 3): At the End of the World
11.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Crosby turned his gaze to each of them in turn. “So you don’t know if anyone has been infected and survived.”
Before Sheppard could speak, Miller said, “No, we don’t.”
Sheppard got the message. She didn’t want to discuss her own situation.
Crosby nodded. “So what’s the story with the head shot? If they can die of blood loss when they first get sick, why don’t they just bleed out and stay dead?”
Sheppard smiled. Crosby may not have aced biology in high school, but he was a reasonably educated cop. “Well, there’s dead, and then there’s undead.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Crosby said.
“It means that a human needs a fully functioning circulatory system, among other things, to survive, but all a zombie needs is an intact
nervous
system. Get it? The mitochondria keep making energy from the surrounding tissues anoxically, and thus continue to support the brain and muscles. But the energy production comes at a huge cost. The zombie can think of nothing but its next meal. It is always, always starving. It must be a terrible…”
“Hold on,” said Crosby. “If a zombie is producing energy from consuming its own tissues, won’t it eventually run out of energy and die?”
Sheppard hesitated. “Not as far as we know.”
“But that could happen?”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Miller said. “We’ve seen zombies that were around at least a month after they should have cashed in their chips. Trust me, they still had plenty of bite in them.”
“But it
could
happen?”
“I suppose,” Sheppard said. “There’s still a lot we don’t know about the zombies.”
“Well, they used to be regular folks, right? Do you reckon they can reason or plan in any way?”
“We didn’t think so at first,” Sheppard said, “but then they began to express the ability to operate in large groups. There are new wrinkles every day. Lately we’ve seen them act in threes, for example, all working together to set up traps. I’m now wondering about some kind of species-wide consciousness, which is a truly terrifying thought.”
“That’s it? That’s all?”
Sheppard shrugged. “No one has really studied them carefully. At least not yet.”
Sheppard was lying, by omission and now commission, and felt uncomfortable about that. The zombies had been studied pretty extensively, at his own home base at Crystal Palace, and then later at a makeshift lab in the basement of the Excelsior hotel in Las Vegas. Sheppard had been instrumental in each of those studies. He probably knew more about what made the zombies tick than anyone alive, and he wasn’t happy about it. His best friend had been
patient zero.
Sometimes it tortured him that he could have done something to stop the plague before it began, but he hadn’t, and here they were.
Crosby asked a question, but Sheppard, lost in thought, didn’t catch it. “Excuse me?”
“I said, ‘So, how do we get rid of them?’”
“We can’t,” Sheppard said, “at least not until we have an antivirus that gets the job done. This is one nasty bug.”
“You don’t know for sure,” Crosby said. “I’ve been thinking on this. Can’t we hole up somewhere and wait them out? They can’t last forever without food.”
“No,” said Miller.
Crosby seemed puzzled. “But what about…”
Sheppard cleared his throat. “Look, Constable, you wanted to know what we know about the zombies, and we’ve told you. That’s about it.”
“I wanted to know how to
survive
the zombies, and you haven’t told me much about that.” Crosby stood up. He scowled and began pacing the floor. “Sheriff, you told me that your entire town was wiped out the first night, and that you’ve been on the run ever since. I can appreciate what you’ve been through. Still, you’ve never had to take care of more than a handful of people at a time before, have you?”
Sheppard watched Miller carefully. He was worried about her temper. He wasn’t sure how she would respond, but he was reasonably certain that he didn’t want to be Crosby if she decided to let him have it.
Much to his surprise, Miller just smiled at the wall. “You know what, Constable, you’re right. I don’t know shit about taking care of an entire town under a zombie siege. A good friend of mine once accused me of being a better tactician than strategist, and I suppose she was right. But that’s all beside the point. You ain’t gonna learn anything more from us, at least, not about surviving the zombies.” Miller faced Crosby. “However, if you want to learn anything about sleeping night after night for weeks at a time in a minivan with three really stinky men, I might be able to shed some light on that.”
“No thanks,” said Crosby. He was not amused or mollified. “You know, I’m a little disappointed in you, Sheriff. I thought I could count on you to help me better understand what I’m up against.”
Miller got to her feet. She moved closer to Crosby and her voice dropped almost to a whisper. “If you were expecting me to stay behind for a spell and hold your dick for you while you figured out every little detail of what you need to know to protect your precious mountain town, so you won’t have to even break a sweat to be a hero, well then I’m afraid you were bound to be disappointed in the first place.”
“Back up,” said Scratch, emerging from the kitchen. Sheppard noted that he had puffed himself up. He looked kind of like a kitten trying to intimidate its own reflection. “What’s all this about holding Carter’s dick?”
“Perfect timing, as usual.” Miller stepped away from Crosby. “Karl, why don’t you show the Constable to the door? I think it’s maybe time he was on his way.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sheppard said automatically. “Constable, would you follow me, please?” He put his hand on the butt of his pistol. It was a mirror image of Crosby’s stance.
They all watched carefully as Crosby went through the mental process of deciding to back down. They could see various emotions cross his face, one after the other: anger, embarrassment, frustration, fear, and then futility. Crosby relaxed his posture. He took one last look at Sheppard, Miller, and Scratch, and turned on his heel in a respectable imitation of an about-face. His back remained ramrod straight. He walked away.
Sheppard followed a few paces behind. As they approached the front door, they could see Terrill Lee was busy fitting the front doors with a makeshift bracket, preparing a barricade. He had Jimmy and Lynn for support.
“Terrill Lee, mind if we come through? The Constable is leaving.”
“No way, not now.” Terrill Lee didn’t look up. “Have him use the side door, Karl. We’re kind of busy here.”
“All right.”
Crosby was already moving backwards, heading toward the lakeside doors, just beyond the little café. Sheppard registered that Miller and Scratch were still deep in conversation back in the kitchen and also standing much too close to each other for Sheppard’s comfort. He didn’t know what to do about them, Penny Miller in particular. It was the first time in his experience with her that she didn’t seem to be thinking of someone else’s welfare. Sheppard bore the burden of guilt. He didn’t want to think about the possibility that Scratch was already infected, though that was a distinct possibility. Sheppard had been deeply worried since he’d found them smooching by the gun rack. If they had had sex, Sheppard’s scientific mind was also intrigued by Scratch’s apparent lack of symptoms, and the possibilities for a cure that might engender. On the other hand, it was possible that Scratch hadn’t been infected, and there was nothing to observe. Sheppard didn’t like not knowing.
“You coming?” Crosby asked.
Sheppard rushed to follow Crosby, who now stood next to the wide doors facing the icy lake. A cold wind swept snow along the ground outside. Sheppard forced a smile. He fished the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door for Crosby.
Outside the door, in the rocks at the tree line, something moved.
Sheppard threw out his arm protectively to stop Crosby from exiting.
“What’s your problem, Karl?”
“Someone’s out there.” Sheppard whispered.
Crosby’s demeanor changed. He was instantly alert. “I don’t see anything. Where am I looking?”
Before Sheppard could point to a clump of boulders, Crosby said, “Shit!”
Sheppard nodded. The Constable pushed Sheppard back into the lodge. He closed the door behind him.
“We’ve got company.” Crosby turned. “I saw at least one sniper on higher ground in the rocks, and a few armed men in the trees under cover. It’s those peckerhead survivalists. Folks, it looks like I’m staying, at least for a while.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I’m telling you they won’t listen,” Crosby said for the third time.
Miller was looking down at the grounds, peering out through the slats of the wooden shutters. “Will they listen to
you?
”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Crosby said. “They’re scared. We all are. No one has ever seen anything like this.”
Terrill Lee joined them. They were standing near the large second-floor window, watching the entire Stars and Stripes Brigade as it gathered down below. They were surrounded. The members were taking up what looked like very effective positions to assault the lodge. There were a lot of them and they were heavily armed. The excrement had hit the proverbial fan.
“What the hell are they doing out there in the first place?” Terrill Lee said. “Don’t they have, you know, like a Fortress of Solitude to fall back on in case of World War Three? I thought these survivalist types spent all their free time preparing for an emergency just like this. I saw a reality show on that once.”
Crosby looked pointedly at Miller. “You’ve obviously got something else they want.”
Terrill Lee figured he was a pretty good judge of character, despite what everyone else thought of him. He was starting to get the feeling that Crosby was holding out on them, but couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He knew these people better than anyone. He had to.
“Something they want? Not just the lodge?” Miller seemed surprised.
“Not necessarily. In fact, if I had to guess, I’d say what they want is
you
, Sheriff.”
Everyone turned to look at Crosby.
“You want to run that by me again?” said Miller.
“Look down there. That’s Martin LaGrange taking cover right now behind those boulders on the right. It looks like he busted himself out of my jail.” Crosby pointed down through the shutter slats.
“You lost your prisoner? How did that happen?”
Crosby shrugged, but had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Somebody must have broken in and found the extra set of keys. Sorry.”
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight, numbnuts,” Scratch said. “The crazy-assed son of a bitch who kidnapped the two of us in broad daylight and tried to rape Penny got free from your jail? And now he is outside with his own personal army, and they’re preparing to storm this lodge to get her back?”
“I wouldn’t phrase it exactly like that,” Crosby shifted uncomfortably, “but that does seem to be the situation.”
“I would phrase it pretty much that way,” said Miller, “except I doubt it is
just
me they are after. We have some other young women in here with me, and shelter, and a hell of a lot of booze. Our situation has just gone from bad to worse.”
Terrill Lee rolled his eyes. “What a shocker.”
Miller ignored him. “Okay. Gentlemen, we have problems to solve, so let’s get busy. Sheppard, I need you to go downstairs and double-check our defenses. Scratch, you and Crosby are with me. Let’s see if we can’t figure out a way out of this mess.”
“Penny?” Terrill Lee raised his hand. “What about me?”
“Terrill Lee, you head upstairs and make sure everyone else is secure in one of the suites. Oh, and keep them the hell out of the way.”
“Oh,” Terrill Lee said, clearly disappointed.
“And take a rifle with you,” Miller added. “If this turns into a shooting war, I want someone up high who I can count on.” She smiled at him to ease the sting a bit.
“Okay.” Terrill Lee picked up a nearby rifle and trudged up the stairs.
Terrill Lee found Michelle and the others in Miller’s suite. Brandy was standing near the window, looking out at something down below. Lynn was warming herself in front of the fireplace. Michelle was sitting on the sofa, watching Lex play with some toy that Terrill Lee didn’t recognize. Jimmy was sitting at the desk playing games on his worn laptop computer. Everyone but Lex looked up as Terrill Lee entered.
“What’s going on?” Brandy demanded.
Terrill Lee hesitated. He didn’t want to alarm the children. “We have some unwanted company.”
“It’s those Stars and Stripes freaks, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Looks that way.”
“You can’t let them in here,” said Michelle.
“We don’t intend to. You’re all going to be fine. Penny will come up with something. We need to give her a little time.”
Michelle laughed. It was a sharp, short, gunshot of a sound. “I am so sick of hearing about the great and powerful Sheriff Penny Miller. You all make her sound like the Wizard of Oz. So far I haven’t seen her do anything but shoot an innocent woman in the head.”
“Relax, Michelle.”
“No, Michelle’s right.” Brandy turned to face Terrill Lee. “What’s so amazing about her, anyway?”
Terrill Lee took her question seriously. “She understands the zombies in a way that none of us could ever hope to. It’s a long story. She’s been at the front lines of the fight against the zombies since the first night. But she can’t protect everyone or be right every single time. She’s not a superhero—at least, not anymore.”
“What?”
“Never mind,” Terrill Lee said. “Anyway, she’s the leader. She gives us a shot. We have the best chance of surviving tonight, and every other night God grants us, if we listen to what she says. She’s our last, best hope.”
“Bullshit,” Brandy scoffed. “She’s as scared as the rest of us. I saw it in her eyes. She really has no idea what she’s doing, does she?”
Terrill Lee stared back. He briefly considered taking Brandy’s bait, but something about Michelle distracted him. She looked pale and had started sweating. The room was warm, but she was shivering, too. This was one of those moments when Terrill Lee wished he had earned his M.D., rather than become a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine. He didn’t know what to do with someone as sick as Michelle. Sheppard might know, even though he was a medical technician, not a doctor. If Michelle were a sheep or a dog, Terrill Lee would know to either cure her or put her down. With humans it wasn’t ever that simple. You had to have a bedside manner and be tactful and authoritative and wise, and manage to do a thousand other things that Terrill Lee wasn’t very good at. He thought about trying to make a joke—he was good at that, at least—but the expression on Michelle’s face reminded him too much of Penny when she’d already had about enough of his sense of humor. All Terrill Lee knew was that Michelle was sick, and he was a medical man, and he had to do something to ease her suffering.
“Hey, you,” Brandy said. “We’re having a conversation.”
“Look,” Terrill Lee said, “We can argue later. I’m really worried about Michelle right now. She doesn’t look so good.”
Brandy and Lynn instantly focused on Michelle.
“I’m fine,” Michelle insisted.
“No, you’re not. You’re shaking, pale, sweating, and,” Terrill Lee said, putting his hand on her forehead, “also burning up.” He turned to Brandy and Lynn. “Would you do me a favor and get her into the bedroom? She should be lying down and drinking lots of fluids.”
“Come on, Sweetheart,” Brandy said. She and Lynn helped Michelle to her feet.
“I’m hungry,” said Michelle. She rubbed her stomach.
Terrill Lee was surprised. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Okay,” said Terrill Lee. “Jimmy, would you go down and get your mother some soup?”
“No way.” Brandy turned back abruptly. “Jimmy’s staying up here with us where it is safe.”
“All right. Would one of you do it? I need to stay up here and keep an eye on things.”
Brandy walked over to him. Her stance was aggressive, her tone angry. “No one in my family is leaving this room. Got that, hotshot?”
“I suppose I could do it.”
“I suppose you could.”
Torn between powerful women, Terrill pictured having to explain to Penny Miller why he had left his post. He looked up, intent on telling Brandy that it wouldn’t work that way, but the expression on her face left no room for argument. “Okay.”
“Good,” Brandy said. “And get the rest of us something to eat as well. We’re all starving.”
Defeated, Terrill Lee nodded. He left without another word. He went out into the hallway and over to the stairs. The second floor was completely deserted and almost entirely dark—the others must be elsewhere. He picked up his pace, and looked over the railing to the big room of the lodge. The ground floor was equally quiet, though down there a few lights were burning. Eventually, Terrill Lee emerged from the stairs into the main sitting area. The eerie quiet made him feel distinctly creepy, and gradually superimposed itself on the dangers lurking outside. Terrill Lee reminded himself to tell Miller about the ghost he felt certain was haunting the lodge—though he had enough survival instinct to know better than to bring that up to her until later. Assuming there was a later.
However, Brandy was sort of right. They had to eat and dinner would probably help to keep the kids calm. So he’d score some food and take it upstairs. That was his first order of business. Now, if he could just figure out where the hell everyone else had gone…
Terrill stopped walking.
“Hello?” he called quietly.
No one was there. He could see the front doors from where he stood. They were barricaded, but it was clear that no one was covering that position. That didn’t seem right. Penny had given orders. Someone should have been standing guard. Had the ghost got them while he was gone? Terrill Lee could feel the first stirrings of panic rising in his gut.
He took his rifle off his shoulder and pointed it into the darkness. “Penny?” He called a little louder. Terrill Lee paused and really tried to listen. His own voice echoed down the hall and returned carrying what seemed like vague whispers and rustling sounds. Was it just wind moving paper, or something scratching at the walls; the creaks and groans of ancient wood, or something else? Something far more sinister?
No other people. Anywhere. Terrill Lee swallowed dryly. His pulse hammered, his heart thwacked against his rib cage. He couldn’t even hear himself breathing, until he realized he wasn’t. He emptied his lungs in a whoosh, and took a couple of cleansing breaths. His panic level didn’t diminish. That wasn’t a good sign either.
Terrill Lee wondered if someone had broken in to take the others hostage. Penny and Scratch and Sheppard would certainly lie about how many people were in their party, in order to allow the others a chance to stage a rescue. Terrill Lee needed to stay quiet and figure out what was actually going on. He seriously considered going to the front door, opening it, and looking outside, just to see a face—any face. The heavy barricade he had installed barred the door. He wouldn’t be able to open it even if he wanted to.
Damn it…
A scratching, tapping sound caught Terrill Lee’s attention. He spun in place, searching the gloom for the source of the noise. The animal heads on the walls loomed down over him again, glaring accusingly, sneering in a menacing way. He pictured himself up on one of those walls all gutted and stuffed with a permanent grin like a fat possum with its dick stuck in a wall socket. That was one hell of a lousy way to spend eternity. The stuffed bear by the gun cabinet looked ready to move, to close the distance between them, to crush Terrill Lee under its immense weight. His panic level went up by at least three more notches, heart pounding in his chest, hot blood rushing in his ears.
“Penny?” Terrill Lee called. “Penny!”
The main sitting area of the lodge was one big room, and apart from the danged animal heads, which always appeared to be ready to leap off the walls and attack him, there was not one face in sight. He’d never felt so alone in his life. He could see every nook and cranny. Only the café and kitchen were out of view.
Terrill Lee ran to the kitchen.
“Scratch?” he called. “Karl?”
His voice echoed faintly. The whispers and chuckles of a nightmare crawled down the darkened stairs to stroke his bare skin.
“Crosby?” Terrill Lee cried. “Penny? Somebody?”
The kitchen was empty, with only one light that dimly illuminated the small room. There were dirty dishes in the sink. Someone had left crumbs on the stainless steel countertop and on the cutting board, which was weird, because they hadn’t had a chance to fix supper. Who was here? Who ate the food without straightening up? What the hell was going on?
“Penny!”
Terrill Lee spun in place. He couldn’t figure it out. The panic was now fully upon him. He didn’t know what to do. There was only one conclusion to come to. He was absolutely convinced the ghost of the lodge was somehow to blame for everyone’s disappearance. If he grabbed Michelle and her sisters and her kids to run out into the snowy night, they’d be facing pissed off survivalists and hungry zombies. If they stayed here inside… the ghost.
Something touched his arm. He jumped away and screamed in a high-pitched squeal. He backed up into the kitchen counter, fumbling for his weapon.
“Terrill Lee, what the fuck is your problem?” Miller said.
When Terrill Lee realized who it was, he was so relieved that he put his arms around her. She allowed him the hug. He held her tightly until the panic began to subside.
“Where were you? I thought something awful had happened to you.”
“Okay, cowboy, it’s all right. We’re okay. You’re safe.” Miller peeled his arms from around her body and stepped back. “What happened?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you. Where the hell were you guys?”
Sheppard spoke for the first time, startling Terrill Lee again. He was standing in the shadows, only a few feet away. “Penny and I were down in the wine cellar.”
“Well, what were you doing down there? Don’t you know there’s a damned siege on?”
“We wanted to see if we could barricade the door,” Miller said, “in case it ever comes to that.”
“But then we’d be trapped.”
“Sure,” said Sheppard, almost too casually. “I know locking ourselves in, a refuge of last resort, is a bad idea, but right now we’re a little short on
good
ideas.”

Other books

The Dark Shore by Susan Howatch
The Girls Club by Jackie Coupe
Immortal by Gene Doucette