The Hungry (19 page)

"Yes, Sergeant," said the corporal crisply. He'd gone a bit pale at having been ordered into combat. He and the other three turned on a dime and jogged away. The corporal let the others get ahead of him. Sheppard motioned their little group closer to the vehicles. He relaxed when the second the unit was finally out of sight. He sighed with relief. The alarm kept on shrieking above them.

"Get in," ordered Sheppard. He threw open the doors of one of the Hummers. The rest of the platoon began getting into other vehicles. Miller grinned and stepped up into the seat. Her companions followed. Sheppard got in the front seat. He fired up the big diesel engine.

Miller said, "How the hell did you pull this off, Sheppard?"

"Perimeter patrol," said Sheppard under his breath, as if that explained everything. "I've got this under control. Now do me a favor and just shut up until we're well off base."

Miller, Terrill Lee, Scratch, Macumber and Wells sat back and stayed silent. The men around Sheppard seemed to accept his orders without question. They would just as easily have shot them dead as fought alongside them, so long as a respected superior officer ordered it. Sheppard drove the Hummer in a long column of other vehicles. The air reeked of diesel and one could sense the fear. The underground road narrowed and sloped upward. The men stayed quiet and tense, although someone just out of sight was whispering a prayer. Soon they were in a tunnel and rapidly approaching the hotter surface of the Nevada desert. Apart from fluorescent lighting here and there, the tunnel was still dark. Doors slid open.

Abruptly, bright sunlight appeared in the front window. They exited into the late afternoon sun. Everyone squinted. Miller shaded her eyes. The base at ground level was practically deserted but for the Hummers they now followed. Their group split up as if according to some predetermined pattern. One at a time, the vehicles turned left or right until only Sheppard's Hummer continued steadily on the original course. They were outside and alone.

Miller watched out the already dusty front window. The white sunshine hurt her eyes. They approached the main gate. Sheppard slowed and came to a stop at the guard tower. The guardhouse was packed with nervous soldiers, each one curiously peering into the Hummer, probably wondering how the hell they could manage to hitch a ride. The word had spread fast that there was some kind of an outbreak down below. Everyone wanted to leave.

Sheppard showed his ID. "I'm on special assignment from Colonel Sanchez, and we're on the clock."

The lead guard was unimpressed. "Sorry, Sergeant. I have my orders. We're on lockdown. No one goes in or out."

"Bill, check your records. You know I have a Bravo-Seven clearance."

"Sarge, Colonel Sanchez just called down here three minutes ago. He cancelled all Bravo-Seven clearances."

"Oh, fuck," said Scratch quietly.

"Sanchez himself?" Sheppard asked with a bitter chuckle. "Are these assholes ever going to get their act together? All hurry up and wait again?"

The guard softened a bit. "Tell me about it."

"Look, Bill," Sheppard said, "they are going to change their minds back in a couple of minutes, and we both know it. Just let us get the fuck gone."

The guard handed back the ID. "Sorry Sergeant. I recommend you turn around and report back to your commander. I'm sure you'll get it straightened out."

Surprisingly, Sheppard nodded. "Okay. Understood." He turned the Hummer around. They headed back towards the interior of the base.

"Sheppard," said Miller. "You know we can't go back there. What now?"

"Now you all strap yourselves in," said Sheppard. He turned abruptly to the left, sped up and headed directly for the thick security fence.

Miller grinned. "That's my boy."

"What are you doing?" demanded Scratch. "Ain't that all electrified and shit?"

"Shut up and hold on," said Sheppard. He floored the accelerator and sped towards the perimeter. Behind them the guards opened fire. Three rounds struck the back windshield and spider-webbed the protective glass. Sheppard didn't even flinch. Miller let out a war whoop and laughed. A moment later, the large vehicle slammed into the wire. Sparks and metal flew. The fence wasn't built to handle a military assault. The Hummer crunched it all down and continued on like there was nothing in the world that could stand in the way.

"It will take them a couple of minutes to figure out what just happened," Sheppard said. "The drones won't attack one of our own vehicles unless there's a tracer on board. They'll have to be reprogrammed. So we should be able to get where we're going before they can organize things well enough to catch up to us."

"And just where
are
we going?" asked Miller. She smiled, delighted to be back in open desert again, even stuck in the same damned wedding dress. Scratch leaned back and closed his eyes. Terrill Lee just scowled. He wasn't impressed. Things seemed to keep getting worse.

Sheppard turned away to drive. "We're heading for Carson City."

THIRTEEN

The sunset flooded the desert floor with dark colors and creeping shadow. The Hummer rolled on like a giant beetle.

"All the way to Carson City?" Terrill Lee said. "How long do you think it will be before they get a couple of those unholy meat-grinders up in the sky and we wind up with a giant heat-seeking dildo right up our collective rosy-red asses?"

Scratch seemed to agree. He glared out the cracked rear window searching the early evening clouds for danger.

"I think you mean Hellfires, tough guy," Sheppard said. He was clearly amused by their rhetoric despite the circumstances. Sheppard drove on like a madman, the Hummer bouncing and roaring down the highway. He was a good driver. Miller thought he was cute. Sheppard said, "Anyway, I wouldn't worry about their weaponry, at least not yet."

Scratch spoke with his eyes closed. "And why not?"

"Look," Sheppard said, "I can tell you from personal experience it will take them at least another twenty minutes to get their shit together and open the hangar doors. Then they have to get the NV equipment going because it's getting dark. They'll eventually try and launch a Blackhawk and maybe an Apache or two."

Miller said, "Okay, but that's not much time."

Sheppard shrugged. "Sheriff, I ducked in there for a short while before I brought those men back up. I screwed up a few vital things here and there, just enough to slow them down, you know? Anyway, by the time they get it all straightened out and come after us, we'll be off the grid for tonight. Believe me we've got it covered for now."

"Well, I sure hope you're right, Sergeant."

"I am, Penny. Okay. Hang on."

Wells shook his head. "Damn, I hate it when you say that."

Sheppard yanked the wheel to the left. The Hummer sailed off the broken highway. It crashed down an embankment, through reluctant rows of pale sage and sharp rocks. They crushed plant life and crunched solid rock before straightening out onto a skinny dirt road—one that seemingly led to Mars.

Miller sat back. She stared out through the smeared side window. The sun was low now, very near the horizon, and every rock and scrub tree seemed to cast long, slender fingers of shadow across the dirt road. It would be dark within minutes. This Sheppard was one smart cookie.

"What's next?" Terrill Lee asked.

"We have to ditch the Hummer. It's way too recognizable. There's a place I know not far from here. We can dump the military connection and look like civilians on the run. The place is close. We'll be there in less than ten minutes."

Suddenly a small red light appeared on the dash. Said light was accompanied by a surprisingly loud beep. Scratch opened his eyes.

"What the Sam Fucking Houston was that?" asked Terrill Lee. They all turned their attention back to the front of the vehicle.

"Oops," said Sheppard. His features softened. His confidence dissolved.

"What was that sound?" snapped Miller. "Tell us what's going on."

"I don't get it," said Sheppard. His hands gripped the thick wheel, but now they were shaking. "I swear the tank was almost full when we left base."

Miller rolled her eyes.
Men.
"Let me get this straight. Are you telling me we're running out of gas?"

Sheppard stared at the gas gauge, clearly willing it to rise again. "We're less than five miles from our next stop, Sheriff. The road is sloping down a bit. I'm going to gun it and see if we can't get there before it's time to take a walk."

There really wasn't anything for anyone to say after that. Miller considered shooting Sheppard out of spite. She searched the faces of her merry little band of testosterone-addled males. Macumber was clearly scared; being chased by US forces was not what he'd signed up for when he joined the Guard. Miller couldn't be certain what was going on in his mind, but after the loss of his team, and especially Fulton, she was amazed that he was holding it together. The guy was a dick, but he had guts.

Miller moved on, taking stock. Terrill Lee was cracking his knuckles. He appeared calm, but Miller had seen that before. Hell, it was only that morning that he'd stared down the Blood Riders when they made a run for it in the Durango. But Miller had also known Terrill Lee a long time. The bravado he'd affected earlier was mostly good for show. Her ex-husband had proven that when the heavy shit came down, he was just as likely to become a liability than an asset. She wondered how it was that with the zombies and all, the huge shit storm they were in right now, ol' Terrill Lee was even still alive. Maybe he deserved more respect that he'd gotten. Maybe.

She watched Wells. The kid was solid, but sure had his eyes glued to the gas gauge. Miller tried to think of a way she
wouldn't
have to tell him the awful truth at some point. Admit that the man who'd killed his father was sitting maybe five feet away, sleeping peacefully. The funny part was, she had no idea if Wells would try to kill Scratch as a point of honor or shake his hand. The truth was bound to come out somehow, sooner or later.

Scratch's grizzled head bobbed around with the motion of the Hummer. Miller knew he wanted her to think he was tough as nails, and he had the true grit, but she had seen him in her jail cell that first night, almost ready to piss himself when those zombies were just outside the walls.
Men,
she thought.
They spend so much time thinking about the size of their wieners, figuratively or literally, that they can't concentrate on what matters.
And what mattered right now was survival. Damn, she felt hungry. Her stomach rumbled.

Miller turned her attention back to Sergeant Sheppard. What the hell did they really know about him, anyway? He had helped them escape—there was no denying that—but he'd also seemed to know an awful lot about the inner workings of the top-secret military base. How much did he know about the zombies and where they came from? Miller searched her memory of their interview in the decontamination room, looking for any clue about what Sheppard was all about, but her thoughts were a blur. The only thing she was left with for certain was an uneasy feeling that Sheppard was one of
them,
that in the end he couldn't be trusted. He surely knew an awful lot more about what was going down than he'd been letting on. Crap, when it came down to it, who could she trust? No one.

Time stretched like a rubber band. Finally the Hummer coughed, twitched and complained. The road seemed to drop slightly, which allowed Sheppard to let the vehicle roll in neutral from time to time, but the tank was empty and they were almost toast. Night was falling, bringing bitter cold air along for the ride. Stars popped through the sky like pinpricks in silk. Time was running out. The engine began to sputter, and their speed fell off. Miller looked through the front window. Nothing but shadows and sand. They were well and truly fucked. And then a small farmhouse and a sagging old barn seemed to appear from nowhere, perhaps a hundred or more yards up the road.

"Are we there yet?" Miller asked. "I have to pee."

Sheppard looked back. "Just about. We have to get the Hummer into that barn and out of sight. If we leave it out here in the open, it won't take a genius with a computer trace to guess where we are."

"Time?"

"Five minutes, maybe ten, and then the bad guys will be flying in over that hill. We have to move fast."

The engine died. The giant Hummer finally rolled to a stop. Sheppard turned to Corporal Wells and Private Macumber. "Form up outside, men. We'll have to push her the rest of the way."

Miller barked at Terrill Lee and Scratch. "Move, gentlemen. You have the upper body strength. I'll be steering."

Sheppard stepped out. Miller unstrapped herself from her seat and moved to the driver's side. The bulky wedding dress made it difficult for her to squeeze behind the wheel, but she managed. The men piled out into the hungry dark. She heard them shouting. The vehicle rocked a bit as they set themselves. She found herself alone in the empty Hummer. Part of her wished she could just drive away and leave them all behind, make it on her own. Every man since a drunken Daddy had figured out a way to let her down. Miller figured she'd be safer on her own.

Nothing happened. Then Miller realized that the rest of them were waiting behind the vehicle. "Ready when you are, Sergeant."

The men pushed. Miller steered.
Maybe men are good for something after all,
Miller thought. The Hummer gathered momentum. They actually reached a decent speed, and the hundred yards slipped by quickly. Meanwhile, Sheppard had sprinted on ahead to the decrepit barn. He ran well, too. He yanked the sagging wooden doors open just as Miller drove the Hummer inside. The doors closed behind her, and then it was dark again. Sheppard and the other men shouted and ran around doing all those man things, working to settle them in. Miller took advantage of one moment alone. She closed her eyes. She wanted to relax but still felt wound up and tense. Hungry and wide awake. Had she had any sleep at all the last two nights? Miller couldn't recall.