Strange…
That long a time had passed. And yet, here were the bodies of the zombies, desiccated but not really decomposed. The human skeletons, on the other hand, showed little sign of trauma—at least, none that she could see from the safety of their Hummer. No head shots on the people. They were probably just unfortunate humans who’d died without turning.
“Penny?”
Miller did not respond. She pondered asking Sheppard about what might have enabled the zombie corpses to resist the ravages of bacteria, since her ex-husband Terrill Lee was no longer around to drone on about possible explanations. She did not do so, because she had a lot of other things to think about. For example, they had to survive a perilous journey from Flat Rock all the way up to Mountain Home, Idaho. She had given the matter some serious consideration and thought she’d worked things out.
Gasoline was an important part of their survival plan.
“Drive us closer,” Miller said. “Don’t get out.”
They rolled forward. The hot sun had baked the desert floor solid, so the sand and gravel seemed to groan in response to the tires. Sheppard pulled up to the single pump stand. Scratch, driving the pickup, pulled in next to the Hummer.
“Engines off.”
The vehicles went silent. Miller waited a long moment, her tired eyes scanning the abandoned gas station. She’d been ambushed here months back, while peeing alone in a bathroom stall, and wasn’t about to repeat that experience. She listened to the silence. The dead bodies had that customary sweet and sour stench. A wind chime hanging on the porch tinkled in the light breeze. Some papers in the abandoned office rustled. There wasn’t much to listen to.
Miller already had one of her assault rifles out, locked and loaded. She opened the door, and pointed the weapon out toward the main building, the most likely source of a threat. From the corner of her eye, Miller saw that Rat was doing the same thing from her position in the passenger’s seat of the pickup. Rat was closest to the small store. She waited for orders.
Scratch rolled down the window. He smiled and winked at Miller. “Just like old times, eh, Penny?”
“Yeah, it is, but I’m not really in the mood for nostalgia just now, Scratch.”
Scratch’s smile disappeared. “Well, excuse me.”
Miller almost apologized for her curtness but ultimately stayed quiet. She’d need to have a long talk with Scratch, but this was not the time for personal stuff. Miller had never been sentimental, and it bothered her to no end that she seemed to be turning into a romantic. She loved Scratch more than he knew—and that was part of the problem, and also part of the solution.
“What’s the plan?”
Miller looked back at Sheppard, who had removed his hands from the wheel and now held an M-4 rifle, the barrel out the lowered window. She confirmed that he had covered the angle facing out toward the road. The group waited for her decision. Miller nodded. “Get gas, check for nonperishables in the store, and then let’s hightail the hell out of here.”
“Let’s rock,” said Scratch, stepping out of the truck.
Miller looked at his empty hands. “Turds on toast, Scratch. Get armed up.”
Scratch frowned. “I was about to.”
“Hurry it up then. You come outside with me. Karl, you and Rat wait for a moment. Stay frosty. We are officially in enemy territory again.”
Sheppard nodded and raised his M-4 to cover his field of fire. Miller didn’t see Rat’s response, but knew she would comply. Scratch produced Miller’s old Mossberg 500 shotgun from somewhere.
The breeze dropped off and the rustling and the faint tinkling stopped just as Miller stepped down from the Hummer. Now nothing was moving in the entire area. Miller adjusted her sunglasses. She walked forward, weapon at the ready. Gravel and some dead succulents crunched beneath her boots. The place felt like the surface of another planet. It was eerie. Miller didn’t like the complete silence—it made her feel like the whole world was truly dead forever—but she shook off that thought. She had people to protect and a job to do.
“Follow me,” Miller said. Scratch slid into position with the huge weapon gripped in both hands. Miller studied the scene and made her choice. She signaled Sheppard and Rat. They each deployed from their positions in the vehicles. Rat stepped around to view the side of the building. She gave an all-clear signal with her hand. Miller did not relax. She’d seen too many ambushes to let her guard down now. She kept her voice a low whisper.
“Let’s go, Scratch.”
But Scratch ignored her. He headed off to check the pumps. They were filthy and beat up now, but still fairly modern, with credit card readers and digital displays. Unfortunately, that also meant that they were completely useless without power, a valid cash card, a phone line, and perhaps even the Internet. She had none of those.
“Dead here,” said Scratch. “If there’s anything left in the reservoirs, we’d probably be better off pumping it out by hand from the fill points. This can’t be the first time they’ve had a power outage in these parts, right?”
Miller nodded and suppressed a grin. That was Scratch. “Good thinking. There’s a repair station around back, by the restrooms. Scratch, take Rat with you, and see if you can find that hand pump.”
“I’m on it,” he said professionally. He nodded to Rat, and the two of them headed around the corner of the building. Miller had an uncomfortable flashback to her earlier experience with a fat female zombie. Her stomach clenched with alarm.
“Stay together,” Miller called. “And stay the hell out of those restrooms.”
Rat just turned and shushed her.
Sheppard approached Miller, his M-4 still pointed out toward the road. “I’m going to go look in what’s left of the store, see if I can find anything we might be able to use.”
“I’m not real comfortable with that one, Karl. I kind of need to stay out here and keep an eye on the horizon, just in case we get swarmed again. Neither one of us should be alone—that never works out. And you know how I tend to attract hordes.”
“It’s your gentle personality.”
“Most likely.”
“You want me to stay out here with you?”
Miller considered for a moment. The choice was between having more supplies and splitting up the party. She’d already sent Rat and Scratch off by themselves. It made no sense to send Sheppard to get eaten when they were this close to getting out of occupied territory.
“No, stay here. If we’re lucky, it’s six or seven hours to Mountain Home. We have enough supplies in the Hummer to get us that far. And if we’re not lucky, then we’ll deal with it then.”
“Yes, Penny,” he said, looking a bit disappointed.
She ignored him. She didn’t know what his problem was, and she didn’t want to know. Maybe he was still bent out of shape over her reaction to Sheppard and Scratch burying Sgt. Pepper. Maybe he was just in a bad mood. If he was, she couldn’t blame him. Her mood was terrible. Either way, a couple of stale candy bars and expired tuna wasn’t a good enough reason to lose a valuable member of her team.
Sheppard began walking from her left to her right, toward a perfectly intact vehicle. They both approached, and she saw a long-dead female behind the wheel. The woman appeared to have gotten trapped somehow, perhaps when she’d run out of gas and couldn’t reach the pump. She had an old rusty pistol in her lap. Miller guessed she had been bitten and then shot herself in the head to keep from coming back. She was wearing a nightgown and wore green, plastic curlers in her blood-splattered hair. Her mouth was open and flies had laid eggs within it. The corpse was not fully decayed. The odor of decay was faint but still nauseating.
Miller swallowed bile and backed away. Most of the other cars were empty. She didn’t bother to closely inspect the other corpses. They were all too desiccated to get up again. The bodies around the gas station had probably been the various drivers, most of whom who had come for gasoline and ultimately tried to run away on foot. None of them had made it
very far.
Sheppard seemed preoccupied, and Miller didn’t try to engage him in a conversation. She kept her eyes on the surroundings, and worked to keep her mind from wandering. She knew how to stand guard without falling asleep, but she’d never liked doing it.
Someone approached, and Miller and Sheppard raised their weapons.
Rat came around the corner.
“Hold your fire.”
Scratch was carrying a big pump with a hand crank and two long hoses attached. He was struggling under the weight, but with a stoic look on his face. Rat carried an enormous socket wrench and a pry bar. Miller nodded and grinned. They’d done well.
“Nice work.”
Scratch glowed at the praise.
Miller stood over the portal to the gas reservoir. “Can you get that lid off by yourself, Scratch, or do you need Sheppard to help? Rat and I need to stand guard.”
Sheppard looked up. “I can help him?” He glanced at Rat. “Whatever happened to equal treatment?” He smiled softly, obviously making a joke. Miller continued to ignore him. She began to realize she was still mad at him over all the shit she was put through at Crystal Palace the week before. That thought took her by surprise. She had led herself to believe that she was above that sort of thing. Silly fucking me, she thought.
“I got this, Karl,” Scratch grinned. “Piece of cake.”
Miller turned in a circle again. She kept her weapon pointed in front of her. It was hot and dry and she yawned as she surveyed the area. There was still no movement anywhere unrelated to her people.
The three of them watched as Scratch struggled with the manhole lid. He grunted and groaned, but none of them bothered to offer help. Miller knew he would do it himself or it wouldn’t get done.
“Hey!” Sheppard was looking up.
Miller snapped out of it and turned her head around. “What is it?”
“Don’t know for sure. Do you see that?” He pointed into the bright morning sky. The dark speck took a sharp angle that didn’t seem appropriate. “There, see that? That wasn’t a natural move, not for a vulture or a hawk.”
“You’re right,” Miller said. Her stomach went cold.
“A small plane, you reckon?”
“This can’t be good,” Miller said, mostly to herself.
The speck was now a silhouette on the bright blue strip that lay just south of the sun. It was coming from the direction of the Ruby Mountains. It was closing damn fast. And now Miller could hear a faint buzzing, kind of like a very large fly fighting to get through a windowpane.
“No contact. Where is it?” asked Rat, shading her eyes.
“Two o’clock from the sun, about the same altitude,” said Miller. “Whatever it is, it’s closing fast.”
“Tally-ho. Shit, Penny, I’m thinking that’s a drone.”
“That’d be my guess too.”
The speck approached as if it had honed in on them.
Rat turned toward the vehicles. “Then it’s time to leave.”
Sheppard ran to the driver’s side of the Hummer, and Rat and Scratch went to the pickup. Miller held her ground.
Sheppard stopped short of climbing inside. “What’s the holdup, Penny?”
Miller shaded her eyes and stared. She couldn’t articulate what was stopping her. She wanted to know more about this threat. She understood facing criminals, and hordes of zombies, but fucking drones—perhaps armed drones? That was a new phenomenon.
Quit fucking around and beat feet, Penny.
Miller turned reluctantly, and jogged over to the Hummer. She’d likely find out what the story was soon enough. Some new enemy was after her people and she wanted to know why and who and how. Sheppard gunned the engine. Rat and Scratch peeled away with a shriek of tires and took the lead, heading down the highway going north. Scratch ran over a skeleton, cracking the bones like toothpicks.
Miller reached the Hummer. She got in and slammed the door. “Let’s go.”
Sheppard put the Hummer in gear. He floored the gas pedal. The giant vehicle roared and rattled and took off after the pickup truck. Miller looked back over her shoulder. The Gas and Sip steadily retreated into the distance as the drone closed the gap. The black dot would be on top of them soon. Miller’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh, shit.”
A long plume stretched from the drone to the ground. The first missile struck a car that they were passing at that moment. The explosion was so sudden that Miller jumped in her seat, hitting her head on the ceiling. The air around her ears seemed to expand and then contract again. The world flared white and then red and finally went dark with smoke and ash. The heat was abrupt and intense.
“Buckle up, Penny.”
But Miller wasn’t listening now. She was watching the rearview mirror. The destruction was incredible. “Where’s the pickup, Karl?”
“Shit.” Sheppard craned his neck around. “No idea. They were ahead of us just a second ago.”
Miller looked around, and quickly spotted the truck crossing the median of Cactus Lane, a broad boulevard that bordered the north of town.
“Follow them!” She pointed.
It was probably a suicide move, but Sheppard didn’t argue. He turned the wheel sharply to the left, going wide to make a U-turn. Miller heard the tires whining, and then another sound, more high pitched.
The second missile exploded where they’d been just a moment before. Shrapnel peppered the side of the Hummer like machine gun fire and chunks of debris rained down on their roof. Miller yawned to clear her ears. An enormous black hole in the road would have swallowed the Hummer whole if they hadn’t turned.
The pickup appeared from the smoke and dust and raced up beside the Hummer. Scratch and Rat had come back looking for them.
“What the fuck are you two doing?” screamed Scratch. “Let’s drive!”
Miller shouted in Sheppard’s ear, her voice loud enough to be heard in the pickup. “We’re heading for Abraham’s caves.”
Rat raced off to the north, driving in the direction of the old Indian caves that crazy cannibal cult leader Father Abraham had once occupied. Perhaps the cannibal survivors were still there, filthy and hungry, squatting in the damp darkness. Maybe they were all dead by now. That part was anyone’s guess, but Miller saw no other option. At the moment, the caves were their only hope of finding sufficient cover. Sheppard swung the wheel around and followed Rat.
The billowing smoke hid them from the eye in the sky and brought them a few precious seconds. The two vehicles sped up, weaving from side to side, racing steadily toward the low foothills ahead.
Miller shouted. “How many missiles are those things deployed with?”
“I have no idea.” Sheppard kept his eyes on the road. “I’m a medical technician in the Army, remember? Drones mostly come under the Air Force. Well, and Homeland Security by now I’d bet.”
“Thanks, it’s always nice to work with an expert.” Miller immediately regretted the smartass remark. “Karl, I didn’t mean that.”
“No worries. If that drone has more than two missiles, I expect we’ll both know in a moment.”
“Or not.”
The desert raced by their window. For a few seconds Miller thought they’d escaped, but then the ground beside them erupted and flew skyward in a hail of bullets. Sheppard yanked the wheel hard to the left, then back to the right, not giving the drone a chance to correct its aim.
“Jesus on a jet ski, drones have fucking machine guns, too?”
“This one does,” Sheppard shouted. He squinted through the dusty windshield, trying to get his bearings. “How far to the caves?”
“Follow Rat,” Miller called. “I think she’s almost there.”
The enemy closed in again. Even over the thumping diesel screech of their own engine, Miller could hear the faint whining sound of the approaching aircraft. Miller looked up just as the drone was passing overhead. It was perhaps 300 feet up, and the ball-mounted optics seemed pointed directly at them. Someone was
watching their every move. Miller pictured herself on a TV screen, looking back at the camera. The idea made her queasy. The drone banked hard to the left, and Miller guessed that it would probably attempt another pass in a moment.
“Come on, Karl! We’ve only got a few seconds before it turns around. Go, go!”
“This big monster doesn’t go any faster, Penny. I’m doing the best I can.”
“I know Karl. Just do it even quicker.”
Ahead of them, Rat squealed across the highway and headed for safety. Sheppard followed Rat onto the off-ramp, and they all headed west toward the foothills of the Ruby Mountains. The drone changed direction and began to close the gap. Miller knew it would fire again, and this time probably at the more exposed pickup truck. If it found them, Scratch and Rat would be hamburger meat in seconds. Dust from the pickup provided them with a bit of cover. They headed for the safety of the rocks. Miller looked in the rear view mirror.
The drone began to drop closer to the ground.
“Left, and around that big boulder to the right,” Miller shouted.
“I’m trying,” Sheppard said, as he fought the wheel. “But I don’t think we’re going to get that lucky again.”
“Wait.” Miller turned her head for a second, an idea slapping her across the face. “Maybe it’s not luck, Karl. What if they’re driving us?”
“If they are, then they’re doing a hell of a job!”
“Stop!”
As they came around the large boulder, Sheppard stomped on the brakes. The Hummer skidded in the dust and bounced on the gravel. Sheppard spun the wheel and just saved their lives. They almost slammed into the back of the pickup, which had stopped cold. Sheppard brought the larger vehicle to a stop as well.
“Incoming!”
Miller didn’t even bother to wonder which of her friends had called the warning. She dove out of the Hummer, Sheppard at her heels. She ran for the rocks and they both hit the ground.
The Hummer exploded, leaving nothing but the chassis behind. The truck exploded seconds later. Rolls of toilet paper floated in the air and settled down on the debris as if someone had played a bad prank for Halloween.
The Hungry 5: All Hell Breaks Loose (The Sheriff Penny Miller Series) Page 3
