Dead Hunger VII_The Reign of Isis

by Eric A. Shelman

“You know what I was gonna say.”

  “Yes,” he said. He pushed the button. “Charlie,” he said. “Charlie, come in.”

  “Baby?” came her voice. “Oh, my God, it’s you.”

  “It is,” said Hemp. “Charlie, are you okay?”

  “I am,” she said. “I’m with Max and Isis, and they’re both fine.”

  “Okay, darling,” said Hemp. “Tell Max thank you for the lock pick kit. We’ve already got the cell door open and we’ve formulated a plan. We still need to get out of this building and to where you are.”

  “We’ve got a plan underway, too,” said Charlie. “Baby, these are second-generation Hybrids. We’ve made friends with three of them. The matriarchs, essentially, and one of the daughters.”

  “How can they help?” asked Hemp.

  “By putting the other Hybrids to sleep,” said Charlie.

  “Where are you?”

  We’re staying in a sheet metal, aluminum siding shop across the street from the Applebee’s where they interrogated you guys.”

  “Was that you behind the bar?” asked Hemp.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Max was being Max. We’re all fine.”

  “I need to ask about the flying glass,” said Hemp. “But that can wait. We’ll execute our plan in fifteen minutes. How long will it take you to get back over here?”

  “We can be there in five,” said Charlie.

  “Okay,” said Hemp. “Charlie, I think we should leave here immediately. Get everybody back home. We can deal with this Maestro later.”

  “Dad?” came the voice on the radio.

  “Max!” said Hemp. “It’s good to hear your voice, son. Are you alright?”

  “I am,” he said. “I screwed up in the bar, but we’re all okay. Anyway, dad, I don’t think we can leave this guy alive. He’s doing some crazy things here. Stuff that can come back to hurt us in Kingman.”

  “What do you suggest?” asked Hemp.

  “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “I need the lock pick kit the minute you guys get out of there. Charlie told me where all the packs are hidden, plus, I need to do something else on that side of town.”

  “Max, there’s no need,” said Hemp. “We only need to pile into a vehicle of some kind and get out of Hoisington.”

  “I disagree, dad,” said Max. “You’ll understand later.

  “Max,” said Hemp, sounding defeated.

  “Dad, don’t worry,” said Max. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Alright, son,” he said. “I’m trusting you.”

  “I fucked up once tonight,” he said. “I won’t do it again.”

  “Language,” said Hemp.

  Trina and Taylor laughed softly.

  “We’re down to twelve minutes,” said Max. “Get going. We’ll be outside of the jail in three more minutes.”

  “Got it,” said Hemp. “Out.”

  “Nel, stand by the door there while Hemp picks the other cell lock,” said Flex.

  “Better stay low, buddy,” said Punch. “They might spot you through that glass.”

  “I will,” said Hemp, kneeling beside the cell door. Gem, Trina and Taylor crouched directly behind the door, waiting.

  Nelson stood to the side of the entry door, shaking out his arms. He took four practice kicks as he waited. Flex watched him, smiling.

  The guy was just as skinny at 38 as he was at 25, but his muscles were highly toned and if he ever wanted Subdudo to inflict damage, Flex had no doubt it would take no more than minor adjustments to snap some bones.

  “Got it,” said Hemp, and the door clicked open a half-inch. Gem pushed on it and left the cell. She immediately walked over to Flex’s cell and embraced him.

  “It’s alright, babe,” he said. “We’re gonna get out of here. All of us.”

  “I know,” she said, looking into his eyes. “Somehow I never really have any doubt.” She turned her face down again and put her head against his chest.

  “Gem,” said Flex.

  When she looked up again, her eyes were misty and sad. “Oh, Flex,” she said. “I miss Flexy so much.”

  “So do I, Gem,” he said, pulling her tight against him. There was nothing else to say.

  She wiped at her eyes and pulled away, turning toward Trina and Taylor. To Flex’s relief, they both saw her pain and went to her. The three embraced while Hemp approached Flex.

  “Next step,” said Hemp. “We need to call the guards. Everyone back into the cells. You too, Nel,” he whispered.

  Once they were back inside, Punch picked several pieces of newspaper from the floor and wadded them up. He then stuffed them tight into the latch receiver of their cell door and gave another wadded ball to Gem. “Do the same with yours, then pull them closed so they look latched.”

  She did. The cell doors appeared to be closed and locked, but a light push would open them.

  “Help!” shouted Punch. “We need help in here!” he called again.

  A moment later, a face peered through the glass, turning to look toward the cells. The window in the door was not ideal for getting a good view of the entire cellblock, but before the epidemic, they likely had video surveillance.

  The sound of a key in a lock, then the door opened. Two men walked in with guns. One stood back with his weapon in firing position.

  “I gotta take a shit like no tomorrow,” said Flex. “Toilet’s plugged.”

  Both of the guards’ eyes went to the stainless steel toilet protruding from the wall. From the corner of his eye, Flex saw Gem push open her cell door, which swung outward without a sound.

  “It’s fucked, dude!” shouted Nelson, walking over to the toilet in an excellent bit of acting. He pointed into the bowl. “There’s a dried out turd in there from 2015 or so, and no matter how much we pee on it, the thing won’t budge. These conditions are deplorable! We demand to see the Conductor!”

  “You idiot,” said the guard standing back. “It’s Maestro.”

  He did not see Gem’s foot coming toward his groin. His eyes had been peeled on Nelson as she had crept out of her cell, and Gem had stayed on her hands and knees until she reached the guard. By the time she shot up from the ground, her foot was already flying.

  He emitted a choked cry as the gun fell from his grip and clattered to the ground, both hands instinctively covering his testicles, which were no doubt throbbing.

  Gem snatched the AK-47 from the cellblock floor, rolled onto her back and aimed it directly at the other guard. “One fucking move and your head will explode like a paintball,” she growled. “A bright red one.”

  He raised his hands. Nelson flew out of the cell and snatched the weapon from him. Punch had come out behind him, and Nelson tossed the weapon to him and quickly administered several kicks and chops to the guard. Flex and the others watched in amusement until the man was down on his back, staring at the ceiling in confusion.

  Nelson approached the other guard, who held up his hand and said, “No, no, please. I’ll cooperate.”

  He was in his mid-twenties and looked like a firefighter who might have made their annual fundraising calendar. Still, Flex had no doubt that Nelson could have spun the guy around like a top.

  Now everyone was out of the cells.

  Flex went to the muscular guard on the floor beside Gem. “Get up, get into the first cell,” he said.

  The guard got up and held his palms outward as he stepped into the cell and moved to the back wall.

  “You now,” said Flex, indicating to the other guard. He did the same.

  Punch removed the wadded paper from the lock and held out his hand. “Keys.”

  The guards looked at one another, then back at Punch. Punch waited for a two second count before rushing inside, grabbing the biggest guy by the neck and slamming his head against the cinderblock wall behind him. “Fucking keys, now!” he shouted, spitting into the man’s face.

  “My left front pocket,” he said.

  Punch reached down, jammed his hand into the man’s pocket, and
pulled out a ring of keys. He held them up. “What are these keys for?” he asked.

  “Maestro’s house,” The man said.

  “And where might that be?” asked Punch.

  The man stared at him but did not answer.

  Punch reached down and grabbed his crotch, twisting hard, his left hand still pushing him against the wall.

  “That is what I’d call a painful grimace,” said Flex, smiling. “Former United States Marine right there,” he said. “If you don’t wanna go through the rest of your life as a gelding, I’d say you should answer Punch’s question.”

  “He’s over on the corner of West 1st and North Vine,” he said. “At the Living Joy church. It was set up with good sleeping quarters for the guy who ran it.”

  “And the irony keeps coming,” said Gem.

  “There’s plenty of homes available,” said Punch. “Why live in a church?”

  “I don’t know, man,” he said. “It has a propane-powered kitchen and a good diesel generator. Community used it for a shelter. Basement, too. Maestro’s been there from the start, because it’s close to the pen and the main exit from the town.”

  Punch released the man’s neck.

  “What’s your name?” asked Punch.

  “Walter.”

  “What kind of guards does he have over there, Walt?”

  “At any given time he’s got at least ten.”

  “Defenses?”

  “Just guns. He does have surveillance.”

  Punch nodded. “Does he have surveillance here?”

  “No,” said the frightened man.

  What’s your name?” he asked the other.

  “Brian,” he said.

  “What have you got to offer?”

  “That’s pretty much it. We just do what the guy says. He’ll kill us otherwise.”

  “Everyone seems to have an excuse for being an asshole,” said Punch. He turned to Hemp. “I’m letting these guys split a WAT-5.”

  “Good idea,” said Hemp. Everyone else, take yours, too. I’ll go last. These two first.”

  Punch took a wafer from the baggie and snapped it in half. He gave half to Walter and half to Brian. “Eat this. Now.”

  “What is it?” asked Walt.

  Punch glared at him, his right hand twitching.

  Walt popped it in his mouth. So did Brian.

  “Oh, shit!” said Punch. “Flex, catch the guy!”

  Flex shot forward and grabbed Brian, mid-fall. He eased him to the concrete floor, even as Punch assisted Walt with his downward slide against the wall.

  They locked the two sleeping guards in the cell and left the police station.

  They had not taken twenty steps when Max and Charlie shot out of the night and nearly plowed into Hemp, scooping him into a long, hard embrace.

  *****

  “Did you find the WAT-5 in the cell?” asked Charlie.

  “Got it,” said Punch, holding up the baggie.

  Isis saw the relieved look on Charlie’s face. The crow’s feet around her eyes had become more pronounced in the last three or four years, and some wisps of gray hair had begun to creep into her blond.

  Isis had loved her since the day they met, just as she had bonded with Max, whose birth she remembered vividly.

  “We need to get away from this jail,” said Hemp. “Charlie, you said something about an aluminum siding place you stayed in?”

  “Yeah, it’s about a quarter mile from here.”

  “Let’s go then,” said Hemp. “Isis, do you have any objections?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s a perfect midway point. Did you learn from the guards at the jail where Maestro is?”

  “He’s at a place called Living Joy Church,” said Nelson. “On West First and North Vine. Guard said it was near the main town exit.”

  “I’m guessing it’s not the entrance we came through,” said Dave. “No mazes, I’d assume.”

  “Glad you remembered the location,” said Flex. “I heard it, but it went in one ear and out the other.”

  “Go figure,” said Gem. “You’re almost sixty years old.” She winked at him and took his hand, and the slight smile that found her lips for a moment disappeared as quickly as it had come.

  Isis knew why; Gem’s son had died the day before. Any attempt at being happy would be slapped back down by the sorrow that had not yet run its most intense course.

  Still, even in times of great sadness and stress, Flex and Gem managed to keep up their playful banter. Isis glanced at Max, considering the feelings that occasionally surprised her when it came to him. With every passing month, they had grown closer, and she felt more strongly about him. He looked so much more like a man than a boy now, and she was pretty sure he wanted to be with her.

  If the time came when she was convinced Max would make her as happy as Flex made Gem, she would ask him to marry her.

  “We’ll lead the way,” said Isis.

  *****

  In ten minutes, they had made it safely back inside the dark aluminum siding building and everyone sat on the linoleum floor.

  Charlie illuminated the red lights on two different headlamps and directed their soft glow upward. The result was hardly enough to read by, but allowed them to see one another’s faces.

  Trina and Taylor leaned against the wall and were out within seconds of entering.

  Punch got up and went to them, kneeling down beside them. Shaking them gently awake, he removed two WAT-5 wafers from the baggie in his pocket and gave them each one. “Just wake up long enough to take these,” he said. “We’ll wake you when we leave.”

  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” said Trina. “Sorry, Punch.”

  “Not a problem, kid,” he said. “I’m wiped, too.”

  “I’m out,” said Taylor, popping the wafer in her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, and her eyelids closed as her head drooped.

  “Fuck it,” said Trina. She ate the WAT-5 and went out. Punch steadied her until she leaned into Taylor and they supported one another.

  “Max, Isis, what are you up to?” asked Hemp. “I trust you, but I still worry.”

  Max shook his head. “Look, it’s a preliminary plan, and we –”

  “Max, just spill it.” Charlie stared at him.

  Max was hesitant and Isis was tempted to interject, but for the moment, she only watched. She and Max had discussed the beginnings of their plan in Charlie’s presence, but it had been finalized when Charlie had slipped away for a moment to relieve herself. They had not yet filled her in on the details.

  “Okay,” said Max, with a sigh. “They feed the Magas early in the morning, typically just before dawn. We’ve given Megan, Alyssa and Beauty what we believe is enough WAT-5 to put the rest of them to sleep. They intend to pulverize it and mix it in with the food.”

  “Then what, dude?” asked Nelson. “The Magas aren’t the threat, are they? I mean, you and Max are cool, and you’re one of them.”

  “They are a threat, Nelson,” said Max. “They’ve lived their entire lives under the control of this asshole. The guy’s like a freakin’ warlord or something. All those women know is the dark side of life and they fear Maestro. That’s a great motivator to follow his instructions.”

  “Right,” said Nelson. “Good point.”

  “Uh huh,” said Max. “So that’s why, once the other Magas are out, Megan, Alyssa, Beauty, Isis and I have to take control of the Mothers.”

  “Okay, so what’s next?” asked Charlie. “I knew up to that part, but I think I had to go pee. By the time I got back you guys were done.”

  “TMI, mom,” said Max. “Truth is, we weren’t sure we were going to share it with you.”

  “Whatever,” said Charlie. “You are now.”

  Isis felt it was time to assist Max. “Tonight we must get the gate not only unlocked, but unlatched so that it can be easily pushed open. Before we have any chance of doing that, we will need to replace the two guards in the towers.”

  “Replace them
with what?” asked Nelson.

  “What gate?” asked Hemp, his expression confused.

  “You know that pen, Dad,” said Max. “The one you were all locked in last night.”

  “No,” said Hemp, standing. “You’ll be unleashing that massive horde on this place and any settlements nearby as well.”

  “You know what almost happened to us inside that pen, right guys?” asked Charlie. “Plus, they’re all freshly fed in there. We saw them eating. They’ll have every offensive mechanism in their arsenals primed and ready.”

  “They won’t get that far,” said Max. “We’ll be controlling them, so they won’t be in feed mode.”

  “So that’s the start,” said Gem. “What’s next? Where are you directing them?”

  “Wait a minute,” said Dave. “Won’t the ghouls in the cage go nuts when Nelson and whoever else tries to take out the guards?”

  “We still have some remaining WAT-5,” said Isis. “Nelson, you can take a man down quickly and quietly with your Subdudo. You can bring a knife if you don’t have sufficient room to use your technique. I’d say you could take the suppressed Walther, but there’s only one of them, and whoever takes the other tower will probably need it.”

  “If they weren’t caged up there I could use my crossbow,” said Max.

  “Or me,” said Charlie.

  “I got this,” said Nelson. “These are bad guys, man, and I may not like it, but I’ll do what I have to do.” His face was more serious than Isis had ever seen before.

  “This is the preparation to be done before daybreak,” said Isis. “As you know, the commands we’re capable of issuing to the Mothers can be of a directive type or just a call. The latter draws them to our doorstep, and it’s the simpler of the two. It’s what we use in Kingman to draw them from miles around into our pit, and the call includes a command to ensure they move the Hungerers along with them, even though they kind of do that naturally. The other directive is more complex and involves a long-term connection with them and the ability to guide them to a location other than where we are.”

  “You’re going to sic them on Maestro,” said Punch. “Once the Magas are countin’ sheep and the gate is breached.”