“Stop fuckin’ slidin’!” I shouted, letting off the gas for a moment, even as the tree angled more sharply toward us, the accompanying cracking of wood announcing our coming, crushing demise. The tires caught again and I cranked the wheel around an abandoned taxi that appeared right in front of us. More forward momentum and two more sharp turns and I felt the vibration of the tree’s final impact behind us. With the shuddering earth came the ear-piercing sounds of crinkling metal and exploding glass as the taxi we’d just passed became an unrecognizable mass of crumpled, yellow steel wreckage beneath the weight of the old oak.
What a difference a split-second makes. Had we been just a tad unluckier, that would’ve been us.
The road ahead was clear. I stopped the SUV and looked at Punch. I dragged off the smoke again and smiled at him. “Thanks, pal,” I said. “If I’d have waited another second before making that turn, we’d have been blocked or crushed.”
“Thank me when we’re on the way back, man,” he said. “But to be honest with you, this is the most fun I’ve had in a year … you know, without being naked.”
I laughed, rolled down my window, and flicked the cigarette butt out. Punch did the same.
I wondered what surprises lay ahead for us.
I didn’t have to wonder for very long.
*****
Hemp stood at the window, peering out between the boards. Charlie stood beside him, her left arm around his waist and her right hand touching her stomach.
“Is she kicking?” I asked, walking to stand beside them.
“Oh, yeah,” said Charlie. “Why do you say she?”
“Just a feeling,” I said. “Isis might know.”
“She might, huh?” said Charlie. “Strange. She’s so damned cute, but talking to her is still freaky.” She kept her voice low, despite the fact that Bug and Isis were still in the guest bedroom.
“What are you thinking, Hemp?” I asked. “That’s a thousand mile stare if I’ve ever seen one.”
He pointed out the window. “Not actually,” he said. “It’s only about forty yards.”
I moved forward and looked. “Where?”
“There,” he said. “To the right of our trail to the burning pit. A red-eye.”
I looked out and saw her. She stood, bracing herself against the mailbox post, staring at the house as though nothing could pry her attention away from the draw of our little resident siren.
The wind, which must have been a steady sixty miles per hour at that point, blew her hair over her face, but when it whipped it away periodically, her red eyes became brief pinpoints, staring directly at us.
“That shit is eerie,” I said, shuddering.
“What about her?” asked Charlie.
“I haven’t had one to work with in a while,” said Hemp. “But now that we have Isis, I have to figure out what this connection is and what they want with her.”
Charlie looked at Hemp, then at me. “Do you think there’s something they want, or is it just instinctual?”
“Nothing in nature is drawn to anything else without a purpose,” said Hemp. “The clown fish is drawn to a sea anemone because the anemone provides protection and food for the clown fish from its meal scraps.”
“Sounds like a one-way deal to me,” I said. “What does the anemone get out of it?”
“The sea anemone picks up nutrients from the excrement of the fish,” said Hemp. “Not only that, the nitrogen excreted from the clown fish increases the algae incorporated into the tissue of their host. That aids the anemone in tissue growth and regeneration.”
“So now you’re a fucking marine biologist?” asked Charlie.
Hemp laughed. “Just found it interesting,” he said. “So I studied it.”
“So which is Isis?” I asked. “The anemone or the clown fish?”
“If it’s a symbiotic relationship, I’m not certain it matters,” said Hemp. “There is a chance – and it’s not necessarily a good thing – that they can both gain from the interaction.” Hemp looked at the red-eye again and shook his head. “There’s some connection between them and I need to investigate it further.”
“Have you talked to Bug about it?”
“About what?” asked Bug from behind us. We turned to see him carrying Isis in from the bedroom.
“Did you sleep alright?” I said. “Nothing could’ve kept me awake. I was zoned out.”
“Isis kept wanting me to take her to the window,” said Bug. “I can sleep through anything, but she was persistent.”
Hemp looked at her. “What did she do when you took her?”
“Pointed. Kept saying ‘mother’ over and over.”
Hemp stared at him. “Was she pointing over to the right? Where our trail begins?”
“I couldn’t see anything out there. The wind was crankin’ and I just indulged her as long as I could, then tried to get her to settle down.”
“Did she?” asked Charlie.
“Not much,” said Bug. “I’m still wiped, but I guess I don’t have any plans today anyway. At least until this thing blows through.”
Hemp’s stare told me he was onto something.
“Bug, have you ever checked her night vision?” he asked.
Bug looked confused. Isis tugged on his beard and smiled, then turned to us as she gave it another tug. Her big teeth appeared and she laughed. “Fuzzy!” she said.
We all smiled. Except Hemp, who walked up to Isis and stroked her hair. “Hi, Hemp,” she said.
“Hello, little one,” he said. “Isis, can you see in the dark?”
“What is dark?” she asked, with perfect annunciation.
“Nighttime,” said Hemp. “When the sun is gone.”
She put her hands out and gave us a very cute shrug. “I don’t know!”
“Well, let’s go into an interior room and see, shall we?” asked Hemp. “May I?” He held out his arms.
Bug gave Isis over to him. “Sure,” he said. “She likes you.”
“Don’t make him feel special,” I said. “Isis likes everyone.”
“But I’m her favorite,” said Hemp, bouncing her in his arms. “Okay, Bug. What of hers did you bring with you from your California bunker?”
“What, like toys and books and stuff?” asked Bug.
“Exactly,” said Hemp.
“She loves Dr. Seuss,” said Bug. “I brought some of those for her.”
“Good,” said Hemp. “Go and get two or three of the books and come to the walk-in pantry. There are no windows in there.”
Hemp carried Isis toward the kitchen and Bug went to his bag, reached in and pulled out a handful of books.
“Keep them behind your back for now,” said Hemp.
“I’m coming,” I said. “I love this shit. I should’ve married you, Hemp.”
“We can always have a duel,” said Charlie. “I choose the weapons.”
I smiled over my shoulder and went into the pantry behind Hemp. Bug came in last and closed the door behind him.
It was pitch black in there. All that was visible were Isis’ red eyes, pinpoints in the darkness.
“Okay, Isis, are you okay?”
“I’m okay!” said Isis.
“God, she’s cute,” I said.
“Okay, Bug,” said Hemp. “Just randomly hold up a book.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’m holding one up.”
“What book is that, Isis?” asked Hemp.
“Cat in the hat!” shouted Isis. “Read it to me!”
“In a little bit baby, just hang on a bit,” he said. He cracked the pantry door open, letting the ambient light filter in. He held it up. It was Cat In The Hat.
“Okay,” said Hemp. “Close it again and show another book.”
When the door closed, it was impossible to see my hand directly in front of my face. Pure dark.
“One fish, two fish!” shouted Isis, unprompted.
“Holy shit,” said Bug. “She has night vision?”
“Which likely m
eans the red-eyes have it as well,” said Hemp. “I’d suspected, but never confirmed it.”
“We need to teach this one how to shoot,” I said. “She’ll be the ultimate hunter.”
“Okay,” said Hemp. “I’ve seen enough. Now, storm or not, we need to capture a red-eye.”
As if in direct response, a huge gust of wind pummeled the house. Something slammed against the front wall and we heard another thud immediately afterward.
We all rushed out of the pantry and Charlie was already at the front door, looking out the peephole.
She turned toward us. “One of the diggers. Blew right into the door. Wind is picking up big time out there.”
“We’re not in the thick of it yet, I don’t believe,” said Hemp.
“You’re going to have to wait, Hemp,” said Bug. “You can’t go out there, man.”
“It goes against my grain to wait, Bug,” he said. “But you’re right.” He went back to the window and peered out. “She’s gone anyway. Damn.”
“There will be others,” I said. “Let this storm pass and let Flex get back home. We’ll have plenty of time after that.”
Hemp nodded. “Is the radio on?”
Charlie said, “The Ham?”
“It’s on,” I said. “I was up until around 1:00 this morning, sitting there beside it.”
Rachel came in carrying Flexy, who was rubbing his eyes. She had taken him that morning and offered to give him a bath, which was awesome of her.
When he saw me, his eyes went wide and he babbled and cooed. My smile was automatic and I went to him and lifted him from her arms.
“The moment I diapered him, he let loose,” Rachel said, smiling. “I got that taken care of but now I think he wants to refill.”
I touched my tender breasts and winced. “Of course he does,” I said. “Like father, like son. Thanks, Rachel.”
“No problem at all,” the petite, freckled woman said. “The smell of a clean little baby is like air freshener in this rotten world of ours.”
“I know, right?” I said. “If I could dangle this little booger from the rear view mirror of my Crown Vic, in this stinking world I’d start a craze.”
“You’re weird,” said Charlie. “Which is exactly why I love you so much.”
*****
The scattered debris from the medevac chopper, along with all the burned and wrecked cars in the roadway had screwed us up good. We ended up on Berkley, taking that residential street to Belgrave, and working our way to Romany, where we took a left. Luckily, by the time we got back to Kenilworth, we were past the wreckage.
Punch looked up from the map again. “Turn right on Scott and make a quick left on Blythe,” he said, and in two quick turns we were there. The buildings all around us blocked much of the wind, but when it gusted, it whipped through the buildings like a wind tunnel. The rain continued to pour down in a deluge.
“All these buildings look like they’re connected?” I asked, Punch.
He looked around, craning his neck. “Looks like it, Flex. We got walkers in front and by the doors, though.”
“Okay,” I said. “We’re on the WAT-5 and I have more. We’ll need to take more in two hours at best. You got a digital watch?”
“I do,” he said. “I’ll set the alarm for 9:00 AM.” It was just past 7:00 in the morning, and much of our time had been whittled away as we figured out how to get through the storm and the age-old congestion of cars and drivers long stalled and most likely, long dead.
“Okay,” I said. “Checklist. Let’s take WAT-5, more urushiol, lots of rounds and your gun of choice.”
“That’s gonna be this baby,” said Punch, raising his Saiga.
“It is a can’t miss tool,” I said. “Ready?”
“As ready as I’m gonna get,” said Punch.
“You understand I have no idea where the hell to find this antitoxin, right?”
Punch nodded. “We’ll conduct a logical search. You got another of those headlights?”
“Yeah, in that same glove box under those same boxes of ammo. You probably pushed it aside to find the Bic earlier.”
Punch found it and pulled it out. “Okay,” he said, strapping it over his cap. “Let’s do it.”
“Hold on, bud,” I said. I whipped the steering wheel hard right and punched it over the curb and onto the grass. A sidewalk led to a glass door, and I rolled to within five feet of the door and parked the Toyota.
“Now if we can find this door again when we leave,” I said, “We should be able to make a quick exit.”
“The best laid plans,” said Punch.
“Hold on,” I said. “I don’t want to fuck around too much when we get inside.” I ran back to the Land Cruiser and keyed open the rear door. I pulled out two baseball bats and a crowbar.
I held it up. “Can you manage this, too?” I asked. He held out his hand and I tossed it the ten feet to him. He caught it and hefted it.
“I’m all about saving ammo,” he said.
“Good,” I said, returning to the door beside him. I pulled on the handle. Locked.
“Pretty much what I figured,” I said, jamming the chisel edge of the crowbar into the jamb. The aluminum door frame bent, but not enough to pop the lock. I turned the bar around and put the other side in, with the sharp bend.
This time, with a strong push, the door popped open and an shrill alarm sounded.
We both jumped. “What the hell?” shouted Punch. He looked up at the gray box mounted over the door. “Battery powered?”
“Must be,” I said. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”
The door had swung closed, but would no longer latch because of the damage. We switched on our headlights and moved down the hall. Punch had his Saiga at ready, and my Daewoo was leading the way. I had also strapped a headlight around it, and I turned that on, too.
“Let’s find a reception desk,” said Punch. “They might have directory information behind the counter.”
“Good idea,” I said, and we moved through some double glass doors that were once likely automatic, but that now took some effort to push open. That hallway led into a wider one, and we eventually saw a sign that said “LOBBY.”
I nodded to punch, and went through the door.
“Watch out, Flex!” shouted Punch, and I saw his bat swing in the corner of my eye. I pushed forward and heard the splat of hardwood meeting skull and brains. I turned to see the creature down in a sticky pool of black liquid.
“Thanks, buddy,” I said, spinning around to find another one – this one a former nurse, complete with her sensible, white shoes still on her black, vein-riddled feet, staggering through the opposite doors, which someone had shattered at some point.
I fired my Daewoo, now in single-shot mode, into her face, sending her back against a heavy, glass wall. She slid down, and her pink eyes went black.
“Let’s clear first,” I said. “You check those halls.”
He pushed through another pair of glass doors and moved away from me. I walked about twenty feet down another hallway and saw nobody. As I came back, and office door was closed on my right. I looked behind me again and put my ear to it.
Yes, there were sounds coming from somewhere beyond the door. If they were human, they would have yelled something or come out. They didn’t know how to come out. That was the fact.
And it was just fine with me. I left them there and returned to the reception rotunda.
I lifted the counter hatch and went behind it. There was a skeleton on the floor with the same kind of shoes on as the former nurse who had come at me moments ago, only this had clearly been one of the unlucky uninfecteds, her pain long over.
I heard a booming shot, and recognized the power of the Saiga shotgun. I imagined some wall or other was just redecorated with some new biological décor.
Very green, indeed. Wholly natural. Nelson would be proud.
Punch came back in and leaned against the counter, his eyes still searching the perimeter. “They can be
anywhere,” he said.
“The red-eyes sit sometimes, too,” I said. “That can really surprise you, so look for it. No urushiol, either. Bullet in the brain.”
“Got it,” said Punch. “Find anything?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. Here. You go through this.” I tossed a blue book on the counter and Punch flipped it around. I took out another one that was next to the multi-line reception phone.
“This one has departments on it,” said Punch.
“Pharmacy, I guess, right?” I said.
“Can you call your buddy?”
“Let’s check it out first,” I said. “It’s spotty with the Ham radio, especially in this weather.”
“Says it’s on the first floor,” said Punch. “But it’s in Building 2. Where are we?”
I looked around, then went out the door directly across from the desk. The doors here were unlocked but still required my crowbar, as they were automatic, sliding doors. I pried them open, and when they spread an inch, they slid easily. I left them open and ran outside, nearly getting blown over by a strong gust of wind that had to be clocking almost sixty miles per hour.
I looked up. On the side of the building was CMC, BLDG ONE. I ran back inside and pulled the doors closed behind me. As I went to run through the interior doors, I saw a sign that hadn’t been visible to us before, on the wall by the door. It said BLDG 2, and had an arrow pointing to the left.
I ran through and pulled the second set of doors closed behind me, too. “Punch, c’mon. Follow me.”
“Bringin’ up the rear, buddy.”
We moved down the connecting hallway and reached another closed door. I pulled it open and the stench that hit us was too sharp and pungent to be over a year old. I stopped in my tracks and fought to keep from gagging. “Massive decay,” I choked.
“Shit,” said Punch, wincing. I clearly didn’t need to announce it. Punch pulled a bandana out of one of his cargo pockets and rested his gun against his leg as he tied it over his nose and mouth.
Dead Hunger VI_The Gathering Storm Page 16
