The Hungry

by Steve Hockensmith

  "What?"

  "Did you do this jackass on that first night of the zombie attack, or what?"

  Miller stared at him. Eventually she moved her attention to Scratch. Were these two for real? Exasperated, she turned and almost ran directly into Sheppard and Wells, who stood blocking at the doorway. Sheppard had sagged into something like exhaustion, or possibly defeat. Not good, not now. They needed him in tiptop shape.

  "The changes are already taking effect," said Sheppard, as if that were the most natural thing in the world to say.

  "Okay." That statement was more than Miller could take. "And just what the fuck are you talking about?"

  "Sheriff, you were infected by a zombie," Sheppard said.

  "Bullshit," Miller replied. "Do I look undead to you?"

  "It's true. But instead of killing you, it's made you faster and stronger."

  Miller shook her head. "You bozos have all lost your collective minds."

  "I can prove it. Take off your bandage," said Sheppard. He tapped her shoulder. "Let me show you something."

  Miller suddenly remembered the wound. She had been shot in the left shoulder. She'd rolled it around. There was no longer any pain. Carefully, she peeled the bandage away from her skin. The truth was clear, even in the porch light. Her jaw dropped.

  "Let me see." Terrill Lee moved her body so that the light revealed her damaged shoulder. "Oh, my God."

  Miller stared at her skin. Even in gloom the evidence was clear. There was the entry wound, right where she expected it to be. It had already healed completely, leaving nothing more than a round, pink scar behind. And all this in less than a day. Which is flat out impossible. Right?

  "What the hell is happening to me?" Miller said. "What am I, Wonder Woman?" She was surprised at her calm tone. She felt strong. There was no worry or fear in her voice. She was just hungry all the time.

  "It's the serum," said Sheppard.

  "Explain," she said. "And that is not a request."

  "We have to keep moving, Sheriff," Sheppard said.

  "Tell me."

  "Okay, briefly for now. We don't have much time. I'll keep this simple. It's because of what we were working on out at the base. A formula. That's what caused the zombie outbreak."

  The men stopped milling around. They had gathered close to see her miraculously healed injury. They were all stunned into silence by that statement. Finally, Miller found her tongue.

  "This is your fault?" She had never been so angry in her life.

  "No, it was Sanchez," Sheppard's eyes darted about. He was imagining a lynching party in his cousin's backyard. The others were pretty pissed off, and Miller looked totally ready to nail his dick to a burning building.

  "But you knew," said Wells. "You worked on it."

  "This wasn't supposed to happen," Sheppard whispered. "None of it. We were messing with DNA and genetic therapy techniques. Hell, in the end we were just trying to make better soldiers. To create braver men with faster reflexes, quick healing potential, a higher pain threshold and far more endurance. We added that DNA to the strain of a new virus. The results in rats and monkeys were nothing short of amazing. Sanchez got off the books approval to go deeper, and we injected some volunteers. Well, actually a few Death Row prisoners, to be honest. We lost several, but we were really gaining ground until… Something went wrong. Yesterday. See, that zombie thing? It was an accident. Our work was brilliant. Those creatures are just, you know, an unfortunate side effect."

  "A side effect?" Miller took Sheppard by the arm. She dragged him rapidly through the door to the back of the house. She thought he felt light as a pillow. Miller covered ground as if she were on rails. She easily shoved Wells and Macumber out of the way. She pushed Sheppard through the door of the master bedroom, grabbed his hair and shoved his head down close to the stiffening bodies. Sheppard vomited on his own shoes. Miller shook him like a cat playing with a toy mouse. She screamed at him. "Does this look like a side effect to you?"

  "Please…"

  Coming to her senses, Miller released his arm. Still moving like a freight train she headed back out to the front of the house. The cowering men stepped back. Miller ignored Terrill Lee and Scratch as she passed them. She wanted to be alone. Miller was tough, everyone knew that, but this shit was just too much. She stormed outside into the night under an unforgiving moon. Miller picked up a rock and hurled it into the darkness. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to kill someone. But she knew that none of that would help. And those choppers are still coming back. Her shoulders sagged. The others were watching. She wanted to say something profound.

  Miller stared out into the darkness. "Fuck a duck."

  That wasn't much of a statement, but it would have to do.

  FOURTEEN

  "Uh, Sheriff?"

  Sheppard stood a respectful distance away, kind of hugging himself against the cold. They all stayed away, worried men exchanging uneasy glances in the shadows. Penny Miller didn't even bother to turn around. She knew exactly where he was, how he was standing. Actually, Miller knew everything that was going on in the darkness around her. She felt the men, their moods and postures. She just sensed things somehow. Her new faculties now seemed limitless.

  "What do you want, Dr. Frankenstein?"

  "Look, I know you're upset…" Sheppard paused, waiting for her to rip him a new poop chute, but the expected tirade never came. He continued calmly. "We have to go. The air patrols will be back soon. We don't want to be here when they figure out what happened."

  "How long do we have?"

  "Don't know. Soon. Hell, by my reckoning, they should already be here by now. I'd expect close to a battalion with a couple Apaches to back them up. Sometimes they're slow as a rich man paying taxes, but they usually aren't this stupid."

  "Can't you get on your radio and listen in? Find out what they're up to?"

  Sheppard kept his voice neutral. "Look, Sheriff. I appreciate you kindly telling me how to do my job and everything, but the sooner we leave, the sooner that issue won't even be a problem."

  Miller turned abruptly. "Boy, you're just asking to be knucklefucked right into next week." Even in the dim moonlight, Miller could see Sheppard's handsome features clearly. Great, her eyesight had improved, along with everything else—except their situation. Why did things keep going from bad to worse? "Tell me something, what exactly is your job, Sheppard? Keep an eye on the test subject? Make sure they know where we are at all times? Is that why your little friends haven't already come over the hill with guns blazing? Because they have a man inside, and the situation is already under control?"

  Sheppard took a cautious step forward. He held up his hands, palms out. "You have every right to be suspicious of me, Sheriff Miller. Penny. I get that. What can I do to prove that I'm sincere?"

  "You can start by not betraying us."

  Sheppard let out a sharp, quick laugh. "You got it."

  "Next," she continued, "you can give me three good reasons why I shouldn't just snap your turkey neck, turn you inside out to make it easier for the buzzards to get at you, and then dump what's left over on the porch for your Army friends to find."

  Sheppard felt the air thicken. The men stared. Penny Miller was radiant in the moonlight, in that splattered white dress, suddenly oozing some kind of primordial force. The serum had her muscles pulsating. Her eyes were wide and glittering. She was both beautiful and terrifying. Sheppard spoke carefully, knowing he likely had only one chance to get this right. "Here's your first reason, Sheriff. I can help you. I'm the only person outside of that base who has the slightest fucking clue about what's going on with you right now, the changes you're experiencing. Second, I'm the only one who can possibly figure out how to reverse those effects before it's too late. And third, together you and me, we may be able to stop the zombie outbreak once and for all. Are those three reasons good enough for you?"

  She took a step towards him. Her fists were bunched. Sheppard felt the air change again. His hea
rtbeat slammed into high gear. This was extraordinary. The Sheriff seemed to be beyond human, glowing as if contained in a force field of some kind. "You're talking out of your ass, Sheppard, and we both know it." Another step. Sheppard forced himself to stay put. "You're a spy for that fucker—what's his name? Sanchez. They know perfectly well where we are. Your job is to deliver me back to the lab, and you'll be happy to kill anyone who stands in your way. Admit it."

  Miller took a third step in his direction. Her lips drew back, pretty teeth set firm in a malevolent grin. Sheppard knew that she could be on top of him in an instant like a raging predator, but Miller wanted to scare him. To see what he would say, perhaps before she crushed him like a grape. He forced himself to meet her gaze with calm and soothing eyes.

  As for Miller, she could smell his fear. The fear in all of the men.

  Sheppard sighed. "Penny, what you're feeling now, it's just paranoia. We knew that could be a side effect of all the hormonal and limbic system stimulation. Your brain is kind of on crack right now. If you let it run away with you, you'll start believing everyone is out to kill you, including your oldest friends. Everyone here. I can help you, but you'll have to trust me. You'll need to go against your own instincts, starting right here and now. Can you do that?"

  In the back of Miller's mind, a little voice told her to listen up, that he might be on to something. But the louder voice in the front of her mind told her that she shouldn't trust him any farther than she could throw the dead Hummer. Although come to think of it, Miller also felt like she could toss that there Hummer like a football if she set her mind to it. Toss it half a mile, like some robot Peyton Manning all wired up to a nuclear power plant with a raging hard-on in an electrical thunderstorm. Whoa, Nelly… things are getting fucked up…

  "I'm sorry, Sergeant, but I'm afraid the only safe thing to do here is take you out." Penny Miller crouched a bit. She took another step in his direction, fully expecting Sheppard to run.

  Sheppard stood his ground. "Don't do that, Sheriff. It would be a fatal error. I can help you. Listen to me. This whole operation was off the books. The world is in chaos right now. If it stays that way, the man who did this will never be caught. You want to do some serious damage to Sanchez? Go public with everything I know. Work with me here, and together we can put that crazy son of a bitch in front of a firing squad on cable television."

  Miller considered for a long moment. She couldn't fully trust Sheppard, or anyone else at the moment, but what he said made sense intellectually. If this was mostly just paranoia induced by the drugs, then she couldn't trust herself either—her own judgment. How was that for irony? But she had to do something, and soon. Miller had an idea. It felt like one of those epiphany type things. She said it aloud because she couldn't think of anything better.

  "Strip."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Your clothes, Sheppard. Take them off."

  "But…"

  "Leave all of your weapons on the ground," Miller snapped. "Sheppard, I want you to remove anything that has any connection to that base. Even if you swallowed some kind of GPS tracer, you're going to shit that out sooner or later. Everything else goes right now. Consider it an order, Sergeant." She turned halfway toward the house, but without taking her eyes off Sheppard. He began to disrobe.

  "Terrill Lee, can you hear me?"

  "Yes, Penny." Wary as a kid scolded at the church picnic.

  "Go find some of Cousin What's-His-Name's clothes for Sergeant Sheppard here. He just up and quit the fucking Army."

  "Got it."

  "And tell Macumber to haul ass and grab some grub and extra water from the kitchen. Let's get it together. Go have Wells find the keys to the church bus and get it warmed up. In five minutes, there will be nothing but elbows and asses over the next ridge."

  "Okay," said Terrill Lee, still a bit sullenly. He wasn't getting off on taking orders from everyone else, especially his ex-wife. It brought back too many memories. He turned to go into the house.

  "One more thing," Miller called. "Tell Scratch to hunt for weapons if he hasn't already started. We want hunting rifles, handguns, extra rounds, hunting knives. Anything he can find. We'll also have to dump the gear we picked up at the base. They could be tracing that, too."

  Miller watched Sheppard undress. He was well-muscled, on the right side of forty, in some ways a typical Army type. He was also handsome in that buzz cut sort of way. Beautiful eyes, kind of soft and warm and filled with understanding. Had a couple of tattoos on his shoulders, another one on his lower arm, and a last one on his hip near his goodly-sized package. That one was a Celtic-looking pattern with three crows in a circle around a central hub, which appeared to be a knot of some kind. Have I seen that before? She wasn't sure, but maybe that was just the paranoia kicking in again. Still, Miller made a mental note of that tattoo right there next to his gorgeous dick, and told herself it was just in case she ever had to identify his body. Damn, the dude was hot, in a geeky sort of way. Miller guessed that he was younger than her, but she also decided on the spot to lie her ass off about her own age if the subject ever came up.

  Eventually, Sheppard stood in front of her, naked as a tattooed gym rat little baby boy. He had a bit of a chubby going on now, but maybe that was just in response to the warm breeze. It was a halfway handsome chubby, though. It kept waving proudly right up there next to that there Celtic tattoo thing. Cute.

  "Okay, Sheriff. Now what?"

  Miller relaxed. "Now I'm going to trust you, Sheppard. For the time being. When Terrill Lee gets back, you change clothes double time. Then we load everything that came from the base back into the Hummer and leave it behind. After that we climb into the bus and get the fuck out of Dodge."

  "Where are we headed?"

  "Salt Lake City."

  "Can I ask why there?"

  "Because it's closer than Carson City, and I'm not certain we can trust the Nevada capitol right now. Besides, I have a friend who is a reporter up in Salt Lake. You said we should take this thing public if we want to run Sanchez through a meat grinder. Well, if anyone can help us do that, she can."

  Terrill Lee appeared with a bundle of clothes and a pair of shoes. He tossed them at Sheppard's feet. Even in the gloom, Miller could see Terrill Lee redden with anger at the sight of the giant erection. He should be so lucky his own self.

  "This is all I could find that wasn't spattered in blood," Terrill Lee said. "I have no clue if it will fit you, but it was either that, or the Missus' dresses. Sorry if I guessed wrong about your preference, soldier."

  Sheppard just got into the clothes without rising to the bait. His chubby vanished like a politician's promise. Miller felt sad.

  "The dead woman was a size two, Penny," Terrill Lee said. "Otherwise I would have found something else for you to put on. I know how much you hate being back in that wedding dress."

  "Oh, lighten up," Miller said, amused. "Don't take things so personally. I hate it for more reasons than one. Do me a favor, Terrill Lee, take all these Army things and stuff them in the Hummer. Let's move. Report back to the bus when you're done."

  "Okay." Terrill Lee bundled up Sheppard's clothes and weapons. He headed off toward the barn, tail down like a dog wandering around the outskirts of a pack. His testosterone had probably dropped, and it wasn't sky high to begin with.

  An engine coughed. Tires hissed in the shadows. The ancient blue church bus, driven by Wells, came around the back of the house. It stopped with a spray of sand a few yards behind where Sheppard stood. The headlights were off, the starlight dim, but Miller could see every detail of Wells' face. She could also smell a little oil burning in the engine, though it was maybe thirty feet away. Strength, hearing, sight, stamina. What, I'm fucking Supergirl now? Miller was unsettled by her new powers. For all she knew, she'd be shooting laser beams out of her ass by morning.

  Scratch came out of the house and trotted down the porch steps, outfitted like a cut-rate arms dealer. He'd found a rifle cabinet or
a stash, because he was carrying three shotguns and had two hunting rifles slung over his shoulder. He had another three or four pistols stuck in odd places around his belt and pockets. He was dragging a pouch stuffed with boxes of ammunition. The man knew how to steal.

  "We hit the jackpot, Sheriff," he reported proudly. "Son of a bitch knew the end of the world was coming, too bad he just fucked up dealing with it. The guy had everything stored up but hand grenades and nuclear weapons. This was all I could carry in one trip."

  "Good job. Get on board and hand them out, make sure everybody's got something to shoot." Miller took a quick head count. "Where's Macumber?"

  "The fuck outta me," replied Scratch.

  Miller shook her head. "I'll find him. Get everyone else on board. We leave as soon as I come back."

  Miller stalked off toward the house. As she reached the porch, the Sheriff heard voices. Her new faculties told her she was tuning in on a threat. She quieted her movements and slipped up to the front door. Her super hearing kicked in harder. One of the voices was Macumber's and her heart skipped. He was whispering. The other voice, the one that responded, was tinny and distorted, as if it came through a receiver. Who the hell could he be talking to?

  She turned her head, intuitively triangulating the exact location where she would find Macumber. Most of her men were busy behind her, loading the blue church bus, but Miller carefully waved one hand for silence anyway. She slid into the darkness on tiptoe. Moving more rapidly than anyone would have thought possible, Miller snuck around the rear of the house until she reached the back door. Now she could hear clearly exactly what was being said.

  Male voice: I said delay them until we get there.

  Macumber: "Just how am I supposed to do that?"

  Male voice: Think of something. Just don't leave that farm.

  Macumber: "You're going to get me killed."

  Male voice: That sounds like a personal problem, soldier. I don't care what you do, but if you want the reward, I expect to find at least you and the sheriff on that farm. Remember, the rest of them are expendable.