Scratch shrugged in the gloom. “Kinda feels that way, don’t it, Penny?”
Miller retrieved her backpack. “Just hope you never see another zombie, and that you’ll live a long life, though there ain’t much chance of either these days.” She turned and started walking west into the brush. She did not look back. “Come on, Scratch. The others are waiting for us.”
“Wait up, lady.” Bean took a step forward. “There’s more to this than you’re letting on. You’ve been to Crystal Palace, haven’t you?”
Miller stopped dead in her tracks. Scratch pulled his .45 and pointed it at the ground near Bean’s feet. Bean stopped where he was, but he didn’t back up. He had a hole card and seemed to know it. Scobee stayed back a ways.
That was it. That was the connection. These people, this bus. It just felt like things did back at Crystal Palace. And these men knew what it was, or so she hoped.
“Say that again.”
Bean’s smile glowed in the moonlight like a Jack o’ lantern. “You have been there, haven’t you?”
“You are as near to dying as you’ve ever been, my man.” Scratch raised the pistol a fraction of an inch. “Your turn to talk. How do you know about Crystal Palace, Peckerwood?”
“Take us with you, and we’ll explain.”
Scobee took Bean by the arm and tried to drag him in the opposite direction. “This isn’t a very good plan, Bean. Think about it.”
“How about we kill you, and then the big secret will be safe again?” said Scratch. “Seems simpler that way.”
Bean stood his ground. “If you know about the zombies, and you know about Crystal Palace, we need you.” He softened his tone. “If you’re who I think you are, your skills are too Goddamned valuable for us to let you walk off into the darkness. The militia needs people like you. And more importantly, you need us. Come back with us and meet Major McDivitt. I promise you won’t be sorry.”
Scratch stood closer to Miller, still covering the two prisoners with his weapon. “Who the fuck is Major McDivitt?”
Scobee began to scratch his face. “Bean, what the Sam Hill are you doing? These two could be complete psychos.” Then he seemed to realize what he had just said. “I mean… I…”
“Did you hear that, Penny? We’re the psychos, not the two dudes on the prison bus. What exactly were you arrested for, anyway, Slick?”
Bean took a step to his right to stand in front of Scobee. “We weren’t arrested, big man. We were prisoners of war. Base security caught us scoping out their zombie breeding operation. We were scouts on a reconnaissance mission, not a couple of rednecks sneaking around base to get us some Air Force pussy.” Bean stood up tall and puffed out his chest, like he was at attention. “Glen and Scobee and me are part of a militia commanded by Major McDivitt, and our one and only purpose is to annihilate the military’s ability to continue the zombie war on America. Is that good enough for you, mister?”
Miller blanched. “Zombie breeding operation?”
But Scratch didn’t hear her. He threw up his hands and said, “How the hell do we keep running into these whackos, Penny?”
Miller didn’t know how to answer that. Even if she knew how to articulate what she was thinking, would Scratch believe her? Would Miller believe herself?
Bean was posturing. “Listen, civilian, we got us a God-given right to defend our great country against any threat, domestic or foreign.”
Scobee raised his hand and interjected, “Undead, too.”
Scratch leaned in to Miller’s ear and whispered conspiratorially, “And here I am without my tin-foil hat.”
Miller shook him off. “Why the hell should we believe you, Bean? I mean, it’s awfully convenient, you being a prisoner of war and not just a pair of dumbasses who got drunk and pissed on a policeman’s shoes. You can’t possibly expect my friend and me to take you at your word.”
“All right,” Bean said. “Let me borrow that cell phone you snatched from the guard, and I’ll prove it to you.”
That’s right, everything still works in this corner of the world. Miller considered the proposal for a moment. She was curious, also torn. She wanted to know more about what Bean was talking about. At the same time, she wanted to get as far away from these new people as she possibly could. The unknown factors worried her. But there was something about Bean’s confidence that made her take a risk. She made decision. Her intuition wasn’t always right, but it had kept her alive so far. She wanted to see where this rabbit hole led.
Miller stepped closer to Bean and handed him the cell phone. “Remember, if you betray us in any way, we won’t think twice about killing you.”
“I know that,” Bean said. He dialed.
Chapter Two
27 hours, 42 minutes to Stage Three (8:18pm)
The big wooden barn seemed to emerge from the darkness, drawing closer until it loomed above them like a hulking black shadow in the moonlight. Not a sliver of light appeared in the spaces around the windows, and no sounds could be heard from inside the building. Miller led the group of men to a small, human-sized entrance set off to the right of the big main doors. She stopped just short of entering. She looked around the area and then up and down the open stretch of road. No one said a word.
When she was completely satisfied that they were alone, Miller nodded to Scratch. Instead of saying something or knocking, he whistled tunelessly, imitating the call of a field bird. Seconds later, they heard a soft noises—no louder than the creaking of old wooden walls in the wind—coming from inside. Bean stepped closer to Miller, as if feeling impatient. He had an air of urgency about him that Miller couldn’t quite figure out. She ignored him for the moment. The noises coming from within the old barn continued for a few moments and then stopped completely.
After a few seconds of silence, Bean touched Miller on the shoulder. She turned to snap at him, tell Bean to hold his damned horses, but the words stuck in her throat. A laser dot, bright red and iridescent, was flickering across Bean’s shirt. A sniper had him dead to rights.
“Don’t move an inch,” said a gruff, male voice in a hoarse whisper. “Who goes there? Answer me now, nice and quiet, or you’re all dead.” As if to emphasize the point, the laser dot quickly danced back and forth across each of them in turn.
Miller looked up, her sharp eyes following the path of the laser in the dusty night air, to the hayloft above the big doors of the barn. “You’re supposed to be watching the side door, damn it!” She pointed to the small, human-sized door set in the side of the building. “This one.”
The laser raced through the dust and pointed skyward. “Chosen One? I didn’t recognize you. I just saw the strangers.”
Movement came from above. Miller could barely see in the darkness. Something fell from the upper floor to the ground, followed by the sound of glass components shattering. “Oops. Uh, oh.”
“Did you give him a laser sight to screw around with, Penny?” Scratch walked forward and retrieved the fallen object. He sighed. “These were once a pair of pretty cool Night Vision goggles.” Scratch glanced upward. “Hey, where the hell did you get this gear from, you crazy old coot?”
The same soft noises came again, but louder now. They were clearly footsteps. The noises grew sharper as their friend Rolf raced down the wooden steps to ground level. The door burst open, and a large dog leapt forth and happily approached the four of them. He did not growl at the sight of the strangers.
Miller patted her leg for the German Shepard to come to her side, but he ignored the friendly gesture. Instead, he went directly up to skinny Scobee and put his paws up on the man’s shoulders. He whined and licked at his acne-scarred face. Miller watched, puzzled. The dog clearly knew Scobee from somewhere.
“Dudley?” cried Scobee, now hugging the dog. “Bean, this is Dudley!”
The dog proceeded to bathe every inch of Scobee’s face with his tongue as Bean watched sullenly.
“You know this dog?” asked Miller. She thought the animal belonged t
o Rolf, who had helped them to escape the Caves of Abraham and a tribe of local cannibals who’d worshipped the zombies as Gods.
“Yes,” said Scobee between Dudley’s ferocious licks. “I’ve known him since he was a pup. This is Major McDivitt’s dog. We thought he’d run away for good, or maybe gotten killed or something.”
Miller and Scratch exchanged a puzzled glance. How in the name of all that is good and holy could these two clowns have just coincidentally known Dudley on sight? Who were these people, and did they also know Rolf somehow? Miller didn’t used to believe in coincidences, but after this revelation, she was prepared to believe in the Easter Bunny.
Scratch turned back to the cheerful reunion of dog and man. He got straight to the point, as usual. “What the flying donut fuck is going on here?”
“I think we all have a few things to discuss,” Miller said, simply.
“Let’s go inside,” Bean said, impatiently. “Please.”
Rolf timidly exited the door of the barn. “Psst. Pssst! Chosen One.” He waved to her conspiratorially. He still held the rifle. Clouds crossed the moon and made shadows across his face, causing him to seem even eerier than usual. Rolf carried his dead wife’s finger bone around his neck and had a melancholy tendency to drift into psychosis now and again. He viewed Miller as some kind of heroic goddess, The Chosen One. Rolf was bat shit crazy but he’d saved her bacon more than once.
“Do you know these men?” Miller asked.
“No, Chosen One. Where did they come from?”
Rolf’s voice and the dog’s antics snapped Miller back to reality. Bean was right. They weren’t safe out there. “Hey, this stuff is heavy,” Miller said, remembering her backpack. She was in no mood for lunacy. “Take it.”
Rolf leaned in close. As he took the pack, he spoke in a clearly audible whisper, “Who are those two men and what are they doing with my dog?”
“I don’t know, actually. See, I was kind of hoping you could tell me, since they know Dudley. Inside, gentlemen.”
Bean stepped forward with a serious look on his face. He paused and focused on the disheveled man standing next to Miller, the crazy old man hefting her pack over his shoulder. Bean’s eyes widened and he froze.
“Rolf?” Bean moved. “Rolf Nyberg?” He came closer, not stopping until he was well within Rolf’s personal space. He pulled back his fist, and would have let it fly if Scratch hadn’t caught his elbow. “Why, you lousy deserter, I ought to rip your head off.”
Scratch grabbed Bean by the collar and pulled him back a few paces. “Now wait just a damned minute, jackass! Back the fuck off. He’s with us.”
Bean ignored both Scratch and Miller. He came a bit closer to Rolf, who shrank back. Miller had never seen Rolf look so scared. Bean again reached for Rolf, but this time he was stopped by the intervention of both Miller and Scratch. They held him back. Bean said, “Where the hell is Naomi, Rolf? Tell me. What have you done with her?”
At the mention of his wife’s name, Rolf lost whatever composure he’d held in reserve. His face collapsed into a fist of wrinkles. He sobbed. He ran into the barn, the door closing behind him with a bang. The group stood under the pale moonlight, every one of them now confused and angry and suspicious. Somehow they all still had the presence of mind to keep their voices low. Miller decided to let the situation develop a bit. These new men knew things she didn’t know. That wasn’t good. She needed to rectify that fact, and at once.
Scratch shoved Bean backwards, taking the lead. “What the fuck is your problem, Bean? I said he’s with us.”
“That guy nearly got all of us killed, and then he disappeared,” said Bean. “I ought to rip his goddamned head off.”
“Easy, Slick.” Scratch pulled the two of them apart.
Bean relaxed. Scratch was someone a smart man wouldn’t mess with, and Bean was clearly an intelligent fellow. Miller took the good cop role.
“Bean? Talk to me.”
Miller put her hand lightly on Bean’s shoulder. As she did so, Scobee approached her, with a panting and happy Dudley at his side. Scratch and Miller bracketed the two, hands on the butts of their weapons. The moonlight ran fingers of shadow across the empty grass and into the trees.
“Let’s go inside,” Bean said, finally.
Scratch snorted. “Screw that. We’ll let you in when I know exactly what the hell is going on around here. Why don’t you two start by explaining how you know our friend Rolf? Make it clear and make it quick.”
“Your friend Rolf?” Bean shook off Miller’s hand. He took two steps backwards and began to pace a small circle in the near darkness. “Jesus, you have no idea who that guy is, do you, Sheriff?”
“Enlighten me.”
Bean stopped pacing. He stabbed a finger at the barn. “Tell me one thing. Where the hell did you run into that lying sack of shit?”
“Hey, take it easy, Bean.” Scobee stood within Bean’s field of view and caught his eye. He seemed smart enough to sense that he and his friend were now skating on thin ice. “These people helped us out of a bad place, remember? It was your idea to come here, remember?”
“But I didn’t know fucking Rolf Nyberg was going to be here!” He looked at Miller. “If that’s the kind of company you keep, Sheriff, then maybe we should have walked when you said take a hike.” He took a step in the direction away from the barn.
Scratch took two long strides and stood in front of Bean, blocking his exit.
Miller smiled slightly. “Well, you didn’t. Now there’s someone—or several someones—who I don’t know on their way here on your say so. So if you’re thinking of taking off now, well, think again. Until we’re secure again, you’re with us.”
Bean lowered his face, and shook his head. “Forget it. Let’s just go inside.”
Scratch was clearly not ready to let it go, and Miller gave him some room to run. She wanted to watch and evaluate and stay reasonable. Scratch stepped closer to Bean. “Nah, you’re not getting off that easy, skeezix. What the hell aren’t you telling us? Fill me in or I’ll start rearranging your face.”
Bean and Scratch locked eyes for a long moment. Miller couldn’t tell what was transpiring between them, but Miller had to decide what to do if they came to blows. At the moment, she was prepared to let Scratch follow through on his threat.
Finally, Bean relented. “I’ll make y’all a deal. You keep Nyberg away from me, and I promise you’ll get the whole story from Major McDivitt. It’s his story to tell, not mine.”
Scratch started to say something else, but this time Miller cut him off. “Save it, Scratch. I’m curious too, but we’ve been standing around with our thumb up our butts long enough. Sheppard’s waiting for us inside, and it would be a damned shame if he dies of thirst and hunger while we’re out here playing twenty questions. He’s worth a thousand strangers like these. Come on.”
“Who is Sheppard?” demanded Bean. “You never mentioned him.”
Miller and Scratch just ignored the question. She opened the wooden door. It creaked wide and a weak light cast out onto the ground as they went inside the building. Miller watched Bean and Scobee absorb their new surroundings as Scratch closed the door behind them. The barn had once housed cows, and it smelled the part. Dry straw littered the floor. Auto parts and farm equipment lay in corners, covered with cobwebs and brown with rust. Across the small interior space was an Idaho State Police cruiser, a bit worse for wear, with the rear passenger side door open. A pair of combat boots stuck out from the door. Legs were attached. The boots moved.
Miller put her hand on Scratch’s arm and squeezed. “I want you to find Rolf and make sure he’s not gnawing on that damned zombie finger bone again. Sheppard says it will make him sick.”
Scratch snorted. “I don’t think it would make a difference at this point.”
“I’ll go check on Karl.”
Scratch shrugged the heavy pack full of water off his back and handed a few bottles to Miller. “Let me know if you need any help.” H
e turned to face Bean and Scobee. “You two. Sit your asses down over there on that hay bale. We got us a couple of sick men here. I don’t want you upsetting them or us any more than you already have. Let’s settle down until your boss gets here.” Scratch patted his leg, and Dudley followed after him. “Stay where I can see you. We’ll straighten all this shit out later on.”
Bean and Scobee did as they were told. They parked themselves on a moldy bale of hay and waited. Bean seemed sullen and worried again, Scobee just relieved to be alive. Something very strange was going on, Miller realized, but there was nothing new about that. Nothing had been normal for a long, long time.
Miller took the water, some fresh medical supplies, and some food, and walked over to the dented up police cruiser. “Karl?”
The man inside, who Miller once thought of as having movie star good looks, shoved himself up on his elbows. He wiped a bit of sweaty hair off his pale face. “I heard voices. Who’s here?”
“It’s a long story, Karl. We ran into a couple of guys who know about Crystal Palace. Something about them drew me to them. It was freaky, and you know how much I don’t like freaky.”
Sheppard was instantly suspicious. “What do they know about Crystal Palace?”
“We’re still trying to connect all the dots. For the moment, we have an uneasy truce. They also know Rolf, and there’s some bad blood there.”
“Curiouser and curiouser.”
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m not doing very well, Penny. I think the infection is quite a bit worse than we’d originally feared. I wish I had a lab to study what’s going on inside the wound.”
Miller took a sniff, and the foul odor did not make her happy. “I brought the things you asked for.” She handed him a bottle of water and watched him drink it greedily. She handed him another, but Sheppard simply put it aside. His mind was already on something else.
“Were you able to get the Z-Pak?”
The Hungry (Book 6): The Rule of Three (The Sheriff Penny Miller Zombie Series) Page 3
