“Damn right you were.”
“Honestly, now that I look back on it, I really couldn’t say what I was thinking. You and I are in this together. Can you forgive me?” Miller reached up and ran her hand through Scratch’s short hair. She was still heartbroken that he’d cut it all off, making him look like a corporate executive rather than a badass biker, but she was getting used to it. She hoped it would grow out quickly. She pulled his face toward her own, and kissed him warmly on the lips. Scratch didn’t need any more encouragement than that. He wrapped her in his arms and drew her to him. Together, they let the world slip away as they lost themselves in each other’s bodies. Apparently they weren’t going to bother with a shower first.
The report of a gun, somewhere quite nearby, broke the dreamlike state. Before she could even think, Miller had her Ruger in her hand and was searching for a target. Scratch was kneeling on the floor with his own Colt at the ready, but the look on his face was more of confusion than tactical vigilance. There was no one in the room, and nothing more happened.
“The fuck?”
“I think that came from outside,” said Miller. She went to the window and drew the curtains slightly, but saw nothing and then remembered that the windows were boarded over. “Wherever it is, the excitement seems to be over.”
Pop. The gunshot was close by. There was a moment of silence, then pop pop pop, pop pop pop, pop pop pop!
Miller went to the door and listened carefully. She heard footsteps outside, someone running down the corridor. She turned and signaled for Scratch to back her up. Quietly, she unlocked the door. She turned the knob as silently as she could. Opening the door a crack, Miller peeked out into the candlelit corridor. No one was outside. Gunfire could be heard from outside the building, but it seemed to be getting farther and farther away.
Miller opened the door just wide enough to step through. She slid out into the corridor and motioned for Scratch to do the same. When Scratch was behind her, she turned to the left, toward where she saw Sheppard and Leland disappear into a few minutes before. Together they crept towards Sheppard’s door. The building was eerily silent, with the sound of gunshots and running feet now long gone. They could hear people moving around in their rooms but no one emerged to talk to them.
When they were in front of Sheppard’s door, Miller knocked softly. “Karl? Are you in there?”
“Hold on, Penny,” came Sheppard’s voice. Someone moved just behind the door. A moment later, the door swung open, and Leland stood before her with a pair of blood-flecked rubber gloves balled up in his hand. Sheppard sat on the bed across from the door. His wound was now pristine and neatly stitched together.
“Are you all right, Penny?”
“What’s going on?” Miller asked Leland.
Leland shook his head. “I don’t know. The general alarm hasn’t sounded, so it isn’t a raid. Probably someone tried climbing over the wall again.”
“That happen a lot around here?” Scratch drawled.
“More often than we’d like,” Leland admitted. “Why don’t you go back to your room and relax?” His eyes looked past them to someone in the corridor behind them. “What’s the story, Judy?”
Miller spun to see Judy standing behind her with a tray of food. The strange woman wasn’t even looking their way. “Just some fucking looters again. Piper and Chuck are back on guard detail. I’m sure they will get things under control.”
Judy finally focused on Miller and Scratch. “I’m sorry if you got all upset, Sheriff. Everything seems to be back to normal now. Let’s get you back to your room and get some dinner in you.” She smiled heartily but without a trace of warmth, kind of like the activity director on a bad cruise ship. “It’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“You hear that, Penny?” whispered Scratch a little too loudly. “It’s okay, and there’s nothing to worry about.”
Miller almost smiled. She was beginning to see his point about staying vigilant. Nevertheless, she lowered her weapon as if satisfied. “All right,” Miller said to no one in particular. “Karl, are you going to be okay?”
“I’m fine, Penny. Go back to your room.”
There wasn’t much else to do. They’d at least have to appear to go along with the crowd. Miller tucked her Ruger into her waistband and put her hand on Scratch’s gun. “Guess the excitement’s over, Scratch.”
Scratch met her eyes and held them. She could hear him screaming to her silently, “This is a really bad idea.” She nodded in agreement, so Scratch put away the Colt. Then they followed Judy and the smell of cooked food. They’d both had one to many misadventures trusting someone else’s hospitality. Still, this was the insane new world they lived in, and they’d have to appear to play along until they knew more about the alternatives. Judy led them back to their room. She left the door open. Miller watched her carefully.
Judy put the tray of food down on a small table across from the bed. She smiled and said, “Enjoy.” Then, eyes on the carpet, she headed back toward the door without a second glance but looked up to discover that Miller stood in her way.
“I’ve got a question for you, Judy. What’s really going on around here? For a while it looked like we were back in civilization. Earlier today I was in a grocery store and a pharmacy, and everyone seemed perfectly normal. Hell, there’s cell phone service available, and from what I can tell, electricity and running water. The Army isn’t patrolling the streets, and you people seem to be the only ones know there is a war going on. So something is very wrong. What am I missing?”
Judy stood there, plastic smile on her face, but offered no answers. “I guess life is pretty routine around here, Sheriff. We just get troublemakers now and again.”
Miller and Scratch exchanged a glance. Miller said, “You and Bean seem to be an item. I’d have to believe the two of you are concerned about the future and kids and that you have talked things over in private. Now talk to us.”
Judy shrugged. “Bean and me, we’re just good friends.”
“See, Judy,” Scratch attempted. “What the Sheriff means is, since everything is so normal and all, when did it get considered civilized to open up on strangers with a machine gun? That just seems downright un-neighborly to us. Right, Penny?”
Judy’s expression slipped a notch. She spoke in a softer voice. “Shit, if the stories I’ve heard about you people are true, I’m surprised you even looked up when the gunfire began.”
“Those stories are likely true,” Scratch said, quietly. “And if you know that, then you also know it wouldn’t be very bright to try and screw us over.”
Judy nodded. “I told you the truth. We just get troublemakers now and again, folks who have heard rumors and don’t respect the law. They try to take from the rest of us. The cops can’t be everywhere.”
Miller stared at her. Judy stared back. She stepped around Miller and opened the door. She looked back over her shoulder. “I understand your confusion, folks. I really do. The best advice I can give you is to eat your dinner and get some sleep. You may end up needing it, if the Major decides to support your mission.”
Judy started down the hall. “Good night.” Scratch stepped forward and closed the door. Miller looked at the food and shrugged but did not speak.
Scratch finally broke the silence. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I think we’re maybe in deep shit again.”
“I’m beginning to agree with you,” Miller admitted. “Somebody is holding out on us.”
“I feel like that Greek guy, the one who died trying to find an honest man.”
“Diogenes.”
“That dude, yeah.” Scratch picked up a sandwich and sniffed it. Evidently it passed his inspection or he’d decided to risk his own life first, because he took a bite. Miller watched, nervous despite herself, but he seemed to feel okay. Through a mouthful of food, Scratch said, “I suppose we’re sleeping in shifts tonight.”
Miller considered their options. If they were in a trap of some kind, s
he couldn’t get Scratch, Sheppard, and Rolf to safety, not in the middle of the night. The government was hunting for them and had been since they’d escaped Nevada. For the time being, there was nowhere safer than McDivitt’s little playhouse. Nowhere that Miller knew of way up here in Idaho. But the alternative—staying quiet and accepting this new level of bland insanity—seemed equally out of the question. Either way, she figured, change was going to have to wait for daylight. There really wasn’t any other rational choice.
Miller went to the door and double checked that it was locked. “I feel fried. Do you think you could take the first shift, Scratch?”
Scratch held out a sandwich. He handed it to Miller. “Well, so much for eight hours of uninterrupted sleep in each other’s arms.”
“I’m so sorry,” Miller said quietly. She took the sandwich from him and tried a bite. She tasted store-bought processed ham, some kind of tangy cheese, fresh lettuce, tomatoes, and mustard. A brand new bag of potato chips sat on the tray, waiting for them. It was real, honest-to-God food. It hadn’t actually been that long since she’d had real food—maybe a week or so, since those horrible experiments back at Crystal Palace—but it felt like it had been years. She swallowed gratefully.
Scratch was already done with his sandwich. He licked his fingers. “It’s not your fault, sweetness. It’s just the way the world is now, meaning pretty fucked up.”
“I’ll make this up to you,” Miller said, “I promise.”
“Finish your food and get some sleep. You need rest more than I do. I was born horny and ornery.”
Impulsively, Miller walked over to Scratch. She kissed him passionately. “I do love you, you know that?”
“I love you too, girl.” Scratch took Miller by the hand and led her gently to the bed. He pushed her gently into a sitting position, and helped her remove her boots and her jeans and blouse. Then he pulled the covers back. She slipped inside with a sigh. Much to Miller’s surprise and delight, Scratch actually tucked her in. He carefully turned the lights down even lower.
“Go to sleep now, pretty Penny.”
Miller was already halfway asleep when it registered what he said.
“Don’t get all mushy on me, cowboy. I’ll see you in about four hours.”
She rolled over on her side and took a long, deep breath. She was asleep in an instant.
Chapter Six
17 hours, 40 minutes to Stage Three (6:20am)
Miller heard light footsteps on the hallway carpet when people walked by, but that sound happened now and again all night long. Only the knock on the door startled her. She hadn’t been dozing—she was certain of that—but the sharp noise still made her jump. Before she realized she had done so, Miller cocked the hammer back on the .38 gripped in her right hand. She sat up in the chair before responding, “Who’s there?”
“Christa, Sheriff.”
Scratch rolled over and opened his eyes. His stubble looked like a shadow smear on the lower part of his craggy face. He sat up in the bed, his eyes questioning the circumstances, and the sheet fell away to reveal his muscular torso. Miller waived her hand at him to indicate they were not in danger. Well, at least not yet. Scratch stretched and yawned and shook his head.
The voice from the other side of the locked door: “I came to let you know that breakfast will be served in just a few minutes but hot coffee is ready now. You’ll have about ten minutes or so to make yourselves presentable for the staff meeting.”
They could hear Christa walking away. Miller went to the door and opened it a smidge. “Hang on, Christa. What staff meeting?”
Christa was already rooms away, down near the corner, under the overhead lamp. She turned and smiled. “Don’t worry, Sheriff, you’re report isn’t first up this morning. And the coffee is strong enough to clean a car battery.”
Miller figured these folks were leaving their guests in the dark for a reason. She almost asked another question but didn’t bother. She watched Christa walk down the corridor and turn left. By craning her head just a mite, Miller could see that the next hallway over led toward the room with the conference table they’d sat at the night before. She closed the door again. Scratch was out of bed now, already fully awake. He appeared soundlessly right behind her. He whispered in her ear.
“What’s the story, Slick?”
“I don’t know yet. I think they’re still fucking with us.”
“It sounds like they plan to give us a chance to make our pitch, anyway.”
“There’s that,” she allowed.
“Now do you understand why I thought there was—well, is—something wrong with these weirdoes?” Scratch shuddered. “Hell, it’s not like we ain’t been through something like this before.”
“Trust me, I get it,” said Miller, thoughtfully. “I really do.”
“On the other hand, strong coffee sounds pretty damn good, long as it’s hot.” Scratch rolled his big shoulders and stretched.
“You mean as long as it isn’t drugged and doesn’t make you cut your hair off again.”
“Very funny. Let’s go check on Karl.”
They whispered briefly, forming a loose plan. They washed up quickly, slipped into their clothes, and walked briskly down the empty hallway. A moment later, they were at Sheppard’s room. Miller knocked quietly while Scratch kept an eye out. Sheppard responded immediately. He was already awake and answered the door wearing only pants. To Miller’s relief, he had regained some color. He looked far healthier and even somewhat rested.
Much to Miller’s surprise, Sheppard asked, “How are you feeling?”
Miller smiled. Good old Sheppard back to his mothering ways. “I’m fine, Karl. I’m guessing you’re doing better.”
“Yes, but I’m stiff as hell.”
Scratch grinned. “But probably not in a good way.”
“In your dreams, Scratch,” Sheppard said with a wink.
Was that a joke? And Sheppard actually smiled. Miller watched him as he walked back into the shadowy room. He donned a clean shirt that Miller presumed their hosts had offered—one that wasn’t bloodstained and torn. “I’m really sore, but the painkillers are working. I’ve kept food down, so the antibiotics haven’t made me sick. On the whole, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was fit for combat duty.”
Miller wasn’t quite sure how to take the change. “Fuck a duck, Karl. What kind of pain killers do they have you on? Hell, you were at death’s door just yesterday.”
Sheppard’s eyes softened as he responded. He walked closer, into the light. “I appreciate your concern, Penny, but I promise you, I have all my faculties again. We got lucky, and Dr. Satcher is top notch. He did a wonderful job, the meds are working, and I’m simply feeling better. Please don’t worry about me.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I can fight if this shit goes south.”
“Fair enough.” Miller turned, edged past Scratch and peered down the corridor, where people were milling about already getting coffee and speaking in low tones. There was something odd about all the fresh, alert morning activity. It seemed out of place for a building so dark and quiet. Still, the coffee smelled wonderful and Miller realized she was once again very hungry.
Sheppard joined her at the doorway. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got us a staff meeting to attend, and apparently our ‘report’ isn’t up first. I don’t know about you, but I feel much better knowing that.”
“That’s the military,” replied Sheppard. “Generally FUBAR well before dawn.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Scratch said, “but I ain’t convinced this is the real military we’re dealing with. I want to believe this guy is cool. I sure hope they aren’t somehow connected with the bad guys.”
“I don’t think they are,” said Sheppard. “But this McDivitt didn’t get to be a major by being lax or disorganized.”
Scratch caught Miller’s eye. “How do we play this, Penny? Just wait and see?”
Miller shrugged. “That’s our only play. Let’s le
t them do the talking for as long as we can.”
“Okay.”
Miller took a deep breath and stretched. “Well, boys, why don’t we saunter over and see what’s what?” She looked at Sheppard. “You need any help moving around?”
“No, I’m good.” Sheppard picked up the little Glock he carried with him and put it into his waistband. He walked out the door a tad crooked, but true to his word, he was definitely traveling under his own power. The lighting inside the compound was slowly brightening now, a planned imitation of sunrise, perhaps? There was something comforting about all the activity, as if life was still in session, despite all the death the world had endured of late.
Miller checked her own weapon. She could already feel its weight pulling at her belt, but it felt better to make sure it was there anyway, and ready for use if called upon. She sometimes worried that one day Bugs Bunny would replace her weapon with a bunch of carrots, like in some old cartoon. The odd thought made her shake her head and crave some of that hot coffee. She led the way down the long hall, with Scratch and Sheppard close behind. They heard cups and spoons clattering and low voices conversing as they approached.
The first thing that Miller noticed when she entered the community room was the strong odor of fresh food. The scents of bacon, eggs, fresh bread, and coffee assaulted her from every side. Her mouth began to water, and when she glanced at Scratch, she could tell he’d smelled and responded to it too. She hoped he could keep from pissing these people off before they had eaten their fill. After that, she figured, McDivitt and his crew were fair game for the old Scratch Bowen charm. Their loose plan was to let Scratch challenge the Major’s authority and see how McDivitt responded man to man. That would also test the loyalty of the others. They’d stir up a bit of trouble, but not until after breakfast.
The meeting was evidently just getting started. Miller took in their surroundings. There were already nine people seated at the table. Miller spotted a couple of new faces. Rolf was there, just to the right of McDivitt, with Dudley at his side. Miller watched him for a moment, and attempted to ascertain if he was feeling comfortable with these people, or if all the “family” talk from the night before was a load of crap. Rolf had been stroking Dudley’s ears and cooing to him. He looked up and spotted Miller and her crew, and when he did, his eyes lit up and he smiled. He seemed as happy as a pig in shit.
The Hungry (Book 6): The Rule of Three (The Sheriff Penny Miller Zombie Series) Page 7
