The Hungry (Book 6): The Rule of Three (The Sheriff Penny Miller Zombie Series)

by Booth, Steven W.

  “Goddamn it.” Miller cursed under her breath. She hesitated for just a bit longer. None of the strangers had grabbed for their guns or fired at Judy, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t at some point. Miller’s instincts told her to stay put and continue to take stock of the situation. What if there was someone else in the lodge, perhaps a sniper? Damn it, these women were foolish. Nevertheless, they were also exposed, and Miller knew she had to do something. She couldn’t hide behind the tree until someone sounded the “all clear.”

  Miller raced across the space that separated her from the downed strangers. She snatched up the closest assault rifle, pointed it at the bleeding forms on the ground, and then proceeded to kick at and clear all the other weapons out of their reach. She swept the weapon over the lodge, looking for any other survivors. No one emerged or fired at her. Miller relaxed a bit. Only then did she check to see if any of the mercenaries were alive.

  The three men were dead. The fourth—a woman as Miller had suspected—was still breathing, though barely conscious. It was obvious she was bleeding out and wouldn’t be alive much longer. The woman’s eyelids fluttered as she looked up at the moon and fought to stay alive. Miller checked her again for weapons. She wondered if she should finish the woman off. She didn’t seem to be in pain, so Miller chose to let her bleed.

  “Judy, how’s Piper?”

  “How is she?” Judy said, much too loudly. “She’s fucking dead!”

  “Shit,” said Miller. “Well, we got us a live one over here.”

  Judy stood up, holding Piper’s rifle. “Which one?” She walked over, sweeping the prone bodies with the barrel of her weapon.

  “Now just a minute,” said Miller. She brought the aim of her rifle up just a tad. Miller already knew that Judy could be a nut job. Who the hell knew what she would do next? “Why don’t you just relax? It’s not like she’s going anywhere. We don’t need to make any more noise.”

  “Is it this one?” Judy closed the distance between her and the woman. Instead of aiming the assault rifle at the captive, Judy knelt down beside her in the pale moonlight. “Hey, can you hear me?”

  The woman was breathing heavily now. Miller could see the sweat on her face. She gasped for air. “Help me.”

  “What were you doing here, huh?” Not a trace of sympathy, but no rage either. Not much of anything. For the first time, Miller realized some of Judy’s odd moods might have been feigned. She began to wonder if Judy was a bit of a sociopath.

  The wounded swallowed loudly and croaked out, “Just looking for food. Supplies.”

  “Food and supplies. You do understand that those are our supplies you were trying to take, you bitch? My people need them to live on. Understand?”

  No answer. Judy shook the woman, and she groaned again. “I don’t want to die.”

  “You should have thought about that before.”

  The woman’s eyes held so much fear, so much pain. Miller couldn’t watch any longer. She’d seen more than enough death. She couldn’t bring herself to take this kind of pleasure in it. She knew pain and fear firsthand, and couldn’t stand to see it in someone who knew death was near.

  “Hey,” said Miller. “Hey. Why don’t we just leave her?”

  “What for?”

  Miller softened even further. She debated whether to try to stop the bleeding, but decided that it would be kinder to let the woman die in peace. At least she was unlikely to come back as a zombie this way. She’d be dead for good. Still, watching Judy’s behavior, Miller felt a bit sick to her stomach.

  “Oh, I’ll leave her alone, all right.” Judy looked the woman over. “The same way they left Chuck alone, right, bitch?” She kicked at the woman with her bare foot. The woman groaned and tried to move away but didn’t have the strength. “You sure left Piper alone, didn’t you?” Judy swung the rifle barrel around to point at the woman. “Who else did you kill while you were here, eh? What are we going to find waiting for us inside?”

  Miller grabbed the barrel and pulled it up in the air, hard enough to jerk it out of Judy’s hand. “Leave her alone, Judy.”

  “What the fuck is your problem, Penny?” Judy stepped well inside Miller’s personal space. Miller dropped Judy’s rifle and gripped her own. “I’ve been wondering for a while now just whose side you’re on.”

  “Yours,” Millers said softly. “She’s going to be gone in a minute.”

  “I can make it sooner.”

  “Save the ammunition. Stop making noise. Don’t add to her suffering, there is no point in it. Come with me, we have to check on the others. Let’s just let her die in peace.” Miller turned and headed back toward the lodge, but kept her eye on Judy. “Hurry, maybe someone needs help.”

  Judy neither followed nor returned to harass the dying woman. She just stood there, staring back at where Piper lay. Now some emotion crossed her face, though it was difficult to read in the wan moonlight. Judy was a head case, no doubt about it.

  Miller turned back. She walked over to Judy and put her hand on her shoulder. She wondered if Judy needed a hug or a stiff drink. Miller had neither to offer. “Judy. Let’s go.”

  But Judy didn’t budge. Her eyes were too wide and way too empty for comfort. “We were doing fine until you got here. You did this.”

  Miller sighed. “Fine, if you need someone to blame, then blame me. But right now, we need to get indoors and regroup with whoever is left, and plan our next move. Are you coming with me or not?”

  Judy looked at the ground for a long moment. She sobbed loudly, but only once, though much to Miller’s relief. So she was not emotionally dead after all. Then she turned and walked away into the shadows.

  “Hey, where the hell are you going?”

  “There’s nothing at the lodge, Sheriff. When the shit really came down, we were supposed to regroup at the safe house. The people in there are all either dead or gone. In case you hadn’t noticed, the shit is coming down pretty fucking hard.”

  Judy bent down and scooped up a couple of the stray weapons. Then she headed back to the front entrance. Miller thought about it, realized Judy was probably right, and followed.

  “Where’s the safe house?”

  For the first time since Miller met Judy, the woman smiled. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be safe anymore, would it?” She held the unnecessarily wide grin for a long time and then let it slide off her face like a streak of mud off a piece of glass. Before Miller could take the bait, she said, “Don’t worry, Sheriff. It’s not far.”

  They exchanged one long look. Judy turned her back and walked away into the night. Miller had no choice but to follow, even if Judy was completely insane. She was the only option left.

  Chapter Nineteen

  2 hours, 30 minutes to Stage Three (9:30pm)

  Without shoes, the walk was long and tough. The moonlit night was cold and creepy as Miller and Judy made their way through the sleepy town, heading for the safe house. They crept down quiet streets and through dark backyards and hid in the bushes when a car drove by. They stayed away from intersections or any sign of the police. Miller was glad to have a weapon again. She was worried about Scratch and Sheppard. Her feet were bruised and sore. Worst of all, Judy turned out to be not only unpredictable but terrible company under stress. She spent the entire time whispering about Bean and Piper—how much they had meant to her and how empty her life would be without them. Listening, Miller found the whole thing a bit too theatrical for comfort. It was almost like she was rehearsing, but for who?

  Miller could sympathize, of course. She had lost so many people of her own, including her ex-husband Terrill Lee and best friend Rat. She’d tried to console Judy as much as she could, but Judy wouldn’t let Miller get a word in edgewise. So Miller had to listen to Judy babble about how she’d never wanted to be a fighter, had never wanted to kill anyone, never thought someone she knew could die like that, so abruptly and horribly. She was just a delivery truck driver Bean had recruited for this stupid fucking militia. She had
known something was up, there were anti-government rumors going around and talk of a strange plague, and Judy felt scared and lonely and wanted to belong to something. She’d fallen in love with Bean, head over heels, and ultimately went along with him and McDivitt and Piper and all the others because of that. None of this was her fault. She was just a victim of circumstances. Miller thought that in the end Judy was really just sorry for herself, not anyone else, and probably was clueless.

  Headlights appeared up ahead. Judy fell silent. Miller took stock of their situation. They were both perspiring and short of breath. They had a ways to go. Making an executive decision, Miller tugged Judy’s dress and they both sat down on damp grass behind some trash cans. They would just have to wait for the road to clear. Miller could hear someone talking on a police radio. A patrol car rolled slowly across gravel and stopped at the curb a half block away. The women waited. Miller enjoyed the silence for a moment, but soon Judy began whispering again, telling another personal story.

  At first, playing soldier was cool, fun almost, or so Judy said. No one got hurt, though they did have to deal with the occasional looter. It was a close knit group of people and they all had each other’s backs. They were a family. But then Miller and Scratch had come along, and everything had gone sideways from there. Judy’s face was wan in the shadows, her eyes bright with manufactured emotion. She was writing a new script and looking for someone to blame for the death of her friends. The police cruiser was too close by, the radio chattering. Miller didn’t want to start an argument. Judy got tired. Her attention wandered. The policeman in the car smoked a cheap cigar, and a sweet scent filled the night air as Judy and Miller waited behind the trash cans. At least Judy was finally starting to wind the hell down.

  The police car rolled backwards and the lights swept the dark house behind them. A shower of orange sparks filled the driveway. The cop rolled away into the night. Silence returned. A dog barked down the alley and an owl gave a forlorn hoot in the trees directly above their hiding place. The women got up. They resumed walking but stayed off the street, deep in the long, cool shadows that hugged the sidewalk.

  Miller kept a sharp eye out for looters or civilians with insomnia. They were walking through residential streets carrying fully loaded assault rifles. They were bound to attract attention from someone, but there had been few cars, absolutely no pedestrians, no helicopter patrols above. No ambushes waited for them. The town was locked down tighter than a gnat’s ass. Miller could not help but wonder why. The stroll was more painful than frightening. It turned out to be just a long boring walk with a whiny bitch that Miller was now convinced was at minimum a narcissist and at worst raging, manipulative sociopath. Everything was interpreted through Judy’s own personal filter. Other people were merely disappointing objects to Judy. Her feelings seemed deep as a sewing thimble unless they pertained only to her own suffering. A woman this short on taking personal responsibility was missing some buttons on her remote control.

  Playing it safe, Miller walked behind Judy with her own weapon ready. Perhaps Judy would suddenly decide that Miller was actually the cause of all her problems. So just in case Judy tried to kill her and tell the others some kind of tall tale that made herself a hero, Miller stayed sharp. The fantasy may have been simple paranoia on Miller’s part, but seemed possible enough to deserve a sliver of respect.

  The moon slid behind some thick clouds and they walked in near darkness. Somewhere during all the whispering and rambling, Judy turned onto a walkway to the front door of a one-story residence on a nondescript street. It was the only block on the street that wasn’t under construction. Miller presumed it was the model home for the tract, not that that mattered. She followed on tiptoe, craving some soft socks and a decent pair of shoes. A cat in heat howled from a nearby alley. Miller caught up to Judy and whispered in her ear.

  “What’s going on? Is this it?”

  Judy ignored the questions. She went to the door and knocked a simple but specific pattern. Several seconds passed in silence. Miller watched as the peep hole darkened. A woman on the other side yawned sleepily like a civilian woken up from a sound sleep. “What’s going on? Who’s out there?”

  “I’ve got your pizza and buffalo wings, lady.”

  Miller worried that they’d gone to the wrong house, but Judy visibly relaxed. She lowered her rifle and waited. Several locks were thrown, and then dim light came through the door as it was opened. Christa stood there with a worried look on her face. “Come in,” she said, and stepped aside. “We’ve been so worried about you.”

  Miller followed Judy down a narrow, nondescript, wood-paneled hall free of mirrors or photographs. They walked into a well-furnished living room occupied by one other person, a man leaning on the wall near a dead fireplace.

  “Penny!” Karl Sheppard cried. He was holding a pistol casually in his hand. He rushed over to Miller and gave her a crushing hug. Miller worried about the pistol in his grip. He seemed to have forgotten everything but her presence.

  “I’m okay, but back off a bit before you shoot me in the ass.”

  “Where’s Scratch? Where are the others?”

  “Scratch is still at the base, I’m guessing,” Miller said, “along with McDivitt and Rolf and Scobee, at least as far as we know.”

  Christa’s look of concern deepened. She sat down slowly and carefully, dropping like a stone onto a worn sofa. “What about Bean and Piper?”

  Judy spoke first. “They’re fucking dead.”

  Christa covered her mouth. Tears welled up and she looked away. “Oh my God.”

  Miller turned to face Christa. “I’m sorry about your people, Christa.”

  “No, she’s not,” said Judy. Her search for someone to blame seemed to have crystallized. She glared at Miller. “I tried to save them, Christa. All of this is her damned fault.”

  Miller looked at Judy, but said nothing. Sheppard started to speak but Miller raised her hand and he stayed quiet. Miller walked three steps to her right. She put the assault rifle down on a credenza next to the door. “It’s been a terrible fucking night and I need to use the bathroom. Excuse me.” She shot a glance at Sheppard, telling him to step in to calm things down, and then went in search of a toilet.

  It didn’t take her long to find the room in question. She closed the door, sat on the closed toilet seat. As quietly as she could, Miller wept. Waves of sadness overwhelmed her. She saw pictures in a mental scrapbook, snapshots of the recent, almost continuously tragic series of events. All the people she’d lost, from Terrill Lee to Rat to the children and old people and zombies who’d suffered and died a second time. Her heart was broken.

  There was a knock at the door. “Penny?”

  Sheppard, right on schedule.

  Miller blew her nose. “Do me a favor and let her know to take everything that Judy says with a grain of salt, Karl. She’s not wrapped too tightly for starters, and isn’t my biggest fan right now.”

  “I already mentioned that. Is there something else I can do for you?”

  “Yeah, thanks. Rustle me up some decent clothes and a pair of boots.”

  Sheppard hesitated for a time. Then he said, “Okay, and I’ll see if they have a spare wedding dress.”

  Despite herself, Miller snorted and smiled. “Not funny,” she said, even though it was pretty funny. She also appreciated the abrupt shift in tone. Sheppard knew her well. She heard his steps as he walked away. Since she was in a bathroom anyway, Miller used the facilities to get presentable. She didn’t want anyone else to see her in such an emotional state. Bad for morale.

  Just as she was getting ready to open the door, there was another knock.

  “Penny, I found you some suitable clothes,” Sheppard said. “Even a broken-in pair of boots. Everything should fit.”

  Miller opened the door. She took the clothes from him, ignoring his worried look and gentle eyes, for fear she’d start crying again. Something about Judy’s relentless complaining and blaming had wormed its way in
to her soul. “Thanks, Karl. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Closing the door, Miller changed quickly. She emerged a few minutes later feeling human again. She’d slipped into black cargo pants, a green t-shirt, a light-weight khaki coat, and as Sheppard had promised, a pair of worn-in, very comfortable boots. The socks were too small and cramped her toes a tad, but she’d learn to live with them, at least until she could find an alternative. That was the least of her problems.

  When she returned to the living room, Judy was just finishing up her report. Christa shot Miller a look that would have made a lesser woman wither. Miller had fully recovered. She had absolutely no time for Judy’s bullshit. She braced herself for a confrontation.

  “I see you’ve had a busy night, Sheriff,” Christa said, her tone heavy with sarcasm.

  Miller ignored the dig. “We still have men back at the base, Mrs. McDivitt. We’ll need to plan a rescue effort soon. Do I really have to explain that to you?”

  “We’re in no condition to mount a rescue,” Christa admitted with hurt in her eyes. “We can only pray they’re all right.”

  “We will do better than pray, if you will hear me out.”

  Christa said, “Judy, give us a few minutes.”

  Judy was startled, but did as she was ordered and left the room. Her bitchy work was done. Christa filled Miller in on what had transpired back at the compound. The four of them were on their own.

  “I’m sorry, Christa,” Miller said. “We’ve all lost too many friends.”

  The older woman softened. She wanted to keep an open mind. She was clearly worried about her husband and the others left behind. Miller leaned forward and put her hand on Christa’s. “Scratch is a pro, and Rolf knows his way around the zombies. And your Major McDivitt seems like a very capable man. They are working together, not alone. They’ll make it.” She leaned back. “But right now, we have much bigger fish to fry. First, I finally know what the Triad is up to.”

  It was Christa’s turn to lean forward. “Go on.”