Dead Hunger_The Cleansing

by Eric A. Shelman

  “Flex!” came a voice, and he found himself smiling. It was Doc Scofield. “Doc! Damn, buddy, we’ve been wonderin’ where the hell you’ve been! Can you open the door?”

  “In a sec!” said Scofield.

  Flex turned to see everyone else standing behind him. All of them were covered in chunks of zombie bodies and blackish blood. Every one of them – Trina and Taylor included – was smiling.

  Flex pounded on the door. “What’s the holdup?” he called.

  A deadbolt turned and the door pulled inward. Flex saw a large smear of blood on the floor just inside the door. He stared at it for a moment then looked up.

  “Some got inside,” said Scofield, pointing at the floor out of Flex’s view.

  Flex moved inside to see Beauty sitting in a chair, her face buried in her hands. Charlie pushed past him with Trina and Taylor on her heels. The three women were heading toward the upset Beauty, but when they reached the third cot from the door, Charlie stopped short and the other two nearly ran into her. Charlie stared downward.

  There was a lump on the cot, covered with a bloody sheet. “What … oh, my God,” whispered Charlie. “Who … is that?”

  Beauty looked up at her. Her eyes were almost as red as they had ever been. “I … could not stop them. I tried, Charlie. I tried.”

  “She killed the ones that got in,” said Scofield. “All three. I shot one of ‘em, but didn’t hit the kill spot.”

  “Travis could no longer stop his siren call,” said Beauty, her voice laden with sadness. Her boy stood beside her. He was not quite a year old, but he was the size of five-year-old, and his language skills were more like an adult.

  Travis was a third-generation Hybrid, the son of a daughter of a first-generation Hybrid, all fathered by Maestro. Because he was unique, Hemp had learned something new about him nearly every day. The most obvious thing about Travis was that he had aged four times the speed of an ordinary child, which was twice as fast as Max and Isis and other first-generation Hybrids.

  Travis hadn’t quite grown into his teeth yet, but he did not look nearly as strange as he had six months earlier.

  “My ability to stop it is gone,” said the boy. “I can’t help but call them to me now. It’s not intentional. I’m sorry.”

  “But the siren call is clearly not projecting as far as it once did,” said Hemp. “Otherwise, they would not have been drawn south; they would have come here. The number that were outside must have passed closest to the building and been drawn in.”

  Flex considered what they were saying. No matter what, Travis would have to be quelled somehow. The Mothers would feel them coming and they needed to either avoid them completely and get to Gem and the others, or they needed the element of surprise.

  He stared at the kid and racked his brain.

  As everyone else moved inside, Nelson pulled the clinic door closed behind them and spun the deadbolt. “So … we still don’t know who’s under that sheet,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. He nodded to it.

  “It is Jill Richman’s daughter Lily,” Beauty said. “I let Jim in when he returned and I forgot to turn the deadbolt. I was so used to being locked in places by Maestro that I am not in the habit of locking doors. The door did not latch.”

  “I told you,” said Scofield. “I came in, so I should’ve locked the damned thing. Don’t put that on yourself when this old man’s to blame.”

  Jim’s eyes had been red, and now Flex knew why. He had been crying for what he felt he’d allowed to happen. Before he could console the man, Gammon stepped up.

  “Jim, it’s the world we live in,” said Dave. “You know there’s a good chance that you or people you love are going to die, because we’re human and it’s our nature to fuck up now and then.”

  Doc dropped into the only open chair and stared at the blood-soaked sheet and cot. “She was sleeping when they attacked her. Poor thing. She was such a sweetheart.”

  Hemp knelt down beside Scofield. “Jim, I would ask you a question, but the answer’s a foregone conclusion, so I’ll just say it. You would’ve given your life to save that baby.” He waved his hand around the room. “Or to save any one of us. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Doc looked up, his wrinkled skin pronounced and sagging, his eyes bloodshot. He nodded.

  “Then get on your feet and save the next child,” said Hemp. “The next man or woman. There are plenty more out there. The good you’ve already done and the good you’ve still got in you outweighs any mistakes you’ve made.”

  Jim took Hemp’s hands in his and squeezed them. “Thanks, Hemp. Thanks, Dave.”

  Both men nodded. Hemp stood and patted Jim’s shoulder.

  Charlie knelt on the floor beside Beauty. “Beauty, are any of your powers intact?” she asked. “Can you help us get back to the tunnels?”

  “What tunnels?” she asked.

  “Never mind. We know the way.” She turned. “Do you have any WAT-5 here, Jim?”

  “I don’t have much – maybe five or six left.”

  “We need to give one to Travis,” said Flex, the idea hitting him all at once. “Keep that siren call quelled.”

  “I will take it,” he said. “It has been over six hours since my last.”

  “They took theirs at the same time,” said Scofield, indicating to Hannah, still asleep on the cot. “You guys see her mom?”

  “Teressa Sullivan, right?” asked Lola. “Not since early this morning. She was headed to City Hall.”

  “I don’t remember seeing her there at all,” said Charlie. “Hope she’s okay.”

  Hanna was also a Hybrid, but she was first generation, as Lily had been. Her siren call was likely not as strong as that of Travis, but Flex felt it was better for everyone if she were asleep.

  They woke Hannah, who was smart as a whip and just over a year old. She had the advanced speech just as Isis and Max had, and all the other attributes of the Hybrid babies. She understood that she needed to consume another WAT-5, but she was not happy about it.

  Of all people to explain it to her, Travis convinced her.

  “Hannah, you and I are special, but we are changing because of the diminished flow of gas from the earth. Where we could once block our call to the Mothers, we can no longer.”

  “I do not feel different except that I cannot stop their voices in my mind,” said Hannah. “They are weaker now.”

  “What do you mean, weaker?” asked Hemp, kneeling down.

  “They are muffled somehow, Hemphill.”

  Hemp smiled at her use of his formal first name. He wasn’t even aware she had known it.

  “Muffled? Do you mean muted?” he asked. “As though … weakened?”

  “I feel they are trying,” said Hannah, “but either I am unable to receive them as before, or they are unable to project their thoughts.”

  “We need to get movin’,” said Flex. “Hemp, let’s check the gas flow in that cylinder on our way out. Everybody, arm up and be ready.”

  “I’d have done it on the way in, but we had a bit of a battle on our hands,” said Hemp.

  They gave both Travis and Hannah a full dose of WAT-5 and both children went out immediately. They then rested them atop a rolling gurney with retractable legs and side rails. It could be carried if necessary. Punch and Dave stood at each end, ready to move it.

  Dave looked down at the sheet covering Lily. “Guys. Can we just leave her? What about Jill? Doesn’t she deserve some closure?”

  “I’m sorry to say we don’t have the ability to carry her body with us,” said Flex. “I agree, it doesn’t seem right.”

  “It’s not right, and it’s not going to happen,” said Lola. “I’ll carry her.”

  “I’ll help you when I can,” said Taylor.

  Lola nodded. With that, she moved beside the cot and wadded up the sheet covering the child’s body. She looked at the little girl. “Did you administer a head wound after they did this?” she asked, looking at Doc Scofield.

  “Yeah,”
he said. “I did, through her ear. I still don’t know how. It was hard.”

  “Of course it was,” said Lola. “You deliver babies, Doc.”

  Jim nodded and Flex saw his mouth quiver. Lola went to a pantry and withdrew a clean sheet, which she lay over an empty cot. She picked up Lily’s body and lay it in the center, then blotted away more of the blood with the original sheet. In several more moments, she had fully wrapped the baby’s body in the fresh sheet. Lola leaned down and picked up the dead girl. “Let’s go.” There were light pink tears running down her face.

  “Sure you got her, Lo?” asked Punch. “You okay?”

  She turned to him and nodded with a sad smile. “For a while. I’ll let you know if I need a break. She’s not heavy.”

  Punch nodded.

  “Okay,” said Hemp. “It’s well past dark now. Doc, have you got a light with fresh batteries?”

  Jim handed him a long, thin flashlight. “I call this my X-Files flashlight. Brighter than even makes sense.” Hemp took it from him and turned it on.

  They all stepped outside to find the area still clear of rotters. Hemp directed the beam at the base of the cylinder.

  “You can hardly see the bubbles,” said Charlie, her voice a whisper. “They’re like … champagne bubbles now.”

  “I’ll crack a nice bottle of Dom if this is really over,” said Lola. “Damned if I won’t find one bottle or ten or twenty and we’ll all get so high-fuckin’ society drunk we’ll forget all this shit ever happened.”

  *****

  CHAPTER TEN

  They reached another solid wall. Gem felt her remaining hope drain away as the growls and moans of more rotters grew louder behind them. She did her best to shake the water from Suzi, but as she held the weapon at different angles, more water dripped out.

  Testing the gun by firing into the water channel might urge the pursuing rotters on faster, for even though their hearing sucked, the vibration could draw them.

  Gem decided to take her chances and use it when it was needed and not before. Her decision was made primarily because shots being fired would freak out the townsfolk. She would just have to wait until the time came to try it.

  “They must be coming from every part of the city,” said Isis. “So many of them died back there, but I feel an untold number approaching.”

  “Then we need to figure out the trick to this doorway fast,” said Max. “Everybody, get back.”

  The people that had been crowding behind him pushed backward, giving him some room.

  “Okay, I know the basic method. I just keep kicking until I hit the right spot. You guys hold those torches close and yell when you see a gap appear.”

  He raised his right leg and kicked at the stone, then moved his foot six inches to the right. It was solid and unyielding. He moved and kicked, moved and kicked.

  “Stop! Right there!” shouted Colton. “See?” He pointed to a dark line.

  “Hurry!” someone called from the rear. The cry was followed by gunfire.

  Gem moved forward and pointed. “Yes, kick right there. Hard. See?”

  Max stood back and raised his leg again. He kicked it with all his might. The gap grew an inch wider. “Damn. Help me, guys!” The men and women nearby all ran toward the wall and pushed on the opposite side of the gap. It opened two inches, then another four.

  Gem pulled out her headlamp, refreshed with new batteries. She switched it on and shone it in the dark opening.

  “What is that?” she asked. “Plaster?”

  “That’s exactly what that is!” shouted Max. “Push, hurry!”

  Several men who had pushed forward at his earlier call slammed into the wall and it pivoted another six inches on its center rod.

  “That’s enough. Stand back!” shouted Max. He got back and kicked at the dirty white material, and it powdered away. Two more hard kicks and his foot went all the way through.

  Suddenly, Max’s body slammed against the wall. “Shit!” he shouted. “Oh, my God … pull me! Hurry, pull me! Something’s got my leg!”

  He kicked, pushing against the stone door with his hands, but his body slammed backward against the wall each time he attempted to reposition his arms. The men that had been pounding on the wall moments before, now gripped Max underneath his arms and pulled him back, but it was like a macabre tug-of-war. Gem looked on in horror at Max’s expression and sprung into action.

  “Move!” she shouted at the men, and they released Max. “Relax your body and drop down, Max!” she said, raising her Uzi. She flipped the switch and panned the barrel left to right above where his leg entered the wall. The expended shells rained down and rang off the stone floor like bells as Suzi chewed through the disintegrating plaster.

  Max’s body suddenly fell backwards and Isis reached out to catch him. Both of them fell hard to the ground with Max coming to rest atop Isis.

  Gem, ignoring her pain, dropped down and shone her light on Max’s leg. His jeans were torn, but upon lifting the pant leg, she saw no wounds.

  “You got lucky, Maxy,” she said. “No broken skin.”

  “I didn’t get lucky,” he said. “You fucking saved me.”

  “I’m ready to get up anytime,” said Isis, lying on her back beneath him. “Max, I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Max smiled and looked down at her, then pressed his lips against hers for a quick peck. “Thanks for catching me. I think that proves you love me.”

  “It proves I didn’t want you to break your head,” she said. Max got up and pulled her to her feet.

  “There’s more where that came from,” said Max.

  The group worked on getting the door fully open. Behind it was more plaster that needed to be broken away, but with several more kicks, they could pass.

  “Watch out,” said Max, kicking at the bloodied body on the floor, just inside. “You got it, Aunt Gem. Like nine head shots.”

  “Better overkill,” she said. “You were worth the rounds.”

  A very dark tunnel lay ahead as Gem, Isis and Max stepped inside, skirting around the dead rotter. They were followed by Serena, Ben and Colton. In the distance lay an almost pure black, arched tunnel about nine feet high. Gem could not tell whether it tapered lower ahead, because no light penetrated beyond twenty feet or so.

  “Colt, you have that pail?”

  “I do,” said the boy. “It’s starting to fall apart. It’s really wet.”

  “Anyone have a paint brush?” asked Max. “I lost both of mine in the water. They were sticking out of a pocket on my pack.”

  Gem fished around in her pack and found one natural fiber, wood-handled brush. “Here,” she said, holding it out.

  “Why do you want that?” asked Serena. “Do you see something?”

  “My eyesight’s not as good as it was,” said Max. “But it’s good enough to see something’s down there. Moving.”

  Gem raised Suzi, which she had just reloaded after killing the rotter that had snagged Max’s leg. They all moved forward with Isis and Max in the lead.

  “This is different,” said Isis. “The acoustics. It’s not like a tunnel. More like a room.”

  Suddenly, as the last word left her lips, the sound of skipping steps broke the relative silence, and everyone let out a brief squeal. Colton had his torch held high over his head, and Gem had no time to respond when the red-eyed Mother bolted from the dark into the flickering torch’s dancing ring of light.

  All at once, Gem saw Max’s hand in the air, whipping forward. The large, blond mother stopped mid-stride and teetered there, her face dripping with the caustic oil. She opened her mouth wide and let out a screeching wail that threatened to shatter Gem’s eardrums.

  Then the impossible happened: her face began melting away. The skin bubbled and popped and her hair pulled from her scalp.

  “Behind her!” shouted Isis. Gem saw several eyes in the distance moving toward them. The Uzi already in position, she took three large steps forward and again verified the waterlogged weapo
n’s integrity by fanning a spray of bullets from left to right, generating a pile of Hungerer bodies behind the still wobbling Mother.

  “There you go, Suzi,” whispered Gem, to her old standby weapon.

  “She’s … falling apart,” said Isis, staring at the Mother’s face. “The urushiol is working on her now.”

  Gem felt the surging adrenaline subside as she turned her focus on the Mother, whose face was indeed melting; her features became less Rembrandt and more Picasso as her nose and left eye slid from her face to the floor.

  As the creature’s legs buckled at the knees and she dropped with a thud, greenish red liquid squeezed from her ears and nasal cavity and ran in small rivers down her body.

  “Is that her … brain?” asked Serena, standing behind Gem. “Liquefying?”

  “Cool!” said Ben.

  Rachel pushed through the crowd behind them and Gem stepped aside. “Guys, they’re gaining on us,” Nelson’s wife said. “I don’t know how many there are, but we need to find a way out of here.”

  Nelson and Rachel’s daughter, Lita, was exhausted, and lay like a rag doll in Rachel’s arms. Though Rachel was just under five feet tall, she seemed unhindered by the child’s weight. Gem wished she could nod off right about then, but Flex’s absence – among others she loved – would never allow it, even if they weren’t being pursued. She would not rest until she knew everyone was safe.

  “Hey!” came a muffled voice.

  Gem glanced around. “Did you hear that?”

  “I did,” said Isis. “It came from up ahead. Let’s move. Bring some of those torches up here.”

  Some of the people in the rear moved up beside Colton, who gave his torch to Max.

  “Be ready.” Max walked forward and they followed.

  *****

  “Look at ‘em,” said Flex.

  Down the street, a steady flow of rotters continued to pour in from the east and west, all heading due south, toward City Hall. They plodded along, appearing weak and slow, but Flex knew it didn’t take much strength to close jaws and tear at living flesh.