The Hungry (Book 2): The Wrath of God

by Booth, Steven

  “Fuck off.”

  “Psycho! Show a little compassion and come in here. I promise we’ll be good.”

  “Not that dumb… Got my orders…” His speech had become clipped again. The big man was stirred up and confused.

  Miller caught on. She walked over, stood next to Rat. She slapped the door. “Psycho, you pussy, look here, if it’s got tires or tits sooner or later you’re going to have trouble with it, right? Here’s your chance to get even.”

  “Come on, little boy,” Rat cooed. “Just pretend we’re your Mommy. We both know you hate women. You won’t ever get a better chance than this to settle the score.”

  Silence on the other side of the double doors. Miller could picture the big man considering his options. He had weapons, they didn’t. He had a raging hard on, and they were both gorgeous. All he had to do was shoot the three men and then play around to his warped heart’s delight. They would all still end up just as dead. The concept finally penetrated.

  “Stand back,” Psycho said. “You try anything, I’ll kill you slow instead of quick.”

  “No tricks,” called Rat. Miller backed away. Scratch crouched against the wall, a few feet from the door. He looked at Rat and Miller. He flashed them a tight grin.

  The door clicked, and the handle turned. It opened just a crack. Rat stood where Psycho could see her, her chest out and her hands in plain sight. Miller crept closer but also stayed in plain view. The two women tried looking defeated and scared. Psycho checked both sides of the doorway for a trap. Saw nothing. Miller gave him an encouraging smile. Psycho gripped and turned the knob.

  Scratch touched the live ends of the power cord to the handle.

  There was a loud pop and a bright spark. The lights immediately went out. Miller smelled burnt meat. Psycho bellowed in pain and stumbled forward into the room.

  Miller ignored the sudden darkness. She reached up for Psycho’s hand and yanked. Psycho lost his balance and came further into the room. His rifle flared as it fired once, twice. Miller brought her fist down on the back of his neck. She felt Rat jump on Psycho as well. The two women pummeled his head and Miller yanked the weapon away. Someone else landed on Psycho, perhaps Lovell. Psycho began to fold at the knees then went flat. They all clubbed him into submission. Everything went silent.

  “Anybody hit?” asked Miller anxiously.

  “No,” came from all around.

  “I thought he was supposed to get scorched,” Rat called. “You didn’t tell us that the lights would go off, Mr. Electrician.”

  Scratch said nothing. They waited in darkness.

  “Is he out?” asked Miller.

  “Yeah, he’s out,” said Rat.

  Lovell pulled out his flashlight. He shined it on Psycho. The big man’s eyes were closed, and a bit of blood dribbled from his flattened nose. His right hand was red and blistered and had clamped into a claw. He was still breathing.

  With Lovell holding the light, Rat collected Psycho’s rifle, pistol, and reloads. She flipped him over and pulled out his spare pair of handcuffs. She snapped them around his wrists. “Let’s go.”

  “What about him?” asked Sheppard.

  “Motherfucker was going to leave us all here die or become zombie bait,” said Lovell, bitterly. “Only reason he came in was because you two offered to let him fuck you to death. So I say fuck him.”

  “We can’t just leave him here,” said Sheppard. “That makes us no better than those assholes. We have to take him with us.”

  “You got to be kidding me,” said Lovell. “Seriously, Captain America?”

  “Actually, I’m with Sheppard,” said Terrill Lee. “Just maybe for a different reason. If it gets rough out there with the zombies we may need an extra gun.”

  “Not me,” Scratch said. “I say waste his sorry ass.”

  Miller and Rat said nothing. Lovell shined his light on Rat. She looked washed out and homely in the bright, pale glare, which made Miller feel all warm and happy inside, then silly and cheap.

  “What’s it going to be, Rat?” Lovell sounded confused and pissed off.

  Before she could say anything, Miller said, “Nobody dies. We all go home.”

  For a long time, Rat said nothing back.

  “Lovell,” Rat said, finally. “I hear you but they’re right. We’ll need every man we can get to make it out of here. Help me get him up.”

  Sheppard stepped forward. “I got it.” He expertly checked Psycho over, and after determining that he was still alive, pulled something out of his pocket. He opened it up, and a sharp, ammonia smell filled the room. Sheppard held it under Psycho’s nose. The huge man immediately snorted blood and stirred.

  “Jeez!”

  “Get up,” said Rat. She held the rifle pointed at him.

  “What da fuck?” Psycho sounded like a man with a stifling head cold.

  Rat nodded in the dim light. Sheppard and Lovell grabbed him under the armpits and hauled him to his feet.

  “Shit. Ripper’s gonna really be pissed,” mumbled Psycho.

  Lovell responded. “You know what, you dumb bastard? Fuck Ripper.”

  “If you two lovebirds are done making out,” said Miller, “I think it’s time to go. They might figure out how to get the lights back on soon.”

  “Let’s rock,” Scratch said.

  Rat handed the pistol to Lovell. They stood in the flashlight shadows for a long moment before Rat spoke again. She seemed oblivious to the confusion around her and oddly deflated. Her command had been a disaster thus far and her considerable confidence was waning. Someone had to lead them all out of danger. Miller watched Rat, wondering if it was time to step in and take over.

  She waited too long.

  “Follow me,” Rat said, finally. They quickly gathered their things in the darkness, and the group left the conference room to go in search of Ripper and Brubeck.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  10:07pm – 19 hours 53 minutes remaining

  “Fuck me,” Psycho muttered.

  “Would you shut him up?” Miller said.

  Hanratty scowled at her reluctant colleague as they walked on through the shadows. “You’re the one who wanted to keep him alive.”

  The darkness was oppressive, an almost palpable thing that followed them through the dim, foul corridors, all of which were empty save for the occasional body part or blood splatter. The damned place was as seemingly endless and confusing as a corn maze. Sheppard had acquired a flashlight from Lovell, and was frantically checking wall signage. It was all in a code that meant nothing to the others, but was the only way they had of finding their way out of the abandoned underground tunnels.

  The going was slow. At first, Psycho had no intention of proceeding at all, much less quickly or quietly. When they weren’t dragging him, he was spitting out phrases laden with bravado, such as “Ripper, we’re coming for you!”

  “He’s going to end up somebody’s dinner if he keeps this up,” Scratch said. “I say we leave him behind, trussed up like a Thanksgiving ham.”

  Psycho thought about that for a time. He stopped talking.

  “Let him be,” said Miller, “I’m more concerned about the rest of us.”

  “You sure we can’t just waste him, Penny?”

  “How about I waste the long-haired hippy?” Psycho lunged toward Scratch. Lovell had to strain to keep him under control. Miller speculated that being overcome and betrayed had caused Psycho to lose the rest of his tenuous hold on reality. In any event, Scratch’d had enough. He nodded at Lovell, who let go. Scratch feinted left, struck out with his right fist, hitting Psycho in his already bruised face. Another fist went into his gut. Psycho bent over in pain. Scratch drew back to hit him a third time, but Miller caught his arm.

  “That’s enough,” she said. “This isn’t how we treat prisoners, Scratch. Not even loudmouth, irritating, uncooperative prisoners.” Miller looked at him for a long time. She wondered if he made the connection between Psycho’s situation and his own when he had
been her prisoner a month before. “You get that, don’t you?” It wasn’t really a question.

  Scratch relaxed and lowered his fist. Psycho laughed and spat on Scratch’s boot. Scratch gave a low growl, but did walk away. Hanratty watched the incident with something akin to respect on her features.

  Miller turned to Sheppard. “How far?”

  “The hangar is just up that corridor, Penny.”

  “Good.” Miller went back to where Psycho was doubled over on the floor. She knelt down next to the man. He did not look up. “Hey, in case you hadn’t noticed yet, they weren’t out here waiting for you. You were going to die with us.”

  “Save it,” Psycho said. “I ain’t helping you.”

  “I don’t get it,” Miller said. “You’ve been loyal to Rat for years. Ripper offers you some dough, and you flip off your own conscience? Why get suicidal to protect someone who’d only planned on leaving you behind, cowboy? We’re trying to save your sorry ass. What good is money if you’re too dead to spend it?”

  Psycho didn’t have a quick answer. Miller had scored.

  Miller continued. “Look, I don’t give a shit what happened to you in the past. You have some mommy issues? Fine. Get a shrink. Right now, I’m offering you a chance to stay alive. And I’ll be willing to put my life on the line to protect you.” She paused to let that sink in. “You got a better offer than that, I’d suggest you take it, but there are no other deals on the table. Until one comes along, stop being a crybaby and get up.”

  Psycho looked at her in the dim light. The perpetual scowl slid off his face, replaced by something a little less hateful. He was interested and curious now. He squinted to see if Rat was nearby. She strolled over to stand next to Miller. The two women eyed Psycho evenly.

  “Lovell, help me up,” Psycho said, finally. He struggled to get to his feet. Lovell pulled him up by the arm. He stared at Miller but deliberately avoided Rat’s eyes. He seemed ashamed. “Lady, I ain’t much good to you handcuffed.”

  “Are you going to be a good little boy?” asked Miller. She flashed him a knowing grin.

  “Yes.”

  Miller wondered if he would append ‘ma’am’ or ‘Sheriff’ to that, but when Psycho didn’t, Miller figured that was as good as she would get. Behind Psycho, Hanratty shook her head. She wasn’t sure about the move, at least not yet. Next to her, Scratch frowned. Behind Psycho, Lovell just shrugged.

  “Don’t make me regret this, Psycho,” Miller said. She nodded to Lovell. Lovell, in turn, looked at Rat. After a long second designed to save face, Rat inclined her head as if to agree. Miller made a mental note of that exchange. Rat still had allies. She would have to work on gaining Lovell’s loyalty another time. For the moment, adding Psycho to her team would have to do.

  Lovell unlocked Psycho’s cuffs. Psycho moved slowly, first rubbing his wrists, then checking his gut and his face. He glanced at Scratch, who merely ignored him. Miller made a calculation in response to that as well. She didn’t want a repeat of the scene in her jailhouse when she’d released Scratch after an almost identical speech. Miller had armed him, and he’d promptly shot her deputy in the face. Scratch didn’t fuck around much. Psycho and Scratch now had a nasty history between them. She’d have to work on diffusing the tension, assuming they were all still around.

  “This is all very touching, people,” said Sheppard, breaking the silence, “but we still have the small issue of finding Ripper and Brubeck, and then getting the hell out of here. Can we focus, please?”

  Rat took that as her cue. “All right. Let’s move.”

  Lovell took a step forward. No one else so much as lifted a foot. Everyone turned to Miller this time. She’d won the majority without saying a word.

  “What’s the plan, Penny?” asked Terrill Lee. His cold shoulder stung Rat.

  Miller stood a little taller. She glanced at Rat, who sagged a bit. “What’s next is that we all work together to survive,” she said in a commanding voice. “Let’s get our asses out of here. We are going to make it back to the helicopter, assuming it’s still there. We’re going to commandeer it and fly home. Lovell, I overheard you talking to Terrill Lee about helicopters on the flight here. You can fly, right?”

  “Yeah, I can fly. And if the helicopter isn’t there?”

  “We punt,” Miller said. “We adjust to the reality of our situation. But we do not slow down or waste time fighting amongst ourselves.”

  The group waited.

  Miller turned to Sheppard. “Karl, you worked here. You know this place better than anyone else. Can you get us out of here?”

  “Ready and waiting.”

  “Okay, do it. Rat, Lovell. Check ammo. We’re going to need every round.” Miller turned to the others. “The rest of you keep your eyes open. We know there are zoms here. Some are still stumbling around looking for appetizers. Don’t fuck up. You do not have my permission to get eaten. We may not have enough rounds to put you out of your misery.”

  Scratch belched. “Got it.”

  Miller said, “And everybody keep on the lookout for weapons. We need guns, knives, shovels, chain saws, a flamethrower if you can find one. Commandeer anything that will keep us alive.” She looked at Rat. “How many rounds have we got left?”

  Rat hesitated, but Miller could see that Hanratty realized that she’d lost command, probably once and for all.

  “I got thirty-four here,” Rat said, sullenly.

  “Lovell?”

  “Eleven.”

  “All right. Forty-five rounds to get us topside. Choose your shots carefully. If we don’t find a weapons cache, we’ll have to hope that it’s enough to get us home.” Miller looked at each one of them in turn, settling on Sheppard last.

  “Like I said, you’re the guide, Sheppard. Let’s go.”

  Sheppard moved slowly but confidently. Miller waved them into a sequence. Lovell came close behind, followed by Terrill Lee, Psycho, Miller, Scratch, and Rat. Miller made sure to keep Psycho away from Scratch. She was pretty sure that Scratch wouldn’t start anything, but she couldn’t be so certain of Psycho. She let Rat take Tail End Charlie. Miller figured the Major wanted a little alone time, perhaps to contemplate the loss of her authority. Miller sympathized a bit, but was already sick of all the group therapy shit, the drama she’d had to deal with on this trip. As long as Rat didn’t decide to put a bullet in the back of her skull, Miller was happy just to let her stew.

  They moved down a long corridor and through a decimated dining hall. Headless corpses were strewn about. A long string of rancid entrails festooned the glass cafeteria counter, a row of spoiled pasta. Despite the gross out, Miller salivated at the thought of food. They exited into yet another corridor and walked about a thirty yards. Psycho was smacking his lips and humming a bit, but otherwise well behaved.

  Sheppard stopped at a set of double doors. “Here’s the hangar, Sheriff.”

  “Excellent,” Miller said. “Rat, you have the rifle and the most rounds. You and Lovell want to take a peek in there and tell us what there is to see?”

  Rat glowered but followed orders. She and Lovell opened the doors slowly. They looked out into the darkened hangar. Miller heard the moaning sounds beyond. Rat stepped back. “Holy shit.” They eased the doors closed again.

  “What is it?”

  “We have a problem, Sheriff,” Lovell whispered. “I counted maybe fifty or sixty bad guys out there.”

  “Where the hell did they come from?” asked Terrill Lee.

  “My guess,” replied Scratch. “Ripper let ‘em loose to fuck us up.”

  Miller frowned. “That would mean they know we’re out.” She turned to Rat and Lovell. “Have they noticed us?”

  “Not yet,” whispered Rat. “But if we don’t keep our voices down, they definitely will.”

  Miller swallowed dryly. She was hungry, thirsty, tired, and needed to pee like a racehorse. But all that would have to wait until they were a long way away from this damned God-forsaken military base. Why the
hell had she let the boys talk her into this?

  “Sheppard,” she said, “we got another way out?”

  “I see two options, Sheriff,” Sheppard said. “We go out the front or out the back.” He eased one door open and peeked out into the hangar. They could all hear the faint echo of shuffling feet and an occasional low moan. “Okay, right now the front isn’t looking too good. So I recommend we take the back way.”

  “And where’s that?”

  Sheppard turned a bit green. “It is across the hangar, in the northwest corner. There’s a cargo elevator and a stairwell. Penny, I recommend we shoot for the stairwell. The last thing we want is to get trapped in a big metal box between two floors of zombies.”

  “Kinda like this whole base, you mean?” said Terrill Lee. He was grinning nervously. Everyone ignored him.

  Miller peeked through the doors. The zombies were still milling around, following the path that the team had taken from the main ramp to the generator room, and then back to the medical wing. Sheppard was right. If they got onto that elevator, no one would be speaking up because they’d all be dead or moaning for food within a matter of minutes. They were trapped. It was almost as if the creatures had planned it. They were directly between Miller and her team and where they needed to go.

  “Sheppard, is there any way to get us closer than this? I don’t relish the idea of charging through the middle of that pack of meat sacks.”

  “There was, Penny, but it’s blocked. It was two corridors back, and to the left. Someone had barricaded it.”

  Miller considered. A few different ideas went through her head. None of them seemed as if they would work. She opened her mouth to give the order to go back. That’s when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Scratch saw it too and dropped to one knee. Had it been there seconds ago? No. It had been dark down the hall, but now there was a light at the end of the corridor. It was a moving light.

  “Oh, shit,” Miller muttered.

  A gruff, heavily accented voice came from the far end of the corridor. “There they are!”