Penny Miller twisted the top of the jar of peanuts and went over to the little girl whose name she still hadn’t learned. “Put out your hands,” she said. The girl reluctantly stuck out one hand. Miller poured some peanuts into it. The girl ate them greedily. Then Miller poured some into her own hand and did the same. Her body shuddered with gratitude.
“So where is Abraham? Don’t tell me he got dragged off too.”
“He’s in the bedroom resting,” said Lovell. “Our little friend knocked him down and startled him something awful.” Lovell moved back through the vehicle toward the beaded curtain. “Want I should wake him up?”
“No, let him sleep.” Miller lowered her voice. “The last thing we need right now is his very special outlook on life interfering with our plans.” Miller filled her hand with peanuts again, inhaled them in one mouthful and chewed like a starving squirrel. Rat handed her a gallon bottle of water, and she washed the peanuts down. Her blood sugar began to balance out and her heartbeat steadied.
Miller felt a quiet rage take possession of her soul. She vowed again, Terrill Lee would not become one of them things. No way.
The group stiffened. Outside, they could hear voices. Rat moved to the window and peered out, her shotgun at the ready. “Okay, it’s them, they’re back.”
“Is Terrill Lee with them?” Miller asked hopefully, though she already knew the answer.
“No.”
Miller deflated. The thought made her sick, but she found herself praying they’d found Terrill Lee and shot him through the head. Otherwise, she’d have to do it herself before they moved on. She would have to do that for his sake. None of them deserved to wander around starving and insane. No one did.
There was a knock. They stared at the Winnebago’s door.
“Open up,” Scratch called. Lovell stood to let Scratch and Psycho in. Scratch came up the stairwell carrying the .30-06. His face was sweaty. A frustrated look was deeply etched into his gruff features.
“Well, there was no sign of him.”
The little girl took one look at Scratch. She gave a demon shriek. She leaped off the worn sofa and hid behind Miller and Rat. The women looked down with puzzled expressions. The little girl clung to Miller’s waist, and trembled like a tent in a windstorm. Scratch had raised his weapon. He lowered it again.
“What the fuck was that?” Scratch said. “The kid about scared the shit out of me.”
Miller turned to the child, ignoring Scratch’s question. She and Rat tried to calm her down. The kid couldn’t be consoled.
“Shh,” Miller cooed. “It’s all right. He’s a friend.” She stroked the girl’s hair, but it did nothing to calm the child. She began crying silently, and a dark stain spread from her crotch. Rat stepped back, puzzled and a bit disgusted.
“Scratch,” said Miller. “You’re scaring her. Go stand guard outside or something until we get this figured out.” Her tone made it more than a request.
“I didn’t do anything, Penny.”
“Rat,” said Miller, turning back to the child, “please take him outside.”
Rat got it. She moved with a purpose. She picked up a shotgun and motioned with it. “You heard the lady. Let’s go.”
“Whatever.” Scratch stomped down the stairwell, a bullied teen.
“Psycho, you’re with us,” said Rat. Holding the other shotgun, Psycho stood without hesitation and followed Rat outside. Miller figured he didn’t want to think for himself, and preferred action.
Penny stroked the little girl’s hair. The child cried.
“He’s gone, sweetie. You’re safe. We have to get you out of those clothes, though.” Miller turned, glanced at Lovell and Sheppard. “Lovell, go track down one of Abraham’s shirts or something that she can change into. Try not to wake the crazy old bastard, okay?”
Lovell stood and went to the beaded curtain. He didn’t disturb Abraham. Instead, he opened a cabinet just outside the curtain and rummaged through it. “This will have to do,” he said, holding up a loud shirt that would have embarrassed Jimmy Buffett. It was bright red with yellow flowers in full bloom and tiny maps of the Hawaiian Islands. “On her it will be a long dress.”
“Hand it here,” said Miller. The girl had stopped crying, but she still shook like a spider web in the breeze. “Turn your heads,” Miller ordered. The men looked away. Miller made sure of that. She knelt down on the carpet, careful to avoid the puddle of urine. “Let’s get you dry,” she said.
The girl shook her head. Her arms were crossed across her chest, and her skin had become paler than before. She instinctively resisted being naked, even for a second. That wasn’t hard to understand. She’d been all alone in zombie country. Miller thought of Terrill Lee alone out there and her eyes filled. She looked away so as to not further upset the child. She composed her expression and looked back. The little girl eyes were defiant.
“You can’t stay wet,” said Miller, “and we need to clean up this mess.” She began unbuttoning the girl’s soaked pants. “I need you to help me.”
The girl reluctantly uncrossed her arms. She helped Miller take her pants down. Miller stripped off her tiny shirt, which was damp at the bottom, and used the untouched parts to dry the girl’s skin. Then Miller put Abraham’s shirt around her shoulders and buttoned it from bottom to top. It came down to below the girl’s knees. She was practically lost in the sleeves.
“You can look.”
Lovell went to the window and stared out, on guard. Sheppard just lay back with his eyes closed. He seemed to be regaining strength, but clearly had a ways to go. Penny Miller used the child’s shirt to mop up the puddle on the floor. She threw the shirt in an overflowing trash can. Then she met the little girl’s eyes.
“Now, why don’t you tell us what that was all about?”
“That’s him,” the child said enigmatically.
“Who’s him? I don’t understand.”
“That man. That’s him. He killed my family.” The little girl shook, doubled over, and began to sob again.
“Killed your family? When was this?” Miller was calculating furiously. Scratch had been with her almost every minute for weeks. Since…
“About a week before the zombies came.”
“A week… My God,” cried Miller. “You’re Elizabeth Cassini, aren’t you?”
“Uh huh.”
“Hold on,” said Sheppard, “you know her?”
“We don’t get a lot of multiple murders in Flat Rock,” said Miller. “I’m the Sheriff. I did the initial investigation. I saw the bodies. Elizabeth and I met once, briefly, in Judge Peterson’s chambers.” She turned back to the child. “I thought you were safe, that the social worker had sent you to live with your aunt, or something.”
“We came back here the day the zombies came to see the Judge.” She began crying again, and Miller put her arms around her and let her cry. Miller felt like doing the same. One more horrible mess to figure out.
When Elizabeth had calmed down a little, Miller lifted her up into the passenger seat in front. Her head was swimming. Terrill Lee was gone, and now this accusation against Scratch? That he was guilty of the murder of an entire family? It had to have been his gang. Perhaps Scratch had been there, but he could never have… No.
“What makes you think that man is the one who did it?”
“I saw him,” she said, this time without any tears.
“Did you tell anyone about it?”
“Yes. You.”
“That’s right,” Miller said softly. “You did. But you then said you couldn’t remember what he looked like.”
“I remember now.”
They were all silent for a long time. Miller had no idea what to do about all of this, especially now. The mounting responsibilities were overwhelming. She felt her mind bobbing and weaving to avoid too many signals, too many options. Terrill Lee was almost surely dead or even undead by now. Scratch was her friend and one of her most valuable assets as a commander in combat, she couldn’t e
xactly arrest him… but she couldn’t ignore or abandon the child either. Another damned train wreck.
“So what do we do?” asked Lovell, finally.
Miller stood up. She sighed and stared at Lovell for a moment. “You watch her. I need to talk to Scratch.”
Miller went to the Winnebago’s door. She knocked on the inside. “I’m coming out,” she called. No one answered, but at least no one would discharge a weapon in surprise.
Miller closed her eyes to compose herself. She opened the door, and stepped down into the warm morning light. The sun was still low on the horizon, but the sky was clear and blue. The surrounding desert was beautiful and the Ruby Mountains in the distance were lush and green. The world just kept on turning, no matter who got torn to pieces or murdered or died of natural causes. It could do without man easily enough. In fact, the world didn’t care much one way or another. It was as beautiful but cold as an Eskimo’s johnson.
Rat and Psycho were standing guard just outside the door, to the left and the right. Psycho was chewing on a toothpick. Rat studied Miller’s face, her own features blank as a wiped-down chalkboard. She understood command pressure. Miller figured she was probably weighing whether or not to step in and take over.
“Where’s Scratch?” asked Miller.
“Smoking,” they both said, pointing toward the rear of the vehicle.
Miller hesitated. There was really no good way to do this. She took a deep breath, walked a few long strides, and stepped around the corner of the Winnebago. Scratch was leaning against the back of the vehicle, his weapon low at his side. Miller went to stand next to him. They waited in silence with the tension building, both facing the desert, which was dotted with sage and the skulls of dead animals. Finally Scratch took a deep drag on his cigarette and blew a long stream of blue smoke, his lips tilted away from Miller.
“I’m real sorry about Terrill Lee, Penny,” Scratch said. He seemed sincere. “We found some drag marks that headed off into an intersection but lost the trail after that. There were just too many bodies, too much debris lying around everywhere. I saw footprints all over the place. They took him somewhere, three of them, like they’d worked together as a team. That’s crazy, I know it’s crazy, but same as back at the base, that’s how it seemed to play out. Them things working together? The very idea scares the shit out of me.”
“It scares the shit out of me, too.”
“Penny, I’m sorry. He’s gone. Terrill Lee has to be dead by now. Has to be.”
Inside the Winnebago, the little girl said something quietly. Lovell said something back in a low voice. Scratch and Penny faced each other with full eye contact. Chastened, Scratch swallowed dryly.
“Talk to me,” Miller said.
“I didn’t do anything to that kid, Penny, I swear.” Scratch took another long drag on the cigarette. He dropped it onto the asphalt, stubbed it out with the toe of his right boot. “I don’t know why she freaked out on you that way.”
Miller stared into his eyes. She took her time. Something felt off.
“What?” Scratch demanded. He stared back.
“We may have us a brand new problem,” Miller said. “There was a murder a few days before I arrested you and Needles.”
“So?” Then something uncomfortable spread across his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me! That kid told you I did it?”
“Did you?”
“Are you actually accusing me of killing that little girl’s parents and sister?” His eyes were wide, incredulous.
Miller’s heart sank down into her stomach. She eyed his weapon and then gripped hers. “I never said exactly who was killed, Scratch. I just said it was her family. So do you want to explain how you knew that it was her parents and sister?”
Scratch began to pace. “Look, I didn’t have anything to do with it. I may be a bad ass, but underneath this gorgeous, tough exterior, I ain’t a murderer.”
Miller looked at her feet. She studied her dusty jeans. She took a deep breath and met Scratch’s eyes again. The sun beat down above them and the warmth felt good. “I saw you kill my deputy in cold blood. I know you’re capable of it. So I’ll ask you one more time. Did you kill her family?”
“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Scratch said. He took a step away, flexed his hands. “Look, I done some things I’m not proud of. I admit that. And yeah, I blew that asshole Wells away. He deserved it and you know it. But I didn’t do that, not what you you’re accusing me of. Think about it. After all we’ve been through, why would I lie about this? You gotta believe me.”
“It’s not my job to believe you,” Miller said, sadly. “I’m not a jury.”
A coughing sound came from the front of the Winnebago, then a whine. Was someone struggling to start the engine? Did they have yet another problem? Scratch and Miller were too engrossed to change the topic.
Scratch stood defiantly before Miller, and she glared at him.
“I want to believe you, but I’m not sure I can.”
“So what are you going to do then, arrest me again, Sheriff Miller? Shoot me?”
Miller looked at him for a long time. “No. I still have a duty to protect you, no matter what you’re accused of doing. And I can’t arrest you right now because we need every gun we can get. If we don’t get out of here in time, we’re all going to go up in a ball of fire. But I need to at least know the truth. You owe me that.”
“I told you the truth just now.” As Scratch spoke, the engine made another odd noise. Someone, perhaps Lovell, mumbled something.
“We’ve lost Terrill Lee,” Miller sighed. “Now we’ve got a little girl to protect. But you know what is worst of all, Scratch? She’s terrified of you. One more time, you’ve handed me one hell of a mess.”
“Oh, give me a fucking break.” Scratch took a step away from her. “I’ve saved your bacon more than a few times, lady.”
“Right now,” Miller said, “my biggest problem is figuring out how to get us to safety without you causing that little girl to piss herself again.”
“What do you want me to do? Ride on the roof?”
“I haven’t ruled that out,” Miller replied. She considered smiling at the thought, but decided against it. So, evidently, did Scratch. Right then would have been a really bad time to start clowning around and flirting. Jesus Christ. Miller figured the world would never be the same. The law didn’t apply. She’d just have to go with her own gut for now, and make it all up on the fly.
Poor Terrill Lee…
The mechanical noise came again from the front of their Winnebago, that grinding whine. Sounded something like a starter turning over, but the engine refusing to catch. Was that Lovell? Who was fixing to drive off, and why?
Scratch looked as confused as she felt. “What the fuck is that?”
“Follow me.” Miller turned and headed back to where Rat and Psycho were waiting. Scratch hesitated for a brief moment, as if considering going off on his own. He shrugged and then followed her lead.
When she came around the corner, Miller could see Rat and Psycho conferring with someone through the open cabin door. When they saw Miller appear from around the back of the Winnebago, Rat stepped up close.
“I was just about to come get you, Penny.”
“Why?”
“We have another problem,” Rat said.
“What now?” Miller sagged back against the door.
Rat shrugged and made a face. Behind her Psycho belched, his alert eyes searching for zombies, that omnipresent toothpick circling his thick lips. The morning sun beat down. That whining sound came again, but a tad weaker this time. Miller wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear this. She waited.
Finally Rat sighed. “We can’t get the damned engine going.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
7:08am – 10 hours 52 minutes remaining
The grinding noise continued. No one spoke. Eventually Lovell said, “Easy, don’t flood the sucker.”
“Abraham,” Miller said, “this
is your vehicle. Why won’t it start?” She stated the question much more calmly than she felt. Her gut was in a knot. The entire enterprise was rapidly spinning out of control. They were behind enemy lines, Terrill Lee was gone, Scratch was hiding something, Abraham was a senile maniac, a nuclear bomb was ticking their lives away, and now she had a traumatized child to worry about. Penny Miller had never felt so alone in her entire life.
Abraham mopped his sweaty brow with his sleeve. His filthy beard sagged down. He was like a fat goat ready for shearing. “I can’t explain it, my child.” He turned the key in the ignition again. The old starter turned, but the engine still didn’t catch. “Personally, I suspect that the Evil One had his filthy hand in this.”
Miller turned to the others. “All right, folks. Things just got a little more entertaining. As of right now, we put any personal disagreements aside. We have one job and one job only. Get this thing running and get the hell out of here. We take it all one step at a time. Lovell, you did okay with those generators last night. Know anything about Winnebagos?”
Lovell stood with a confident smile on his face. “I know a thing or two.”
“Okay,” said Miller. “You’re up. Now, who wants to stand sentinel while Lovell is working outside with his ass end turned to the world?”
Rat cleared her throat quietly. “They sent us on this mission to provide security. I think Psycho and I can handle that.”
Miller thought for a second. “Done, and Rat,” she said, lowering her voice, “do me a favor and take Scratch with you.”
Rat grunted assent. She armed up and headed for the door.
Miller put up her hand. “I want to make something clear, though. Unlike Crystal Palace, this is not a free-fire zone. We found this little girl, so there may be at least some uninfected citizens hiding out there who are still in need of our help. Please stay smart. Hold your fire until you know there’s a threat. On the other hand, if it is undead or unresponsive to verbal commands, take it out without hesitation. Aim for the brain. Let’s all try to conserve ammo.”
The others mumbled acquiescence as if glad to have something new to do. They got to work, gathering up weapons and ammo and whispering their plans to one another. For her part, Miller was dropping back into her rhythm, problem solving, thinking on the fly. She turned to Lovell. “What else do you need?”
The Hungry (Book 2): The Wrath of God Page 14
