The torch moved closer and the cavern came into view. Miller could now see just well enough to realize that they had placed Scratch, Sheppard, and Lovell off to her left side. Rat and Elizabeth lay on the right, the girl closest to Miller. Perhaps the child had soiled herself. The woman who approached knelt down while the man held the torch. The female inspected the men, who stared back. Even in the dim light, Miller could see the fierce hatred in Scratch’s eyes. He mumbled something behind his own gag. If Miller was righteously pissed and humiliated by her situation, it was also sure as sunset that Scratch’s head was about to explode. He’d be snake fanged with the desire to beat the shit out of these two newcomers. Scratch abruptly shifted back and forth, but they had tied him up good, just as they had done to Miller herself, and he wasn’t going anywhere in the near future.
The man stepped back with the torch and Scratch, Lovell, and Sheppard dropped back into shadow. The woman got to her feet and the two whispered something. Miller felt her pulse shift yet again. She stopped struggling against her bonds and lay still. Just give me one chance and I’ll tear your throats out…
The two visitors made their way across the cave floor and over to where Miller, Elizabeth, and Rat lay still. Their footsteps echoed faintly. Tiny creatures scuttled away. The light hurt her eyes but now Miller could see the woman’s face. She seemed to be relatively young, a little younger than Miller though older than Rat. The woman wore her black hair back in a tight ponytail. She had large eyes, lazy with arrogance. Back in Flat Rock, she would have been a store clerk or a stay-at-home trailer park mom. God only knew what the zombie outbreak and Abraham’s rash megalomania had turned her into now. She looked at Miller and Rat with the same consideration she might give a cantaloupe or a steak at the market back before the collapse.
The man stood nearby, as if waiting for the woman to say something. He looked like a farmer, blond-haired and freckled, with nervous blue eyes. He wore blue jeans and a worn, torn work shirt with a string tie. Miller read his face. Far less cocky than the female, his features were a study in conflict. He clearly didn’t approve of what they were doing.
Finally, the woman spoke. “Leave the soldier,” she said in a clear, high voice. “Abraham wants the redhead.”
The man nodded. He produced a large Bowie knife. The woman held a pistol in her hand. She aimed it right at Miller’s stomach with a cruel expression. Miller froze. The vengeance she’d had in mind would just have to wait.
The man stuck the torch in a crevice on the rock wall. The flame flickered and rolled black shadow ribbons out behind him. He bent down and cut the tie that bound her ankles. Miller’s pulse was thumping. She could feel the blood rush back into her feet, a cold sensation followed by a painful prickliness. She played weak and helpless. The man dragged her into a sitting position, and Miller realized she actually was lightheaded. She cursed the combination of the pain in her bladder and her gnawing, growing hunger. The man tugged. Miller resisted standing up. She didn’t know if she would maintain consciousness. Responding, the man took her under the armpits and hauled Miller to her feet. Miller acted woozier than she was. She studied his face. His touch was firm but gentle, and as his eyes roved over her they broke contact. He was ashamed.
Miller started to say something through the gag. Nothing came out. The woman immediately responded.
“Shut up, bitch.”
The woman jammed the pistol into her stomach. Miller stared down at it, a .38 special. She stayed quiet. Miller didn’t want to know if the woman was willing to waste precious ammunition on her. Her expression seemed to say that “dead or alive” were of equal value, at least as far as she was concerned.
Scratch kicked at some dirt with his boot heel, perhaps in protest. Sheppard was unconscious or pretending to be out. Lovell studied the scene sullenly. Elizabeth stared up with wide, panicked eyes. Rat had a flat expression but her eyes were memorizing everything around her while she still had some light.
Miller rolled her shoulders. Now that she was standing and not lying on her hands, the sensation began to return to them as well, and with that feeling came more pain. Numb and exhausted, Miller wondered if that’s what zombies felt all the time, this strange mix of pain and hunger and total despair. That seemed likely all of a sudden. And now she really didn’t want to find out. She’d have to convince Abraham to feed her something and soon, before her body failed and she turned undead for good.
“Let’s go,” the woman said.
The man took Miller by the elbow. She allowed herself to be led. As they reached the opening, she looked back as her friends returned helplessly to their awful darkness.
The three of them walked down a long, rock-lined passage. They were in some sort of abandoned mine. A few places had boards nailed together to create support beams. Lanterns were hung on the walls, although most were not lit. They walked and walked and Miller grew stronger. The rank smell of the cavern behind them faded away. Miller squinted and rolled her shoulders, moved her wrists. Eventually she could see real light up ahead. The woman shoved her from behind and Miller stumbled. She slipped to her knees and sharp gravel dug into exposed flesh. The man helped her back to her feet.
The trio moved on, turning a corner. The light was bright in her face, so bright that she couldn’t see, and she stumbled again. The man caught and supported her, helped her walk forward. Miller found her balance and stopped, still swaying slightly and staring into the direct sunlight.
The cave led into an opening in the mountain, a huge bowl with no cover overhead. The place was surreal. It reminded Miller of an arena or amphitheater. She figured it at about thirty feet across. Miller realized that there was one more entrance to the bowl area, way across from where she stood. Her captors led her over to that opening. No door or steps, just a tunnel back into the rock face.
Miller paused. Abruptly she was in darkness again, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. They forced her to move forward. Miller complied, even as she struggled to figure out what was going on. She spotted a low-hanging outcropping, and ducked just in time to miss cracking herself on the skull. Then, a moment later, Miller found herself in another cavern. This one was lined with lit torches and lanterns. Long benches stood along the walls, and there was a low dais at the back of the chamber, with a taller platform standing on it.
An altar, or perhaps more of a throne.
Father Abraham saw them as they entered. He smiled sweetly. Abraham was wearing a long brown robe. To Miller, with his beard and bald head, he looked more like Friar Tuck than the Pope. As a matter of fact, she thought the shapeless robe made him look like a human potato. How could he have become a leader of men? Miller suppressed a smile. Her rage returned. She wasn’t really in the mood for this shit.
“Take her gag off,” Abraham ordered.
The man fiddled with the knot at the back of Miller’s head, and seconds later the stinky gag was removed. Relieved, Miller sucked in fresh air, though once she got a lung full she wrinkled her nose. The air reeked, it wasn’t all that fresh. In point of fact, the place smelled of wood smoke and burnt flesh and farts.
“We have such big plans for you, my dear.” Abraham clapped his hands together, a gleeful child at a birthday party.
“Do your plans include me peeing on your floor? Because I’m fixing to.”
Abraham frowned. “Really?”
Miller said, “My friends and I have been tied up down there for hours. You people are not very responsible jailers.”
“I see that I have been a bad host. If you can contain yourself for but a few moments, we shall conclude our business.”
Miller spat at his feet. “And what business is that? Are you going to tell me that you’re somehow doing people a favor by kidnapping and falsely imprisoning them?”
Abraham ignored her. Miller felt the woman poking her ribs with the .38 but she chose to ignore the provocation. She glared at Abraham, who eventually smiled again. The flames danced around him. He looked like a burnt wood c
arving of a torturer at the Inquisition.
“God has brought us together for a reason, my child. It is the Divine Will that you and your companions have come to us. You are a gift. You shall enrich us all immeasurably, and for that we are grateful.”
“If you were any more grateful, Abraham, I’m not certain my friends and I could live through it.” She glared at him, and tried not to hop up and down. Her bladder clenched. “Keeping us prisoner here won’t inspire us to cooperate with you and your true believers.”
The woman behind Miller hissed in her ear. “Shut up, bitch.”
Father Abraham put up his hands. “Please, children, don’t be this way. Sheriff Miller, we desire your presence, but frankly we don’t need your cooperation.”
Miller cocked her head. “Want to run that by me again?”
“Let me put it to you this way. You are to receive a great honor. And your companions will be similarly honored. They will become flesh of our flesh, and you, my child, will actually consort with the Holy Host.”
Miller didn’t care for the sound of that. Any number of possibilities occurred to her. None of them were pleasant.
“Abraham, I need to pee. I don’t have time for your bullshit. Just come out and say what you’re going to say.”
His expression changed abruptly. His features tightened, screwing up into a fist, dancing with a rippling shadow of rage. “I am Father Abraham, child. And my ‘true believers,’ as you put it, are God’s chosen people. I am offering you the opportunity to atone for your sins—for they are many—and to become one with us. Your defiance will do nothing but cause more suffering, and can only end in the untimely deaths of your companions.”
“I’m still waiting.”
“Show me that you are a reasonable woman. I shall not ask again.”
Miller sighed. She’d pissed off a maniac. She’d already dug a deeper hole for her and her friends. Abraham was threatening to kill them here and now if she didn’t cooperate. It stood to reason that if she did cooperate, they might live, at least for a bit longer. And that was maybe the best chance they had at the moment. Miller had her duty.
“Fine. Just show me where I can pee, and I’ll go along with the program.”
Father Abraham beamed that beautiful, saintly smile. He said, “Take her away, my friends, and let her freshen up. Then do the same for her companions.”
The man and woman each took one of Miller’s arms. The man was gentle but the woman turned her around roughly.
“Please, child,” Abraham said. “Be kind.”
Miller smiled back. Her mood brightened. “Does that mean you’re going to untie us?”
The smile disappeared quickly. “Don’t push your luck.”
Miller allowed herself to be led away. The man and woman took her to the right, and they emerged out in the open, under the sun, rather than being back in the weird amphitheater. They walked another one hundred paces past a group of humans. Abraham’s True Believers, who didn’t even look up as she passed. She did catch the eye of a little boy, who ran to an adult male in tattered rags. The kid scowled and hid his face.
The duo walked Miller higher up the rock face and out into the open. The position of the hot sun told her it was early afternoon. They soon arrived at the edge of the camp, where there was a makeshift latrine, a trench covered by a wood plank with holes cut into it. Flies circled the plank. It stank of excrement, but the odor was not half as bad as it had been back in the cave. Miller’s bladder was overjoyed at the prospect of voiding itself. She sighed as the man produced the Bowie knife again and cut her wrist restraints.
“Just give me a reason,” said the woman. She was still pointing the pistol at center mass. “I’d love to finish you right here.”
Miller had no shame. She unceremoniously pulled down her pants and sat on the seat. Her bladder let go, and for the first time in hours, she felt half-human. She ignored the woman’s hatred and the uncomfortable look from the embarrassed young man. She finished and pulled her jeans up.
“Now, do you reckon a gal can get something to eat around here? I’m half-starved. I’m sure Abraham would want you to feed me something.”
The man almost answered but hesitated. It was clear who was boss.
“Father Abraham,” corrected the woman. “A meal is being prepared, it will be available shortly, but first we’re taking you back to your friends.”
Miller followed without resisting. She felt stronger though the hunger was still chewing up her stomach. She tried to memorize everything around her, working to get a feel for the geography of the area for when they made a run for it. She could see Abraham’s Winnebago parked to one side, the door wide open, and made a note of that. She would need the key if it wasn’t still in the ignition, or maybe Scratch could hotwire it, but she’d worry about all that later. It would be dark in a few hours. Time was running out.
The trip back seemed to go faster now that she knew the way. As they entered the cave again, Miller began wondering if they would actually be safe down there when the nuclear bomb went off at six o’clock. Maybe, maybe not. They might not have a choice in the matter. One way or another, it certainly looked as if she was going to end up with a front-row seat to this phase of the zombie apocalypse.
The man and woman brought her through the amphitheater and back down the tunnel, then into the cavern where her friends were waiting. Miller ignored the stink. She was prepared this time, and allowed the man to secure her hands and feet again. He didn’t, however, tie her tightly or even gag her. Miller suspected the man was offering her a small mercy. He seemed so frightened and ashamed. Miller offered a small smile as he turned away. She exchanged glances with Scratch and Sheppard. Lovell and Rat glared at her, but there was no communication to be found there. Then Elizabeth woke from a dream, and began crying softly.
They took Sheppard next, the kind man supporting him as he hobbled out of the cavern. Miller let them go. When she thought they were far enough away, Miller whispered, “I talked to Abraham. He has something planned for us, and it ain’t good. As soon as everyone has had a chance to use the head, they’re going to feed us something. Be careful of drugs in the food, just in case. I don’t know what happens after that.” Then she was silent.
Time passed slowly. Miller watched as each of them was taken away and brought back, though no one was the worse for wear. When the others returned they were still gagged, so there was no chance to speak and compare notes. When the woman returned, Miller always dropped her head so that the lack of a gag wasn’t obvious.
Elizabeth was the last to go to the toilets. Miller was surprised to see her return completely unbound and carrying a large basket. The man was behind her. He carried a large jug of fresh water. Miller almost spoke but restrained herself when she saw another shadow. It was the stern woman. She still carried the gun.
“We’re going to un-gag you and untie your hands,” the woman said. “The girl will serve you food and drink. If any of you get any funny ideas about running, I have orders to shoot you and pray for your souls later. Got it?”
The man untied everyone’s hands and let them remove their own gags. The woman sat on the floor and toyed with the gun as if it were her lover’s erection. She looked eerie in the torch light, squatting there, a gargoyle on a church roof.
Elizabeth put the basket on the floor. She uncovered some kind of beef jerky and handed it out to the others. They got a hunk of bread each and a few pieces of dried fruit. And there was that precious jug of water. Miller sniffed everything but if there were drugs in there they had no scent. With all those medical supplies, it was a sure bet that Abraham had access to some hard-core narcotics, but at that moment, that was the least of her worries. It was either eat or die. Her mouth watered. She gobbled down the food.
“Fuck,” was the first word out of Scratch’s mouth. “It’s about Goddamn time you cut us all loose.”
Miller tore into her second piece of bread. “Scratch, do us all a favor and keep your thoughts
to yourself.”
“Penny, you’re not exactly in a position to give me orders right now.”
“I am,” said the woman. She stood up and gestured with the gun. “Shut up.”
Scratch opted for discretion. The others followed. They all ate in silence. Miller did her best not to think of where Abraham had gotten this food. The bread and fruit seemed safe enough, if a bit stale, but the beef jerky could have been dried zombie, and she didn’t really want to contemplate eating that. On the other hand, her stomach was moaning as if it were one of the undead. She ate the meal. Her strength returned.
After eating, Miller felt bold enough to start a little conversation. “How are you holding up, Karl?”
“Been better,” Sheppard said. He widened his eyes the way he always did when he was trying to signal something. Maybe he felt better than he was letting on. He had something on his mind. Miller figured she might know what, but they didn’t dare say anything aloud.
“Rat?”
“I’ve had better days, too.”
“Lovell?”
Lovell just belched.
“Scratch?”
“Keepin’ it to myself, as ordered,” Scratch growled sullenly.
“Elizabeth, honey? Are you okay?”
The little girl had changed clothing. Perhaps the man had taken pity on her as well. Elizabeth sat quietly but ignored Miller and just nibbled on a handful of raisins. Miller assumed she was scared and ashamed, or maybe just still in shock. Miller, for her part, felt full for the first time in two days, when they’d had had their last sit-down meal at the penthouse. Her heart rate steadied and her body stopped screaming for sustenance. She’d at least bought a little time.
The woman fiddled with her little phallic pistol. The man stood in the cave mouth looking down at his boots. The others sat back and wiggled their hands or silently scratched their faces, backs, and butts. No one looked her way. Miller could tell she wasn’t exactly Miss Popularity right then, but with the exception of Elizabeth, they were all at least still talking to her. Now she just needed to figure a way for them all to get out of this mess.
The Hungry (Book 2): The Wrath of God Page 19
