The Hungry 2: The Wrath of God

by Steven W. Booth

  The rest of the band were desperate for leadership and now believed her. They had become very anxious to get as far away from that bomb as they could.

  "You can't just leave us here to die, Sheriff!" said Vanessa. She had taken off her zealot's robe, and now appeared as unassuming as she had back in Flat Rock. Miller took all that with a grain of salt. She looked innocent enough, but she had been willing to make a meal out of human flesh. Miller's gorge rose when she remembered the dried meat they'd all eaten down below. She didn't care to ask where it had come from.

  Miller stood her ground. "We're taking the Winnebago. Your people won't fit."

  "It's not your vehicle," said a bearded man named Gary. He'd been a trial lawyer. Just another kind of cannibal, Miller thought grimly.

  "You want to try and take it away from us?" Scratch had acquired a new weapon and promptly regained his beloved "bad ass" status. He held the Colt .45 revolver in one hand, aimed at the dirt. He spun the chamber obsessively with the other. Miller sighed. All she could think about was the ticking bomb.

  "But you have cars," said Terrill Lee. "They're parked over there." He pointed to two of them. "Your people drove me here in one."

  Gary glared back. "Yes, but that pick-up truck you rode in and the Winnebago are the only vehicles that still run."

  "We used up the fuel and batteries surviving the first few weeks," Vanessa said.

  "What a bunch of clowns," Scratch said, half under his breath.

  Terrill Lee reacted, a huge grin splitting his face. "If they were clowns, they could all fit inside the same car."

  To Miller's surprise, Sheppard, Rat, Lovell, and even Scratch laughed out loud, despite the circumstances. Hell, it was kind of funny.

  "Look, Sheriff," said lawyer Gary, ignoring Terrill Lee, "it's very simple. Either we all get out together, or you will be guilty of murder."

  Rat, who stood nearby, nearly choked on the irony. "You have got to be kidding me. You were going to slaughter us like cattle. So don't you dare take the high road and accuse us of murder!"

  Gary shrugged. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

  Scratch aimed his weapon at the attorney. He squinted playfully, his tongue stuck out and to one side. "Gee, I couldn't agree with you more, counselor."

  "We did what we had to do," Gary protested, weakly.

  "You people ain't exactly the Donner Party," said Scratch. The spinning chamber clicked loudly. Gary twitched and took a step back. Scratch said, "Penny, time's a'wastin'. The sun says we ain't got much left."

  Miller glanced over at Terrill Lee's watch. In just over two hours, this conversation would be moot. They had to beat feet and fast.

  "We really don't have time for this," said Sheppard. He had fashioned a crutch from an old branch, and was soon hobbling around much better than his frail appearance let on. He'd clearly been trying to play helpless in case he'd found an opportunity to help out. Nevertheless, Lovell stood nearby in case Sheppard began to fall. He'd be no good to anyone flat on his ass. "May I speak to you privately, Sheriff?"

  "Two minutes." Miller excused herself from the small cluster of ex-zealots. She motioned for Rat, Scratch, and Terrill Lee to join her. They walked over where Sheppard stood with Lovell. Miller motioned them into a huddle.

  "What's on your mind, Karl?"

  Sheppard whispered. "Look, there's something you don't know about here, Penny. It isn't the nuke that Rat and her team brought that is the real problem."

  "Okay, what's the problem, then?" Miller slumped. She was pretty certain that she didn't really want to hear this.

  "I've been talking things over with Kurt here." He hooked a thumb at Lovell. "He knows his shit. That bomb is going to cause a lot more trouble than just making a bright flash and a big hole in the desert."

  "Okay, what else is it going to do?" Miller asked impatiently.

  Sheppard looked ill, and this time not from the gunshot wound in his leg. "Have you ever heard of Yucca Mountain?"

  Terrill Lee piped up. "The nuclear waste facility? I thought they cancelled that project."

  "They did, back in 2009." Sheppard took a deep breath. "Penny, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I didn't know all the facts."

  "Know what?" Penny looked back at the small crowd. She felt a growing sense of panic and guilt. "Come on, Karl. Out with it. We don't have time for games."

  Sheppard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Crystal Palace wasn't always a medical research facility, remember? The structure was originally built underground back in the 1950s as a nuclear test facility, and then expanded over the decades until it became a biological weapons lab."

  Miller blinked as she caught on. "Oh, no."

  Scratch said, "I don't get it."

  Lovell spoke urgently. "Scratch, because there was no Yucca Mountain to ship nuclear waste to, the Army continued to store the waste right there at the site." He paused to let his words sink in. Scratch stiffened and swore under his breath.

  Rat shook her head sadly. "Lovell is right, Penny. There's a reason General Gifford chose to nuke that place. That little firecracker we installed won't do much on its own. Hell, at this distance, you might as well break out the popcorn for the show. But when all that radioactive waste is vaporized and thrown up into the atmosphere, it will seed the entire area. It's going to make a dead zone over two hundred miles in diameter."

  "Good God."

  "Lovell, tell her the rest," said Rat. "She deserves to know."

  Miller's head snapped around. "What? It gets worse?"

  "One of our mission parameters was to setup a sister bomb at Nellis," Lovell said. "That's why we stopped there too, apart from picking up the bomb we brought with us. It was all top secret. Sorry."

  "But that wasn't Nellis we stopped at," complained Terrill Lee. "It was North Las Vegas Airport. I told you that at the time."

  "We knew," said Rat. "We didn't actually have permission to operate out of a real military base. All of that doesn't matter now. The plain fact is that Nellis is going away very soon, along with most of Nevada, and a few parts of Idaho, California, Arizona, and Utah."

  "Back up," interrupted Miller. "What do you mean a real military base? I know you jokers are mercenaries, but who the hell are you working for, anyway?"

  "We were working for Gifford," said Rat plainly. "I think the question we all want to ask is who was he working for?"

  The sun was sinking. The dispirited crowd started straggling away. Precious time was elapsing. Miller felt her heart picking up speed as the situation clarified.

  "Rat, let me see if I got this straight. You dragged me and my friends here on a one way mission to Hell, gave the secret to making a gazillion zombies to someone with, shall we say, questionable motives, and we're standing here talking while in, what?" Miller turned to Terrill Lee. "How much time?"

  "Two and a half hours," he said glumly.

  "Two and a half hours," Miller continued, "we're not only going to need SPF four million, but we're also going to be covered by a cloud of radioactive waste three states wide. Is that about it?"

  "That pretty much sums it up," Lovell said.

  Sheppard and Rat nodded with agreement. "There it is."

  "And we can't leave just all these people here to die," Miller said, almost as a non-sequitur. "But we don't have room to take them along, either."

  "Wait, why the hell can't we leave them?" Scratch stopped spinning the chamber of his pistol. "We don't owe them dog shit."

  "They ain't exactly victims," Terrill Lee said.

  "Sheriff," said Lovell. "Empty, that Winnebago only goes seventy miles an hour, tops. If we got in that bucket of bolts right now and hauled ass, and took it to its top speed in the time we got left, we might—I repeat, might—be able to get to safety. With thirty or more people aboard, I'd guess it wouldn't get over forty. That isn't nearly fast enough. We'd all die."

  "And, I'm sorry to interrupt, but we've really got to go," Sheppard said.

  M
iller stood there, torn to shreds. If she left these people to die, she would have given up everything that she held dear. Killing zombies is one thing, but she had sworn to protect the living. She was frozen for a moment, stuck between her sense of duty to her friends and her sense of responsibility for her fellow human beings. And then there was poor little Elizabeth.

  "What if we drove them to that school bus back in Flat Rock? That would at least give them a fighting chance to escape." Miller was grasping at straws and she knew it.

  "It might," agreed Lovell reluctantly.

  Rat interrupted. "Give us a moment, would you, gentlemen?"

  Scratch, Terrill Lee, Sheppard, and Lovell all stepped away.

  "Penny," Rat said softly, "I know this is tough on you. I can see you really care about people, and that's all really admirable and shit. But I want to make something perfectly clear to you. We are leaving. If you want to come with us, I suggest you get on board the Winnebago and shut up about it, because the decision has been made. We're leaving. These people are staying here. If you have a problem with that, you're welcome to hang back with them. I'm making this call. Got it?"

  Miller darkened. "We agreed I make the decisions, Rat."

  "Only while you kept making good ones. You almost got us all killed by letting down our guard around Abraham, and we are clearly running out of time, so I figure it's time for new leadership."

  "We all bet on him because we had to, and, if you'll recall, I kept you from being the main course. Besides, I'm in charge because everyone, including your team, flat out does what I say."

  Rat smiled without mirth. "Look at them. They're already out of here. Our chances of survival go down every minute we stay here, and you're the only thing standing in the way of leaving." Rat poked a finger at Miller, almost, but not quite, touching her t-shirt. "Now we both need to get this straight. If you want to live, you'll come with us and right fucking now. Make up your mind."

  "What about Elizabeth? She's coming with us too."

  Rat cocked her head. "I thought you knew."

  Miller's heart couldn't take much more of this.

  "Knew what? Where is she?"

  Rat's mask slipped a bit. The sadness in her dark eyes gave her soul away. She lowered her voice. "Penny, why do you think those first three zombies looked so fat and happy?"

  Miller stopped breathing. Her eyes burned.

  Rat walked away, already signaling the others to follow. Lovell fell in line behind her. Scratch, Terrill Lee, and Sheppard looked at Miller, and she stared back. Miller made up her mind. She went up to the three of them. "Rat is right," she said. "Let's go." They began walking in the direction of the Winnebago.

  "Uh, Sheriff?" Gary the lawyer. "We were in the middle of a conversation."

  "I'll be with you in a moment, counselor," Miller said as she walked. She was already mad enough to spit nails, but they wouldn't get very far if they tipped the frightened zealots off to their plans.

  "Wait! Where are you all going?" Some of the zealots returned from the rocks. They weren't pissed off yet, but Gary might try to lead a rebellion.

  Rat stopped. "Calm down, damn it! We're just going to clean Abraham's crap out of the Winnebago to see how many of you can fit. Don't freak out. Relax. You won't be here much longer."

  "Don't you want any help?" Vanessa called.

  "I think you have all done enough already," Rat said with a straight face. She stayed behind casually but on guard. Miller and the others knew they just had to reach the Winnebago. They covered ground. One by one they got inside. The stragglers watched dully, perhaps used to being screwed over by the leadership. Finally, Rat trotted to catch up. The sunshine was fading and a brisk wind rose up as if to push them from behind.

  "Lovell," Rat said, throwing him the keys. She stepped up into the vehicle, "let's get the fuck out of here."

  "You bet your ass." He inserted the key and turned the engine over. It started smoothly, and Lovell put it into gear. Miller cracked open her window. She studied the faces of the remaining zealots. Perhaps they deserved their miserable fate, but she didn't want to take any pleasure in what was about to happen.

  "Get food and water and supplies," Miller called. "Go deep underground and stay there for as long as you can." She leaned back, relieved of command and not sorry to have forfeited this particular decision. It wouldn't be easy to live with either way. Lovell floored the accelerator, spewing dust and debris. He yanked the wheel in a manner that brought back memories of Abraham.

  They were gone before any of the zealots could react. Lovell called out, "Where to, Rat?"

  Much to Miller's surprise, Rat hesitated this time. She didn't know the territory, didn't know exactly where to go. So Miller answered. "North to Elko, east to Salt Lake. We should be able to get just far enough away that we'll be safe. Besides, I know some people in Salt Lake who can help us, provided they are still alive."

  Rat nodded gratefully. Lovell roared down the dirt road. He took them out of the recreation area and down onto the deserted highway. He mashed his foot down on the gas pedal, and brought the Winnebago up to full speed. It rattled and complained but covered ground. No one spoke for a long, long time. They were all just glad to be moving again.

  "So, T. L.," said Scratch loudly, "what the hell happened to you back there?"

  "It's kind of a long story,"

  "We have maybe two and a half hours," said Sheppard. "More, if Lovell can get some distance between us and that bomb. What happened? How is it that they let you live?"

  "I'm just damned happy to see you." Miller smiled and held his hand.

  Scratch steamed. "You know, on second thought maybe we should talk about something else." He sat down heavily in the passenger seat with his back to them. "Like how much it sucks that little kid got sacrificed."

  "No," Miller said, firmly, "we're not ever going to talk about that. Ever." Her eyes told Scratch to drop the subject. Miller had felt enough heartache to last a lifetime. Elizabeth was the final straw. She resolved to toughen up.

  Lovell turned his head to look back into the cabin. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I want to hear this. You were zombie-burgers, last we heard of you, Terrill Lee. What the hell happened?"

  "What can I say? They didn't kill me, they took me prisoner. I was actually kidnapped by zombies. They didn't even try to bite me."

  Scratch was so stunned he forgot to be upset that Miller was fawning over Terrill Lee. "Say that again?"

  "I don't understand it myself. Karl, you saw me get dragged off by those things?"

  "You bet your ass I did," Sheppard said.

  "Well, three of them took me around the back of the supermarket and dragged me into the storage room. They were different from the others we've seen, smarter even. They worked together. I know how crazy that sounds, but it's true."

  "I doesn't sound crazy to me," Miller said. "Not anymore."

  "Anyway, I kept waiting for them to bite me and end it, but instead they threw me into the cold room and left me locked in."

  Miller and Sheppard exchanged glances. Sheppard said, "This is not good."

  Terrill Lee continued. "There were some other people in there along with a couple of dismembered corpses. It was the damnedest thing I'd ever seen. Two or three zombies would come to the door every thirty minutes or so, and this one guy who was there would hack off a part of one of the corpses and feed it to the zombies. The guy was just soaked in blood and gore. I didn't recognize him from town, so I just started thinking of him as Sweeney Todd. He explained that zombies want fresh human flesh. And according to his theory, when a zombie bites a living person, the virus gets into their system so fast that it kind of contaminates the meat.

  "That's probably true. Zombies don't eat zombie meat," Miller said. "They can't live on that. Makes sense."

  "Yes," Terrill Lee said. "So they're too damn hungry, right? Most of the time they just go for the kill regardless of the fact that they will probably only get a little bite of flesh b
efore the next victim then becomes a zombie too. But here is the kicker. If they are well fed they seem to be able to access some higher faculties that we didn't know about. Hell, they can actually reason in a primitive way. They can communicate. They can strategize. I'm guessing they're more like a pack of wolves than dumb-assed dead people, but there it is."

  Miller and Sheppard locked eyes. That's got to be it, thought Miller, and she could tell that Sheppard was thinking it too. Things were getting worse and worse by the day. Maybe the bomb is a good thing after all.

  "So these zombies would come to the door, take a leg or an arm or a torso, and chow down. And Sweeney Todd—the only one of us with a coat, by the way—was feeding them. The rest of us stood around freezing and being scared out of our minds. Eventually, he ran out of corpses, you know? So Sweeney has to come after one of the other people in the cold room. There's just me, a man named Frank, and a woman named Eunice. Frank and Eunice were exhausted and paralyzed by fear and disgust, almost ready to just lie down and die to get it over with. And I can't say as I blamed them."

  "But you weren't," Miller said. "Not old Terrill Lee."

  "Hell, no. So that asshole Sweeney Todd comes after Eunice with his big machete, and Frank is going to let him take her. I pick up a big can of tomatoes and hit him on the head. I crack the fucker's skull open and snag his weapon. The zombies come to the door, and I chop them into little bits with the machete. We get out."

  "Where are they now?" Rat asked.

  Terrill Lee shook his head. "At first I think that Frank and Eunice are just too cold to show me how happy they were that I rescued them from Sweeny Todd and the zombies, but then it turns out that they are members of that cult back there. They are actually sacrificing themselves for Abraham or something like that. So now they are out of zombies, and their butcher is dead, they don't know what to do. I have the only weapon."