"I'll be fine." Miller coughed a third time and winced. She sat up slowly. Terrill Lee tried to pretend he hadn't been crying after all. Miller looked around. "Goddamn, that actually worked."
Rat turned to Lovell. "Go secure that helicopter. Tell the pilots to clean out their underwear and suck it up. They're working for us now."
Lovell trotted off with a wide grin on his face.
Terrill Lee, seeing that Miller was safe, sat back on his heels. He cleared his throat. "Let's not ever do that again."
Rat laughed and flipped her dark hair back. Miller looked up at her, smiling. Then there was a quick, sharp sound. Rat looked a bit puzzled. She suddenly coughed up blood and dropped to her knees right next to Miller, who quickly realized that was happening. The wounded Ripper had shot Rat in the back with a hidden pistol. Miller tugged Rat out of the way.
"Motherfucker!" Scratch brought the rifle up to his shoulder. He shot Ripper in the head from two yards back. The bullet passed right through Ripper's skull, leaving only a small round wound in the forehead. His skull evacuated onto the cement. Ripper flattened sideways. His left foot kicked twice and then he lay still.
Terrill Lee had moved from Miller to Rat's side. He felt her body all over, his eyes worried. He held up his hand. It was covered with dark blood. "Might be her liver."
"Rat!" cried Miller. "Say something, Rat."
Rat opened her eyes. She said, "Ouch."
"Hang in there, you hear me?"
Rat tried to smile. Her lips were streaked with bloody phlegm.
"Let's get her on the helicopter and get out of this shit hole," shouted Terrill Lee. He checked his watch. "Jesus, it's almost six o'clock."
Terrill Lee and Scratch lifted Rat carefully. They carried her to the waiting helicopter. Unsteadily, Miller stood up too. She and Sheppard lifted the bag of money and carried it between them toward the Super Stallion. They crossed the dead grass, helping each other along. Lovell lifted them one by one into the waiting aircraft. He strapped them all in, shouting at the two terrified chopper pilots. "Let's go, damn it! Go!"
The whine of the engines increased. The spotlights dimmed down. The world shook and trembled as the huge helicopter lifted gracefully off the ground. It rose quickly and flew east, toward Salt Lake City. Wendover floated down and away like a ghost town.
Miller sat on one of the long benches, headphones now covering her ears. Terrill Lee stood over Rat's prone body on the other side of the helicopter. Miller could hear him speaking softly to her to keep her awake and focused. Telling her she would live, that it was nothing, that she would be okay. Sheppard was right next to Rat with the helicopter's medkit, working feverishly to save her life. He and Terrill Lee got all medical. Their discussion was too technical to keep Miller's interest. Instead she now wondered what Gifford meant when he'd said that Rat knew what was going on. Had she been holding out on them? Probably. And if Rat died, then Miller would never know. Her chances of a cure could dwindle down into nothingness.
Miller looked at Lovell. The big man stood at the cockpit, covering the pilots with a machine gun. He never looked away. Not once.
Scratch got up from his seat. He sat next to Miller. He put his hand on hers and squeezed.
Miller was only a little surprised. She permitted his closeness, but didn't reciprocate.
Scratch spoke without conviction. "Rat's going to be fine, Penny."
Miller thought for a moment, then just said, "For all our sakes, she'd better be."
EPILOGUE
6:00pm – 0 hours 0 minutes remaining
Despite having dreaded and anticipated the moment for nearly twenty-four hours, the nuclear explosion still somehow took Miller by surprise. The sky outside their helicopter went from pitch dark one instant to as bright as the summer sun the next. They heard no sound, but the flare was both magnificent and horrifying.
Miller shut her eyes as tightly as she could, and tried not to picture her hometown disintegrating in a millisecond, splintering boards and broken glass and cracked cement and rotting bodies burned to ash and blown to dust forever. Or all those stupid zealots being showered with radioactive particles that would kill them, slowly or quickly or somewhere in between. Miller hoped it would be quick for them. No one deserved that agony, except maybe Abraham, and he was already a corpse.
Nevada stopped being home in that one instant. Now it wouldn't be anyone's home for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. Miller was an orphan, a transient. She doubted she would ever find a home again. As the harsh light faded in the distance, Miller couldn't help wondering what would happen next. What they'd do now. They had money, a helicopter with a limited amount of fuel, and no idea of what the rest of the world was going to be like in the aftermath of the zombie apocalypse. She wasn't certain she wanted to know. Only one thing was certain.
Somehow, some way she'd keep her friends alive.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Steven: I owe a lot to my sister, Jenny, and my father-in-law, Ron, for pummeling this story to death, catching every gaff and unclear thought, and still wanting to read on. It is a much stronger story for their efforts. I would also like to thank our contest winner, Vanessa B, for lending her name to us. Enjoy the dress, Vanessa.
Harry: Thanks to those who supported The Hungry from the outset. You helped motivate the authors to bring Sheriff Miller and her friends back to life, and I mean that in a good way. I also have to thank my patient wife Wendy and my daughter Paige, who tolerate Dad spending long hours out in the "man cave" making stuff up.
The Hungry 2: The Wrath of God Page 24
