Dead Hunger | Book 10 | The Remnants

by Shelman, Eric A.

  Because there had been no zombies. So far, there still weren’t, as far as he knew.

  He set the oil aside to warm to the point where it could be dispensed through a dropper.

  “Charlie, please get the premixed jar out of that freezer there.”

  “Sure thing, babes,” said Charlie. “Much as I don’t like needing to.”

  “Let’s hope this is only a precaution.”

  She went to the special freezer that ran on propane and electric power, so if the solar charge ran out at some point, it would still maintain temperature as long as they had gas. The cooler was much smaller and easier to keep cold 24/7.

  From within, she withdrew a sealed mason jar. It was half full, though it would not have mattered if it were only a trace amount in the bottom.

  “Usual amount?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She opened a drawer and withdrew a glass stirring rod, then twisted the lid off the specimen container.

  “Just a bit,” he said. “You remember the drill.”

  “I do,” she said. “Where do you want it?”

  “I intend to let it grow for a while. We’ve been out for quite a while, so we need to make a good quantity, just in case. Use one of the 40-centimeter glass plates.”

  “Fuck!” swore Charlie.

  Hemp turned toward her. “Charlie, this could be a temporary thing,” he said. “That flow is so minimal it may dissipate before it has the chance to affect anything or anyone.”

  “I’m just glad we still pierce their brains before we bury our dead,” she said.

  “We can’t embalm, so it’s the next best thing,” said Hemp. “Don’t worry, Charlie. We will do what we have to do – like always.”

  She nodded and used the glass rod to withdraw a small amount of the mixture. It was the zombie eye vapor blended with the earth gas, frozen so it wouldn’t mix together and congeal. Once warm, it would begin to do what it did so well – multiply.

  “Let’s sit while we wait,” said Hemp.

  “I gotta call Max,” she said. “He’s late.”

  She pressed the radio button. “Hey, fruit of my loins, it’s your mother.”

  A second later, a voice came back. It was muffled, as though her son’s mouth was full. “Hey, mom. Sorry. Eatin’ a sandwich.”

  “What kind of sandwich?”

  “Turkey, cheese, mayo. What are you doing?”

  “Not fucking off eating sandwiches,” said Charlie, eyeing Hemp. “Where are you?”

  Not really a question. More of a demand.

  “Athens.”

  “Still feel the pull thing?”

  “Stronger,” he said. “I think.”

  “You think? Put Isis on.”

  There was a delay. Another voice came on.

  “Hi mom.”

  “What’s the scoop?”

  “We needed to eat, and we found this sandwich shop. Sarah’s Sandwiches. Sarah made sandwiches for everybody else and gave me a pile of meat.”

  “That’s my girl. What’s the story with the pull?”

  “Still to the south. We’ll be back on the road soon.”

  Charlie checked her watch. “It’s after 5:00. Why don’t you guys bed down in Athens for the night. I don’t think you should be searching for a colony of zombies at night.”

  “Mom,” said Isis, “we don’t even know what they are, or what the pull is. It could just be related to the gas itself – not anything that changed.”

  “I’d feel better. Humor me.”

  Another voice came on. “Bitch, you just wish you were here. Your crossbow’s gathering dust. Loser.”

  Charlie gripped the radio. “Take care of my baby and call me when you’re buttoned up for the night.”

  “Maybe,” said Gem. “Over and out. Love ya, sweetie.”

  Charlie put the radio down.

  “You really wish you were there, don’t you?” asked Hemp.

  “Much as I love you … yeah. Of course.”

  *****

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Gotta lock up now,” said Sarah. Gem had noticed her get more and more on edge, the later the hour grew. It was almost 6:00 PM when she said, “We’re done. If y’all want to stay in here tonight you can, but there’s no bedding.”

  Gem stood and went over to Sarah. “Can we talk? In private?”

  “Not that private,” said Isis, walking up. She still wore sunglasses. Sara stared at her, her expression questioning.

  “May we talk, please?” asked Gem. “We’ll explain why this one is wearing sunglasses.”

  Looking between them, she finally nodded. “Sure. Come on back.”

  Gem caught Max staring toward them, and he raised his arms and gave an exaggerated shrug. Gem waved him over.

  He sprang up and hurried over. “What’s up?”

  “We’re going to share with her what’s going on. You’re wearing sunglasses, too. Might as well join us.”

  Max nodded and the four went into the back.

  “Gem?” called Flex, before they closed the door.

  “Back in a minute, sweetie,” she called, latching the door behind her.

  “You have questions for us,” said Isis. “And we have questions for you. Fair trade.”

  “Depends on your answers,” said Sarah. “First off, why the sunglasses?”

  “Don’t freak out,” said Gem. “Max, Isis?”

  They both removed their glasses.

  Sarah gasped. “Oh, my God!”

  “Shh,” said Gem, taking the woman by the arm. “They’re human. Not zombies, not like the Red-Eyes. They were affected by them before they were born though, so they have a connection with them when they exist.”

  “When they exist?” asked Sarah.

  Gem nodded at Max and Isis. “Isis, why don’t you share a bit,” she said.

  Isis spoke: “Sarah, Max and I have a connection with the Red-Eyes. That’s what we called the mothers when they were controlling the hordes.”

  “I knew they were controlling them,” Sarah almost whispered. “Well, I thought I started to know. Whenever they’d do something that scared the hell out of us – like they were getting smarter or something – I saw them there. The pregnant ones.”

  “That’s because the regular hordes were like their … puppets. Zombie puppets,” said Isis. “They would direct them, like generals in combat.”

  “That explains a lot.”

  Gem stared at her. She had only begun to realize how much they, as a group, had figured out about the monsters that once terrorized the world, compared to everyone else.

  She, Flex, Hemp, Charlie, and the others knew so much more about how they were created, their physiology, their movements and relationship to one another.

  So many people just saw zombies. The walking dead. They saw them, and they ran, never trying to understand what drove them, and what might stop them on a large scale.

  Without Hemp, who knows where they might be.

  The chronicles they had written were copied and reprinted, and distributed to those who had expressed interest, but now that the zombie phenomena appeared to be over, the interest had fallen off drastically.

  Isis said, “Anyway, tell us why you hide at night.”

  “Them,” she whispered. “The ones with the red eyes.”

  “What about them?” asked Isis. “They’re gone. It’s over.”

  Sarah slowly shook her head. “No. They’re not. Neither are the others. The … regular ones.”

  Gem looked from Isis to Max, then back at Sarah. “We were in Kingman, Kansas. The gas stopped flowing, and they all fell. All of them died. Without a doubt the Hungerers died.”

  “Hungerers?”

  “Yes,” said Isis. “It’s what the Mothers call them – in their minds.”

  “What?”

  “Later, we’ll explain. Anyway, regarding the Mothers, some had brief moments of clarity, where they knew something had happened to them, but it was a split-second due to their d
ried-out brains. Then they all died. Or we thought they did.”

  Sarah seemed to think a long time. She looked at each one of them for a full second or longer, meeting their eyes. Perhaps she wanted them to understand she was dead serious.

  “They seem the same,” she said. “They’re fast, and their eyes are as red as yours. If you spot them at night – their eyes glow – it’s too late. Most of the time. They see you before you see them, and not very many make it.”

  “Then how do you know that? Who survived to share that with you?” asked Gem.

  “We didn’t know where the missing people were going at first. Thanks to Manuel, we found out and took precautions.”

  *****

  Despite the late hour, Sarah promised they would rouse Manuel Ortiz to come to the sandwich shop. She moved to a stainless-steel drawer on the end of one of the large food preparation tables. Opening it, she withdrew a radio.

  “Manuel O, come in. Manuel? It’s Sarah.”

  “Hey, sissy,” came a voice. It had a Mexican accent. “What’s cookin’?”

  “Not you, not right now,” said Sarah. “I need you to break some protocol and get over here now.”

  “You at the sandwich shop?”

  “Yes. With some people who came down from Lula. Good people.”

  “So, you’re okay?”

  “I’m not being held at gunpoint,” she said. “It’s almost dark. Hurry.”

  “How we gonna get back?”

  Sarah looked between them and raised her eyebrows in question.

  “Max and I have a feel for them,” said Isis. “We know very well when they’re nearby. We’ll get you back. Both of you.”

  “You catch that?” asked Sarah, who had been holding the button the entire time.

  “Got it. Be there in a jiffy.”

  “Thank you.”

  *****

  Manuel Ortiz was 5’-5” tall, had a belly built out of tortillas, and his smile was whiter than a mouth that had survived 3,000 Crest Whitening Strips.

  “Right after the dead fell, I wondered how I’d use the skills I’d adapted during the apocalypse. I didn’t want to get out of practice in case it started again, so instead of getting lazy about it, I started learning more.”

  Now, everyone was listening, as they had moved out of the back room back into the main restaurant. Everyone was seated around the tables, staring at the young man.

  The Hispanic man pulled out a sling. It had a large, leather pouch and what appeared to be paracord of some type tied to each end of the leather. “I keep this with me wherever I go, and I’m good at it. I’m like goddamned Samson with this thing, which also explains why I don’t cut my hair.”

  “You don’t need an excuse for that, bro,” said Nelson.

  “Claramente,” Manuel said, smiling. “Anyway, I was in the woods one evening, about three months ago. It was just getting dark. I like that time of evening, because the deer begin to get brave when the dusk comes, and I can sneak up on them.

  “I happened to be downwind from them. The smell hit me first, and I remember getting a chill like I hadn’t had since the zombies first came, when I was just a little kid. I can’t tell you how many goosebumps I had all over my skin. I wanted to run.”

  “Dude, I wanna run just hearing the story,” said Nelson.

  “Did you get eyes on it?” asked Dave Gammon.

  Manuel nodded. “Si. Big eyes. Wide eyes. She had the pelo lacio – how you say, the very straight hair? I remember sinking down behind a fallen tree, praying.”

  “You didn’t try to take her out?” asked Flex.

  “I have since,” he said. “But I never go out alone anymore, and we head back right after dusk because the deer aren’t worth it. I have a friend who traveled here with me. His name is Koko. I met him in New York, at a shipyard there. It was down at the docks when I was searching container ships for food, many years ago.”

  “Why’s he significant?” asked Gem.

  “Because we’re best friends,” said Manuel. “And when I need a buddy system – that’s what Sarah calls it – I always call Koko. He looks out for me out there.”

  “How so?” asked Trina.

  “Ay, Chihuahua,” said Manuel, smiling at Trina. “Eres muy bonita,” he said.

  “Say gracias,” whispered Isis, smiling at her.

  “Why?”

  “Because he thinks you’re hot.”

  Trina laughed. “Gracias.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Nelson, turning to Manuel. “You said Koko? Is he Greek?”

  Still transfixed by Trina’s thank you, Manuel did not answer right away. To Trina, he said, “De nada.”

  “Manuel, you said Koko, right? Big guy?”

  “How’d you know?” asked Manuel. “Anyway, before I met him, I opened this one container. He was watching me I guess, but I didn’t know it. I heard nothing before I opened it, and after I swung the doors out, I was letting my eyes adjust to the darkness to see what was inside. Next thing I knew, I was stumbling backward, and I fell off the back of the trailer. I hit my cabeza hard, I guess, because I don’t remember anything else. Just what Koko told me later.”

  “Zombies inside that container?” asked Nelson.

  “Like twenty of them. I guess it was a human trafficking ring or something. Hell, how was I supposed to know?”

  “Koko saved you?” asked Taylor. “How?”

  “Pinche machine gun,” laughed Manuel. “At least that’s what he told me later. Anyway, I woke up on a couch in the dockmaster’s office. Koko was there to tell me what happened.”

  “Where are you from?” asked Nelson.

  “Mexico.”

  “Is this Koko dude’s real name Gregor Kokinos? He’s Greek, right?”

  Manuel practically spun around. “How the heck did you know his name? You know him?”

  “I spent some time with him in New York right after everything crashed. Is he a big dude?”

  “What do you mean? Fat or tall?”

  “Both.”

  “Tall, but not fat,” said Manuel. “Not anymore, anyway. He was bigger when I met him, come to think of it.”

  Nelson turned to the others. “Koko and I connected and helped one another. We did our best to help some other folks out of trouble in New York, too, then he took off. Said he was going to see about his family in Greece.”

  “He tried, man,” said Manuel. “He got there, too. That guy can drive a big ass boat.”

  “Did he find his family?”

  Manuel’s face drooped. “No. Well, yeah, but it was too late. Most of them were with a horde. He had to kill a lot of his family.”

  “I was so afraid of that,” said Nel. “But he was so hopeful, I didn’t try to talk him out of it.”

  “It was something he needed to do, from the way he talks. It was a lot of years ago. He’s got a wife now.”

  “Yeah?” said Nelson, smiling. “Good. He deserves that.”

  “Looking at you, he’ll probably remember you.”

  “I’m the last hippy, bro. Where is he now, man?”

  “At his house, probably.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Nobody goes out at night. I can radio him, though.”

  “I’d kinda like to surprise him. If we have to wait until tomorrow, we’ll do that.”

  “Do you know where their lair is?” asked Isis.

  “What?” asked Manuel.

  “Their nest. Where do they live?”

  “Who?”

  “The zombies.”

  “Best to leave them alone,” said Manuel. “They only come out at night. It’s not much of a problem to deal with compared to the old days. Or the old years.”

  “How many are there, do you know?” asked Flex. “We talkin’ a hundred? A thousand?”

  “They never come at us in one group,” said Manuel. “They’re usually spread out in the woods.”

  “They circle you?” asked Isis. She looked at the others. “Still using their ps
ychic abilities to communicate. They flank and move in for the kill.”

  “I only got caught up in that once, and I was able to climb a tree and just hide until morning.”

  “Are they light-sensitive or something?” asked Gem. “Have you seen one in the daytime?”

  “They only saw me the one time. When I was trying to escape, I hit them with the light. They flinch and cover their eyes. I don’t think they can see anything.”

  “Nobody can really see anything with a bright light in their face,” said Flex. “Doesn’t mean they’re blind in daylight.”

  “This sounds like more of an adapted society of ex-Red-Eyes,” said Isis. She turned to Manuel. “All women. Right?”

  He shrugged. “It’s all I’ve seen, but like I said, I was more focused on the ones right in front of me and they were all female. Every one of them with torn-out bellies.”

  Everyone jerked to stare at everyone else.

  “Awareness,” said Isis, almost in a whisper. “They … recovered, I guess. But they still have a taste for human flesh.”

  “But they figured out their babies were dead,” said Gem. “Useless, like wearing a backpack filled with rocks. Just slowing them down.”

  “So they ripped them out?” asked Nelson. “Bleh.”

  Max paced over to a table and dropped down into a chair. “This is nuts. How many people has your town lost to them?”

  “The disappeared? That’s what we call them. The number is accurate. It’s seventeen.”

  “Seventeen disappearances?” asked Gem. “Ever find any trace of them?”

  Manuel and Sarah both nodded slowly. “They have a burial pit,” said Sarah. “Most of us have seen it. We don’t disturb the bones, though. They’re shifted around between times we go there. And it can’t just be our town they feed from. There’s another couple of settlements south of where they are. We see new bones there sometimes without losing anyone.”

  “So you do know where they are,” said Isis.

  With an almost imperceptible glance between them, Manuel and Sarah both nodded. “Not far from their bone pit. Please,” said Manuel. “We’ve seen the paths, but we’ve never gone too close, except for that time I got treed. Please, don’t make them mad.”