Dead Hunger | Book 10 | The Remnants

by Shelman, Eric A.

  “I’ll sleep here. You take that bed. You don’t have to use the wrist and ankle restraints.”

  “Yeah, thanks for the tip. I’ll check for fresh sheets. If that couple in there had a last hurrah, I don’t want any part of their leftovers.”

  Sure enough, there were linens in the closet in the connected bathroom. The toilet tank and bowl were long empty, so a pee out the window might be all they could do unless they wanted to go outside.

  After their sleeping quarters were settled, Cole made sure the door was unlocked and they made their way into the kitchen. It had been turned over by someone, too – probably multiple folks over the years – but there were still some small, mismatched pots and pans.

  Jim slid the small single-burner stove out of his pack along with the cans of expired chili. “Hemp said this stuff is good for way longer than the date. There’s salt and pepper anyway if it’s not.”

  “Just wanna avoid the botulism,” said Doc Scofield.

  “Hemp said you’re more likely to get that from canned fish, or stuff with sausage or ham in it. This is pure beef chili loaded with preservatives from 2009.”

  *****

  When they were done eating, both men patted full bellies and made their way back up to the sex room. It was like night and day walking from the rest of the ransacked building into that space.

  “Time for that pee,” said Cole. He walked to the window and slid it up. They were also soundproof, most likely. Or impact glass. They appeared higher tech than the rest of the house.

  The curtains tied off to one side, Cole unzipped and leaned forward. “Holy shit, Jimmy,” he breathed.

  “What?”

  Rather than answering, Cole shook, zipped, and hurried over to his pack. He reached into a larger pocket and withdrew a pair of powerful binoculars.

  “Fuck, Batman, what else you got in there?”

  “Lubricant,” said Cole, but he did not smile at his own joke.

  “I’m waitin’ for you to smile,” said Scofield. “You don’t tell a joke like that with a straight face.”

  Cole stared through the lenses. “Rotters,” he said under his breath.

  “You’re shittin’ me.”

  “There’s a whole swath of land there where that twister tore through. I guess ….” His voice trailed off as he panned from left to right and saw huge, dead trees dotting the landscape, roots and all, jutting into the air 12 feet or higher. There were fifty of them or more.

  “Those trees used to grow in a straight line, right there,” said Cole. “Where they were all uprooted by the tornado is a deep trench now. That trench is filled with people.”

  “Dead people?”

  “Not dead enough. And not just people. They’re surrounded by the red mist.”

  Jim stood from his bed and moved toward the window, holding out his hand. Taking the glasses, he looked where Cole pointed. “You’re right,” he said. “Why aren’t they spread out more? See how they’re all bunched up there?”

  Jim Cole took the binoculars again and scanned the trough. “You’re right. Where the branches overhang the trench, they’re clustered.”

  “How many? Looks like a shitload.”

  Jim Cole shook his head. “Of all the farmhouses in all the towns in all the world ….”

  “Play it, Sam,” said Scofield, lowering the glasses. “You know what song I wanna hear.”

  “Flex and Gem said they were only coming out at night. How does the trench serve any purpose?”

  “If they need protection from the sun,” said Scofield. “That would explain why they’re not taking advantage of all that space.”

  “True,” said Jim. “They talked about them burrowing into the ground south of Athens.”

  “Then maybe we’re onto somethin’,” said Scofield. “I’ll use the portable ham once we get on the road. See if we can share that intel.”

  “Good. Anyway, the front door’s closed,” said Cole. “I’ll bolt this one. It’s kept people out this long. If they move at night, we’ll be fine in the morning.”

  “Sounds good. Meanwhile, I’ll serenade you to sleep.”

  “Huh?”

  Scofield laughed. “Chili farts. You said this room is well-insulated, so gird up your loins.”

  *****

  The Blazer pulled in as Hemp and Charlie jumped out of the mobile lab and ran toward the truck. Both eyed the bundle on top.

  As Max put it in park, Hemp opened one door and Charlie the other. “Is that what I think it is?” asked Hemp.

  “You wanted her, you got her,” said Flex. “Me and Max caught her and did a Jamie on her. Wrapped her up like a burrito. Or a taquito if you want to get technical.”

  “I see that!” said Charlie. “She a lively one?”

  “Livelier than any of us would like, I’m afraid,” said Isis. “Max and I will help you get her inside. Gem and Flex need to head straight to bed.”

  Flex didn’t argue. His muscles were sore from the brief struggle with the zombie and the bicycle ride. Gem took his arm and they walked toward the house with a wave behind them.

  “Man, we are getting old,” said Charlie. “That would never have happened when they found me in that hospital linen closet.”

  “You going to tell them about your hunt?”

  “What?” asked Max. “Mom, what did you do?”

  “I didn’t do a damned thing!” she said, defensively. “I was just hunting hogs – and I got a big one – and it was commandeered.”

  “By what? A bear? Wolves?”

  “Fucking zombies.”

  “Near here?” asked Flex, stopping in his tracks ten feet from the door. He turned around and started walking back.

  “Flex, tomorrow!” He stopped, looked at the four, then back at Gem. “Please, honey? A shower, then bed?”

  Flex pointed at Max, Isis, Hemp and Charlie. “First thing. You get up early.”

  “We’ll be up!” said Isis and Max simultaneously.

  Flex was 99% sure that was coordinated in the quietest way.

  He nodded and turned back, linking his arm in Gem’s.

  “I knew the shower would get you. Even after all these years.”

  “I’d say you know me too well. It’s just that you look so much better wet than dry.”

  *****

  Inside the lab, they opened the thick, Plexiglas cage and lay the bundle on the floor inside. As Max and Isis knelt beside it, Hemp went out to a drawer and withdrew some blunt scissors.

  “I’m just going to cut this loose. If she wriggles out of it tonight, that’s fine. I don’t want to see her tonight. I’m tired.”

  Neither Max nor Isis argued. They finished, unwrapping one edge of the plastic, then exited and locked the cage.

  They double-checked it, then checked it again before leaving the lab and heading home.

  *****

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  While Doc Scofield got some much-needed rest – and remained true to his promise of uncontrollable flatulence – Jim Cole stood vigilant at the window, staring down at the occupants of the trough torn into the earth by the tornado that had ripped through the town of Miller.

  At 12:45 AM, through the moonlit darkness, they began to file out. Two figures crawled out first, and Jim recognized them for what they were.

  Mothers.

  Even from where he watched, he saw the red eyes glowing. They had clearly recharged enough to venture out for a few hours.

  Where they would go is what disturbed Jim. They were awfully close; maybe close enough to smell, or … to sense.

  He didn’t know how they homed in on their prey anymore. He never quite understood the power of the Mothers when the first apocalypse struck.

  His only consolation was that it seemed there were fewer of them now. When they started to move away from the farmhouse, Cole watched them until they were out of sight.

  He finally settled into bed at 3:00. He slept restlessly and awoke before dawn, still exhauste
d.

  *****

  They met at 7:00 AM at Three Sister’s Bar, which was really run by only two of the sisters.

  Vikki and Victoria ran things now, their sister Kimberly having died in the battle of Kingman. Beauty worked there as well, their only waitress. Colton, Flex and Gem’s adopted son, helped out with the dishes in the kitchen and busing tables.

  Beauty had been one of Maestro’s captives – she was once named Maga 7. There had been a stable of Magas, used to beckon the Mothers – the Red-Eyes – and their Hungerers to the locations Maestro determined. Once there, Maestro would use his hordes to destroy all living beings – or add to his stable of slaves.

  He created them on purpose for their power and abilities, and he used them for whatever he wished. He would expose pregnant women to the eye vapor of the Mothers. When the children were born, he would wait until they entered their birthing years, and he would impregnate them.

  Second generation Hybrids. As such, Beauty was unique in the town. Maybe in the world. She had settled into her role as a normal human being, her green eyes no longer coated with the mist of red that once gave her an otherworldly appearance.

  Maestro was long dead – as were all the other Magas. Isis had given Maga 7 the name Beauty, after also re-naming Alyssa and Megan, who were once Alpha and Omega. They were both dead too, murdered by Maestro’s minions as they escaped Hoisington, Kansas.

  That all seemed like a lifetime ago.

  When Flex, Gem, Hemp, Charlie, and the others came in, Beauty greeted them with a smile as she always did. When Max and Isis came in, her demeanor changed. She looked from them to the others, dropped the menus she carried, and hurried to the young couple.

  “Max, Isis. They are here.”

  Max took a deep breath. He had first met Beauty when she was a prisoner, held in a cage by Maestro. Beauty had given birth to Travis, Maestro’s son. He was the only third-generation hybrid anyone knew of.

  That is, until Max and Isis had a baby. Then there would be at least two of them. And while Max and Isis knew what to expect from watching Travis grow up – and grow he did, appearing to be 10 years old at only 3-1/2 years – they also knew their child would be even more accelerated.

  Both of his or her parents would be hybrids. Maestro was an ordinary human.

  Isis answered. “Yes, Beauty. How long have you felt them?”

  “Days. Maybe weeks. My thoughts have been dominated with the Mothers.”

  “How’s Trav doing?”

  “He has asked many questions. He doesn’t understand the feeling, or his visions. He sees more than I do, and from farther away. I have taught him how to control his siren call.”

  “Good instincts,” said Isis.

  “I did not want him calling them to us, but I also didn’t want to alert anyone, so I asked him to tell no one of his feelings.”

  “Beauty, you have to tell us, at least. When you feel something, you must assume we do, too. No secrets, okay?”

  “I understand.”

  “Where’s Travis now?”

  “In the back, washing dishes.”

  “That’s against child labor laws. Kid’s not even four,” said Max.

  “Can you join us a minute? We’re strategizing.”

  Beauty held up a finger, then went over to Vikki. Within seconds, she had permission to take a break.

  They pushed four tables together – the bar was pretty empty – and began their discussion.

  By the time they began the conversation, Nelson, his wife Rachel, Dave and Serena Gammon, Punch, Trina, and Taylor had joined them.

  Charlie reached out and squeezed Tay’s hand. She had adopted her when her mother died in Concord, New Hampshire, one of the few who had been killed by the short-lived zombie ratz.

  Looking at Trina, Charlie asked, “Where’s Jax?”

  “Moping.”

  “He’s always moping.”

  “I’m ready to cut him loose.”

  “I think everyone in town knows that except Jax,” said Gem. “Don’t you think it’s time you tell him?”

  “You’d think no sex for two months would get the point across,” said Trina.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” said Flex. “First of all, you’re a virgin – and don’t try to tell me different. Second of all, I like him enough, but I didn’t want to stop and pick him up when we left Kingman.”

  “I love you dad, but you’re ridiculous.” Trina was smiling when she said the words – and blushing.

  “Speaking of Jax,” said Nelson, “we went to the bus graveyard today and found the tow truck. We used a pump to inflate the tires and charged up a battery. We had to drain the fuel and we did our best to flush out the fuel lines and injectors.”

  “Good. You get it runnin’?” asked Flex.

  Nelson shook his head. “Not yet. We were out of treated diesel. We filled three 55-gallon drums and added the PRD-D treatment. Should be good to go in a couple of days.”

  PRD-D was a chemical that when added to old diesel fuel, would dissolve any gum or solids that formed over the years and make it viable again. The standard mix detailed in the instructions didn’t work on the years-old fuel, but a decade earlier, Hemp had successfully experimented with the ratios and as long as they could locate more diesel fuel, they could successfully restore it.

  “So, tomorrow it should be ready? Go early, you and Jax. You’re gonna need some heavy equipment to stack them, too.”

  “The buses are pretty much hollowed out shells,” said Nelson. “Seats are gone, engines stripped, stuff like that. They’re light enough we can probably tow two at a time with enough road clearance.”

  Flex nodded. “They should have some propane-powered fork trucks. I’d seen them runnin’ almost 24/7 back before this thing hit the first time. Big Toyotas, Hysters.”

  “Awesomeness. We’ll look for those, too,” said Nelson.

  Hemp withdrew a map of Lula and laid it out on the table. Together, they figured out the location of the barriers, allowing natural, thick foliage to provide the fortification where possible.

  “Okay,” said Gem. “Beauty, Max, Isis? Where do you stand on feeling them? Figuring out where they are?”

  “We’ve been honing our skills again,” said Isis. “Max and I communicate telepathically whenever possible. Beauty, you do the same with us, and with Travis. He can’t fight at his age, but he can contribute.”

  “I plan to spend the day with our Red-Eye,” said Hemp. “Charlie will assist. We’ll try communicating with her, so Beauty, if you would like to join us, we’d welcome your help, too.”

  Beauty looked apprehensive. She said, “I haven’t faced them for a long time. Will Max and Isis come, too?”

  Hemp looked at the young couple. “For a little while? I know you have other items on your agenda.”

  “We’ll come before we go,” said Isis. “We want to return to Athens and speak to them. We might take a quick run down to the hot springs near them to see if they’re still amassed there.”

  “Go armed,” said Gem. “And on WAT-5. Everyone. Hemp, do you have enough?”

  “I have a blend frozen now,” he said. “I can thaw it and have hundreds more doses in a few hours if necessary. For now, we have enough for them to take a good quantity.”

  “I know you two have your tricks, too – but take the WAT-5 anyway. Particularly when you’re around the bitch.”

  “What about me?” asked Beauty. “I would like to be on it.”

  “Plenty to go ‘round,” said Hemp. “We’ll dose everyone before we face her.”

  *****

  The group of five, consisting of Beauty, Max, Isis, Hemp and Charlie, stood outside the trailer. There was a semi-circle of sturdy lawn chairs in which they all sat to dose up on WAT-5.

  “We’re going to put all three of you out at once,” said Hemp. “I recall the time we put you, Max, and you, Isis, out separately. You were tormented.”

  “That was because of her,” said Max, pointing at Bea
uty.

  “Me?” asked Beauty.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” said Isis. “We felt your deep anguish, and it was projected outward so forcefully that it was literally like being tortured.”

  “Our lives – the Magas – we were all tortured then. Until you all saved us.”

  “We saved the ones we could,” said Charlie, her eyes misty. “It was so horrible seeing you all caged. Filthy and doing the bidding of that sick prick.”

  “We did not know our own power,” said Beauty. “We had the power to free ourselves long before you rescued us. But that is in the past. Now we must face this new threat.”

  “Here,” said Charlie, giving each of them a WAT-5 wafer. “Count off and take them. We’ll wake you in a minute.”

  “Here goes another blank spot in my memory,” said Isis.

  “They’re stacking up,” said Max. “Ready? Set? Okay … go!”

  They all put the wafers in their mouths and began chewing. Before their faces could screw up from the bitter taste, they were out, heads bobbed forward.

  “I always feel as though we should allow Max to remain asleep for at least an hour or two,” said Hemp.

  He walked over and knelt beside him. He looked at his son’s face. “A rare moment.”

  Charlie checked her watch. “Wait any longer and I’m going to think you’re stalling, stud.”

  “Okay.”

  He put a hand on Max’s and Isis’ shoulders and gently shook them. Charlie did the same for Beauty.

  They all stirred, looking around at one another as though they had just been hypnotized.

  “I cannot get used to that,” said Beauty.

  Max stood. “Let’s get in there and see what this chick’s plotting.”

  The three who had been out for the rare nap rubbed their necks and rolled their shoulders and moved toward the door. Hemp led, opening it. He and Charlie were already protected, and had a few hours of security remaining.

  When they walked in, the Red-Eye was standing, staring at them. At her feet were the remnants of the pallet wrapping that had contained her.