Travis did and the three left. True to his word, Hemp hurried into the house to relieve himself before getting on the radio.
He called Gem. She would go scoop up Flex and Charlie in her Mercedes and be there in fifteen minutes.
*****
Standing before the garage door with his hand on the lock, Travis looked back at the others. Charlie’s expression was grim, and she had a pistol behind her back, as did Gem and Flex. Hemp was the only newcomer who followed instructions.
“I’m telling you I got her,” said Travis. “You’re all just going to scare her.”
“She won’t see them,” said Charlie. “But she’ll feel hot lead if she fucks with anyone.”
“Ready?”
“Open it!” said Gem.
Travis did. As though waiting, the Red-Eye stood dead center of the garage door, her arms by her sides. She did not move a step.
The shadow overhead had shifted closer to the garage, and now only provided two or three feet beyond the threshold.
“I would feel better if we were on WAT-5,” said Hemp.
“Dad, do you realize that she can talk? She knows her name, for Christ’s sake. She’s not going to be fooled into believing we’re one of them.”
“True enough,” said Hemp. “If she now possesses logic. Though the Mothers have always had it to some degree. They were never fooled for long by the WAT-5.”
“It bought us time through the masses of rotters to get to the Mothers,” said Gem. “So we could FUCKING KILL THEM!” she shouted the last two words toward the zombie known as Lilith.
“Don’t intimidate her,” said Charlie. “Girl power, bitch.”
“Until she eats those perky tits off your chest,” said Gem. “Don’t let her fool you.”
“She’s not fooling,” said Isis. “I wouldn’t have had you come over here if this was going to be a joke fest. We need to figure out how to keep the people of Lula alive.”
*****
Flex walked toward the Mother, stopping when he drew up beside her. She turned to stare at him for a moment before Travis issued some command that returned her eyes to him. Flex continued to the open garage, walking inside.
Looking over to the corner, he saw what had to be twenty rat carcasses, some merely bones, others with bits of meat clinging to them. Most of the skeletons were crushed, as though she took the entire rat into her mouth and pulverized it.
“Hungry still, but not eating us,” he said when Gem walked up beside him.
“Appetizers,” she said, turning back to see the female. “No matter what happens here, I’ll never trust them.”
“Stinks in here,” said Flex. “Let’s get her to that rubber coated table under the tree back there. Got enough room for all of us and she can sit the fuck down.”
They walked back out and directed Travis where to bring her. He didn’t argue. Not many people argued with Flex while Gem was present, and not many people argued with Gem no matter who was there.
That thought made Flex smile.
To Gem’s surprise, the female understood the concept of a bench, and slid onto one of the curved seats attached to the table. She placed her hands on the tabletop, palms up.
“Turn your hands over, chick,” said Gem. “Looks like you’re about to chant, ommmmmmmm.”
Lilith turned her hands over, placing her palms flat against the table. She turned and looked at Gem, directly in the eyes.
“Obstinate bitch,” spat Gem.
She did not waver in her gaze into Gem’s eyes. A light mist began to form, wisping under an inch from her eyes, but it never increased in volume.
“You’re fucking weak, aren’t you? Not enough strength to try to make me your mind slave. Well, fuck you.” Gem smiled and scooted back an inch or two, just to be safe.
“You’re being kind of rude, Aunt Gem,” said Max.
“Kind of?” asked Flex. “Gemina, give her a break. If we’re gonna figure this out, you need to drop the attitude.”
“Her kind killed Flexy, if you don’t fucking recall!” shouted Gem, leaping to her feet. “Fucking tore him open and killed him just feet away from me. So, don’t fucking tell me how rude I am to this bitch. Fuck her! Fuck her!”
She stormed away from the table and Flex jumped up and hurried after her.
When he reached her, she was in tears.
“Gem, baby, come here.” Flex pulled her into his arms and held her tight to him. She fought him at first, but soon, he felt her muscles let go of their tension, her body folding into him.
“It’s okay, Gem. I know. I see ‘em and I think the same thing. Fuck ‘em. No talkin’, just kill ‘em all. But we need to know what they’ve become. It’s not like it was. They might be more vulnerable to a normal death now. Not just brain trauma. We need to know this shit.”
Gem let out a big sigh and shrugged. “I want to snap her neck, Flex. Nothing I could do would be enough. I could watch her burn to a crisp, and I’d want some popcorn to go with the show.”
“It’s not their fault,” said Flex. “You know that. The gas or whatever it was leaked from the earth. We were immune, they weren’t.”
“That’s why I hate them more,” she said. “I know it’s not their fault; I know they’re driven by instinct, but now it’s different.”
“How?”
“Now she can breathe, and she has a heartbeat. She can utter words, so that means she has to think them before she can say them.”
She turned to glare toward the Mother known as Lilith, who was staring directly at her. Flex wasn’t sure that was wise, but he wasn’t going to correct a zombie.
Gem continued: “All that adds up to the fact that she’s alive again, and I fully fucking expect her to regrow her conscience, too. The goddamned common sense of knowing right from wrong. Because anything else won’t ever be acceptable.”
Gem turned and stormed back to the table, again sliding onto the bench across from the Mother that had upset her merely by existing. She sat back down and folded her arms across her chest. Her gun was on her seat next to where her hand would rest if and when she unfolded her arms.
“Before we begin, are you alright, Gemina?” asked Hemp.
Charlie took her hand and squeezed it. Lilith watched this as though fascinated.
“For now,” said Gem.
“I got you,” said Charlie. “C’mon, girlfriend. Always.”
Gem looked at her friend and nodded, offering a turned-up corner of her mouth.
“Very well,” said Hemp. “Lilith, I understand you can speak.”
Her red eyes cast downward for a moment before she swallowed hard – like she was trying to ingest a mouthful of dirt – then choked out words as dusty as if she actually had eaten stones. “Only … from days ago.”
“So, you recently regained this ability. Do you recall an earlier life where you spoke all the time?”
“No,” came the ragged voice in response.
“We’re here to understand your purpose. What you require. We get that what happened to you was not your fault. It could have been any one of us. We were immune, but many we loved – as I’m sure many loved you – were not immune. They changed. Some into the Hungerers. Some into the Mothers, like you.”
“Hung … erers,” she spoke. “The … males.”
“Yes, the male of the human species. They become the Hungerers. They feed and follow your commands.”
“Our … our … army.”
“Yes, you and others like you have played the part of generals from time to time. We need to understand what you need. How we can coexist. There either must be a way, or one of us will need to perish. From the face of the earth.”
“We are many,” said Lilith, her words coming slowly, sounding like each one was being scraped from asphalt by a metal snow shovel. “Near. Far.”
“And you are likely more than us,” said Hemp. “However, with the current state of your army, and the diminished earth gas, you are not the formidable power you once w
ere.”
Lilith said nothing.
“If we can make an arrangement, can you communicate it to the others like yourself?”
“An arrangement?” asked Gem. “What kind of fucking arrangement? A deal with the devil? Because that’s what it would be.”
“I speak them in mind,” croaked Lilith.
“In your mind,” said Hemp, correcting her cracked English. “Telepathically.”
She gave a slight nod.
“I’m talking about a place, Lilith,” said Hemp. “Where your kind may live – however you wish – and be left alone by humans. We are in touch with several neighboring towns going out two hundred miles, and other than the ones your kind have already destroyed, we can bring them on board; ask them to work with us and to honor a treaty between us and your kind.”
Gem slapped her palms on the table and Lilith’s head jerked toward her, her fingers clawing at the rubber-coated mesh tabletop. “Oh, this shit right here? Takes the cake,” said Gem.
Charlie took Gem’s hand and squeezed it again, then asked, “How much space would they need to call their own? A city? Maybe a whole state? Hell, I’d be happy to give them all of California, Oregon and Washington state.”
“We keep Nevada, though,” said Flex, winking at Charlie.
“I’m afraid at this moment, the jokes are not helpful,” said Hemp, glaring at Charlie and Flex. “Ultimately, if something of that nature takes place, it will have to be a moderate climate,” said Hemp. “They will not be able to deal with extremes in any location. So, no deserts and no mountains, both of which California has. But they also have valleys and coastlines. Even northern Florida might suffice.”
“No … snow.” It was all Lilith said. “Cold.”
“They have very little body heat,” said Hemp. Looking down at her hands, he added, “Of course they do not have the coordination or the mental acuity to put on or remove clothing, to light a fire, or operate a motor vehicle. Where they are led or where they are directed to go, they will remain as long as the area has what they need.”
“You mean fucking people to eat?” snapped Gem.
“I was thinking wildlife,” said Hemp. “Technically, meat is meat, and since the demise of man, the animal population – particularly deer – has flourished. There is no scientific reason human meat would be any more desirable to them than any other mammal, or perhaps even reptiles.”
“Is anybody here but me listening to this conversation?” asked Gem.
Lilith let out a dusty croak that was followed by “… Animals … hard to … catch.”
Hemp stared at her. He knew what she meant. Humans did not have the abilities of animals with highly advanced hearing or senses of smell. Finding them was also not as simple; if you wanted humans, you looked for towns and structures. Animals scattered everywhere else.
“Perhaps some sort of rotating hunting team,” said Hemp. He turned to Lilith and met her red eyes. “If we were to afford you a group of men and women to track down and kill your prey for you – just what you need, mind you – would that be acceptable?”
“Not … kill. Wound.”
Hemp knew what she meant. They were drawn to living flesh, at least initially. If the animal died midstream, it did not matter; they would still consume the entire body, but initially the heart needed to be pumping to infuse the meat.
“That is easy enough,” said Hemp. “If we release you now, where will you go?”
“The ... forest.”
“Do you need to confer with others of your kind?” asked Hemp.
This time her head shook. “They are there. They … know,” she creaked.
“Good then,” said Hemp. “Take the time you need. Then return here, so nobody from town sees you. When will we have your answer?”
“Need days. No hunt.”
“We won’t hunt you. Do not hunt us,” said Hemp. “If you do, we shall reciprocate.”
“We’ll reciprocate like a motherfucker,” said Gem, her teeth gritted. She moved her gun to the top of the table, and Lilith’s eyes went immediately to it. “My first shot will be for you.”
“There is also the earth gas to consider,” said Hemp.
“Earth,” creaked the single word. She shook her head. “Gas.” She slowly shook her head.
“Hemp, come here for a minute,” interrupted Flex, standing from the table and walking a few feet away.
Hemp got up and followed him. Once he reached him, Flex pulled Hemp another ten steps away from the table, looked back, and whispered, “Hemp, buddy, she may not know what keeps her alive at all. About the gas.”
Hemp glanced at the table as well. “That is a good point. I hadn’t considered that since I accepted the fact that she can manage thoughts and speech.”
Flex nodded. “I know they burrow and shit, because they understand it helps them, but I wouldn’t reveal any more. If they figure out it’s the key that allows them to stay alive, they might develop more effective ways to take advantage of it.”
*****
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
Lilith, released by the others, walked through the woods east of Lula, Georgia, toward her kind. They had begun calling outward over the last several darks and lights, drawing all receivers – the Mothers and Hungerers – from as far out as the call could be heard.
It was not an audible sound, nor was it in the form of words. The call entered the minds of the Mothers as an idea, a directive. Almost like new code being executed by a computer processor.
They had begun moving toward Lula, Georgia from all points. There was a negotiation underway; a change that may allow them to live among the living.
To some degree. To feed, anyway. In time, perhaps they could grow stronger and overwhelm the living.
The burrows began to form at her feet, and she stepped around each occupied hole. Here, in the canopied forest, she felt her own strength returning, already infused by the ….
Earth. Gas.
What had they meant?
It did not draw any other memories from her long ago. She did not understand. Whatever it was, it did not spawn from instinct, but from some other abstract knowledge of which she may be incapable of conceiving.
She and her kind now operated solely on instinct.
Trust. The word was known to her, but again, it was more of a concept; an idea. She felt it with the human who had been speaking with her – the male – but she did not feel it with the woman and the other man. Hostility had been coloring their tone.
If there was a consensus among her kind, they would take the next steps. If not, they would amass and attack.
*****
When Doc Scofield, Jim Cole, Eileen Plover, and their newest passenger, Mila Keef, left two hours before dawn to drive the final 369 miles from New Albany, Mississippi to Lula, Georgia, they could not have known they’d inadvertently saved their own lives, too.
The horde converged on the movie house, having scented them there, and thirteen Mothers directed more than 700 rotting males inside the run-down show venue.
They were disappointed to find it empty, with only the essence of cigarette smoke and charred flesh emanating from nearby.
*****
Eileen cried for hours after the killing of Steven Smith. She could not be appeased even after learning his name was Ray Dell Doughty. She had never heard of the serial killer and did not know his crimes.
In her mind, she and Steven had been friends and survivors. She could not know she had been too old to be a subject of his dark desires, and that she was only alive today because of the year of her birth.
While the little girl in the car with them didn’t need to hear the gory details, Doc Scofield knew learning Steven Smith’s true story would go a long way in bringing Eileen Plover back to understanding.
He would pull her aside once they reached somewhere safe and set her mind right. She could deal with whatever other psychological harm the knowledge might cause later. For now, she needed to und
erstand it was good that he was dead.
Mila was quiet as they reached the halfway mark at around Birmingham, taking Interstate 22 to reach the city. They skirted far to the south to avoid any encounters, and rejoined Interstate 20 that would lead them to Atlanta.
They would not be going through that hotbed. Jim Cole had heard the old stories about Atlanta from Flex and Gem. They would take the 285 eastbound to SR-19 northbound, and could take that highway all the way up to the small town of Garland, then cut east on SR-52 that would take them on a winding course to Lula.
They were three hours from home.
In theory.
*****
Hemp was on his radio. “Nelson, come in. Do you read, Nelson?”
A few seconds later, Nelson’s voice responded. “Hemp, is that you?”
“It is, Nelson. I need to speak with you. In private.”
“Where are you?”
“At my lab. How long would it take you to get here?”
“We’re prepping for the big zombie invasion, so is it more important than that?”
“The invasion may have been delayed,” said Hemp. “Which is why I need to speak with you. Meet me when you can. I’ll be here.”
“Okay, Professor.”
“You need to stop calling me that, Nel.”
“I like it. Never knew too many intellectuals.”
Nelson drove straight over. When he got there, he tapped twice on the lab door and opened it. Hemp was inside, some dark powder in a stainless-steel tray in front of him.
“What’s that, bro?”
“Don’t you mean brofessor?” asked Hemp, smiling.
“Hey, that’s good!”
“Nel, what do you know about thermite?”
“I know it’s hard to light and hot as hell once you get it lit,” he said. “I read a bit about it over the years. Even knew some idiot who blew out all the windows of his house at a party.”
Hemp turned. “Really. What happened?”
Dead Hunger | Book 10 | The Remnants Page 31
