*****
We left the police station without incident at around 4:30 in the morning. We made it to the Suburban without encountering any people or any infecteds, and I had them all get inside the SUV while I checked on Jamie.
My gun at ready, and found Jamie still in her cocoon, undisturbed. I thought again about her hunger. She wasn’t moaning now. I placed my hand on the bundle and said “Sis, if I can somehow wake you from this nightmare, I will. I promise you.” I got back in the driver’s seat. I was still wide awake.
After stopping at a gas station that clearly still had power, and being surprised that my swipe credit card still activated the pump, I got back in and started the engine.
I told Hemp what the situation was as we rolled along Thomasville Road, AKA Interstate 61, heading north. Gem volunteered to sit in the back seat with Trina, while Hemp sat in front.
“I want to warn you, Flex,” said Hemp. “I’ll talk about this with you, fully realizing it’s sensitive. When I refer to your sister, I am going use the same terminology and analyses that I would with regard to any of the infected, so please, do your best to forget that she is so closely related. It’s not my intention to offend.”
“I got it,” I said. “Understood.”
“Okay, the first thing I want to tell you is that the likelihood that there will be a cure anytime soon for such a widespread, fast-moving disease – we’ll call it that for now for lack of a better term – is almost nil.”
He paused for a moment, as though to allow it to sink into my thick brain. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, so it was probably smart of him. I said nothing, but nodded at him.
“Okay, now, think odds. Of the people who are capable of finding the cure to this, scientists such as myself – and many of them far smarter than me, I might add – a large portion are inevitably becoming infected. It’s the odds playing out, which means there is at least a 50/50 chance that the person who was going to discover the cure for this, if one can be found, is one of the infected.”
Gem added, “And judging from what we’ve run into already, I’d say it’s much greater odds than 50/50. I’d put it at closer to 90/10. And that’s conservative. We’ve literally run into nobody alive who was calling for help but you.”
Thomasville Road turned into Interstate 319. Along the way we came across several of the dead-but-not-dead things, but we encountered no living human beings. This was dashing our hopes, encounter by encounter. By the time we passed, they were too far behind us to be a threat. Most were . . . eating, and a little distracted.
“I don’t know about leaving them all alive. They’d kill any of us, so aren’t they the enemy?” Gem looked at me. “I’m sorry, Flex. But –”
“Gem, you don’t have to walk on eggshells with me. But I don’t want to call them zombies, or creatures or monsters, or anything like it. How about . . . let’s call them abnormals for now.”
Hemp nodded. “Abnormals. That works. And Flex, let me share with you that I think it’s good we have one of them subdued. The only way a cure of any kind will be found is if they can be analyzed, examined.”
“I don’t want her hurt in any way, Hemp. Not one hair. I’m worried about her hunger. She could –”
I stopped talking. I wasn’t sure she could die. I didn’t know enough. I looked at Hemp. “Can she die?”
“She can be killed, as you know already, with trauma to the head – most likely the brain. But as for starvation? It’s too soon. They are clearly ravenous. This is what drives them. And that’s important for you to remember about your sister. This is not a vindictive or vengeful thing, what they’re doing. They are hungry, and that’s all they are.”
I nodded. “Wolves and bears can’t be blamed for killing, either. It’s a survival instinct. But they kill just the same, and when their populations get too high, it’s hunting season. Gem’s right.” I felt her hand on my shoulder. I was glad for it. What I said next, I didn’t want to say. But I knew it was true.
“We’ve got to kill them all.”
But when we reached the state line, that seemed next to impossible. We needed fuel again, saw a Texaco sign brightly lit, and had gotten off at the first exit inside Georgia.
At least 50 of them blocked the road, some hunched over bodies, feasting. Others moving toward our truck. Some moved slowly, lackadaisically, but others, if it were possible, seemed excited at the prospect of us, and moved at a faster clip. I hoped it was just my imagination.
“Holy fuck,” said Gem.
“You said another really bad word, Gemmy.”
“Baby, you get on the floor. Now.”
“Get the 100-rounders,” I said. “We’re going to need them.”
Hemp already had one in each hand and Gem’s was leaning against her door. With the abnormals twenty-five feet from the Suburban, we opened the doors and stepped into our biggest battle yet.
Dead Hunger: The Flex Sheridan Chronicle Page 14
