“We’re going shopping,” Charlie announced, her crossbow strap over her shoulder.
Earlier, she had been in the yard with Gem showing her how to use the weapon. The sight on the bow was similar to a long rifle, but gauging the drop of the arrow at a given distance was the true trick. Bullets didn’t fly near the same as a long shaft, so there was a learning curve.
From a distance, as I typed on this chronicle, I occasionally looked up and smiled at the two. Charlie had set up a target made out of some old, padded chair seats that were in my storage shed. One on top for the head, two side-by-side for center mass, and one lower for the groin area. She disregarded and provided no representation for the legs . . . I suppose she never considered shooting to maim.
“What are you shopping for this time?” I asked, leaning back from the desk, stretching.
“Canned meat, vacuum packed shit that’ll last forever. We need to get stuff with high calories and lots of preservatives.”
Today Charlie was wearing a tee shirt that said “Animals Taste Good,” with silhouettes below the saying of a pig, a cow, and a chicken. With the shirt she wore her usual blue jeans with lots of holes.
Gem stuck her head in behind Charlie, Trina in tow.
“Did you see me with that crossbow, Flexy? I fucking kick ass with that thing.”
“Gemmy!” said Trina. “Bad word!”
“Look, Trini,” Gem said, kneeling down. You might not have noticed at your budding age, but sooner or later you’re going to have to realize that we’re in a new world.”
I glared at her for a moment, and she held up one finger, telling me to let her finish. I silently agreed.
She continued: “First rule: In the new world, fuck is not a bad word. It’s just a very versatile word that can be used as a noun, a verb, or an adjective. Shit is right there with it, and it can almost be used anywhere fuck can.”
I laughed. “You may not be as good with the crossbow as Charlie, baby, but you sure know how not to waste a good global catastrophe.”
“You watch,” she said. “You take care of Trini, okay? After we get some food we’re hitting Dick’s Sporting Goods. I’m getting me a top-of-the-line crossbow. Charlie wants a new one too, now that they’re affordable and all.”
“And all,” I echoed.
“How’s the book coming?” asked Charlie.
I’d told everyone I was writing all of this down just in case something happened. I didn’t know how many people in the world were safe enough to spend the time writing rather than running or worrying or just plain being eaten, but I didn’t want to risk that nobody would. Surely there would be some future generations of humans that would want to know what some of us went through.
“Very good. I’m almost there, caught up. In fact, I am here. I’m going to have to wait for shit to happen before I can write more, actually. And if you don’t mind, I’d like that shit to be boring, if you think you can help me out on that.”
“We’ll do our best,” Gem said, leaning down to kiss my mouth. I rested my hand on her arm.
“Take your radios, weapons, flares, everything. And you know the drill. Double tap if you get into trouble.”
I reached into my desk and pulled out my radio, flipping the power switch on.
“Remember, double tap the talk button if you encounter some of them, single tap after that if you need me to get to you fast, and triple tap me if the threat is eliminated.
“Double, then triple or single.”
“Yes. Easy to remember. Single is quick and you need me there quick.”
“Good,” said Gem. “We’re going now, dad.”
“You are one funny girl. Be home by eleven.”
They smiled and headed to the Suburban even though Gem preferred the Crown Vic. She clearly thought she needed payload capacity for this particular shopping trip.
As I watched them walk away, Gem with her reliable Suzi on her shoulder, Charlie with her weapon of choice, I marveled at what a tight group we’d become and how fast it had all happened. Charlie had only been with us a day and a half, but it was as though she had been with us for months. Hell, years.
I wondered if the honeymoon would end, or if we’d all just grow closer. I knew I’d never let Gem go again, and I knew instinctively that she felt exactly the same. We’d made that mistake once, and you don’t get second chances dropping around to see if you wanted them all that often.
I won’t need a third chance.
I started writing more as I remembered it. I filled in areas of the story, changed some stuff. Generally cleaned it up.
I flipped off the computer monitor as Hemp came into the dining room where I’d set up to write. Trina had fallen asleep on the sofa in the living room, and remained out. Turns out the new world where fuck was no longer a dirty word really tired her out.
Gem and Charlie had been gone a long time and I was getting impatient. Shit, I know Gem is probably better on her own than me, and doubly so with Charlie by her side, but it doesn’t mean I’m not smart enough to know anyone can get caught off guard now and then. I picked up my two-way and pushed the button.
Violating the “click to start” rule we’d agreed upon, I said, “Fuck me, Gem. Can’t you guys check in now and then?”
I sat down on the sofa next to the lightly snoring Trina and waited. There was silence for at least twenty seconds before a response came, slightly sarcastic
“May I help you?” came over the radio.
I clicked on again, waving at Hemp to sit. “Just checking,” I said. “How’s it going?”
“We’re five minutes out. And we only ran into a group of about eight of them. They didn’t see us. We were downwind, and behind them, so . . . lucky.”
“Where were they?” I asked.
She clicked back on and said, “I’ll talk to you in a minute,” then clicked off.
Just about six minutes later she and Charlie strode into the room. “How are you feeling?” Gem asked, leaning down to kiss me.
“Feel great,” I said. “Perfect. What did you guys find?”
“What didn’t we find?” asked Charlie. “Gem and I got kickass new bows, fuckin’ titanium.”
Trina stirred awake and looked up at Gem and Charlie: “Cool shit,” she said. “What’s tintimium?”
“Titanium,” corrected Gem. “Very strong material. Fuckin’ tough.” She turned back to me. “You asked me where the zombies were,” she said. “About two miles from here. The ones I saw. But I have to tell you, sweetie. Strange. Know how so many are starting to look worn and decomposed? Similar to Jamie, but exposed to the elements and other zombies, bumps, bruises, just the everyday shit of zombie life that can play hell on your complexion?”
“So these didn’t look like that?”
She shook her head, and Charlie spoke up.
“These looked kind of strong. But if they only turned a week ago, then why? Who were they – where were they before they turned? Why did it take them so long? Isolation chamber? Nuthouse? In the International Space Station?”
“We need to capture one of them,” Hemp said. “I could run some blood tests, other stuff. I need to run blood tests on all of us, too. See if I can find a common component we share that kept us all from getting this disease. DNA would be better, but there’s no way I have what I need to run that kind of sophisticated testing. Nor the proper environment, really.”
“It would give us a goal, anyway,” I said. “Right now I feel like we’re existing in a fucking Mad Max flick or something, just trying to survive and protect ourselves while the world outside becomes more and more of a wasteland.”
“Not far off, babe,” Gem said.
She reached back and pulled her long hair down from where it was tied, and it fell down past her shoulders, a brown cascade. I watched her move, smooth, graceful. She was Latin – Guatemalan, specifically. Her walk was smooth and fluid. Her hi
ps swayed in a way that still distracted me and made me bump into stuff. I’d seen Hemp bump into stuff, too, but I didn’t begrudge him that.
Charlie was beautiful enough that I actually almost fell down the steps of the lab as I watched her target practice with her crossbow. I am but a man. Gem would laugh if I told her. I’m pretty sure about that. I smiled at the thought then returned to reality.
“Did you get that EEG machine reconfigured for your new experiment?”
Hemp nodded. “Yes I did. That’s why I came in, actually. Calibrated it and connected it to a display monitor, ran some tests too, with some pretty interesting results.”
“What were the tests?” Gem asked.
“It’s a visual, almost infrared image of the brain activity. Looks kind of like a sonogram in color. Would you like to see the recording?”
“Let’s go,” I said. I lightly slapped the top of Gem’s leg, and stood.
We climbed up inside the mobile lab.
“I recorded it on the computer, so I’ll just play it back. I was the benchmark brain,” said Hemp.
“Not sure that’s fair, Hemp. You’re a smart fucker,” Gem said, smiling.
“A brain’s a brain as far as an EEG is concerned.”
“This looks different than the layout you had with my test,” I said, glancing at the closed door behind which Jamie lay on the stainless steel table.
“It is. Completely switched stuff around, but I had a different goal. Compartmentalization study.”
Hemp leaned down and took the mouse. “Okay, first I set up a fan that would direct my body scent out through the exhaust vent system, completely away from the subject. The test results might have been skewed if Jamie were to smell me. Then I masked up and hooked the electrodes to Jamie’s skull. Fully awake. I hooked the other set up to mine. Now keep in mind, there are certain brainwaves that are expected. I still get really nervous when they’re fully active and aware and in the same room with me. Because of that, I would expect my brainwaves to shift depending on my proximity to them. Plain fear.”
He clicked the mouse, and two boxes appeared on the screen, an oblong image within each. The colors within the static-like image shifted and changed. The one on the left said “Benchmark” above it, and the one on the right said “Subject.” The left one was multi-colored and evenly spattered with every color, like a smooth, multi colored static. Constantly shifting, but somehow consistent.
“Wow,” Gem said.
“Yeah, wow,” I echoed. “What’s with Jamie’s side ? It’s like a flat static maroon color. Almost perfectly still.”
Hemp nodded. “For now. But wait until I step in front of it, into its line of sight. In about fifteen seconds.”
We waited.
“Okay, now,” he said.
But he didn’t need to say anything. It was as if the brain waves in the subject became intensified and were suddenly channeled forward. The image condensed into a tight, almost flat, compressed group in the center, and it looked as if the static pixels were concentrated and pushing in one direction.
Gem pointed at the screen. “I take it the front of the head is in this direction?” She pointed to the top of the images.
“Correct,” said Hemp. When it saw me, the image changed, and the brain waves kicked in, concentrated, as though they were directed at me – the source of its desired nourishment. Now look at mine, keeping in mind she was exhibiting some aggressive behavior, sending me a bit into panic mode.”
We looked at his brain wave image, and noted that many of the colors within it had shifted. Red was the primary color now, and they were more erratic, like a colony of ants that had just been stomped on.
“That’s fear,” Hemp said. “Yours might look at bit different,” he said. “I prefer the quiet and safety of a lab with all the protective gear, etcetera, so while I’ve killed my share, while unarmed I still don’t feel comfortable around them, even when they’re restrained.”
“I don’t think any of us will get used to it, Hemp,” I said. “But what does this tell you?”
“It tells me that their focus is singular. It is for the food, and it’s the only thing that affects their brains this way. I tried other things. Some of the machine guns. I attached them to a steel cart and rolled them in front of her, making sure I stayed out of her line of vision. First test in about five more seconds.”
And then the image changed. Hemp’s EEG readout had returned to its former pattern, having left the proximity zone that made him nervous, but Jamie’s brainwaves changed entirely. Her brain seemed to compartmentalize; To concentrate into tighter configurations in certain quadrants of her brain.
“What the hell does that mean?” Gem said. She looked alarmed.
“Do they recognize danger?” I asked.
“It seems, to a degree, that they sense when they’re confronted with something that could harm or kill them. And I’ve thought back to the situation you explained at your sister’s house, when you first found her.”
“What?” I asked.
“By the pool. You said she didn’t enter the pool. Well, I checked her as I was re-securing the restraints, and she has a broken left arm. She’s had it since we brought her here, which means it was probably broken before you even discovered her at the house.”
I nodded. She had possibly done it during her climb through the window when she followed Jesse into the back yard. When she’d been clawing at the screen, she’d primarily used her right arm, and I didn’t give it much thought at the time.
“So you’re saying she sensed the danger her broken bone may cause her – she’d be unable to tread water – so she stayed out? That’s all that kept her from me?”
“The other one came in, you said.”
I was shaking my head in disbelief. “Yeah, but I thought it fell in. I really didn’t think it intended to come after me.”
“Was it conscious?” Gem asked. “Or instinctive? Do you think they have an awareness of their physical condition and capabilities?”
Hemp shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter. Whether instinct or awareness, it makes them somewhat logical. And something that eats flesh and brains that also has any sort of logic is more dangerous. That’s exactly why I wanted to show you this now.”
“Jeez, Hemp. In just two days we’ve learned they can stockpile and organize to a degree, work together, they recognize external dangers to themselves, recognize their own internal limitations, whether it be injury or a mere lack of ability, and that they have a fucking knockout vapor that can mist out of their eyes. And besides all that, you’ve showed us conclusively that their brains are not only registering scent, which made sense, but now the sight of us makes them hungry.”
“I’m sorry for all the grand news,” Hemp said.
I slapped him on the back, and said “It’s what you do, Hemp. It’s why we all gotta stick together.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dead Hunger: The Flex Sheridan Chronicle Page 50
