Dead Hunger: The Flex Sheridan Chronicle (15 page)

“Nope.  Me.  I know where to look, I know how to handle this weapon, and I should’ve thought about it.  You three stay here, and I’ll be right back.  I don’t think this will take too long.”

“Okay, buddy.  Be careful,” I said.  “If you’re not back in ten, we’re coming after you.”

“I’ll be back in five,” he said, smiling.  He trotted down the stairs with more energy that I was feeling, and Gem and I watched him disappear down the stairwell and around the corner.

“Bollocks!”

I looked at Gem and shrugged.  She smiled at me.

“What’s wrong, Hemp,” she called.

“I can’t get out.”  His voice echoed up the concrete and steel stairwell.

“That door’s locked too?  I thought this was a fire escape.”  Gem looked confused.

“Hold on,” Hemp called up.  “Okay, okay.  I got it.  The doors to the interior levels lock automatically.  There’s another door down here that leads outside,
so
I
just
have to go out and have Max let me in again.  Sit tight.  Start your ten minute counter.”

But I didn’t have to wait ten minutes.  We heard the door click open and Hemp screamed.  Just as we heard the first rounds explode out of
the
barrel
of his MP5
, the door clicked closed and we heard nothing but silence again.

“Hemp!” I yelled.  Nothing.  He was outside with whatever
had caused him to discharge his weapon.

“Stay here, Gem,” I yelled as I started down the metal stairs, taking them two at a time.  “Keep your Glock ready.”

I reached the first floor landing and pushed the door bar slowly.  The door opened, and smoky, fuel-enriched oxygen and sunlight poured through.  I saw nothing straight ahead, but as I stepped completely out, the
wall
behind
my head
exploded, a diagonal zipper pattern appearing on the
surface
just above
me
.  I dove to the ground, landing on my elbow and hip and swung my rifle in the direction of the incoming rounds, and fired off a two second burst that put
twenty rounds in the direction of what I hoped was the source.

I was apparently pretty close, because the gunfire stopped long enough for me to jump back to my feet and run for a small alcove in the building’s wall to the right of the door.  “Hemp!” I shouted.

“Over here,” he said, and it sounded like he was just on the other side of the outcropping behind which I was concealed. 

“Cover me!” I called, and it was followed by machine gun fire.  I dove around the outcropping and back to the solid brick wall, and he was beside me, crouched down, slamming another clip into his Heckler and Koch.

“Where are they?” I
asked
, trying to keep my voice
as low as possible
.

“In
one of the
patrol
Jeeps
,” Hemp said.  “I’m not sure why they’re shooting at me, except maybe they’re a
tad
on edge about now.”

“Did you try to identify yourself?”

“They can’t hear anything over their own gunfire, unfortunately.  We’re just going to have to –”

His words were cut off when the open-cab Jeep
drove
past
aga
in
and two uniformed men
, one brandishing a machine gun of his
own
,
came back into view.   Hemp and I said nothing.  We both raised our weapons and sent a continuous barrage of lead at the vehicle and its occupants.

The driver was clearly hit.  Crimson spray
erupted
from his head and his body flew out and rolled as the small truck spun sharply toward us, and onto two wheels.  My gun was empty, but Hemp had deftly ejected his clip and slammed another
one in
.   As the jeep’s undercarriage and fuel tank were exposed, Hemp fired into it, turning it into an instantaneous fireball.

We watched it for a moment
, hoping
there
wasn’t another vehicle behind it. 
After
two
minutes of no movement or activity, we approached the
body of the
man who had flown
free of the burning four-wheeler.  H
emp knelt beside the man.

“We’ve got our key card,” he said.  “I just hate
that we
had to kill more uninfecteds to get it.”

“They didn’t give us a choice,” Hemp.  “You know that.”

“I know.  But I’ve
a feeling we’re going to be alone enough in this world.  I can’t stand making it more so.”

I patted him on
the
back
and he stood.  The
key card Hemp held in his hand had the metallic strip intact, but a clean 9mm bullet hole ran right through the man’s photograph.  His name was Louis
Franklin, he looked to be about 24 years old, and
thankfully, Hemp did not know him or his family
.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

We went back to the truck, checked on the dog, who was lost in what was apparently a pretty good dream when we arrived, and loaded up on ammo again.  We’d not intended on using so much in one fell swoop, which just served to remind us that you never knew what you were going to encounter, so better to be over prepared, even if it meant carrying a little extra weight.

We closed the door and started back toward Building #2’s entry door.

“You going to name the dog?” Hemp asked.

“I think we’ll let Trina do that,” I said.  “She needs something to occupy that little m
ind of hers besides her family.  She’s
never going to see
them
again – at least from what it looks like now.”

Hemp put a hand on my shoulder as we approached the entrance door.  We wouldn’t need to be buzzed in this time.  Hemp swiped the card.  “Flex, I know we’re all clinging to a bit of hope here, but you do realize your sister’s condition is unlikely to ever be reversed, don’t you?”

I pulled the door open about an inch and looked at him.  “I know that.  In my heart I know that holding on to this particle of hope is
foolish, but meeting you and learning your background has given me that much more hope,” I said, holding my thumb and forefinger about an inch apart.  “Just that much, but it’s enough.  I can’t even tell you what she means to me.”

“Let’s go find Max,” Hemp said, nodding at the door.  “He
may
be able to give us more, which might
further our ability to make a game plan.” 

I pulled it open and we went inside, and back into the stairwell.

When we got back to the second floor landing,
Gem was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, and Trina curled up against her.  The Glock was in her hand, resting against her knee.

“Finally
,” she said, getting to her feet.  “
What happened out there?”

“Couple of guards just started shooting at us.  Had some pretty high-powered
guns themselves, but we got the jump on them, because one was driving and only one was shooting.”

Hemp swiped the card to the second level and the door latch clicked.  He pulled it open and poked his head into the hallway.  “Clear,” he said.

We moved out into the hallway as a unit, same formation as before with Hemp in the lead, Gem pulling Trina along by her hand, and me bringing up the rear.  The level was clear.  The
lab in which Max was locked was just 50 yards down the hall, and we made it there without incident.  Hemp rapped on the door.

A round face peered through the wire-reinforced glass, then smiled.   A moment later the lock clicked, and the door swung in.

“Dr. Chatsworth!” shouted Max, as though he had found a long-lost friend.  He took Hemp’s hand and clasped it with both of his.  “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to see you!”

Max Romero was a short man, around five-and-a-half feet tall, bald with hair on both sides of his head.  He wore wire framed round glasses, and his skin was a medium brown tone as a result of his Mexican heritage.

“Max, please meet Gem, Flex and little Trina here.  We’ve got a dog in the car, but no name for her yet.”

Max took everyone’s hand and shook them as introductions were made, except for Trina, who
m
he patted on top of the head, letting his hand pause on her cheek.  “It’s so good to meet all of you.  It’s been harrowing here all by myself.  I’ve kept my eye on t
hat camera, but you’re
the only ones to show up
so far
.”

“We met a couple of your guards downstairs just now,” I said.  “Unfortunately, they tried to kill me and Hemp
, and we had to turn it around on them
.”

Max looked co
nfused for a moment.  “Hemp?  Oh
, Hemp!  Sorry, Dr. Chatsworth.  I knew you went by that, but our relationship has always been on more of a professional level.”

“Please,” Hemp said.  “
Just call me
Hemp at this point.  Max, what have you learned
about this thing
?  Anything?”

Max shook his head slowly.  “Not much, I’m afraid.  The headaches
that precede the main symptoms
, which can drive you cra
zy on their own
, are powerful.  A couple of colleagues I was speaking with had
the
headache
s
, and
trying to ask them questions about it
was like trying to get a 2-month old
puppy to focus on learning a trick
.  The pain was intense
and completely distracting
.  At that time, I had no idea what it would become.”

“Did they say anything about dreams?”

Max’s eyes went round.  “Yes, they did, as a matter of fact.  Horrible dreams the night before.  Then they woke up with the headache, and . . . well, we know what comes next.”

“Do you have a plan, Max?”  Gem asked the question.  Her eyes were intense.
  “What you’re going to do?”

He
nodded
.  “I made a commitment to the CDC, and
as an extension of that, to the American people.  So,
if
you can help me
secure at least this building, I’d be content staying here and helping direct anyone else who might come this way looking for help.”

“It
is
the most logical place,” I said.  “It’s the first place I considered coming.  Even before I ran into Hemp, here.”

“I’ve got what’s basically a
Ham
radio here, and I’ve set it to automatically scan the frequencies.  I’ve heard a few snippets of people talking.  As far away as
Texas
.  So there are others out there.”

“Have you spoken to any of them?” I asked.

Max nodded.  “Only so far as to tell them that the infection is here in
Georgia
, too.  And that for all intents and purposes, the CDC is out of commission.  If they stop by, I can direct them to where I know the uninfecteds are located, but there’s no sense in them coming here if we’re unable to offer any real assistance.”

I nodded, knowing he was right.  It would be good for people to know what frequency the CDC was on, so that Max could give out any information he as able, but as for them coming here, it wasn’t helpful.  The living, uninfected needed to get together with others.  Safety in numbers.

“I’m concerned about your generator, Max.  You’re not going to be able to stay here long if that runs out.  You said a couple of weeks.  Is there enough food here to hold you?

“Absolutely.  I could eat here for a couple of months, since the generator also keeps our main freezer going.  But that gen is going to have about another 11 days before it shuts down hard, and for good.”

“How do you refuel it?”
Gem asked.

“We have
some huge above-ground
LP tanks here, as well.  Not feeding to the gene
rator supply tanks, but we keep the additional LP gas on hand
for many other uses.  Burners, heaters, torches.  Behind this building.”

“How far from the generator tanks?” Hemp asked.

“I have no idea where the gen tanks are buried, but I assume they’re close to the gens themselves.  Northeast corner of the building.  And the above-ground tanks are on the same side of the building, but about a hundred or so yards away.”