Dead Hunger V: The Road To California (47 page)

Two by two, sometimes five at a time, pushing and clawing at one another for the opportunity to reach the dangling baby, just 10 feet off the cliff, but a chasm away from reaching her.

I began to notice something, but I was afraid to say it aloud.  Isis had begun to swing more wildly, and closer to the cliff’s edge.

Bug grabbed the monitor with both hands and yelled, “What the hell’s happening?  She’s swingin’ too close to the cliff, Dave!  Give me that goddamned radio!”

I held it out and Uncle Bug snatched it from my hand.

“What the fuck is going on!” he screamed into it.  “Get her the hell back!  You’re too close!”

“Stabilizer or something!” yelled back Nelson, sounding frantic.  “She’s having trouble holding it here!”

“Then pull the fuck back!” yelled Bug, sweat pouring from his face.

“She says she’s got it!” shouted Nelson.  “We’re still safe!”

Then something happened.  A red-eye emerged from the smoke and launched off of that cliff.  I hadn’t seen it coming.  Nobody had.

As though catapulted, it flew toward the harnessed baby, now dangling only six feet or so off the edge of the precipice.

Its fingers caught the bottom strap of the leather and it clung there, one arm loose and swinging in the air, trying to gain purchase.  Isis now hung at a frightening angle and Serena screamed and turned away, unable to watch any more.

“Jesus!” shouted Bug, pushing the button and screaming into the radio, “Get that bitch off her!  I don’t care what you have to do!”

Serena clutched my hand, her eyes squeezed closed.  My heart tripled in speed.  This was a scenario none of us had anticipated.  The harness breaking, Isis plunging hundreds of feet to her death; of course that came to mind, but not this.  The red-eye clawed her way up, and as the monster’s other claw-like hand hooked around and clutched the leather harness, it pulled itself upward.

Something shiny flew through the image, and we all squinted at the monitor.

A change in the rotor beat, followed by a quick swing of the rope, left the creature again clutching at Isis’ harness with just one hand, and moments later we saw something attach to the creature’s head.

A Ninja star.  As we jammed our faces closer still to the monitor, another one flew, and another one.  All cleanly missing Isis and embedding into the head of the dangling creature less than two feet below the baby.  Black blood began running down its face, then dripped in inky blobs from its body, and out of the camera’s view.

Her fingers released.  A harrowing shriek echoed through the canyon as one of the most powerful creatures of this apocalypse dropped to its death.

Bug’s head drooped and he let out his breath.  He looked at me.  “Nelson, I presume?”

I nodded and squeezed his arm.  “Yeah.”

He pushed the button on the radio.  “Thanks, man.  Thanks for getting that thing away from my baby.”

“It was nothing, dude,” said Nelson.  “You think you were freaking out.  I was shitting my pants up here.”

“Is that chopper stable?” asked Bug.

“She bypassed something,” he said.  “We’re good now.  She’s okay, and they’re still coming.”

Bug turned to look at the monitor.  Almost all of them had now fed onto the path at the fork.  He looked at me.

“Shouldn’t be too long now,” he said.  “Another five minutes or so and they should all be there.”

And so it went until the parade of walking dead came to an end.  At the conclusion, when the smoke cleared and the path was revealed, only three zombies remained on the trail, now milling about as though unsure why they were there.  We watched as the cable swung away yet again, moving Isis out of the line of fire.

We heard several gunshots and the last three creatures dropped into the dirt, a black-red mist settling down atop their crumpled, destroyed bodies.

A cheer erupted from the group behind us, who had all been watching the scene unfold.  We turned to see faces that likely had not smiled in months, showing us their teeth.

I took a deep breath and pulled Serena into my arms.  Albert held his mother.

In the monitor we saw Isis swing back into view, then her harness began moving upward quickly, then past the chopper’s skids.

“Got her!” said Nelson.  “No worse for wear.  She’s laughing!”

“That’s my girl,” said Bug, crying.  “Thank God.”

“Nelson,” I said.

“Let me get her secured,” said Nelson. 

After a few seconds, he came back on.  “Yeah, Davey?  What’s up?”

“You got that bomb still?”

“The one Hemp had us make?”

I laughed out loud.  “How many bombs do you have, man?” I asked.

“Okay,” he said.  “Good point. What about it?”

“Light the fuse and drop it into the canyon.”

“Good idea,” he said.  “I don’t like bombs anyway.  Something else I need to do first, though.”

A few moments later, something fell past the camera.  It didn’t look like the bomb we’d made.

“What was that, Nel?” I asked.

“Test drop,” he answered.  “I counted how many seconds until it hit.”

I knew exactly what he was doing.  Hemp had told us how many feet per second the fuse he had specified would burn, so Nelson was making sure the timing was right to actually do some damage if there were any surviving rotters at the bottom of the canyon.  He intended to cut the fuse to the right length before dropping it.  There was, after all, no reason to waste a good explosive.

A few seconds later we saw the large, dark, conical device drop past the camera.  None of us saw what happened next, but about six seconds later, we heard an enormous explosion outside the bunker and through the speakers.  We’d done pretty good, because we felt the vibration in the solid floor of Bug’s bunker.

I looked at Bug and smiled as he wrapped his arms around me and my girl.  We provided guns to all who were comfortable with weapons and prepared to leave my uncle’s fortress and prison.  The monitors showed the coast was now clear.

I knew without asking that my uncle would be coming back with us to South Carolina.  At the same time, I wondered how my family there would feel about our dangerous little zombie goddess, Isis.

Perhaps Hemp could work something out to alleviate the frightening implications of her involuntary talent.

*****

              Epilogue             

The woods were clear as we walked back into the Railroad Park grounds.  At our arrival, all of the young girls were mesmerized at the large group of survivors and Maddie and Russell found many of their friends among our refugees.

Bug’s expertise in planning for things that were not supposed to ever happen had its benefits.  He shared everything he could with the survivors and over the next week, made several runs back up to his place to gather weaponry and supplies. 

The morning after the rescue, I got up early.  As I got a fire going in the pit outside, I heard the flapping of wings and turned my eyes skyward.

An eagle flew overhead, soaring just twenty feet above me.  I whispered, “Leona, there you are,” and smiled.

It
was
her.  I knew it in my heart.

As for the group, nobody had any desire to live inside of a mountain or in a concrete bunker.   If these
were
the last days of their lives, these people had decided it was their distinct right to live it in the bright sunshine and warmth of outdoors.

Among Bug’s supplies were several generators, which were rolled down on their carts and installed.  Making several runs to town, Bug got them started on an effective fence to protect their masses from attack.  They left the cowbell sticks, as they would alert them to the threat, which could then be taken out with a bullet through the fence.

Or a sharpened rebar spear tipped with urushiol oil … whatever made the most sense.

As for our group, Lola rested for three days before she felt well enough to eat regularly and move around the park.  Her head hurt and she’d had a hell of a goose egg over her right eye, but I believe much of her necessary recovery was due to almost five hours of calling the red-eyes – in direct competition with a natural like Isis.

In the end, both had saved us.  Along with Rachel, Nelson and Russell.  I shook my head when I thought of this. 

None of them were supposed to have been with us at all.  Kismet.  Fate.  The universe at work.  God.  Put the credit where you like – the only thing that mattered was the outcome.  Though it would be nice to duplicate that kind of luck, if called upon to do so.

Nelson held classes for the girls, and for whomever wanted to participate.  Subdudo classes.  And yeah, I followed along.  It was more complex than it initially seemed, but everyone got the hang of it after about five sessions.  Since it was more pressure and touch points, the girls could use it on one another without inflicting any pain.  I even showed Serena what I’d learned. 

I thought it was funny.  Her reaction was just a tad less jovial as I helped her up and tried to kiss her, reminding her that she was lucky I did it in the grass.

Despite how nicely the Railroad Park was coming together, what with the new arrivals organizing and helping to get railroad cars that were not being used back up to livable condition, Lolita Lane and Rachel Reed decided they were coming back to Whitmire with us. 

I was glad of it.  It meant we got to ride in the helicopter on the way home instead of driving our asses there.  At that point, I just couldn’t imagine a road trip.

So now we’re on the way home.  We got on the Ham radio again and told Hemp to let everyone know we’d be there in just a few days.  He’d called them into the room again, and damned if I didn’t hear a nice cheer erupt from my friends and family. 

Screw that.  They were
all
my family.  It felt like everyone close to me was family now.  And soon enough, I’d marry Serena and start a real family.

As I watched Serena cradling Isis in her arms, the baby’s bright, blue-ish-red eyes taking it all in, I thought, 
When she does get pregnant, that woman’s not leaving my sight for nine months.

The last night we were there, Nelson broke out his Elvis Costello guitar and began to play and sing.  He did some Bad Company and he sounded pretty good.  Then he did Clapton’s acoustic version of Layla, and everyone smiled.  The older of us sang along.

I realized I was proud of myself.  Dave Gammon had set out to do something, and holy shit if he hadn’t gotten it done.  I’d lost my mom and my sister, but I had found my last blood relative.  Small favors it would seem, in comparison to what had been lost, but not so small to
me
.

It’s that awkward moment when you shrug off the imposter complex and realize that you might actually be some sort of a hero.  I smiled.  I
felt
like a hero. 

Even if only in my own mind.

THE END

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MORE BOOKS BY

ERIC A. SHELMAN

AND DOLPHIN MOON PUBLISHING

1999: Out of the Darkness: The Story of Mary Ellen Wilson

2005: Case #1: The Mary Ellen Wilson Files

2011: Dead Hunger: The Flex Sheridan Chronicle

2011: A Reason To Kill (Written in 1999 and shelved)

2011: Generation Evil (Started 2000 – Completed 2011)

2012: Dead Hunger II: The Gem Cardoza Chronicle

2012: Dead Hunger III: The Chatsworth Chronicles

2012: Dead Hunger IV: Evolution

2013: Shifting Fears

2013: Dead Hunger V: The Road To California

Keep an eye out for the next book in the Dead Hunger series:

Dead Hunger VI:  Homecoming

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Eric A. Shelman lives in Southwest Florida with his wife, Linda, and their whippet, Beau.  Eric was born in Fort Worth, Texas, and left there as a teenager in the early 1970s when his widowed mother remarried and his new stepfather moved the family to southern California.

Eric first took on zombies as a genre in 2011, but has been writing poetry and stories since he was in elementary school.  In fact, when he was a young longhair living in Laguna Beach and Dana Point, California, in the late 70s and early 80s, he’d write ridiculous short stories with no plot and no end, all with his friends’ names in them.  In fact, you’ll find the names of many people Eric knows today in his stories and books. 

Eric has an author fan page on Facebook – and it’s the best place to find out when his next release is coming – just search for Eric A Shelman Author, and you should find it just fine. You can find him on Goodreads, too.  Last resort, you can also check out his website  –  www.ericshelman.com.