Read Online The Hungry (Book 2): The Wrath of God by Steven Booth, Harry Shannon - Free Book Online
Authors: Steven Booth, Harry Shannon
Ads: Link
lights had failed at this level. Miller's skin crawled. The group tightened up as the soldiers' flashlights flowed like water and sought out every scary corner. Their pace slowed down. Their breathing seemed louder and more ragged. Every noise they made boomed and echoed around them. They may as well have been crawling along the bottom of a deep, dank mine shaft.
"Tell me, Major," whispered Miller. "Whose brilliant fucking idea was it to do this at night?"
"You afraid of the dark, Sheriff?"
"Sometimes," Miller said, a little too quickly. "You should be, too."
Lovell chuckled. "Remind me to tell you why they call her Rat when this is all over."
Miller opened her mouth to reply that if and when this was all over, the chances of Rat being able to do anything but slobber and moan were looking rather slight. Psycho stopped short. He clenched his fist to signal for them to hold.
The group froze and silence fell.
"Talk to me," whispered Rat.
"I got movement." All eyes followed where his flashlight blazed a trail. It finally illuminated a green Hummer that had crashed into the left-hand wall of the exit ramp. The tortured metal sculpture was perhaps five yards away. An explosion and fire had torched the front of the Hummer, and much of the passenger cabin was melted and burned. Psycho knelt down. He was shining his light at the concrete immediately beneath the wrecked vehicle.
Nervous, everyone squatted to get a better look.
"I got nothing," said Ripper, scanning the entire undercarriage of the Hummer with his light, "unless it's small enough to hide behind a flat tire."
They stayed still in the gloom. Miller yawned and her jaws popped faintly. She needed to pee, but wasn't about to risk going off alone to squat. The very idea brought back another scary zombie memory, a messy encounter in a gas station ladies room. She'd hold it until they were behind locked doors.
"You sure something was moving out there?" whispered Hanratty.
"Bet on it," Psycho said.
"Well, there's nothing there now," said Lovell.
The group relaxed. Rat got to her feet. Miller did too. Just then something on the other side of the Hummer crunched loudly, a sound that reminded them of broken glass underfoot. It was a soft sound but a sound all too familiar to Miller. Her heart pounded. Whatever it was could be heard on the other side of the Hummer. And it was grunting. Uh, uh, uh.
"We've got company!" shouted Miller, her voice much too loud in the enclosed space. Her words echoed down the corridor. She pictured dozens of the horrid creatures lumbering out of storage rooms and closets, their filthy arms outstretched; eyes red, slack mouths open and drooling. It was on.
"Spread out," ordered Rat. The soldiers dispersed to the left, toward the back of the Hummer, leaving Miller, Scratch, Sheppard, and Terrill Lee standing alone in the dark, flat in the middle of the ramp. Again, the men were clearly well trained. As one, they ran after Rat and Lovell, who were farthest away from the approaching zombie. The dark closed in on the scared, unarmed civilians. All they could do was watch the soldiers move through the pale red lights.
The zombie came out of the shadows, leaping with surprising agility right at Psycho. It was dressed as a soldier with captain's bars on the shoulders of its blood-splattered uniform. The mercenary let go with five or six rounds from his M-4. The bullets struck the zombie in the chest, knocking it backwards but not destroying it. It regained its balance. A chunk of the chest was missing. The thing snarled uhhuh… uhhuh and lunged again.
"Headshot!" shouted Miller. "Aim for the brain, dipshit!"
Brubeck got the message. He shot the zombie through the forehead. It fell, twitching and moaning. "Die, motherfucker," cried Brubeck. He unloaded four more shots into the thing's head. It twitched and kicked for a few seconds. Finally, it lay still. Miller's ears rang and she shook her head back and forth. All that for one? What a waste
"Tell me, Major," whispered Miller. "Whose brilliant fucking idea was it to do this at night?"
"You afraid of the dark, Sheriff?"
"Sometimes," Miller said, a little too quickly. "You should be, too."
Lovell chuckled. "Remind me to tell you why they call her Rat when this is all over."
Miller opened her mouth to reply that if and when this was all over, the chances of Rat being able to do anything but slobber and moan were looking rather slight. Psycho stopped short. He clenched his fist to signal for them to hold.
The group froze and silence fell.
"Talk to me," whispered Rat.
"I got movement." All eyes followed where his flashlight blazed a trail. It finally illuminated a green Hummer that had crashed into the left-hand wall of the exit ramp. The tortured metal sculpture was perhaps five yards away. An explosion and fire had torched the front of the Hummer, and much of the passenger cabin was melted and burned. Psycho knelt down. He was shining his light at the concrete immediately beneath the wrecked vehicle.
Nervous, everyone squatted to get a better look.
"I got nothing," said Ripper, scanning the entire undercarriage of the Hummer with his light, "unless it's small enough to hide behind a flat tire."
They stayed still in the gloom. Miller yawned and her jaws popped faintly. She needed to pee, but wasn't about to risk going off alone to squat. The very idea brought back another scary zombie memory, a messy encounter in a gas station ladies room. She'd hold it until they were behind locked doors.
"You sure something was moving out there?" whispered Hanratty.
"Bet on it," Psycho said.
"Well, there's nothing there now," said Lovell.
The group relaxed. Rat got to her feet. Miller did too. Just then something on the other side of the Hummer crunched loudly, a sound that reminded them of broken glass underfoot. It was a soft sound but a sound all too familiar to Miller. Her heart pounded. Whatever it was could be heard on the other side of the Hummer. And it was grunting. Uh, uh, uh.
"We've got company!" shouted Miller, her voice much too loud in the enclosed space. Her words echoed down the corridor. She pictured dozens of the horrid creatures lumbering out of storage rooms and closets, their filthy arms outstretched; eyes red, slack mouths open and drooling. It was on.
"Spread out," ordered Rat. The soldiers dispersed to the left, toward the back of the Hummer, leaving Miller, Scratch, Sheppard, and Terrill Lee standing alone in the dark, flat in the middle of the ramp. Again, the men were clearly well trained. As one, they ran after Rat and Lovell, who were farthest away from the approaching zombie. The dark closed in on the scared, unarmed civilians. All they could do was watch the soldiers move through the pale red lights.
The zombie came out of the shadows, leaping with surprising agility right at Psycho. It was dressed as a soldier with captain's bars on the shoulders of its blood-splattered uniform. The mercenary let go with five or six rounds from his M-4. The bullets struck the zombie in the chest, knocking it backwards but not destroying it. It regained its balance. A chunk of the chest was missing. The thing snarled uhhuh… uhhuh and lunged again.
"Headshot!" shouted Miller. "Aim for the brain, dipshit!"
Brubeck got the message. He shot the zombie through the forehead. It fell, twitching and moaning. "Die, motherfucker," cried Brubeck. He unloaded four more shots into the thing's head. It twitched and kicked for a few seconds. Finally, it lay still. Miller's ears rang and she shook her head back and forth. All that for one? What a waste
Similar Books
