Read Online The Hungry (Book 2): The Wrath of God by Steven Booth, Harry Shannon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steven Booth, Harry Shannon
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should warn the soldiers, or simply let them learn on their own. She decided, peevishly, to keep her mouth shut. They'd all find out soon enough.
"Use this," Rat said. She handed out a jar of menthol cream. "Under your nostrils." The strong medicinal scent made the stink a little more bearable. The group moved on.
The hangar was where they had made their last stand—and where Miller had personally slaughtered hundreds of zombies to protect the other survivors. She'd been all amped up on some form of the virus. The fight had been her last act as a super-accelerated human, before Sheppard had administered the untested antidote. Now she was just a hungry pissed off woman with an uncertain future.
At the bottom of the ramp, they paused for a breather. The lights worked a bit better down here. They could see again, although the shadows were long in spots and thick in others. The inside of the hangar was a war zone. The floor was cold, grossly wet, smelly, and filled with row upon row of corpses in various states of decay. They got an eyeful of the carnage. The professionals seemed stunned. They'd probably witnessed their share of blood and guts, but this was a primitive battlefield from the days of Attila the Hun, with bodies everywhere and no one bothering to bury the dead. The emergency lights dimmed again, and now only shapes could be seen.
The nervous soldiers scanned the lumps that used to be bodies with their flashlights. Everything seemed to be moving in the flickering lights. The soldiers were tense and ready, and for that Miller was grateful. They weren't half as cocky as they'd been above ground.
"We're going to need to bring the power back online," Sheppard said.
"Where is the source?" Rat asked. "I saw the blueprints but I'm turned around."
Terrill Lee spoke up for the first time in ages. "Jesus on a jet ski. Please don't tell me that it's back up at the surface."
Sheppard pointed to his left. "The power generators are over there. The medical labs are across the hangar on the right."
"We aren't going to get very far in our mission without power," Rat said. "Ripper, Brubeck, Cochr…" Rat paused then realized what she was about to say. She grimaced. "Ripper and Brubeck, get the device set up. Psycho, Lovell, let's go power this place up."
"What about us? Ain't we invited?" asked Scratch. Miller studied what she could see of his face in the dim light. He didn't appear so much frightened as bored. She knew Scratch was a good actor, but also had kind of a split personality. He could be reasonable or stark raving nuts. Maybe he was in his reckless mood again. She hoped not.
"You come too," said Rat, exasperated.
"Penny?" asked Terrill Lee. "This ain't such a good idea."
"Don't tell me." Miller said, hooking a thumb at Hanratty. "She's in command."
"Okay, I guess you don't watch a lot of horror movies, Major," said Terrill Lee. "Splitting up the party is always the first step to getting a bunch of folks killed off."
"What are you suggesting we do, hot shot?"
"What he's suggesting," Miller said quietly, "is that if you're planning on getting out of here with the rest of your team intact, you'd best think again. Sending some of them off on their own like that makes them easier targets for the bad guys. It is as good a way as any to make a few more of them zombie snacks."
Ripper and Brubeck waited. Rat glared at Miller and Terrill Lee. Miller stared back. She was writing a speech in her head that would have gotten her shot if spoken aloud. You arrogant, ignorant, uniformed little bitch…
Finally Rat said, "Ripper, Brubeck, come with us. You can set up the bomb while we're getting the generators up." She turned back to Sheppard. "Lead the way, Sergeant."
The lights flickered up again. The hideous carnage was everywhere. It was a timeless, primitive battle zone, with severed limbs and heads and hands strewn everywhere. Shattered skulls and dismembered limbs with clawed hands. Legs with no feet. Torsos with no
"Use this," Rat said. She handed out a jar of menthol cream. "Under your nostrils." The strong medicinal scent made the stink a little more bearable. The group moved on.
The hangar was where they had made their last stand—and where Miller had personally slaughtered hundreds of zombies to protect the other survivors. She'd been all amped up on some form of the virus. The fight had been her last act as a super-accelerated human, before Sheppard had administered the untested antidote. Now she was just a hungry pissed off woman with an uncertain future.
At the bottom of the ramp, they paused for a breather. The lights worked a bit better down here. They could see again, although the shadows were long in spots and thick in others. The inside of the hangar was a war zone. The floor was cold, grossly wet, smelly, and filled with row upon row of corpses in various states of decay. They got an eyeful of the carnage. The professionals seemed stunned. They'd probably witnessed their share of blood and guts, but this was a primitive battlefield from the days of Attila the Hun, with bodies everywhere and no one bothering to bury the dead. The emergency lights dimmed again, and now only shapes could be seen.
The nervous soldiers scanned the lumps that used to be bodies with their flashlights. Everything seemed to be moving in the flickering lights. The soldiers were tense and ready, and for that Miller was grateful. They weren't half as cocky as they'd been above ground.
"We're going to need to bring the power back online," Sheppard said.
"Where is the source?" Rat asked. "I saw the blueprints but I'm turned around."
Terrill Lee spoke up for the first time in ages. "Jesus on a jet ski. Please don't tell me that it's back up at the surface."
Sheppard pointed to his left. "The power generators are over there. The medical labs are across the hangar on the right."
"We aren't going to get very far in our mission without power," Rat said. "Ripper, Brubeck, Cochr…" Rat paused then realized what she was about to say. She grimaced. "Ripper and Brubeck, get the device set up. Psycho, Lovell, let's go power this place up."
"What about us? Ain't we invited?" asked Scratch. Miller studied what she could see of his face in the dim light. He didn't appear so much frightened as bored. She knew Scratch was a good actor, but also had kind of a split personality. He could be reasonable or stark raving nuts. Maybe he was in his reckless mood again. She hoped not.
"You come too," said Rat, exasperated.
"Penny?" asked Terrill Lee. "This ain't such a good idea."
"Don't tell me." Miller said, hooking a thumb at Hanratty. "She's in command."
"Okay, I guess you don't watch a lot of horror movies, Major," said Terrill Lee. "Splitting up the party is always the first step to getting a bunch of folks killed off."
"What are you suggesting we do, hot shot?"
"What he's suggesting," Miller said quietly, "is that if you're planning on getting out of here with the rest of your team intact, you'd best think again. Sending some of them off on their own like that makes them easier targets for the bad guys. It is as good a way as any to make a few more of them zombie snacks."
Ripper and Brubeck waited. Rat glared at Miller and Terrill Lee. Miller stared back. She was writing a speech in her head that would have gotten her shot if spoken aloud. You arrogant, ignorant, uniformed little bitch…
Finally Rat said, "Ripper, Brubeck, come with us. You can set up the bomb while we're getting the generators up." She turned back to Sheppard. "Lead the way, Sergeant."
The lights flickered up again. The hideous carnage was everywhere. It was a timeless, primitive battle zone, with severed limbs and heads and hands strewn everywhere. Shattered skulls and dismembered limbs with clawed hands. Legs with no feet. Torsos with no
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