The Hungry (Book 2): The Wrath of God by Steven Booth, Harry Shannon
Authors: Steven Booth, Harry Shannon
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her hand, ushering them off the helicopter. Her finger stayed alongside the trigger of the wicked M-4 she carried.
Sheppard came up behind Miller. He put his hand on her elbow. "Come on, Sheriff. You're not going to win this one."
Miller shook off his hand. She walked down the ramp into the night. The air was cool. She began to regret not bringing a coat, as Sheppard had once pointed out. Now that the helicopter had powered down, the night was silent. Miller hadn't heard that kind of silence since the last night she'd slept in her own bed, the night before the zombie outbreak. The darkness that night had this kind of vibe, she thought. Calm, soothing, kind of inviting… She tried not to think about her home, her comfortable bed back in Flat Rock. Life before the zombies seemed so foreign, so removed from reality. Things had been so simple then. Shake this fairy tale shit off, girl, she thought. The only chance you have at a normal life is right here in front of you. Get them what they want and be done with it.
Miller turned to watch Scratch come down the ramp, followed by Terrill Lee and Sheppard. One of the soldiers had set up some small floodlights. Each of them gawked at the surroundings as if they were veterans returning to the scene of an old battle, which they were. Only Sheppard seemed comfortable. He had other, better memories of Crystal Palace to mute the effect. They stood at the foot of the ramp in a clump, nervously looking into the shadows for the next threat. The memories were sharp and clear. They hung in the air like swamp gas. The mutual lack of weapons was clearly not lost on them. The night waited patiently.
Finally, Rat came down the ramp. She cut quite an imposing figure, dark haired and slender in her uniform, a beautiful woman commanding a vast array of rough men and nasty weaponry. The ramp began to rise behind her with a low hum. She strode forward, relaxed in her surroundings, at ease with her assignment. She surveyed her team, and then gave Miller and her friends the once-over.
"Are we going to just stand around out here, Major?" Miller asked. "You know, just in case some of them zombies want to shoot scrapbook pictures to show their little dead kiddies? 'Betty Sue, come check out the fine dinner we had that night. That Sheriff tasted like chicken.' "
"Sergeant Sheppard!" Rat approached Miller's group. "You know the base better than anyone. I know you've been briefed on our objectives. You're navigating."
Briefed? thought Miller. What does Sheppard know that we don't?
Hanratty turned to her team. "Brubeck, Psycho, take point. Clear us a path. And remember, the only authorized personnel on site are standing right here, so don't wait for me. We all know what a zombie can do, thanks to Dale." Rat looked at all the faces in turn. "Stay alert and keep your eye on the prize. Let's get in, get out, and go home. Nobody dies. We've got just over twenty-two hours before this bad boy goes boom," she said, lightly slapping the largest of the offloaded crates. "I for one don't care to be here when that happens. Let's move."
They all jogged forward, the armed soldiers in a loose formation around the civilians. Brubeck and Psycho led the way toward the front doors on the south side of one of the outbuildings. The building didn't look particularly special, but Miller and her friends knew better. It was actually the entrance to an underground complex more than two football fields long, and deep enough to hold two dozen helicopters and hundreds of troops. The camouflaged exterior made it look small. Crystal Palace was below ground and huge. This was not going to be a short journey.
They slowed to a walk. The formation changed on its own as they got closer to the entrance. After Brubeck and Psycho came Sheppard and Miller. Ripper was driving the pallet truck, Scratch, Terrill Lee, Rat, Cochrane, and Lovell brought up the rear. Everyone was quiet, subdued, the only sound being the crunch of feet, the rolling
Sheppard came up behind Miller. He put his hand on her elbow. "Come on, Sheriff. You're not going to win this one."
Miller shook off his hand. She walked down the ramp into the night. The air was cool. She began to regret not bringing a coat, as Sheppard had once pointed out. Now that the helicopter had powered down, the night was silent. Miller hadn't heard that kind of silence since the last night she'd slept in her own bed, the night before the zombie outbreak. The darkness that night had this kind of vibe, she thought. Calm, soothing, kind of inviting… She tried not to think about her home, her comfortable bed back in Flat Rock. Life before the zombies seemed so foreign, so removed from reality. Things had been so simple then. Shake this fairy tale shit off, girl, she thought. The only chance you have at a normal life is right here in front of you. Get them what they want and be done with it.
Miller turned to watch Scratch come down the ramp, followed by Terrill Lee and Sheppard. One of the soldiers had set up some small floodlights. Each of them gawked at the surroundings as if they were veterans returning to the scene of an old battle, which they were. Only Sheppard seemed comfortable. He had other, better memories of Crystal Palace to mute the effect. They stood at the foot of the ramp in a clump, nervously looking into the shadows for the next threat. The memories were sharp and clear. They hung in the air like swamp gas. The mutual lack of weapons was clearly not lost on them. The night waited patiently.
Finally, Rat came down the ramp. She cut quite an imposing figure, dark haired and slender in her uniform, a beautiful woman commanding a vast array of rough men and nasty weaponry. The ramp began to rise behind her with a low hum. She strode forward, relaxed in her surroundings, at ease with her assignment. She surveyed her team, and then gave Miller and her friends the once-over.
"Are we going to just stand around out here, Major?" Miller asked. "You know, just in case some of them zombies want to shoot scrapbook pictures to show their little dead kiddies? 'Betty Sue, come check out the fine dinner we had that night. That Sheriff tasted like chicken.' "
"Sergeant Sheppard!" Rat approached Miller's group. "You know the base better than anyone. I know you've been briefed on our objectives. You're navigating."
Briefed? thought Miller. What does Sheppard know that we don't?
Hanratty turned to her team. "Brubeck, Psycho, take point. Clear us a path. And remember, the only authorized personnel on site are standing right here, so don't wait for me. We all know what a zombie can do, thanks to Dale." Rat looked at all the faces in turn. "Stay alert and keep your eye on the prize. Let's get in, get out, and go home. Nobody dies. We've got just over twenty-two hours before this bad boy goes boom," she said, lightly slapping the largest of the offloaded crates. "I for one don't care to be here when that happens. Let's move."
They all jogged forward, the armed soldiers in a loose formation around the civilians. Brubeck and Psycho led the way toward the front doors on the south side of one of the outbuildings. The building didn't look particularly special, but Miller and her friends knew better. It was actually the entrance to an underground complex more than two football fields long, and deep enough to hold two dozen helicopters and hundreds of troops. The camouflaged exterior made it look small. Crystal Palace was below ground and huge. This was not going to be a short journey.
They slowed to a walk. The formation changed on its own as they got closer to the entrance. After Brubeck and Psycho came Sheppard and Miller. Ripper was driving the pallet truck, Scratch, Terrill Lee, Rat, Cochrane, and Lovell brought up the rear. Everyone was quiet, subdued, the only sound being the crunch of feet, the rolling
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