The Hungry (Book 2): The Wrath of God by Steven Booth, Harry Shannon Page A
Authors: Steven Booth, Harry Shannon
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skull like a zit years ago. Being undead couldn't happen to a nicer bitch. So don't you even talk to me about my mother."
Rat just stared at Miller. She whispered, "Thanks for that."
Miller shrugged.
"Well, so much for the front door." Lovell sighed. He held his head in his hand. "Psycho's all pissed off again. What a shock. But you know, I do think that's about the longest speech I've heard him give in years."
"Got any more brilliant ideas, Sheriff?" Rat was fuming, but she had the good grace to do it quietly. She sat heavily in one of the conference room chairs. Scratch watched her shapely ass land like a cat following a jaybird pecking for seed. Miller felt her face redden with jealousy. Them damned zombie hormones again. Her stomach rumbled. She was hungry.
Miller considered apologizing to Rat, but there didn't seem to be any point in that. They'd never see eye to eye. Miller felt the world tilting to one side. She was dangerously hungry, bitchy as hell, but not stupid enough to mouth off. Her crew was in trouble. Time was running out. She needed to make another attempt to make this right.
"Hey," said Scratch, quietly. "I got me an idea."
Everyone turned to him. He'd been busy in the corner of the room, fiddling with the widescreen TV. Scratch reached down behind a file cabinet, almost vanished. A moment later, he produced a power cable about eight feet long. He eyeballed the wall near the door, and smiled. "Quick. Anybody have a knife?"
There was a quiet snick. A five-inch long blade appeared in Lovell's hand. Terrill Lee eyed it nervously.
Lovell asked, "What do you have in mind?"
Scratch lowered his voice and told them.
Lovell handed over the knife. "You understand that's a hell of a long shot, right?" the Marine whispered with one bloodshot eye on those locked double doors.
"You got a better idea?" Scratch expertly cut one end off the cord, leaving the plug intact. He stripped the wires back with the expertise of a surgeon. They all watched him closely.
"Not bad," said Miller. "Bet you hotwired a ton of cars in your wayward youth."
Scratch deadpanned. "My father was an electrician."
Miller raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, I had parents too, you know."
"I'm sure they'd be very proud right now," said Miller. She grinned.
"Don't get too sappy, Sheriff. That guy Psycho had it good compared to me. My mother was butt ugly. Why, she was so mean…"
Sheppard shook his head wearily. "Please knock it off, you two."
Scratch rejoined them. "Now we wait," he said. He patted Terrill Lee on the left shoulder.
"Fuck that," said Rat. She stood up and stomped over to the door. "Hey, Psycho!"
The voice on the other side of the door was cold, clipped. "Give it a rest, Rat."
"We took a vote, and we'd rather be shot than vaporized. So you listen to me. I've been your superior officer for years. You've always wanted an opportunity to take a shot at me. Here's your big chance."
"Fuck off."
"Psycho! Show a little compassion and come in here. I promise we'll be good."
"Not that dumb… Got my orders…" His speech had become clipped again. The big man was stirred up and confused.
Miller caught on. She walked over, stood next to Rat. She slapped the door. "Psycho, you pussy, look here, if it's got tires or tits sooner or later you're going to have trouble with it, right? Here's your chance to get even."
"Come on, little boy," Rat cooed. "Just pretend we're your Mommy. We both know you hate women. You won't ever get a better chance than this to settle the score."
Silence on the other side of the double doors. Miller could picture the big man considering his options. He had weapons, they didn't. He had a raging hard on, and they were both gorgeous. All he had to do was shoot the three men and then play around to his warped heart's delight. They would all still end up just as dead. The concept finally penetrated.
"Stand back," Psycho said. "You try anything, I'll kill you slow instead of quick."
"No tricks," called Rat.
Rat just stared at Miller. She whispered, "Thanks for that."
Miller shrugged.
"Well, so much for the front door." Lovell sighed. He held his head in his hand. "Psycho's all pissed off again. What a shock. But you know, I do think that's about the longest speech I've heard him give in years."
"Got any more brilliant ideas, Sheriff?" Rat was fuming, but she had the good grace to do it quietly. She sat heavily in one of the conference room chairs. Scratch watched her shapely ass land like a cat following a jaybird pecking for seed. Miller felt her face redden with jealousy. Them damned zombie hormones again. Her stomach rumbled. She was hungry.
Miller considered apologizing to Rat, but there didn't seem to be any point in that. They'd never see eye to eye. Miller felt the world tilting to one side. She was dangerously hungry, bitchy as hell, but not stupid enough to mouth off. Her crew was in trouble. Time was running out. She needed to make another attempt to make this right.
"Hey," said Scratch, quietly. "I got me an idea."
Everyone turned to him. He'd been busy in the corner of the room, fiddling with the widescreen TV. Scratch reached down behind a file cabinet, almost vanished. A moment later, he produced a power cable about eight feet long. He eyeballed the wall near the door, and smiled. "Quick. Anybody have a knife?"
There was a quiet snick. A five-inch long blade appeared in Lovell's hand. Terrill Lee eyed it nervously.
Lovell asked, "What do you have in mind?"
Scratch lowered his voice and told them.
Lovell handed over the knife. "You understand that's a hell of a long shot, right?" the Marine whispered with one bloodshot eye on those locked double doors.
"You got a better idea?" Scratch expertly cut one end off the cord, leaving the plug intact. He stripped the wires back with the expertise of a surgeon. They all watched him closely.
"Not bad," said Miller. "Bet you hotwired a ton of cars in your wayward youth."
Scratch deadpanned. "My father was an electrician."
Miller raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, I had parents too, you know."
"I'm sure they'd be very proud right now," said Miller. She grinned.
"Don't get too sappy, Sheriff. That guy Psycho had it good compared to me. My mother was butt ugly. Why, she was so mean…"
Sheppard shook his head wearily. "Please knock it off, you two."
Scratch rejoined them. "Now we wait," he said. He patted Terrill Lee on the left shoulder.
"Fuck that," said Rat. She stood up and stomped over to the door. "Hey, Psycho!"
The voice on the other side of the door was cold, clipped. "Give it a rest, Rat."
"We took a vote, and we'd rather be shot than vaporized. So you listen to me. I've been your superior officer for years. You've always wanted an opportunity to take a shot at me. Here's your big chance."
"Fuck off."
"Psycho! Show a little compassion and come in here. I promise we'll be good."
"Not that dumb… Got my orders…" His speech had become clipped again. The big man was stirred up and confused.
Miller caught on. She walked over, stood next to Rat. She slapped the door. "Psycho, you pussy, look here, if it's got tires or tits sooner or later you're going to have trouble with it, right? Here's your chance to get even."
"Come on, little boy," Rat cooed. "Just pretend we're your Mommy. We both know you hate women. You won't ever get a better chance than this to settle the score."
Silence on the other side of the double doors. Miller could picture the big man considering his options. He had weapons, they didn't. He had a raging hard on, and they were both gorgeous. All he had to do was shoot the three men and then play around to his warped heart's delight. They would all still end up just as dead. The concept finally penetrated.
"Stand back," Psycho said. "You try anything, I'll kill you slow instead of quick."
"No tricks," called Rat.
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