The Hungry by Steve Hockensmith, Joe McKinney, Harry Shannon, Steven Booth Read Free Book Online Page B

give me this little gift."
    "What did I miss?"
    "There was an old man…" Terrill Lee paused. He seemed almost embarrassed. "Well, I might as well say it, a zombie. He came down the street, kind of half looked in the window. You weren't moving, so he ignored the house and kept on going down to the highway. Look, whatever is going on outside, it ain't over."
    "Where are the neighbors?" asked Miller.
    "I haven't seen a soul—er, a living soul—since last night. This morning I went from house to house, checking to see if anyone was home, you know, to offer medical assistance, but no one answered or opened their doors. I reckon they're either all gone or dead. Living dead, I suppose. Something like that."
    "How come you ain't gone?"
    Terrill Lee grimaced. "I just waited too damned long. Got trapped last night. The streets were filled with zombies. I managed to take out a couple, but for the most part I just hid out in the garage."
    That sounds about right, thought Miller. You never were the Batman type.
    "Anyway," he said, "I was about to take off this morning when you came home and plowed into the oak tree. I want you to know that I could be 500 miles from here by now if it weren't for you."
    Miller could feel the old anger and frustration welling up. He may have been kidding but then again, maybe not. He sure knew how to push her buttons. "I'm sorry I ruined your chickenshit plans to run and hide, Terrill Lee."
    "Now, you listen to me…"
    "No, you listen!"
    Just like the old days. Shit…
    "Hey, look, I don't want to fight with you." Terrill Lee turned away to collect himself. "How are you doing? You sat up this time. You must be feeling better."
    Miller glared. Terrill Lee didn't look up. Finally, she softened. There was no sense in fighting with this man. Certainly not now. They needed each other more than ever before. And after all, he had just saved her life. Put all that old crap aside once and for all, girl. Survive.
    "I'm better. Not great, but much better than this morning." She hesitated. "Thank you, Terrill Lee."
    "You hungry, girl?"
    "I could eat."
    "I'll bring you some soup."
    "Help me up. I'll come with you."
    "That's not such a good idea." He raised a hand to keep her flat on the bed, but Miller was already sitting up again. She tested her muscles. She felt much better.
    "I said I'm coming with," Miller insisted.
    "Fine, whatever." Terrill Lee helped her up. Miller was glad to find her legs were already stable, and that she was indeed hungry. All that time in the gym had paid off. Terrill Lee led the way down the hall and into the kitchen. Miller followed slowly behind him, sometimes palming and hugging the wall for support. She felt far better than she had any right to feel.
    "You want me to…"
    "No, I'll do it." Miller made her way into the kitchen—she tried not to think of it as their kitchen—and sat down at the breakfast table. The new leather chair was cold on her bare butt. Miller looked around slowly. She saw the den through the passway. She took in the new décor. Every conceivable surface was now covered with animal skin. Hideous stuff. There was a new elk's head over the fireplace in the adjoining living room, as well as huge fish, hunting rifles on racks, and another large oil painting of a woman with enormous boobs. Damn, this lady was considerably more naked than the others. Her nether regions sneered back like a rival.
    "Where do you get your decorating ideas? Field and Stream?" Miller nodded to the oil painting. "Penthouse?"
    Terrill Lee, now standing at the kitchen counter, ignored her. He opened two cans of soup and some crackers. Miller hid her growing resentment in deadpan humor. She'd had a lot of practice at that.
    "Seriously, Terrill Lee, since when do you like your critters dead and skinned? I thought your 'life's work' was to save animals, not sit on them." She rose up and down quickly, her sticky butt cheeks slapping the chair.
    "I guess you don't know as much about me as you