The Hungry Read Online Free PDF Page A

bars of the cell door, a sudden nervous tic making his face twitch. Sheriff Miller could smell his guilty sweat from two yards off. Needles was accused of drugging and sodomizing a minor. His wide eyes gave him away.
    "Never mind. Put your hands through the slot," Miller commanded again. She was surprised by the strength in her voice. She didn't feel very strong. Zombies? The hell?
    "What's going on, Sheriff?" Scratch spoke calmly. He stepped away from the door and crossed his arms. Needles stepped back, a reluctant imitation of his leader. "We ain't going nowhere 'less you tell us the truth."
    Wells huffed with frustration and fear. "Sheriff, leave them. They'll be safe in there."
    Miller stared at him.
    "Probably," he shrugged.
    "I'm not leaving my prisoners," Miller said bluntly. "We have our duty."
    "We don't have time for this." Wells turned his attention to the big motorcyclist and drew his club. "Okay, do what the Sheriff says, asshole, or I'll come in there and crack your skull again. Then the zombies won't have a problem getting at your shit-for-brains."
    "Zombies?" Scratch released a sharp laugh. "Oh, bullshit! What's really going on? Some family members coming for my friend here?"
    In his cell, Needles wilted.
    "What is going on," Sheriff Miller said, "is that we need to get you two to safety. We don't have time for any macho posturing. Now, present your hands."
    "Holy bat shit, Scratch." Needles muttered, peering out his small, high cell window. "You really got to check this out."
    Wells and Miller exchanged glances. "Get the shotguns ready," she barked. Wells ran for the gun cabinet.
    Meanwhile, Scratch stood on his own cot and looked through the barred window. "Whoa, what the fuck is that?"
    "I told you," said Wells, from across the room. He was loading two shotguns as fast as possible. "Zombies."
    "Damn." Scratch hopped down from his cot immediately and slid his hands through the slot. "Move," he ordered Needles. "We gotta go." Miller snapped the cuffs around each of their wrists. She opened the cell doors, ushering the two prisoners out. As they headed down the hallway, Wells jabbed Scratch with his stick. Scratch stumbled a bit.
    "Watch it, dickhead, or I'll turn around and break you in two," snapped Scratch.
    Wells raised his stick, ready to strike. The biker glared back like a pit bull.
    "Wells!" The deputy turned to see Miller with genuine rage in her eyes. "They are our prisoners. Knock it off."
    Wells opened the door to the parking lot and stopped short. The last sunlight was fading out, a yellow ball dipping down into a huge pond of black ink.
    "My God," Wells gasped.
    Miller swallowed. "We ain't gonna make it to the cars."
     

TWO
     
     
    Scratch and Needles stepped forward to look. It was a living nightmare. The things were everywhere, covering the blacktop around the isolated sheriff's station, feet shuffling, throats moaning. Features were distorted, clothing ripped. They could have been anybody; townspeople, tourists passing through, distant relatives. Tattered clothing, gaping wounds and blood splatter covered their bodies. Dozens of zombies with missing limbs staggered forward in broken formation. The moaning sound floated on a low breeze that carried the stench of rotting meat. The three men stared. Miller looked down at her hands. They were not trembling. Her mind plotted strategy. She looked up again. The closest zombies were perhaps twenty yards away.
    Wells leveled the shotgun at a man in a dark suit. He fired, the noise making Needles jump. The zombie fell heavily to the ground.
    "Now, watch this," said Wells. "It ain't dead for real, not yet."
    Scratch snorted. "Hell he ain't."
    After a moment, the creature picked itself up and began lumbering toward the station, dark intestines sliding from its gut.
    "See what I mean, Sheriff?" Deputy Wells said, terror in his eyes. "I do believe we are in some pretty deep shit."
    "All right!" snapped Sheriff Miller. "Everyone back inside. Lock the door,