Free Dead Hunger: The Flex Sheridan Chronicle by Eric A. Shelman Page A

at his head.  “Drop that shit now!”
    Hemp did.   He flung the gun to the other side of the cell and it skittered off the concrete floor and into the wall.  “It’s empty!  Empty!” he shouted, cowering.
    “Why’d you grab it!” Gem said, her muscles tense as she held the gun on him.
    “To show you if I was supposed to be in here I would not have a damned gun!” he said, holding his hands in front of him in a defensive gesture.
    Gem’s muscles relaxed.  So did mine.  She looked at me and shrugged.  “Makes sense.”
    “I agree,” I said.  “I’m glad this kid’s on Benadryl.  Fuck me.”
    Gem lowered the weapon, glanced again at the propped door, then turned back to the  British man in the cage.   “Who were you trying to get away from?  When was this?”
    Gem stepped back and aimed the Uzi toward the open door where the chair lay angled and propped beneath the doorknob.   Chatsworth must have noticed Gem eyeing the door nervously. 
    “ I put that chair there when I ran in.  I was afraid I’d be locked in if it latched, and then this happened.  I’ve lost track of time, and – Jesus, I forgot I even had a watch on.”  He looked at his watch.  “ I’ve been in here a bout an hour now.  These two were coming after me, and I shot them in the leg to start – thought it might deter them – but they didn’t take their eyes off me, and kept coming.  It wasn’t like they saw me – more like they were drawn to me.  I shot one in the chest, and he still kept coming.  Christ, what the devil is happening here?”
    “So you figured out the head shot is all that kills them,” I said.  “Good.  It doesn’t take long.  You take out both of these?”
    Hemp nodded.  “Yes, but I only got the one in the head.  The other—”
    “Flex, MOVE!”  Gem’s voice was panicked, and she pulled me hard toward her and yanked me against the concrete wall next to Hemp’s cell.  As my back contacted the wall and I dropped my gun to keep from losing my grip on Trina, I saw why.  The zombie on the cell block floor had begun to move and had pulled itself  toward me until it s gaping , gnashing mouth must have been inches from my ankle .  Fucking inches .
    Gem leapt back and pulled the trigger of the Uzi, holding it down as at least 25 high velocity rounds separated the zombie’s head from his shoulders and nearly shattered our eardrums, echoing in the brick and steel block.  When it was over, she leaned against the cell, breathing hard, her shoulders heaving. 
    I stood there speechless, as did Hemp.  He sat on his knees, staring at her back, and a second later she turned and glared at Hemp.  “ Did you get the other one in the head?  Are you fucking sure?”
    I moved Trina into one arm and reached out and took the Uzi from her.  “Here.”  I put Trina in her arms.  “I got this.  Relax.”  I walked over to the body lying directly across the narrow block, up against the opposite bank of cells.  With my foot, I kicked the body over so it rolled onto its back.  Yep.  It was a one of them .  The teeth were pulled back, the eyes staring blankly and sunken, the black veins running over every inch of its body. 
    T here were two bullet holes.  One in its forehead, and the other in the now destroyed chin.   I lowered the barrel of the Uzi to his cranium to make sure.  I gave it a short burst and felt better.
    “Okay,” I said.  “Let’s get our friend out of that cage and go get us some evidence.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
     
     
     
    Hemp was no pussy.  I could tell right away.  He grabbed the empty .45 from the cell floor and tucked it in his pants.
    “Popular gun,” Hemp said.   “ If we don’t find any ammo in evidence , I can find a bit on some of the police officers.”
    I led this time, and once we got on the second floor through a stairwell, the signs directing us to evidence were pretty clear.  It was on the third