Free The Hungry (Book 2): The Wrath of God by Steven Booth, Harry Shannon

legs. Miller had made her last stand against the horde with a machete. Her gorge rose at the sight. She knew it was the zombie virus that had given her the strength and rage to go that berserk, but the consequences were grim indeed when presented to a sober mind. She kept reminding herself they'd all been dead to begin with. Or so she hoped.
    They moved on.
    It was slow going. The light was better overall, still flickering off and on occasionally, but without it the trip would have taken several hours. They had to pick their way through the clumps of dead zombies. The stench soon overpowered the chemical smell from the nose cream and they all reapplied it. Brubeck and Psycho were assigned the unenviable job of scooping the dead out of the way to make room for the pallet truck to shove its way through. They were panting and spitting. Brubeck had puke on the sleeve of his uniform and looked as if he might heave again at any moment. Frustrated with their pace, Miller stepped forward to help. She dragged away the body of a fat nurse in stained whites. She went back for the corpse of a disemboweled officer. After a time, Scratch and Terrill Lee reluctantly joined her.
    The bodies were damp, smelly, and rotting.
    "Damn," Miller said. "All these weeks later and this one is still as stiff as a honeymoon hard on."
    Scratch snickered.
    Brubeck, the CIA man who'd originally presented himself as the toughest of the bunch, finally couldn't take it anymore. He heaved again and again, though nothing much came up. No one went to comfort him. They were all queasy. As for Miller, her response to this display of regurgitation was to wonder if there were any more meal bars handy. Weird, right now I could eat the rectum out of a dead bull if you loaned me a bottle of hot sauce…
    They finally came to the entrance to the generator room. Brubeck stayed back with his eyes on the hangar, just in case anything moved. The air was just wretched. They all knew they needed both lights and air conditioning as soon as possible.
    The generator room was between helicopter maintenance and a security station. The door stood open. Brubeck and Psycho were on full alert this time. They didn't need to be told what could be waiting behind those doors. Miller reckoned they had all lost their cherries now. Sheppard opened the door and stepped away with his rifle raised.
    The two soldiers swept inside, weapons at the ready. Silence fell, except for their footsteps. Terrill Lee, Scratch, and Miller stayed close to Sheppard, since he was armed. The time crawled by, but at least no one screamed. No shots were fired. A few moments later Miller heard the men call out, "Clear!"
    Rat and Lovell entered next, leaving Miller, Scratch, Terrill Lee, and Sheppard waiting outside with Ripper. The lights flickered out again. They were back in the dark. Maybe someone had turned them off to open up the electrical panel. Up and down, light and dark, again and again and again.
    "All right, Sergeant," called Rat from inside. "Let's get this thing spun up."
    The rest of them entered the room. Flashlights focused. The six generators sat in a row, hulking metal dinosaurs lining up for a drag race. Lovell moved to the doorway to stand guard. The inside of the panel doors was an explosion in a spaghetti factory, wires of all colors and shapes woven in and out of mysterious clumps of metal and plastic.
    Sheppard stared at the generators, occasionally looking at Major Hanratty.
    "Well?" said Rat.
    "Well what, Major?" Sheppard said. "Look, I'm a medical technician. I don't know the first thing about generators. I'm here to extract 'data and materials.' I seem to recall that your job is to facilitate that part of the mission."
    Rat glared at him, but if she had a harsh response in her head, it never reached her mouth. She was professional. "Lovell, you're up."
    Lovell turned in the doorway. "Ma'am?"
    Rat said. "Without Dale, you're our resident mechanic. See what you can do. Brubeck, you stand