Plagued: The Midamerica Zombie Half-Breed Experiment (Plagued States of America) by Better Hero Army Page B

thousands of baby birds screaming for food from their nests. It was faint, but relentless, and compared to the moaning he had heard at Biter’s Hill, this disturbed him more because the wail he heard was like that of abandoned children.
    When his shift was over he walked over to the women’s bathroom and put his head next to the door, listening. He just didn’t feel safe without her by his side, without her ability to sniff out danger. He sighed, his head low, his eyes weary. A sudden movement under the door startled him slightly until he realized it was her fingers and not some rat or mouse climbing around near his feet. He slid down the wall and put his hand out to hers, feeling her soft skin, still so cold. He knew she was warm blooded. He’d felt her heat before. She held his fingers between hers and he laid down with his head over them to help warm her up. He saw the gap beneath the door. It was pitch black within, but in the near silence of the terminal building he could hear her breathing. She may have even been staring out at him. He wondered if she had been laying there all night with her nose or ear to the gap to hear and smell.

Twenty-Three
    Tom felt selfish for falling asleep. The light of dawn woke him and he realized they survived the night unscathed.
    The plan Peske had concocted was simple enough. Split into two groups. The first would go to the generator to get it started while the second would go to the control tower. Rick volunteered to lead the team responsible for the generator with Mike to show the way and two of the visitors who knew enough about engines to be of use. They had to go on foot. The duck was too loud, Peske said. It would wake all the zombies hiding in the buildings. The thought of it didn’t make anyone comfortable, least of all those going to the generator. That would make a lot of noise once it was turned on, after all, so everyone on that team carried a zombie pole and a three gallon can of diesel. Mike slung a loaded canister gun with several extra shots. Peske broke out a pair of walkie-talkies.
    “You call us,” Peske told Mike while giving him a radio. “I don’t want to squawk you and give up where you’re hiding if you run into any biters. Call as soon as you get there, when you’ve got it running, and on your way back.”
    “I know the drill,” Mike said while making sure the radio was turned off. He clipped it to the strap of the canister gun across his chest.
    The other group took the three remaining poles, one of which Peske used on Penelope. Hank and David took the other two. The kinds of weapons everyone else was left with were a couple baseball bats and two oars from the rowboat.
    They walked over as a group, which felt even more eerie given how foreign the world around them seemed. There were no noises of city life like Tom was accustomed, nor the constant sound of the duck’s engine groaning along the highway, its wheels humming loudly over the road, the rattle of loose things everywhere. The only things making noise were birds, and they wailed as though lamenting emptiness.
    “I’ve never heard birds like that,” one of the visitors said softly.
    “Ain’t birds,” Pe ske replied at a whisper.
    “What is it, then?” the visitor asked.
    “The children,” Peske replied. “The hungry ones.” It wasn’t the kind of statement that helped inspire courage in this situation, Tom thought. He coughed softly and glowered at Peske. Peske sighed, knowing what Tom wanted. “Don’t worry about the babies. They don’t hunt. It’s like they’re blind or deaf or something. They all cluster around in the trees by day and go out on the runway by night. Stay outside in the sunlight. Don’t go into any buildings. The adults hide inside by day.”
    “But you’re going into the tower,” the visitor pointed out. Tom was thinking the same thing.
    “Crazy, huh?” Peske said with a grin. “And you thought you got the raw deal, didn’t you?”
    The road between