Hunger Chronicles (Book 1): Life Bites (7 page)

“Looks like they tried to get out with a car.”

I follow the direction of John’s outstretched finger to the abandoned police cruiser—door ajar, interior lights still on—stopped just short of a pile up of cars just south of the intersection.

“Is anyone in that building?” Convict gestures over the line of shops on the south side of the street.

I glance over the one and some story structures to the eight or nine-story building a block down from the zombie party. Hotel, looks like. The fire-escape clinging to the exterior and an old sign stretched out on metal stilts into the night sky suggest it was the pay-by-the-hour kind of place.

I squint my eyes against the dark night. A human probably couldn’t, but I can see most of the visible windows are framed with jagged shards of glass and black soot around the sills, giving credence to a fairly spectacular fire. I’m betting the interior is pretty much burned out and thus uninhabitable. Even so, I take a moment to settle myself and search for any telltale heartbeats. Nothing, comparatively at least, and I say as much.

“Not that I can pick up, but hard to hear over the party next door. If they are, they’re probably in a basement.”

“How do you know that?” Convict asks.

“Fire. I’m betting the entire center is burned out. Fire escape looks sturdy enough, but I wouldn’t be thinking of using the elevator. Besides, don’t you think they would have come out to check on the commotion?”

Convict grunts what I take as an affirmative, then settles in a crouch beside John, lowering his voice into a commanding whisper. “Okay, Private Martin and I are going to work our way around to the roof of that hotel. Once you see us up there, I want you two to draw this horde out into the intersection and down the street. We’ll pick off those we can as you pass, but the goal is to draw them away from that building so we can get the other team out.”

I look again at the hotel. It may be dilapidated, but it’s the tallest building in this area. Though I hate to admit it, his plan has merit.

“How long do you think you’ll need?” John asks.

“Five, ten minutes, max. After that you can assume the mission is either a success or a failure and head for the rendezvous point.” Convict hesitates, tugging at his bottom lip with his thumb and index finger as he eyes the large group of zombies ahead of us. “Just make sure you don’t bring the entire party with you.”

John nods curtly, his gaze hard on the shuffling threat before us. I wait for Convict and Brian to leave before saying anything, but I think I’m adept enough to read between the lines to know what Convict was saying, which is if we don’t ditch our trailers, we can count on finding ourselves another ride home. Of course, that’s all assuming I get a chance to make it back to the Humvee in the first place. Freakin-A. Vampire hunter.

“So…” I whisper, glancing up at the empty roof of the hotel as I shift a touch closer to John. “Does Marine… um, Commander Derwood know what Brian did before the zombie wars?” I really don’t like the idea of Brian being up there on that roof with a high caliber rifle. Just a hair off target—whoops! My bad. Nope, it wouldn’t take much to convince the others it was a mistake.

John casts a look over his shoulder at me. “The commander didn’t send you on a suicide mission, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Wow. John is either really good at reading between the lines, too, or I am that obvious. Istill have a small problem believing him though. It’s simple logic: vampire plus vampire hunter equals at least one body.

“I’m not,” I say, feigning a serenity I don’t feel. “It just seems an unlikely pairing.”

John looks forward again. “Brian is a minimalist and doesn’t tend towards being trigger happy.”

“Really,” I drawl, thinking of our companion and the mountains of ammo he’s carrying.

John gives a slight shake of his head. “He doesn’t kill needlessly. He won’t pull the trigger without a good reason.”

I frown, gnawing my lip. “So why did you want me sticking close to you then?”

John hesitates then shrugs. “I’m not a hundred percent sure what he’d construe as a good reason.”

Oh yeah, that’s reassuring. Regardless, I’m beginning to get Marine’s strategy. Placing me on a team with a known vampire hunter—assuming I manage to make it back to the base in one piece—will prove to the rest of the soldiers that I’m not a threat. All I need to do is prove it to Brian first. Huh. How did Angel do it? I’ve no idea. Guess I should have been watching Buffy reruns rather than trying to outdistance Nathanial in the race for valedictorian.

John and I spend the next five minutes in silence, our attention split between the ambling group of zombies and the roof of the hotel. Finally, two figures pop into view a couple floors down, silently sneaking up the fire escape.

“There they are.”

John glances up then back at me. “You ready?”

I shift, wincing at the sting of needles in both my legs, but nod.

“Here we go, then.” John pushes up off the low wall into a crouch.

The answer is yes, it is possible to move slower than turtle. It’s called snail speed. Ah! I can’t take much more of this. My legs can’t take much more of this. My stomach can’t take much more of this. I glare at John’s back as I crouch-walk behind him, seriously considering biting him just to let him know how much he’s ticking me off. We’re supposed to draw the zombie’s attention, not sneak by them.

Yes, but not until you’ve hit that next intersection, Eva.

I curl my lip at my conscience, drat her, and rope in my impatience by imagining how awesome it’s going to be to sink my fangs into one of those zombies up ahead. We’re almost to the corner when the first zombie raises its head, cracked lips gaping, decaying nostrils flaring as it tries to scent the air. I can’t help but cringe at the sight of the thing. It no longer resembles anything remotely human, the advance of decay and obvious starvation twisting it beyond monster and far into the realm of nightmares. My stomach twists again, but for a different reason this time. I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can feed off that thing.

I frantically scan the rest of the nearby creatures. Most are in similar condition to this one, but there are a few whose flesh hasn’t started showing visible signs of decay. Thank God.

John’s hand swipes out to the side. We pause. The zombie takes a lurching step in our direction. John gestures to me and cuts his hand down the road. Got it. Run.
Finally!

I lurch up, striking out across the corner of the intersection and south on H street. As eager as I was for this moment, I’m finding it difficult to run on legs that feel like cheap dollar-store bendable straws stuffed in a thick shake. I hit an uneven edge of pavement, my ankle twisting. Pavement flies up to meet me and, for a couple strides, I resort to a knuckle-aided run that would have made our furry ancestors proud.

Holy crap I need to feed.

Behind me I can hear the pounding stride of boot falls and the quick retort of John’s rifle as he lays down cover fire on the run. John’s rifle goes silent as he concentrates on running rather than fighting. The fall of zombies doesn’t end though. Convict and Brian have taken over.

Around the corner of the hotel stumbles another zombie. I instinctively raise my gun, before lowering it. This zombie looks half-way human. I glance at the pack half-running, half-staggering at us from behind. Plenty of time. I make a beeline for the zombie, only to watch its head explode as a slug blasts through it.

I glance up at the roof to the bastard who’s just stolen my dinner out from under me. My jaw drops open as Brian gives me a cocky salute and shifts his sight back to the mob racing up behind us.

“Eva! Get your ass in gear.”

John’s sharp command as he bolts by jerks me back into reality. The zombies are closing in and there are too many of them to hope for a light snack. Unless I want to
be
the snack.

Ignoring my growling stomach and screaming limbs, I run after John. Behind us, more and more zombies fall, their rotting bodies hitting the pavement with heavy thuds as Brian and Convict’s aim holds true. It ticks me off. At the rate they’re going there won’t be a zombie left for me. Okay, maybe I’m being unreasonable. I doubt either of them sees it as denying me my meal, rather laying down cover for their teammates. I can admit this, but they could go to the devil if they expect me to be grateful.

All too soon there are less muffled plops. We’re beginning to outrun the rifle’s ranges. Ahead of me, John spins around and drops into a one-legged kneel. He lifts his gun, takes aim and squeezes off a half-dozen rounds. Behind me more bodies fall.

I hesitate when I reach him, but a quick shake of his head gets his message across. Keep going. John wants to tag team.

I race down another half block then spin and drop. “Go!”

I needn’t have yelled. John is already up and running. Good thing too, these zombies are desperate and determined. Either that or we have some regular athletes in the group. Damn they’re fast.

I wait for them to get a bit closer, then start dropping them with my Glock. It about kills me to pop off the frontrunner when letting the creature get close would coincide with my desire to get one alone and feed from it, but it’s not just me I have to worry about.

John and I work another five blocks like this, then make a sprint down a cross street, turn right, then left, then left again. The number of followers is dwindling rapidly. Partly because we’ve killed a good number, partly because the lazier of their companions are stopping to scavenge from the dead, and partly because we’ve just plain outrun them. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’m disappointed when the erratic path we lay seems to work. Ten blocks from the hotel and there isn’t a single zombie on our tail.

I stumble to a stop, laying my elbows on my thighs as I clamp my hands around my pounding head.

“No stopping.” John grabs my upper arm and drags me down another one-way side-road.

I groan, but drag my feet after him. I’ve stopped paying attention to street signs, but I can tell John is trying to work us back north toward the highway. I can only hope I find a lone zombie between here and there. I can’t go back to the base without feeding.

As if in answer to a prayer, a pair of zombies lunge out from the shadows between two buildings to my left. I spin, my Glock rising in an arc as I aim for the nearer of the two. The other, well, I have plans for that one. Only it’s not meant to be. My gun clicks. No ammo.

Brilliant, Eva. How could you have missed that?

I step back to give myself more room to fight but my foot catches in a pothole and I go down, wind-milling. My head cracks on the pavement, stars flashing before my eyes. Before I know it, biting pain sinks into one of my legs, followed by a violent jerk of my gun arm and a searing snap of agony as the bone breaks.

I scream, grabbing for my knife with my good hand. The blade whistles out of its sheath in an upward arc as I stab for the creature that’s attacking the flesh of my thigh with zealous need. The blade sinks home into the base of its skull just as four rounds are popped off nearby. The zombies fall, both the one attacking my leg and the one trying to drag me by my dangling arm away from its companion. And I lay injured and starving. So not a good combination.

I whimper, yanking the knife out of the creature. I barely get it sheathed before hands are grabbing me under my armpits, yanking me out from under the heavy weight of the dead zombie, and spinning me around.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” John demands, his face flushed and neck corded with anger.

I pant through the pain. Not sure what hurts more, the injuries that are not going to heal anytime soon, or the squelching of my humanity by the instinct that is screaming at me to lunge forward and sink my teeth into John’s neck.

I clamp my teeth together, jerking my gaze away from his pulse and meet his gaze. I need to look into his eyes, see the human in him. “I need to feed.”

His gaze cuts to the dead zombies on the ground. There is no life in either of their eyes, John’s double taps having eradicated it.

“Fresh blood. Need them to be alive.” Or at least alive when the blood is drawn. I’d managed to find a hospital filled with pints of blood once. I’d lived off them for over a week before the supply I’d confiscated ran out. But something about the suction action of drawing blood from a collapsed artery destroys whatever it is I need.

Hemolysis. That’s the word. Both my dad and my biology teacher would be bawling right now.

John yanks his hands back. “Then fucking grab a snack, because I can’t keep saving your ass and keep mine out of the fire, too.”

Wow. I don’t know why that hurts, but it does, even if it does make sense. It’s a dog eat dog world out here, each man—or woman—has got to take care of themselves first.

Even as I think this, John belies this belief by yanking a strip off the bottom of his T-shirt and kneeling down to wrap it around my gushing thigh.

“I was trying to but I tripped.”

“Then stop tripping.” He yanks the knot tight, causing me to wince. He stands back up, eyeing my dangling arm. With a sigh, he rips another couple strips off and works them into a makeshift sling. “You’re a mess.”

“Thanks.” Even I’m not sure if I’m being sarcastic or honestly thanking him for saving my butt. He seems to decide on the latter because he nods, grumbling a, “You’re welcome.”

I look back down at the dead zombies, my fangs cutting into my gums. So close.

“Next zombie we see, I’ll only shoot out the knees, promise.”

I blink up at him. This from the guy who isn’t going to save my ass anymore? “You’re a weird one.”

“I know.” He jerks his head up the street. “Come on. We need to move. I don’t trust Brice not to take off if we’re not back at the Humvee when he gets there.”

7.

John sets a grueling pace that has my entire body screaming. I know we have to though; John’s admission that our leader is no hero is like a fire licking at my heels. Yup, if it’s Convict’s ass or ours he’ll have no qualms leaving us. Which means we not only have to make up the dozen or more blocks we’ve traveled southward, but we need to overtake them in the last ten to the highway. Oh, and catch me a snack. Still need to do that.