The Hunger (Book 1): Devoured (23 page)

“Holy shit.” Cass’ eyes widened. She licked her lips as she stared at the apple. “Holy. Shit.”

“We can each have a protein bar, a bottle of piss-warm water, and split the apple. What do you think?”

“I’m allergic to whey protein. I’ll take the apple and you can have the bars.”

Lance handed it over along with a water bottle. He went back to the other bench and sat down, tearing one of the wrappers open. The protein bar tasted like chalk, but at that moment, nothing could have been better. He hadn’t eaten since the assholes at the restaurant tied him up.

“I know what you said at the meth lab, but I have a newsflash for you, Cassie—I think we’re becoming friends.”

“My friends know better than to call me Cassie.”

“Oops,” Lance said, his tone jovial.

They ate their food and sipped the water, relishing the small moment of pleasure. Cass turned the dome light off to preserve the vehicle’s battery.

The thuds against the outside of the truck dwindled over the next hour before stopping altogether.

Lance held his ear to the door.

Nothing.

“Why did they leave?” he asked, more to himself than to Cass.

“Maybe it’s getting dark out.”

“Do the daywalkers leave the streets when the Vladdies come out?”

“Daywalkers?”

Lance shrugged. “I started thinking of them like that while you were taking an extended nap earlier. Vladdie seems like a better choice for the ones at night.”

“That’s not a bad name—I like it. And I don’t know where they go. The ones that come out at night don’t attack them, so I don’t know why they would hide. Maybe someone else ran by and the... daywalkers... followed them. Or maybe they just gave up on getting in here. They’re going crazy, but some kind of intelligence is still in there for a while—they can talk after all.”

Lance listened for a few minutes, hearing the occasional shriek from off in the distance, but not much else. The hardened shell of the truck didn’t allow much sound in.

“Let’s hope the Vladdies don’t find us in here. It’ll be loud as hell if
they
bang on the sides.”

“I hate not knowing what time it is,” Cass said. “Has the sun set yet? We should sleep during the night so we can get out of this tin can in the morning.”

“No idea. There’s no chance in hell I’m going to open the door and find out either. Not yet, anyway.” He wiped away the sheen of sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep in here—too damn hot.”

“We have a safe place to spend the night and you’re complaining?”

“Hey, I admit it—I’m a huge baby when it comes to sleeping. I’m one of those people that needs the AC jacked up.”

“You better get over that. We aren’t going to feel the joys of air conditioning while we sleep for the rest of our short lives.”

“Cassie, you have a real knack for cheering me up.”

She kicked him in the shin—not terribly hard, but enough to warn him off the name. He yelped and slid his leg away, rubbing the area.

Lance went back to the gym bag and pulled the towels out.

“Damn, what else is in there?” Cass asked. “What’re the odds that we stumbled upon all of that in here?”

“I guess karma can only shit on your life for so long.” Lance pushed two of the moneybags against the wall, clearing the center of the truck’s bed. The towels went on the rubber matt that covered the steel floor. There wasn’t enough space to put them side-by-side, so he layered them on top of each other. “Not exactly the Ritz, but it’ll do. I wouldn’t recommend bumping into me tonight though, unless you want to shower in my sweat. Christ, I’m going to be so dehydrated that I’ll look like a mummy by the time we wake up.”

Cass stood up and looked at her arms. Light reflected off the layer of saltwater covering them. “I’m not exactly a bastion of cleanliness.”

“Bastion? Good word.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“Would I mock someone who carries around an axe straight out of DragonLance? No, I was being serious. Good word. Don’t hear that one too often.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

Lance frowned at the awkwardness of their conversation. He looked at the towels on the floor, wondering how their sleeping arrangement would go. The benches were too thin and short for someone to sleep on.

The heat inside would force him to take his clothes off to sleep and he didn’t feel particularly comfortable doing that beside her. He realized how moronic that was, but it didn’t change anything. Most of America’s population had died a horrible death and poor Lance York didn’t want to take his clothes off in front of a woman.

Is she feeling as uncomfortable about this as I am?

Cass grabbed the bottom edge of her shirt and pulled it over her head, dropping it to the floor.

Lance stared at her black bra, shocked at how nonchalant she was about her near-nudity.

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen a bra before.”

“Sorry, I just didn’t expect that.” He gave his head a little shake and tore his eyes away from the tops of her sweat-covered breasts.

Cass undid her belt, letting it fall onto her shirt.

Lance felt his gaze being pulled back to her like it was caught in a tractor beam. He watched as she slid her skirt down and stepped out of it. She stood before him in a matching set of bra and panties.

“Uhh—”

“Stop staring at me. It’s hot as the seventh level of Hell in here.” She reached up and turned off the dome light.

“Sorry.” Lance heard her lie down on the towels. He slid his shoes off, placing them in the corner by the moneybags. He paused with his hands on his zipper. “Oh, what the hell.” He stripped down to his boxer briefs.

“What?” Cass asked from the floor.

“Nothing. Being weird.”

He lay down beside her, his heart pumping faster than it should have. He hadn’t been in anything resembling this kind of position with a woman other than Liz in a decade and a half. Even though he knew that there was nothing sexual about their situation, he couldn’t help but feel odd about it.

His shoulder bumped into her as he rolled onto his left side, putting his back between them. “Sorry.”

With his arm trailing along the floor above him, his head placed on it, he wished for a pillow. Why couldn’t the world have ended from a zombie apocalypse like all those shitty novels he used to read? Any moron could board their doors and windows shut and sleep in their own bed.

But no. Reality had to consist of a virus mutating people into raging, steroid monsters. Now he was trying to sleep in an overgrown lunchbox.

At least he had a hot woman beside him.

Sleep hinged onto the edges of his consciousness with surprising quickness.

His muscles relaxed, body finally allowed a moment of rest. He felt himself falling away when something soft and moist brushed his stomach, exploring across his skin just below his belly button.

Lance jerked out of his semi-sleep as Cass’ hand plunged inside his boxer briefs. She grabbed him, squeezing firmly.

“What the hell are you doing?” He rolled over, senses tingling, emotions running the gamut from confusion to elation.

“Shut up, dumbass,” she said, her voice husky.

“But—”

She gripped him tighter as he grew in her hand. “I said shut up.”

“I’m disgusting though! I haven’t had a bath in days. I must smell like a gym locker.”

“I haven’t either.” She slid his underwear down to his thighs and straddled him.

His erection didn’t share the same protests as his mind. He stood at attention as she worked on him.

They both sighed in ecstasy as she guided him inside her.

––––––––

L
ance lay on the towels, staring at the black that filled the cabin of the armored truck.

They’d both fallen asleep as soon as they’d finished. Cass had barely rolled off him when he slipped away, getting the most restful sleep he could remember having in a long time, heat be damned. Even the occasional shriek or thud against the side of the vehicle couldn’t keep him awake for more than a few seconds.

He woke up twenty minutes ago, but hadn’t moved yet. The sound of her shallow breaths kept him from getting up. He wanted to let her sleep as long as he could. Having a safe place to spend the night was a commodity they might not have again.

Their activities of a few hours ago still confused him. The last thing he’d expected was her to jump him like that. Even if he wasn’t particularly clear on the why of it, he sure as hell enjoyed the act. He hadn’t felt this alive in years—decades even.

Lacing his fingers behind his head, he couldn’t help but smile.

Odd that it took the collapse of civilization for him to find some form of contentment. Though he’d been alive for the past fifteen years, he hadn’t actually lived. He’d been on the run for how many days now? He couldn’t remember.

His depression hadn’t reared its head since he’d left his apartment. All of his failures meant nothing now. No one would judge him based on his sparse resume or his off-the-rack suit.

Liz wasn’t around to put him down or make him feel worse about himself than he already did. Cheating spouses meant little right now. Corporations, downsizing, and layoffs were a thing of the past.

In the midst of the apocalypse, Lance York was finally discovering himself.

“How fucked up am I?”

“Hmm?” Cass rolled over beside him, her arms brushing against his as she stretched them out. “You say something?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk to yourself when I’m sleeping beside you then.”

Lance chuckled in the darkness.

That was the other thing about Cass—her snark made him laugh. He’d never really been around a woman like her before. To say that she was the polar opposite of Liz would be an understatement. Liz’s formality and straightforward behavior got on his nerves too often for him to even consider joking around with her.

Cass was different. She stayed on his ass constantly, not letting anything he said slide.

And she completely rocked his world last night.

“So.” Lance sat up, feeling around for his clothes.

“What?” He heard her doing the same.

“What exactly was that last night?”

“That was us getting it on.”

“No kidding.”

She sighed. “Just spit it out, dumbass. What do you really want to ask me?”

His mouth popped open, but no words came out.

What do I want to know, exactly?
That question, as simple as it should have been, felt difficult to answer.

“Why?” he blurted. “Why did you do that?”

“You didn’t seem to mind last night. After I got you to shut up, anyway.”

He found his pants and slid them on. “Hell no, I didn’t mind. After six months, I wouldn’t have minded anything.”

Her movements stopped. “Are you saying that it wasn’t that good?”

So,
he thought.
She still has some insecurities behind that tough-chick façade.

“Are you kidding me? My legs are still shaking, for Christ’s sake.”

She continued getting dressed. “What then?”

“It was just unexpected, that’s all. It was great, but I never would have thought that would happen.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Cass turned the dome light on. She already had her clothing on and was in the process of looping her belt around her waist.

“That’s it? You couldn’t sleep?”

She polished off the last of her water, tossing the bottle into the front corner. “I don’t know. You’re acting like a woman. We’re probably going to die soon—why not enjoy ourselves when the opportunity presents itself?”

Lance thought about it for a moment. Why should he worry about the meanings behind her actions? They had sex. Big deal.

“Fair enough,” he said.

“We need to find a pharmacy or a Wal-Mart or something.” She lifted her axe from the floor and patted the handle.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t need to get pregnant right now. Why do you think?”

Lance put his Rambo knife in its sheath. The machete stayed in his hand. When they opened the door, he wanted to be ready for whatever waited outside.

“Oh, yeah. You don’t have to worry about that. My boys aren’t the best swimmers.”

She clopped him on the shoulder. “See? What was a problem in another life is a blessing in this new one. You’re no loser. You’re a king now.” She considered him for a second. “Well, maybe you’re more like my jester, but you get the point.”

Lance moved to the door, kneeling in front of the handle. “Just because you’re a monumental lay, doesn’t mean I’m going to take your shit. Ok, it probably does, but still.”

Cass chuckled.

The door opened silently.

Lance poked his head through, scanning the small parking lot behind the bank.

Nothing.

The sun hid behind a row of trees, the morning still young. Fresh, cool air washed over him.

“Looks clear,” he said, climbing out.

A wide, red area dried on the concrete. Streaks and bare footprints led away from it, disappearing into a small area of grass beside the bank’s drive through. Lance pushed away the images of the man’s face as he stabbed him.

Cass hopped to the ground behind him. They went around either side of the truck, spotting each other through the windows in the front doors as they inspected the cabin. Nothing appeared smashed or out of place.

Lance spotted a few daywalkers stumbling across a lawn on the other side of the street. Everything else was calm, quiet.

“If we ever had a chance to get to the stadium, this is it.” Lance met Cass at the front of the truck, both of them inspecting the neighborhood.

“How far away are we?” Cass asked.

“I don’t know—a mile or two I would say.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover on foot, considering we’re swarmed by those bastards every time we step outside.”

Lance fished the keys to the armored truck from his pocket. “We could try and drive this beast most of the way.”

“There’s a lot of traffic jams from here to there.”

“If we get caught, we’ll just wait in the cab until things clear out. It’s better than going on foot.”