The Hunger (Book 1): Devoured (26 page)

Lungs burned.

Spasms took his body.

Eyelids drooped.

A shadow formed on the surface.

Water rippled as a hand reached in, gripped Lance’s wrist.

He was pulled up as his mind slowed, muscles finally loosening.

His head broke free and he gasped, inhaling air and water. Harsh coughs hurt his chest as he tried to breathe, struggling to clear his lungs. His shirt tightened around his neck, pinching the skin.

“Help me out here.” Cass grunted. “Kick your fucking legs!”

She pulled him against the edge of the pedal boat, guiding his hand to the edge. He held on for dear life, resting his forehead against it as he continued coughing up water.

Lance wanted to thank her, but he couldn’t spare a breath to speak.

Engines fired to life on the shore.

He grabbed the boat with his other hand and turned his head, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. The men climbed back into their vehicles and turned around, smoke trailing their spinning tires as they sped away. The growing group of daywalkers pursued them.

“Saved by some monsters,” Cass said. “Didn’t see that coming.” She looked down at Lance. “We need to work on your cardio. Didn’t you ever haul your dumb ass to the gym?”

Lance’s mind cleared little by little as he held onto the boat. “Didn’t see the point. Depression is a bitch.”

After another minute of rest, he struggled to pull himself out of the water. Cass leaned against the far side of the pedal boat, displacing their weight. It still dipped precariously close to the tipping point as Lance finally swung a leg over the side and rolled in.

“No more running. Ever.” Lance stared up at the blue sky, taking in big mouthfuls of air. “I think I was wrong—being eaten might have been better.”

“Stop whining. We’re alive.” Cass sat in one of the molded-plastic seats, having to sit on one butt cheek because the axe on her back made her shoulders rotate.

He looked over at her. “You’re sitting like you have a stick up your ass.”

Cass grappled with the axe and holster, managing to pull it free and lay it across the flat surface in front of their seats. “Does that suit your majesty?”

“Almost. I could use a sandwich too. And a beer. Cold beer.”

She socked him in the arm. “Dumbass.”

Lance slid into his seat with more difficulty than he liked. It felt like his body had blown a gasket.

They watched the shore, floating toward the stadium.

––––––––

S
oldiers came into view as their boat moved beside the rows of barbed wire.

The men shot at the infected, carefully choosing their shots. Only a few dozen stood behind the fenced-off area, hiding behind sandbags and concrete barriers.

“I hope there are a lot more of them than that,” Cass said.

Lance nodded his agreement. “At least they have the area relatively secure.”

Tents filled the parking lots surrounding the stadium. Civilians walked between them, carrying supplies and bottles of water. Children held their parents’ hands. A handful of soldiers stood guard among them.

The open end of Heinz Field, where the enormous screen was erected, had dozens of military vehicles parked in front of it. A long line of people snaked away from doors under the screen, feeding back through the Hummers and MRAPs. Two tanks were on opposing edges of a vacant lot, their large barrels pointed at the barbed barricades.

The USS Requin, a decommissioned museum ship, sat by its usual dock, stoic against the flow of the river.

A helicopter approached from the East, flying low and fast before descending into the stadium with such speed that Lance wondered how the pilot was able to land it. It took off again ninety seconds later, heading back in the same direction from which it came.

“You think they’re flying people out?” Lance asked. He slumped in the seat, letting his head rest against the hard plastic.

“That’s my guess. They’re probably bringing supplies in and taking people out. Hopefully.”

“That might be our ticket out of here.”

“Looks like we might be waiting in line for the next decade.”

“I could use the sleep anyway.”

Cass frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“What?”

“Sitting around in a tent, waiting for a helicopter ride out of here, hoping every night that the Vladdies won’t break through.”

Lance didn’t disagree, but he wasn’t sure what other options they had. “Do you have a better idea?”

“Not yet.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Just that I don’t like it. Not sure we can do anything else, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

A few of the infected on the other side of the fence spotted Lance and Cass. They ran to the edge of the water and stopped, loosing shrieks and cries. None stepped from the shore.

Lance pointed at them. “They won’t come in the water.”

“Maybe we should just stay on the boat then.”

“If I don’t eat soon, I’m not going to have the strength to hold my head up.” He saw a frown spread across her face. “I’m a pussy, whatever. You can stay out here and float around, but I need food and water.”

“Fine.”

“Christ,” Lance rubbed his temples. “You’re practically a machine. What did you do, run Iron Man marathons?”

“No, but I didn’t sit around on my ass feeling sorry for myself.”

Lance put his feet on the pedals and slowly got his spinning. His legs ached as he angled them toward the shore.

“How old are you anyway?”

“Twenty-seven. Why?”

“Just asking. It occurred to me that I didn’t know.”

“What about you, old man? I’ve seen seventy-year-olds in better shape than you.”

“Thirty-six. And kiss my ass.”

They pedaled at an even pace, working their way across the relatively still water. Lance spotted a small fire close to the shore, a pot of something cooking over it. The aroma tied his stomach in knots. He wiped at his chin, wondering if he was drooling on himself.

A soldier hailed them when they were within twenty yards of the shore.

“Stop!”

They ceased pedaling, letting the boat coast.

Two other soldiers ran up, rifles at the ready.

“Have either of you been bit?”

“No! Don’t shoot us!” Lance imagined himself getting this far only to be shot as he reached a safe haven.

“Get one of the docs down here.” The smallest of the soldiers, and the only one not aiming his weapon at them, stepped to the water’s edge. “Come to the shore, but don’t get out. I’ll have you executed if you so much as move.”

Cass stayed quiet during the exchange.

The boat raked against stones as it lodged on the shore. Lance sat up with a groan, but kept his hands visible. Cass continued leaning back, acting unconcerned at the guns pointed in their direction.

A man in a filthy lab coat stalked away from the tents, walking toward the boat.

“Doc Brown!” Lance laughed, pleased at seeing a familiar face. He didn’t know the doctor well, at all really, but his instinct told him he was a good man. He’d been forthcoming with information at the hospital, despite being on a gag order. That’s all Lance needed to form an opinion on the man’s character.

“You know him?” Cass raised an eyebrow at Lance.

“Not really. He was working in the hospital when all of this broke out. He told me a few things he wasn’t supposed to.”

The doctor stopped beside the small group of soldiers, brow furrowed. “Do I know you?”

“It’s Lance.” His confused expression didn’t change. “Lance York—from the hospital.”

“Oh, yes! My apologies. It’s been a long couple of days.” He looked even more fatigued than he had at the hospital. Dark bags hung under drooping eyes. His coat was so stained that it resembled any color other than white.

“You know these two, Doc?”

“I’ve met the gentleman, yes.”

“Give ‘em a quick scan. We ain’t got all day.”

Doc Brown huffed, but did as he was ordered. He walked down to the boat and offered his hand to Cass, helping her out.

“I’m Doctor Emmett Brown.”

“Cass.” She cocked her head to the side. “Why is your name familiar to me?”

The doctor lifted her arms and inspected them, mumbling incoherently to himself.

Lance held in a chuckle. “It’s from Back to the Future. The white-haired guy who invented the flux capacitor.”

“Oh. That sucks.”

“Yes, it does.” Brown inspected her legs and torso before examining her eyes. He turned and gave the soldiers a nod. “She’s clear.”

“I think it’s a great name, Doc.” Lance spread his legs and lifted his arms, letting Brown screen him.

The other two soldiers stared at Cass as she lifted her axe from the boat. Two of them whispered to each other as their eyes ran up and down her body.

Lance felt a pang of protective anger at their ogling. He knew it was stupid, she could take care of herself after all, but he didn’t like the way they looked at her. He also knew that she dressed that way for a reason, and he was fairly certain that it wasn’t to repel men.

“Clear,” Brown said after another minute of looking Lance over.

“Here are the rules, so listen up.” The soldier in charge pointed at the line of people running into the stadium. “We’re airlifting people out of here—that’s the line. You’ll be waiting for days, probably. Get out of line, lose your spot.” He gestured to the tents. “If you can find an empty tent, it’s yours. People are leaving them to get in line. Most are full, but you can probably find one.

“Past the civilian tents are bigger ones with red crosses on the front. You’ll find food and maybe some medicine in there if you need it. We’re running low on supplies though, so you can each only have one MRE for now. Our last shipment never arrived.”

“Why not?” Lance asked, not liking the sound of that.

“The fuck do I know? They’re probably all dead.” He gave them a nod before heading back to the crowds.

One of the younger soldiers smirked at Cass. “Why are you dressed like a hooker?”

“Because I am a hooker, dipshit.”

“Oh really? I haven’t been laid in two weeks. How much?”

Lance clenched his fists.

“Unfortunately for you boys, I only sleep with real men. Why don’t you run along and find your daddies.”

“You better watch your pretty mouth.”

“Everyone relax,” Doc Brown said. “We have too much to do without this kind of bullshit. I’ll take care of these two. Go on, get out of here.”

“We’ll talk later, sweetheart.” The soldiers went back amongst the tents, grumbling to each other, stopping only if they needed to shout at someone.

Lance extended his hand to Brown. “You look like hell, Doc.”

“I feel like it too. You aren’t looking so good either. When was the last time you ate?”

Cass stood behind him, working her axe into its holster. She managed after a few seconds, but it was definitely easier as a two-man operation.

“I had two protein bars this morning. That’s been it for a few days.” Lance caught a whiff of eggs and had to fight the urge to run to the tents and steal someone’s food. “You bossed those soldiers around pretty well. How are you in charge?”

“When everyone is dead or dying, doctors become commodities I suppose.” He shrugged. “Those are just young, scared boys.”

“Why haven’t you hightailed it out of here?” They started up the shore, stepping across large rocks and walking on trampled grass.

“I’m needed here. When the camp is empty, or close to it, I’ll leave.” Brown nodded at Cass, who walked in front of them. “Who is she? And why does she dress like that?”

“She’s an artist.”

“Well, I guess that explains the ludicrous style. Where’d you find her?”

“Actually, she saved my ass. Some militant assholes were about to kill me. I escaped, but damn near became a late breakfast for some of the daywalkers. She helped me out.”

“Daywalkers? That’s interesting.”

Lance shrugged. “It fits.”

“Keep her close, Mr. York. Bad things are happening to the women in this camp. It disgusts me to say it. This is a time when everyone should band together. Instead, we’re dealing with rapes and murders on a daily basis.”

“Lance.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Lance. Doc, this place is nirvana compared to what’s happening out there. The world is gone. Just gone. Barbarism is the new norm. Get yourself a gun and watch your ass.”

“I don’t believe in guns, Mr.—” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, Lance. I’ve never used a gun, and I never will.”

“You need to reconsider that. Those things out there don’t give a shit about your political beliefs. Hell, politics are a thing of the past anyway.” Lance pointed at the road beyond the barbed fence. “Half a mile down that road is a whole camp of lunatics. They’ve tried to kill me twice now. They’re taking anything, and anyone, that they want. We’re up shit creek without a paddle, Doc.”

“I can appreciate—”

Cass spun around, hands on her hips. “How do you survive the night? What’s stopping the Vladdies from coming in here and wiping you out? These tents are sitting in the open.”

“The Vladdies?”

“It’s a long story,” Lance said. “She’s talking about the mutated people that come out at night.”

“Oh. Well, the military has a network of large generators setup around the stadium and the grounds. They start them at night and turn all the lights on out here. They’ve also setup some enormous, battery-operated spotlights that they weave around. They attack us every night, but between the bullets and the lights, we’ve held them off.”

A family of four, huddled around a tiny fire, stared at Cass, the mother frowning. The father appeared to be mesmerized by the shortness of Cass’s skirt. That earned him a shot to the ribs from his wife. A little boy, no more than eight, grabbed a book from a pile behind him and tore a few pages free, putting them in the fire.

There goes our literature and history.

“And how long do you think they can keep this up?” Cass asked. “Are there enough bullets and gasoline to do this for a week? A month?”

“I don’t know.” Brown stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. “I’ve heard rumors from a few of the soldiers that they’re running low on everything. A few days ago, we had supplies coming in from three different military bases. We’re down to one now.”