The Hunger (Book 1): Devoured (9 page)

Theodore cried on.

“Make up your mind—go home or try and follow us out of here, but do it now.” The captain pulled Eifort aside and gave her some orders that Lance couldn’t hear before he turned back to everyone else. “We aren’t allowed to take any non-medical civilians with us, but that doesn’t mean you can’t follow.”

“Where are you going?” Lance asked. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The city, which operated normally just yesterday, was about to be abandoned by anyone of authority.

“We’re falling back to Heinz Field.” The captain looked around, making sure no one was close enough to overhear him. “All of the bridges and major highways leading out of the city will be blown or heavily guarded. Testing centers will be setup at two or three points around the city where you will be observed for any symptoms of whatever this is. If they clear you, then you’ll be allowed to leave. Heinz Field will have the biggest space, so I would go there if I was you.”

“You’re going to cut off the city?” Lance stared at the man, his mind racing. Things continued going from bad to worse. Now they were telling him to go to the Pittsburgh Steelers’ stadium and hope for the best.

What the hell kind of plan was that?

“Right. The disease is found primarily in major cities. The countryside is fairly safe, for now.”

“So all of us are going to be kept over here, while you guys are safe on the other side? You’ll have guns and tanks and we’ll have the sick and dying. And that sounds like an ethical way to protect the country?” Lance’s face felt hot, the agony in his feet abating.

Liz touched Lance’s arm. “Take it easy.”

“Fuck that. These guys locked us in a hospital with those things, and now they’re going to lock us in the city. This is bullshit. Hell, they’re pulling out and going home without even telling everyone in there,” he shouted as he pointed to the hospital. “All of those people don’t even realize that you’ve left them!”

The captain stared at him, stone-faced and unresponsive.

A helicopter whooped overhead, buzzing over the street before disappearing between buildings. A myriad of contrails crisscrossed the sky as jets blazed back and forth over the city. Lance took it all in before turning back to the captain.

“You can’t leave us here. We’ll die.”

The captain remained steadfast. “We’re doing everything we can. There isn’t a playbook for something like this. Get to the stadium. It’s your best chance.” He gave Eifort a nod before heading back to his table and packing up the rest of the electrical gear.

Lance thought about confronting him again, but didn’t see the point. It would accomplish nothing, except increasing his chances of being shot. Besides, the man had a point—who knew what to do at a time like this? He turned to Eifort instead.

“Listen to me. You can’t—”

“There’s nothing I can do,” she interrupted. “I have my orders just like everyone else.”

“At least take Ashlee and the baby. How do you expect her to navigate through this madness to the stadium with a child in her arms? She’ll be a walking target.”

Ashlee’s eyes grew wide. “You think so?”

Eifort shook her head. “But—”

Lance turned on Doctor Brown. “They’re taking you with them, right? They said they’re taking medical personnel.”

“That’s what it sounded like, but I’m much too tired to be of any good now.” Brown’s shoulders sagged, his cheeks sunken in. He pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Tell them that she is your wife and that this is your child.” Lance put his hand on the doctor’s shoulder.

“But I’m not married.”

Lance struggled to maintain his patience. “They don’t know that. It’s a simple lie and they’re too preoccupied to look into it.”

Brown examined the baby and Ashlee for a moment before nodding. “She’s a bit young, but I’ll tell them she’s my second wife. My trophy wife if you will.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, but do you have an actual husband?”

“No, it’s just me and Theodore here. His douche bag of a father split town as soon as he found out I was pregnant.” Her ample chest puffed out a bit as she spoke, her pride in raising the baby alone evident.

“Good for you,” Brown said, extending a hand. “My name is Emmett, in case they ask.”

Lance laughed in spite of himself. The insanity surrounding them couldn’t keep from getting a kick out of the ludicrous name.

“Really? You’re Doctor Emmett Brown?”

The doc let out a long, tired huff. “Yes, yes. I’ve been hearing this torment since 1985. Before you ask, no, I don’t own a DeLorean, no, I don’t know Michael J. Fox, and yes, I like the movie.”

Lance held a hand to his sore ribs as he chuckled, wishing he’d met this man under better circumstances. He would have truly enjoyed ribbing him for his name over a beer or two.

He turned to Eifort. “There. You have to take Mr. Back to the Future’s family with him.”

“I don’t know,” Eifort said, grimacing. “If anyone finds out...”

“If you don’t do this, you’re sentencing that child to death.” Lance pointed at the baby for emphasis. Teddy grabbed his finger with his tiny hand.

Liz and Don, who were whispering to each other off to the side, stopped and watched Lance’s impassioned plea. Liz’s head cocked to the side as she looked at him in a way that he hadn’t seen in years.

He’d known only condescension for a long time. The odd emotion on her face took him by surprise.

“Oh, fine,” Eifort said, running a hand over her hair. “Just stay quiet until we get to the stadium and we’ll figure out the rest from there.”

Ashlee let out a cry of relief, giving the female soldier a hug with her free arm. Theodore cooed against her chest, his crying finally ceased.

“Do you have any family or friends outside of the city?” Lance asked.

“I have an uncle in Greensburg.” Ashlee wiped a tear of joy from her cheek. “Why?”

“Once you get through whatever bullshit screening they have setup at the stadium, go there. Don’t wait for us or anyone else to make it through. Just go.”

“How will I get there? I don’t have a car or any money or anything.” Her smile faltered. “And why shouldn’t I wait for you? You’re going over there right now, aren’t you?”

“We don’t know how long the lines will be or what kind or process they’re going to run us through. It could be days or weeks before they let us leave.” Lance bobbed his head at Don. “Give her some cash so she can get a bus or a cab when she gets out of the city.”

Don sneered and opened his mouth before noticing that everyone watched him, waiting for him to do the right thing. His teeth clicked as he clenched his jaw and dug out his wallet.

“Thank you so much,” Ashlee said, sheepishly taking the cash Don handed her. “All of you.” She gave Lance a quick hug, whispering extra thanks in his ear. “My uncle doesn’t actually live in the town of Greensburg, but in the mountains outside of it. When you get out, you should meet us there. It should be a pretty safe place to hide until this dies out. He doesn’t have many neighbors.”

She recited the address to Lance twice, making him repeat it back to her.

He committed it to memory, fully intending to check in on her if he managed to escape Pittsburgh. The problem was that he didn’t like his odds. Things were escalating too rapidly for any kind of rational, coordinated response to have time to work. The flight of the government from the city proved that.

Soldiers climbed into the backs of trucks, most of their equipment already packed up. The vehicles roared to life, several pulling away, others waiting for a full load out.

Eifort moved over to where the captain stood, talking rapidly as he boxed up the last of some cabling. They conversed for several seconds as Lance watched, hoping that she was adequately selling the story they’d conjured.

“Fine,” the captain said, dismissing her with a wave. “Just hurry the hell up.”

Eifort whistled for the doc and Ashlee to join her. The young mother gave Lance’s hand a quick squeeze before speed walking over to where Eifort waited. Brown followed, wishing Lance, Don, and Liz good luck as he walked away.

Relief settled over Lance as he watched them climb into a canopied truck. Ashlee and Brown sat in the rearmost seats, waving as the vehicle pulled away, taking them to safety.

For so long now, Lance’s life had spiraled out of his control. He lost his wife, his job, his self-respect. Yesterday he’d been run over by a car and stranded in a hospital during a plague, only to kill a monster with a rifle today.

This was a small victory in the grand scheme of the collapsing world, but it gave him a feeling of accomplishment that he hadn’t felt for a long time. If he wasn’t surrounded by scrambling soldiers and people dying of an unknown illness, he’d jump in the air and kick his heels.

Liz noticed his demeanor change too. She stared at him for a few seconds as Don droned in her ear, whispering with exaggerated animation and pointing down the street.

Major Reynolds stormed by, shouting orders at a group of soldiers packing a truck.

Lance eased down to the curb, hissing as he finally took weight off his sore feet. He watched as everyone geared up to leave, devising the quickest route to make a mad dash to the stadium. Staying outside of the hospital wouldn’t be the safest place for them to remain, but with the soldiers still there, however temporarily, Lance figured it to be as good a place as any. When the last of the trucks pulled away, he would move on.

Don kept giving sidelong glances to Lance as he spoke to Liz.

“So, Don,” Lance said, loud enough for them to hear. “How long have you been fucking my wife?”

––––––––

T
he civilians, funneling in and out of the FedEx store and a few of the still-standing tents, noticed that the military was heading out and that they weren’t being taken along for the ride.

Shouts erupted from several of them as they walked into the street, hands held out in confusion.

“You’re taking us with you, right?” a long-haired man in his mid-twenties asked. He jogged over to one of the trucks with a canopied bed, pleading with the soldiers in the back.

“Step away from the vehicle, sir.” The rearmost soldier stood in the opening, a hand raised over his head, holding the frame of the canopy.

“Where are you going? Aren’t there any trucks for us?” The man kept coming forward until he was within reaching distance of the tailgate.

“Instructions will be given to you shortly, but for now I need you to stay back. For your own safety.”

Lance scoffed at the safety remark from his perch on the sidewalk. Safety had become a relative term over the past few days.

Don and Liz stood a few yards away, dumbstruck by his comment, furiously whispering at each other. They stopped for a moment, watching the angry crowd approach the truck.

“Take me with you!” Long Hair grabbed the back of the truck and tried to hoist himself inside. He took a boot to the face for his effort.

The man fell onto the pavement, landing on his back, the whoosh of air bursting from his lungs audible from the other side of the street.

More civilians ran over, protesting the man’s treatment, shouting questions at the increasingly agitated soldiers.

“Everyone needs to remain calm. Help is coming,” the soldier-who-likes-to-kick-people yelled over the dissent.

“Bullshit! You’re supposed to be the help!” Two more people approached the truck. They grabbed the canopy as the vehicle shuddered forward, the driver eyeing the approaching crowd in his mirrors.

The growing mob panicked and ran after the truck, screaming and punching at the metal sides. The two men holding the fabric of the soft top clung on for half a block before the butts of rifles smashed their hands free. They tumbled and rolled in the street, abrasions and cuts tearing into exposed skin.

The few soldiers that hadn’t climbed into the vehicles yet dropped what equipment they carried and sprinted to the nearest truck. They watched as the crowd turned its frustration on them, throwing bottles of water and cursing their cowardice.

Thirty seconds later, the military presence on the block was gone. They drove down the closed streets, ignoring the now useless traffic signals and construction zones, until they turned a corner and disappeared.

The furious group followed for a while, angrily screaming for mercy and compassion, finding none. After a few hundred feet, their pursuit ground to a halt.

Vandalism started shortly thereafter.

Liz turned her attention back to Lance. “I’m going to ignore what you just said to Don.”

“Why?” Lance stared at the filthy street his feet rested on. The cold concrete of the curb numbed his backside, easing some of the pain in his left side. “The truth hurts too much?”

“How can you be so insulting at—?”

“Spare me the indignation.”

Don glared at him. “How did you know?”

“Don!” Liz spun on him, her mouth an O of exasperation.

“He obviously knows,” Don said, shrugging.

Lance forced himself to stay seated, knowing what would happen if he got to his feet. Pending divorce or not, the idea of someone else nailing his wife didn’t sit well. He wanted to beat the shit out of Don and he knew he could get away with it as the authorities just went to Splitsville.

So he stayed on the curb.

For now.

“What I want to know is how long you guys have been doing the horizontal mambo?”

Liz held her face in her hands.

A smile cracked Don’s face. “Eighteen months.”

The words hit Lance like a blow to the stomach. He wanted to cry, vomit, and rage all at the same time. His jaw muscles worked as he stared at a cigarette butt on the street, his emotions threatening to boil over.

Eighteen fucking months.

“I guess our little run in yesterday wasn’t accidental either.”

“Nope.”

“Did you send him to intercept me after my job interview?” Lance asked, turning, his eyes boring into Liz. “Figure you could find out if I was going to sign the papers this week?”

In a fit of anger a few days prior, Lance had threatened not to sign their divorce paperwork. She came home in a foul mood that afternoon, angry about something that had nothing to do with Lance. She’d started on him before the front door even closed behind her.