The Hunger (Book 2): Consumed (2 page)

Lance swiveled his head around, looking for a gap they might be able to squeeze through.  He saw none.  More parking lots rested off to their right, also filled with the newly infected.  They were surrounded on all sides with the victims of the Xavier virus closing in.

Cass stopped running and dropped her baskets to the ground, reaching back for her axe again.

Brown stopped beside her.  “Don’t bother.  We can’t beat all of them.”

“We don’t have to.  I’m going to cut through the ones ahead.  Stay close to me.”

Lance didn’t like that plan.  As tough as Cass was, he didn’t think that the two of them could take out the twenty creatures in front of them.  Not without getting bitten anyway.

He ran to the passenger side of a rusted Chevy Cavalier, peering into the window.  Blood crusted the driver’s seat and floorboard, trailing across the threshold of the open door.  Keys dangled from the ignition.

“Over here!”  He ran around to the driver’s side and opened the back door, tossing his supplies inside.

“Make sure it works!”  Cass lowered her axe back into its holster and grabbed her baskets.  “If we get in there and it doesn’t start, we’re screwed.”

“We’re screwed if it doesn’t start, period.”  Brown lunged into the backseat, grunting as his wounded shoulder bumped against the headrest on the driver’s seat.  He scrambled across the supplies and flopped against the passenger-side door.  “Hurry!”

Lance climbed into the car, hearing the dried blood crackle as his weight pressed onto the seat.  He cranked the engine as Cass tossed her bags into the backseat and slammed the door.

The car came to life, Skid Row blasting through the speakers from a CD.

Cass dove into the front, having to sit on her hip because of the axe.  “Go!”

Lance yanked the car into gear and floored the accelerator.

The degraded vehicle lurched forward, something clanking under the hood.  The old Cavalier didn’t have enough power to spin the tires.

“Get this piece of shit moving!” Cass stared out of her window at the oncoming mass of the infected.

“It’s floored!”

“I could get out and run faster than this!”

Lance jerked the steering wheel to the left, grimacing at the unhealthy whine of the engine as they accelerated through the parking lot.  He swerved around two cars and crashed into a shopping cart, sending it careening away in a shower of sparks.

The first daywalker from the Wendy’s caught up to them, running full speed into Lance’s door.  Its nose and lips exploded against the glass, covering the window in crimson.  Three more slammed against the trunk, hands sliding on rusting metal.

“You probably could have picked a better vehicle,” Brown said.  He turned around and stared at their pursuers through the back windshield.

“Sorry, Doc.  I didn’t see any DeLoreans while I was running for my life.”

“This probably isn’t the best time for
Back to the Future
jokes.”  Brown grunted as his arm banged against the door when Lance veered around a flipped-over truck.

The car hopped over a curb, jostling them around.  Sparks shot out from the undercarriage as the front bumper slammed into the concrete, dislodging it from the frame.

Lance turned toward the northern-most exit of the parking lot, hoping to get onto the highway.  He slammed the brakes when he saw an overturned tractor-trailer in the middle of the intersection.  The car shuddered to a stop, tires squealing.

“Damn!”

He slammed the transmission into reverse and twisted in his seat, staring through the rear windshield.  A dozen daywalkers ran at them, loosing wails of fury and famine.

“You might want to buckle up,” Lance said.  He jammed the gas pedal to the floor again, squeezing the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened.  The Cavalier’s small engine whined as they hurtled at the flesh eaters behind them.

“Lance?  You aren’t doing what I think you are, right?”  Cass asked.  She stared into her side mirror.

“Yup.”

“Oh shit.”  She grabbed her seat belt and jammed the buckle home.

The rear end of the car bucked into the air as they sped into the first two daywalkers.  Their bodies fell under the tires, the cracking of their bones audible over the screeching of Sebastian Bach coming from the stereo.  The tires lost traction for a moment as they spun in blood and gore.

Lance jerked the wheel again, crushing another of the infected against the side of a Toyota Tundra.  It screeched and clawed at the mangled back end of the car.

Two more infected slammed into the passenger side, slapping at the windows by Cass and Brown.

“Go!”  Cass placed her hand on the butt of the pistol by her hip.

“I’m trying!”  Lance worked to put the car in drive again, but the shifter was stuck.  He punched it twice before it loosened and snapped into place.

The back window shattered inward, covering Brown with glass.  Two hands snaked inside, their skin sallow and veined.  Fingers tore at the doc’s shirt, shredding the fabric as he pulled away.

A heavy tremor ran through the car as Lance accelerated again.  He hoped the transmission would hold out for just a few minutes longer.  If it didn’t, they were in deep trouble.

The daywalker ran alongside the car as they picked up speed.  It reached for Brown’s face, chipped, red paint covering its fingernails.  Doc batted at the hands with his good arm, pleading for Lance to go faster.

Cass pulled her pistol from its holster and unclipped her seat belt.  She spun around in the seat and stuffed the end of the barrel into the eye of the infected, jerking the trigger.

The former woman’s head snapped back, red mist blooming behind it.  The body fell away, rolling on the concrete as other daywalkers jumped over it.

“Thanks,” Brown said, his deep voice remarkably steady.

“Yeah, well, now we’re really screwed.  That gunshot could be heard for miles.”  Cass held the pistol by her side and reached for the stereo controls.  She turned it off just as the track switched to
Slave to the Grind
.

“Hey, I like that song,” Lance said.

“Get us the hell out of here, dumbass.”

“Thanks for the tip.  I had no idea we were trying to leave.”  Lance swung onto Freeport Road and steered in the direction of the boat, hopping over the concrete median with a jarring thud.  “But now that you said that, I’ll definitely try harder.”

Cass backhanded him in the shoulder.  “Enough with the shit talking already!”

The car lurched as it shifted, jerking forward again as the gear caught.

“The transmission is toast.”  Lance looked at Brown in the rearview mirror.  “Hand some of that stuff up to Cass.  I’m going to pull up to the shore so you guys can get out and run.  Carry as much of the gear as you can.”

Brown got to work, gathering up supplies and putting it back into the bags and baskets.

“What are you going to do?” Cass asked Lance.

“If there are any of them by the shore, I’m going to try to lead them away.  If they won’t follow, then I’ll run them over.”

“Or you could get out with us and run for it.”

“I will if there aren’t any of them there.”  Lance knew the odds of that were slim.  Since they dropped anchor there a few days ago, more and more of the infected had wandered the shores by them.  They had to move the boat up the river a hundred yards so they could quickly get off.

Lance eased off the gas as they turned onto 910.  They drove by a garage and a few abandoned homes.  The road ended at a line of trees, which led to the river.

Between the foliage and trucks, Lance could see the Duchess floating on the Allegheny.

More than two dozen of the infected stalked along the edge of the water.

“Damn.”  Lance slowed the car down, letting it coast the last hundred feet.  He pointed through the windshield.  “Get out here and hide behind that house.”

Cass started to argue with him when he cut her off with a firm shake of his head.

“Relax.  I’m not going to do anything stupid.  I’m going to turn around, honk the horn, and lead them away.  I’ll come back in a few minutes.  Easy, right?”

“Nothing is easy for us anymore.”  Cass grabbed her baskets and got out.  “Don’t fuck around, Lance.”

“Hey, you called me Lance.  That might be a first.”

Brown cleared his throat.  “While I appreciate the humor of the two of you going back and forth, perhaps you could save it for later.  The fishing rods are still back here for you to take.”

“Hurry up, dumbass.”  Cass gave him one last look before following Brown.  They jogged across an overgrown lawn, crouching beside the front porch of a cottage.

The hoard of daywalkers streamed into view behind the car, filling the street in a tidal wave of death.  Lance pounded on the horn, focusing their attention on him.  The contingent by the water teetered around, mouths distorting in shrieks.

“Come get it.”

Lance put the car in reverse and mashed the accelerator down.

The engine revved with vigor, but the car didn’t budge.

“Oh shit.”

––––––––

L
ance worked the gas pedal up and down, listening to the whine of the engine, but getting nowhere.  Fear tore at him as he slammed the shifter into drive and pushed on the pedal again.

He didn’t move.  The transmission was shot.

Cass stood up beside the cottage, hand reaching for her axe.

Lance waved her off, motioning for her to stay down.  He wished he hadn’t honked the horn seconds before.  If shooting himself in the foot were an Olympic sport, he would have been a gold medalist.

He threw the door open and stepped out, grabbing the fishing rods from the backseat.  The swarm of daywalkers behind him closed in, the clicks of their gnashing teeth audible over their pounding feet.

Those by the river filtered between the trees, gaining momentum as they pushed through the undergrowth.

Lance pointed at the cottage.  “Go inside!  I’ll draw them to the front while you slip out the back door!”

Cass nodded and ran up the handful of steps to the entrance.  Trying the knob, she found it locked.  She freed her axe from its casing and plunged it into the wood, just above the handle.  Putting her foot to the door, she yanked the blade free and swung again, splintering the barrier.

The infected by the tree line reacted to the sound, angling toward the cottage.  Their siren songs filled the air, assaulting Lance’s ears.  He shouted at them, trying to refocus their attention.  His throat burned as he screamed, but he couldn’t get them to veer off course.

He reached into the front seat and pressed the horn again, honking in a rhythm.  The lead creature paused, its head cocking at an angle.

“That’s it!  Over here, you dumb bastards!”  He kept on the horn until they shifted in his direction again.

Cass disappeared through the door of the cottage with Doc Brown close behind.  Their faces appeared in a side window a moment later, peering out at Lance.  Cass waved for him to follow.

He stood by the car and continued honking, waiting for the infected to clear the tree line.  They would need every second they could get in case Eifort didn’t have the drawbridge lowered by the time they got there.

The crowd behind him closed in.  He stared at the sightless face of death, reflecting, at the most inopportune time, about the unimaginable state of the human race.  They’d devolved, mutating into mindless monsters.  Only weeks ago, they built skyscrapers and traveled to space.  Now they attacked anything with flesh, driven by the never-ending desire to consume.

No matter what, he refused to allow himself to become one of them.

He snapped out of it and bolted for the cottage, the fishing rods clanging against his legs with each stride.  A desperate screech came from only a few feet behind him, urging him on, his quads burning as he stretched them to their limits.  Almost every day he cursed himself for being so out of shape.

Lance cleared the front steps with a single leap and plunged into the semi-darkness of the cottage.

His hip bounced off a bench by the front door, a twinge of pain running through his leg.

“Great plan, dumbass.  I really liked the part where you drew a bunch of attention to yourself and then couldn’t get the car to move.”  Cass hid by a window, crouched down so only her head poked above the sill.

“Kiss my ass.”  Lance ran past her, moving through a short hallway and dingy kitchen.  Pots and pans littered a peeling linoleum floor.

He maneuvered his way through the cottage as quickly as the dim light would allow.  A dining room came after the kitchen, the smell of decay filling the air.  Lance paused as he spotted the source of the foul odor.

A body leaned back in a chair at the end of a long dining table, its head rolled back as far as the neck would allow.  Dried blood dotted teal wallpaper behind it.  A gun rested in the lap of the body, index finger still caressing the trigger.

Cass ran into his back, almost knocking him over.

“Don’t stop!”  She shoved him hard as she eyed the body.  “If we don’t get to the boat, you’re going to wish you’d shot yourself too.”

They moved to the rear of the house, finding a screened-in back porch.  Lance kicked a door open with his foot and ran down the three steps leading into the small backyard.

Daywalkers staggered by the edge of the lawn, mewling sounds coming from their mouths as they worked in anticipation.

Through a row of trees lining the bank at the end of the cottage’s property, Lance could see the Duchess floating.  The drawbridge wasn’t lowered.

They hustled across the overgrown lawn, long grass flapping against their shins.  Dew soaked their shoes.

A shriek came from their left, echoing off the trees before them.

Lance caught a glimpse of a naked woman pointing at them, her head tipped back, elongated fangs glistening in the morning sun.  Her shoulders hunched, the rapidly expanding musculature distorting her body.  Ashy skin and empty eye sockets further pointed to her advanced condition.

She would seek refuge in the darkness soon.

Her wail cutoff and she exploded forward, moving with an unnatural quickness.