The Hunger (Book 5): Decayed

by Brant, Jason

  The plan made sense.

  And it made Brandon feel like a coward.

  When he stood, he grimaced at the way the stitches in his chest stretched. “I’m going after her.”

  The Wildman sighed. “You nuts, kid? Hell, I’m more of a fighter than you. You’ll get yourself killed out there.”

  “I’ve gotta do something.” Brandon glanced over the city. “It’s not right that your people are fighting the Bandits while I sit here and hope for the best. They’ve been a problem for us a lot longer than they have for you. It feels like you’re fighting our battle, you know? They took Charlie, and we did nothing about it. They shot up our building. Blew up our freaking city! And we’re still hiding in here, hoping they’ll leave us alone soon.”

  “For Christ’s sakes, you went and rescued her.”

  “After your friends got here and took me along with them. I could have gone before that, but I didn’t. We’ve been acting like scared little kids here, letting bad things happen. Well, I’m not a little kid anymore.” Brandon felt both better and worse as he willed himself to walk toward the stairs. His little speech had pumped him up and embarrassed him.

  He felt like a man.

  A scared, worried man, but a man nonetheless.

  Even if his pep talk was melodramatic, it had pumped him all the same. He was going out there to do what was right, no matter how frightened he was.

  The Wildman didn’t follow him.

  As Brandon reached the door leading to the stairs, he paused with his hand on the knob. “If something happens to me, tell Charlie I’m sorry. Tell her I had to do something to make all this right. For me. For her. For everyone.”

  The tears welling in his eyes surprised him.

  “Goddamn, kid.” The Wildman laughed from behind him.

  Brandon glanced back, wiping at his cheeks. “What?”

  “Did I tell you that getting laid would change you or what? Called that shit a mile away, n’at.”

  26

  Cass reached Higgins a step before Lance. She was within striking distance of Higgins when he nailed her with a backhanded slap. The blow caught her right on the temple. If not for her wounded back, she might have dodged it, but her body was sluggish and stiff.

  A powder keg exploded in her head.

  She staggered sideways, tripped over her own feet, and landed on her hip. A dizzy sensation swirled through her, making it hard to focus on anything.

  Lance cried out when she hit the ground. He lunged forward, swinging the bottle of whiskey by the neck, angling it at Higgins’ forehead.

  Higgins leaned back from the strike at the last second, managing to get his face out of the way. The bottom edge of the bottle connected with his throat instead.

  His mouth dropped open, a choked gargle escaping it.

  Lance reared back to hit him again when Earl struck him in the back with the butt of his rifle. A dull meaty thud filled the air. Cass yelled Lance’s name as her husband collapsed to the street. She tried to stand, but she couldn’t get her back to cooperate.

  Gunfire erupted all around them. The shots had slowed for several seconds as a few of Higgins’ men had turned their attention to Lance and Cass. When they’d fallen, the guards had resumed firing.

  Cass hadn’t even glanced back to see who had started the shootout. She’d assumed it was Greg, but couldn’t be certain. With any luck, he wouldn’t be alone. If he’d attacked Higgins’ men on his own, they were screwed.

  Higgins struggled to suck in a breath as he hunched over, hands on his knees, face beet red. Pointing at Lance, he wheezed, “Shoot that son of a bitch!”

  Lance was still on his side, features contorted in pain, fingers probing the small of his back. Blood dribbled from his wounded shoulder, pattering the ground.

  Earl sighted Lance’s head.

  Cass reached out to stop Earl, but she wasn’t close enough to do anything. She watched in horror, teeth gnashing, eyes widening.

  “No!” Magnus lunged in front of Lance, dropping to his knees before the rifle. “You’ll doom us!”

  Cass could barely hear them between the gunshots.

  “Out of the way, you little shit!” Earl kicked at Magnus, but the chubby moron refused to move.

  “The Demon King will slay us all if you eliminate Lance!” Magnus held his hands up in surrender. “They’ll wipe us from the face of the Earth if we don’t hand him over!”

  Pushing off the street with both hands, Cass managed to get to her knees. She tried to stand, but Higgins thwarted her with a kick to the shoulder. The blow didn’t have much power behind it, but it managed to knock her back to the street.

  “Stay down or I’ll put you down.” Higgins’ voice had regained some of its strength. He sounded like a man who’d downed too much whiskey. He jabbed a finger at Magnus. “You’ve pissed me off for the last time!”

  “Remember what Valerie said! If we don’t get Lance to The Demon King tonight, he’ll feast on our flesh!” Magnus wilted under Higgins’ glare, but he refused to move aside. “Think it through!”

  Higgins paused, finally taking in the battle around them. He looked like a man who just realized he’d stumbled into a bad situation. The way Lance and Cass had attacked him had thrown him off.

  Cass followed his lead, searching for the source of the gunfire. It sounded as if it were coming from a block or two away, but she couldn’t see Greg anywhere. Muzzle flash didn’t give away his position either.

  None of the guards seemed wounded, or even all that concerned.

  The guy on the roof didn’t even hide behind cover as he shot down the street.

  “Fine,” Higgins said. “Get him out of here before I change my mind. And, King? I don’t want to see you again until my next drop-off. Got me?”

  Magnus stumbled to his feet. “We’ll ferry the sacrifice north and—”

  “Shut the fuck up and get out of my sight.” Higgins turned to Cass. “Your husband is going to be demon shit by the end of the night. What do you think about that?”

  Cass grimaced as she got back to her knees. “I think you can—”

  Another gun, louder than the others, barked from nearby. The concussive blast cut Cass off, forcing her attention away from Higgins. She turned in time to see the guard atop the bookstore take an awkward step sideways.

  The top of his head was gone, blown into a fine mist that flittered through the air behind him.

  He fell from the roof, tumbling end over end before landing headfirst on the sidewalk with a sickening splat. His spine crumpled like an accordion. What had remained in his head spilled out from the impact. His rifle clattered down beside him, landing a few feet from his destroyed face.

  That got Higgins’ attention.

  He reached down, grabbed Cass under the arm, and yanked her up. The sudden movement sent lightning bolts down her legs, into her toes. Her knees threatened to buckle from the pain, but Higgins tightened his grip. The way his fingertips dug into the meat of her inner arm had her squirming away from him.

  He snaked an arm around her throat. “Stop fighting me or I’ll break your goddamn neck.”

  The pressure against her neck intensified until Cass stopped flailing around. He had her facing the bookstore. She looked past the dead body, searching for Greg.

  He wasn’t anywhere to be found.

  Beside them, Magnus King’s men hoisted Lance off the ground by his arms and legs. He thrashed as they carried him away, bucking wildly to get free. One of his feet tore loose and he kicked out, catching one in the thigh.

  Earl punched him in the jaw.

  The fight drained from Lance. His gyrations became little more than feeble flops. A glaze covered his eyes.

  Cass reached out for him, tried to holler his name. She made little more than a squeak as Higgins tightened his arm around her throat, cutting off her airflow. He yanked her sideways by her neck, lifting her off the ground. Her feet kicked uselessly, bicycling in slow circles.

  The gunfire ce
ased.

  “Come out now, or I’ll kill her,” Higgins hollered, his mouth close to her ear. “I’ll twist her head off and kick it like a football.”

  Cass’ shoes dangled just above the ground, the toes grazing the pavement. Gurgles escaped between her gritted teeth as she struggled to sip in air. Her hands grabbed Higgins’ forearm, trying to pry it away from her neck, but he was too strong.

  The men dragged Lance farther away, struggling with the dead weight of his semi-conscious body.

  “Last chance,” Higgins shouted. “Show yourselves or—”

  A thunderous gunshot exploded ahead. Muzzle flare illuminated the doorway of nail salon a block and a half away.

  One of the rear tires of the Bandit’s van popped, jolting the vehicle. The rim crunched down on the concrete. Higgins’ men standing beside it flinched and ran for cover, diving behind other vehicles. Several ran for the corner of the bookshop, sliding against the brick wall, out of sight from the shooter.

  Still holding Cass in the air, Higgins stepped sideways, heading for cover behind the van. His grip tightened further, suffocating her, cutting off the circulation to her brain. She felt her eyes bulge, her head throb.

  King and his men released Lance when a second shot popped another tire on the van. They ran for cover behind it, leaving Lance sprawled in the street, struggling to sit up. His eyes remained dazed, movements sluggish.

  A lightheaded sensation settled over Cass, as if she were on the verge of passing out. Darkness closed in on her. She kicked her feet back, trying to catch Higgins in the shins or knees. One of her heels struck him just above the ankle just as she felt herself slipping away.

  His grip loosened a few millimeters.

  He lowered her just enough for her toes to touch the ground, hold some of her weight.

  “Bitch,” he growled as he adjusted his hold. “I’ll—”

  Cass reached back with her right hand, searching for his face.

  Her thumb found his nose, prodded his cheek.

  She aimed higher, dug a thumb into his eye.

  Higgins cried out as she pressed the digit deeper. The angle of her arm made it difficult to drive her thumb with any kind of power or leverage, but she managed to push knuckle deep into the soft wetness of his eye.

  His arm uncoiled, dropping her to the ground in a heap. He stumbled away, hands going to his face. Rage and pain twisted his words into something unintelligible as he staggered blindly into the van.

  Cass sucked in a rattling breath.

  Cool air soothed her enflamed throat.

  Supernovas exploded through the darkness consuming her. Her hands fumbled around her neck as she heaved in one breath after another, willing herself to stay awake.

  Guns barked all around her, though she barely heard them over the blood pounding in her head. The agony in her throat felt as if she’d gargled with razor blades.

  She saw Lance sitting up, reaching out to her.

  He called her name.

  One of Higgins’ idiots peeked around the corner of the bookshop, searching for the shooter.

  A bullet punched through his eye, dropping him to the sidewalk in a twitching heap. Gore sprayed everywhere. The exit wound stretched from the crown of his head to the base of his skull. Whatever gun Greg had was massive and ludicrously powerful.

  The other Bandits nearby fled from the bookshop and retreated beyond the van, shouting commands at each other. A guard on the other side of the street popped up on the roof of an apartment building. He unloaded a magazine at the entrance to the nail salon before dropping out of sight again.

  Cass focused on regulating her breathing. If she couldn’t get her head clear, she wouldn’t be able to do anything else. Each inhalation prickled her throat with needles, almost made her cough.

  Lance managed to stand, busted knee wobbling under his weight. He staggered toward her, arms outstretched. Pain stretched his lips into a grimace.

  Beyond him, Cass saw Higgins aiming a pistol at her, the barrel wavering around as he struggled to sight her with his good eye.

  She tried to stand, but her body refused to hoist her weight.

  Higgins’ gun bucked as he fired.

  The bullet tore a chuck of pavement out of the road a few feet in front of her.

  He shot again.

  The round passed so close to her head that she heard it zip by her ear.

  Lance reached her, scooping her off the road and twisting himself around to shield her with his body. The pistol cracked again, and Lance grunted. Cass felt him stumble into her, but he didn’t fall.

  “Lance,” she croaked.

  “Move that sweet ass of yours.” His voice was strained, but forceful.

  Cass forced her legs into a fumbling gait, taking some weight off him. They careened down the street to the bookshop, hid against the brick corner. Higgins fired several more shots into the edge of the building, tearing away chunks of it.

  The guard across the street poked his head out from his hiding place, spotted them. He swiveled around, pointing a rifle in their direction.

  A gun cracked.

  Cass watched the guard falter, the rifle sliding from his grasp. A ragged hole in his shirt was visible just below his neck. The man attempted to stand straight, but couldn’t manage it. He coughed red mist, speckles of it dotting his face.

  Then he collapsed out of sight.

  Cass turned to Lance, inspecting him for a bullet wound.

  “I’m fine,” Lance said when he saw the worry in her face.

  “The hell you are.” Her voice came out scratchy. “Are you shot? Did Higgins get you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “But you stumbled when he fired at us.”

  “I just tripped. My knee is all kinds of screwed up.” Lance took her hand in his. “We need to keep moving. I’ll—”

  “You bitch!” Higgins bellowed in rage from behind the van. “I’ll destroy everything you ever loved!”

  Cass wanted to shout back, but knew her throat couldn’t handle it. She settled with sticking her hand around the corner to flip him off. A gunshot made her retract her arm in a hurry.

  Down the street, she spotted Megan stick her head out the door of the nail salon. She glanced both ways down the road, then slinked out of the entrance. Using a line of parked cars for cover, she jogged down the sidewalk. She gestured for them to move to her.

  Cass shook her head. She had no intention of letting Higgins get away again.

  Lance spotted Megan. “Holy shit. How did she find us?”

  “No clue, but thank God she did.” Cass glanced around. “But where is Greg?”

  “Who knows?” Lance limped over to the dead guard who’d fallen from the roof of the bookstore, lifted his rifle. He checked the safety, shouldered the gun.

  Cass knew they were thinking the same thing.

  Higgins was going down.

  Even if they wanted to get out of there, they would only be delaying their confrontation with the Bandits. The bastards wouldn’t stop their attacks until Cass and her family were all dead.

  Especially after Cass had declared, and won, a thumb war with Higgins’ eye.

  They had to make a stand now, or no one would be safe.

  “Get the Humvee over here,” Higgins shouted. “Now!”

  Lance glanced around the corner for a split second, then popped back as bullets peppered the bricks again. “Most of them are hiding behind the van. A few are standing guard in the street. No idea how we’re going to win this.”

  Cass didn’t know either.

  But they had to do something.

  While she watched Megan sneak up the opposite side of the street, she placed a hand on the wound in Lance’s shoulder and pressed down. He’d lost a lot of blood during their long day. The fact he was still moving around was a miracle.

  Even as everything unraveled around them, he soldiered on to protect his family.

  They both did.

  And she loved him for it.

/>   A few buildings beyond Megan, Emmett emerged from a broken display window and hopped to the sidewalk. He held the rifle Cass had dropped back at the arena. His eyes were wide and wild, his hands white from squeezing the gun too hard.

  He’d never been much of a fighter.

  The idea of shooting at Higgins probably had him sick to his stomach. But with another armed, able-bodied ally, their odds rose. Cass felt a glimmer of hope spark inside her.

  As Emmett approached his wife, she stopped and whispered something to him as she pointed down a side street. Emmett took a step in that direction before he paused. He put a hand behind Megan’s neck, pulling her close to him.

  After holding her for a second, he kissed the top of her head and released her.

  Anger sharpened Cass’ senses as she watched her friends’ fleeting moment of affection. They should be with their child, not fighting in the streets. The Bandits had robbed them of so much. Dealing with the Vladdies was bad enough without groups of random assholes running through the city, kidnapping and murdering people.

  They deserved better than their lot in life.

  Emmett disappeared down the side street while Megan watched him go. Then she turned back to Cass and Lance, motioned she was going take a position on the sidewalk opposite them.

  Cass nodded that she understood. “Did Higgins holler for a Humvee?”

  “I think so.” Lance kept his attention on the corner, chancing little peeks every few seconds.

  “What does that mean?” Cass asked.

  “That he wants a Humvee.”

  “Smart-ass.”

  Lance gave her his patented sideways grin. “You mean dumbass.”

  “That, too.”

  Blood oozed between Cass’ fingers, slid down her hand. She pressed harder against Lance’s wound, trying to stop the flow. It had slowed, at least.

  They froze when they heard the rumble of a large vehicle in the distance. With the city dead quiet except for Higgins’ ranting and her own breathing, Cass could hear the throaty roar of the engine from far away.

  “Guess he’s getting that Humvee after all,” Lance said.