The Hunger (Book 5): Decayed

by Brant, Jason

  The way the engine echoed through the city made it hard to distinguish which direction it came from. They’d seen and heard a lot of military vehicles in Pittsburgh during the early days of the infection, but she’d forgotten what they’d sounded like over the years. Until a few days ago, they hadn’t heard an engine of any kind for a long time.

  “We can’t let them get away!” King cried from behind the van. “The Demon King will flay us if we don’t—”

  “Fuck you and fuck the Demon King,” Higgins said. “You know what, pizza boy? I think I’m going to terminate our little arrangement right now. I’ll take your women and booze and put a bullet between your eyes. What do you think about that?”

  Some of King’s groupies squealed in protest.

  “The demons will swarm you like a plague of locusts if you do.” King’s voice had hardened a bit. “I never took you for a fool, Higgins. I should have, though, for there is no glory in imprisonment, taking it up the ass from—”

  A meaty smack silenced Magnus King.

  Cass glanced around the corner this time, saw King sprawled in the street, a hand holding his bloody face.

  “Shoot these idiots!” Higgins strode out from behind the van, aiming a pistol at King’s head. “The pizza-boy-poet is mine.”

  When he spotted Higgins in the clear, Lance stepped around the corner and raised his rifle. Cass dragged behind him, still holding his wound. Bullets were flying before Cass had a chance to let go of his shoulder.

  Higgins saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, then lunged back to the van. Holes punched through the metal side, light spilling through. One of the rear taillights shattered.

  Lance stopped shooting, stared at the chubby cult leader.

  King had curled into the fetal position during the gunfire, shouting something at his men. Lance angled the gun toward him.

  Pulled the trigger.

  It clicked empty.

  Lance cursed as he leaped back to the wall.

  Higgins’ men returned fire, destroying the brick corner as Lance and Cass slid away from it.

  Megan reached the end of the block, took cover behind the engine of a gray sedan. She rested the barrel on the hood and shot at the Bandits, cutting off their barrage.

  As Megan dropped out of sight, Emmett appeared farther down the street the Bandits were on. He popped out from behind a truck and shot several times, the barrel bucking wildly with each trigger pull.

  None of his rounds hit anything but air before he slid behind the truck for cover. The Bandits shot back, punching holes through the windshield of a small coupe.

  The beefy engine of the Humvee grew louder.

  Most of the firing ceased.

  Cass slid close to the corner again, spotting a massive armored military vehicle stopping behind the Bandit’s van. It wasn’t a Humvee, but something quite a bit bigger, resembling some kind of a tank, but with eight wheels instead of tracks.

  A large machine gun was mounted to the top, though no one manned it.

  Lance peered over Cass’ shoulder. “That’s not a Humvee. What an idiot.”

  “An idiot with a tank-looking thing. Our buddy Earl wasn’t kidding when he said they raided a military post.” Cass unconsciously shrank back at the sight of the vehicle. “That gun looks like it could cut through an entire building.”

  Cass glanced over at Megan, realizing she couldn’t see the military vehicle behind the van. She didn’t have an angle to shoot at it. Not that firing a rifle at that kind of armor would do anything.

  Higgins and his men appeared behind the vehicle for a moment before disappearing through a door or hatch Cass couldn’t see. If Lance’s magazine hadn’t run dry, she would have snatched the gun from him and fired at the Bandits as they climbed inside. Instead, she had to watch them retreat.

  One of King’s flunkies tried to climb in after them.

  Someone shot him in the face.

  His body toppled over, resting in a heap just behind the rear tires.

  The engine revved.

  Higgins appeared at the top, poking his head up behind the machine gun. He spotted Cass watching him from around the corner. His damaged eye was swollen and red with blood running from the corner, but it remained intact.

  Cass could have sworn she’d wrecked it with her thumb.

  Higgins took hold of the machine gun.

  “Oh shit.” Turning, Cass grabbed Lance by the arm. “Run, Megan! Run!”

  Without looking over the top of her car to see why, Megan spun on her heels and raced down the block, disappearing down the side street the way Emmett had taken. Cass caught a flash of the doc fleeing from his hiding place, entering a nondescript apartment building.

  Cass could barely move as she tried to haul her husband away from the corner. The signals from her brain didn’t seem to reach her legs.

  Lance didn’t need to be told twice as he shrugged out of her grip. He slid an arm around her waist, taking on some of her weight. They shuffled down the sidewalk together, a comedy of mangled bodies and hitched strides.

  The concussive force of heavy firepower pounded behind them as Higgins opened up with the machine gun. Bricks exploded at the corner, peppering their backs, stabbing at their exposed flesh.

  Bullets tore through the sidewalk and the street, demolished the building.

  Lance paused by a broken storefront window, shoving Cass at it. She stumbled two steps before flopping over the windowsill and landing on the floor behind it. If they weren’t running for their life, she would have whirled around and smacked him upside his head for the way he’d tossed her inside.

  Struggling to climb in behind her with his hurt knee, Lance barely managed to drag himself over the sill, nearly collapsing beside her. “You gonna lay there all day or what?”

  “You’re so dead.” Cass used a small display counter to pull herself up.

  The gunfire outside died down as the not-a-Humvee’s engine roared to life.

  Cigars and other tobacco paraphernalia covered the floor, scattered askew on shelves around them. Pipes and lighters and bongs were everywhere, strewn about in haphazard fashion.

  Lance snatched a lighter from an overturned rack.

  “What are you taking that for?” Cass asked as she followed him toward the rear of the store.

  “It makes fire.”

  “You’re such a—”

  The engine grew louder as the vehicle pulled in front of their building, stopping at the window. Higgins bellowed in a triumphant tone as he opened up with the machine gun again.

  Cass tackled Lance through an open door, shoving them to the side. A blinding pang of pain shot up her spine when they hit the floor. She sucked in a harsh breath, bared her teeth.

  Bullets destroyed the tobacco shop behind them.

  The wall a few inches above their heads disintegrated under the gunfire. Drywall dust billowed around them, chunks of plaster showered their heads and backs.

  Lance rolled over, covering Cass with his body, lacing his arms around her neck and face. He pulled her tight against him, his chest hovering over her head.

  A door in the back of their room was torn to pieces, most of it falling to the floor. Hunks of wood still attached to the hinges swung back and forth. Sparks flashed as bullets pulverized a filing cabinet, cut through a small safe set in the far wall.

  The gunfire finally ceased.

  Dust and smoke filled the room.

  Neither moved, their heavy breaths the only thing Cass could hear.

  “If I can’t have you,” Higgins yelled, “I’ll destroy everything you love. See you fuckers at The Light!”

  The military vehicle pulled away with a rumble, disappearing down the street.

  27

  As Lance climbed off Cass, he almost passed out. The only thing keeping him going was the insane amount of adrenaline pumping through his system. Sounds had grown distant and tinny. The color in his vision had drained, the world a muted gray around him.

  The
giant vehicle driving down the block sounded at least a mile away, even though he’d just watched it move past the window.

  His clothes were brown.

  Blood poured out of too many injuries.

  His knee had swollen to a concerning degree, though he was still able to bend it a bit. He had no idea how he and his wife would get back to The Light with their busted-up bodies.

  Cass grunted as she struggled to stand beside him.

  Her normally bright hair was mottled with filth and blood. Though most of it was still pinned up, a few clumps had broken free, hanging on either side of her face. Lance helped her to the door she’d tackled him through. The insanity of the past few days had amplified his innate need to protect the mother of his child.

  As he watched her fight to even stand, he knew how much he’d failed.

  They’d fought to find food and water for years, but they hadn’t dodged bullets and blades. It was one thing to struggle to find packs of stale crackers to feed his family, but something else entirely to see his wife battered and beaten.

  Covered in blood.

  “He’s going after Dragon,” Lance said. “I don’t know how, but we have to get back there before he does.”

  Cass limped ahead of him, back to the front of the tobacco shop. “Megan shot out the tires of their van, so that’s out. What about the car King and his idiots drove here? They sure didn’t walk, and I doubt Higgins picked him up.”

  Lance had almost forgot about the pizza boy.

  Magnus King was still out there by the van.

  They had unfinished business.

  After forcing the front door open, which had swollen against the jam, making it difficult for either to move, they turned toward the Bandits’ van. The corner of the bookstore was mostly gone, torn away under a barrage of bullets. Large chunks of the sidewalk were missing.

  Eifort appeared at the end of an alley across the street, waving. “You okay?”

  “Never better,” Lance said. “Feel like a million bucks.”

  “You look like someone took a cheese grater to your face.”

  “Thanks, Eifort.”

  Cass didn’t look at either of them as she made a beeline for the van. “Why do you keep calling her Eifort? It’s been how many years now? Her name is Megan.”

  “Yeah, her first name, but who cares about that? I’m a dude. I call other dudes by their last name.”

  “You might have noticed she has boobs.” Cass paused to scoop up the rifle Lance had dropped as they fled into the shop. She didn’t remember him casting it aside, but there had been a few things going on at once.

  “But she fights like a dude. So she’s still Eifort until she retires from gunslinging.”

  “You don’t call me by my last name, and I could kick your ass all over this city.” Cass turned the rifle around, so she held it by the barrel like a baseball bat.

  “I have sex with you. That’s different.” Lance grimaced as he turned his head to search the street for King’s people. The wounds in his shoulder stretched as he glanced to his right. Most of the muscles in his body were battered and bruised. “I can’t call someone I’m having sex with by their last name. That just sounds weird.”

  The dead body of the man who’d tried to climb in the armored vehicle was prone in the street. Lance didn’t see anyone else. He assumed King and his idiots were still hiding behind the moving van.

  “You’re an idiot sometimes,” Cass said.

  “Just sometimes? That’s an improvement.”

  Eifort angled in their direction, rifle tucked against her shoulder, barrel aimed at the van. She motioned at it with her hand.

  Behind her, coming from the opposite end of the street the van was parked on, was Doc Brown. He also held a gun, but he didn’t aim at anything in particular. Lance would feel a lot better if he took the rifle from the doc.

  Unlike the rest, Brown had never adapted to the violence of the new world. There were extreme circumstances where he’d made a stand, but those moments had haunted him for years.

  Shooting a few rounds at the Bandits had probably dented his soul.

  That was why Lance admired the doc.

  He did what he had to do, no matter the pain it caused him. When his family or friends were in danger, Doc Brown stepped up.

  “Come on out, King.” Cass moved to the side of the van, letting Eifort cover the front.

  Lance wished he had a weapon as he followed his wife.

  “Your pathetic, feeble minds can’t possibly fathom what we’re accomplishing here,” King said from the other side of the van. “Only those who can harness power will bask in glory. We alone deal with the King of the Underworld. We alone are favored by the new gods, and we alone will—”

  “So you were a pizza boy?” Lance asked. “I did that for a bit, too. Made some decent money in college.”

  “The old, corrupt civilizations burned, and I’ve risen from the ashes like a—”

  “When I was delivering cheese pies around the neighborhood, I never really thought about starting a sex cult, though. I imagine it’s pretty hard to get people to look past the uniform and the magnetic sign on top of your car.” Lance stopped in the road and spoke louder, trying to hold King’s attention while Cass got in position. “I wasn’t exactly beating the women away from me while I shucked pizzas around, you know? It was something about smelling like pepperoni that turned them off, I think.”

  “A sheep cannot understand a lion.” King’s voice sounded closer to the back of the van. And a lot more irritated.

  “Huh. So that was a lion I saw getting slapped around by Higgins?” Lance saw the muzzle of a pistol appear around the corner of the vehicle. “I thought lions were supposed to be the king of the jungle, not a little—”

  “Kill this insolent fool,” King bellowed.

  The idiot holding the pistol stepped into view, grinning as he saw Lance standing in the road.

  Cass hit him in the face with the stock of her rifle.

  He wasn’t grinning anymore as his teeth went flying, his lips shredded into bloody flaps. The pistol flew from his grasp, bouncing off the tire. A whine escaped him as he collapsed to his hands and knees, blood pouring from his ruined mouth.

  Lance hobbled over as quickly as he could, ignoring the way his knee clicked, the searing heat that radiated through his entire leg. He reached the pistol as Cass swung her gun overhead and brought it down on the crown of the man’s skull.

  The blow sounded like a slugger cranking a homerun into the stands. Cass hit him so hard the rifle rebounded from his head, almost snapping back into her nose.

  The man crumpled face-first to the street, destroying whatever teeth Cass hadn’t already knocked out.

  Lance didn’t have time to check the mag before another of King’s men came running around the van. Aiming in the man’s general direction, he fired before he could even look down the iron sights. The pistol bucked in his hand with such force that he almost dropped it.

  The bullet punched through the man’s neck, spraying the side of the van with blood and tissue. He stumbled back a step, hands grasping at his decimated throat, gurgling incoherently.

  A woman squealed from the other side of the van.

  Eifort had stopped by the hood, aiming over it. She fired at a shirtless man who sprinted around the driver’s side door, swinging a machete. His perforated body fell backward as if he’d been hit by a Taser.

  The frigid weather had made Lance’s entire body shiver all day. How that genius was running around without a shirt on, he couldn’t fathom. Maybe the pizza boy had talked him into it.

  With Cass at his side, Lance worked his way around the back corner of the van. He held the pistol in front of him, hoping there were enough bullets left in the magazine to do what needed done.

  King stood in front of the open back door, digging through a duffel bag. When he spotted Lance, he sneered for a second, before slowly removing his hands from the bag and raising them above his head. “Yo
u wouldn’t shoot an unarmed man.”

  Cass cracked him in the lower back with her rifle, dropping him to a knee.

  “Bitch!” King doubled over, dry heaved.

  The harem of women behind him shrank away, huddling together in a protective circle. Only one more of King’s guards remained, though all the fight had drained from him as he watched the shirtless man bleed out a few feet away.

  The guy who’d taken a bullet to the throat had managed to stagger over to the bookstore before slumping against the side. His body went limp, hands falling to the sidewalk.

  “Everyone on your knees,” Cass said. “Or we’ll keep shooting.”

  The last guard didn’t need told twice.

  “No, you won’t.” Spittle hung from King’s lower lip. “You’re cowardly filth without the guts to do what’s necessary. You won’t ascend with the new gods, but cower under tooth and claw.”

  “And everyone thinks I never shut up.” Lance aimed at the guard on his knees. “How did you get here?”

  The guy didn’t say anything.

  Cass shuffled toward him, raising her gun to swing.

  One of the women, a tall, lanky brunette with a shockingly pretty face, put her hands out to stop Cass. “Don’t, please! We aren’t bad people. We just do what he tells us.”

  “Not bad people?” Cass lowered the gun, a stupefied expression on her face. “You’re sacrificing people to the fucking vampires!”

  “The what?” the woman asked.

  Eifort stepped between them, rifle aimed at King. “Can we not do this again? The whole zombie-vampire-demon thing is getting really old. It’s like a bad joke someone won’t let go.”

  The brunette gaped. “I don’t understand what you’re—”

  “You think you can kill our friend and get away with it? You really think I’d let you go after that?” Cass asked the woman. “You’ve hounded us from the moment we got here, and you’re going to tell me that you aren’t bad people?”

  Lance was glad he had the loaded weapon and not her. When she got her dander up like that, bad things happened. She probably would have cut them all down right there if she could.

  Stepping between them, he stood over King. “One last time, pizza boy—how did you get here?”