The Hunger (Book 5): Decayed

by Brant, Jason

The Wildman continued lowering Brandon as his feet reached the top of the window. That was when Brandon realized they hadn’t discussed any kind of a signal he could send when he reached the right floor.

  For a split second, he considered shouting, but he didn’t want to give away his position. If he didn’t figure out how to get through the window in the next few seconds, the Macho Man lover would lower him right past it.

  The floor inside came into view.

  It was the living quarters Emily had put the newcomers in. Former offices lined the walls, separated by huge panes of glass and wooden doors. Cubicles bisected the center floor space, creating smaller quarters for single occupants.

  Much of the glass was destroyed.

  Bullet holes cut through the doors, the cubicle walls.

  Brandon spotted the pregnant blonde woman hiding behind an open door in the middle of the left wall. She held two children against her chest, one in each arm. All three cried, though Brandon couldn’t hear them over the battle.

  Brandon couldn’t remember her name, but knew she had been with Adam. The woman had barely left her room since someone had delivered the bad news. The few times Brandon had seen her, she’d been red-faced and teary-eyed.

  A few other women and two men were peppered through the cubicle spaces, hiding as best they could. One of the women popped up from her hiding place, firing at the right wall.

  Brandon followed where she aimed, spotted a group of Bandits by the stairwell door. He counted four, but didn’t know if more waited on the stairs or had pushed farther into the cubicle area.

  No one noticed him as he descended to the middle of the massive exterior window.

  It was now or never.

  He studied the big hole in the glass, but realized he’d descended too far to swing through it now. There weren’t any other gaps big enough for his frame to squeeze in.

  “For crying out loud!” Brandon tugged on the hose, trying to signal The Wildman to stop lowering him.

  It didn’t work.

  His feet approached the bottom third of the window.

  Brandon’s mind raced as he thought of ways he could get inside. A movie he’d seen a few months ago popped in his mind. It had some balding dude in it who jumped off the roof of a building, then smashed through a window.

  The scene was pretty damn cool.

  And now, as he dangled from the side of a building, he wondered if his brilliant rappelling idea had come directly from that viewing. If so, he was determined to never watch another action movie again. Assuming he lived through the next few minutes.

  Knowing his only option was the bald-dude approach, Brandon put both shoes against the glass and pushed off, swinging away from the building.

  He braced himself for impact.

  39

  Two Bandits stood guard by the door leading to Dragon and Finn. They’d found the floor with the living quarters. Lance felt his heart drop when he only spotted two men in the stairwell. The others had gone inside, no doubt murdering everyone they came across.

  The shortest, chubbiest, and youngest of the two saw Lance coming first. His scraggly hair whipped across his face as he spun around.

  He held a pump shotgun, the end crudely sawed off.

  Lance shot at the exact moment the Bandit yanked his trigger. The shotgun roared in the tight confines of the stairwell. It bucked in the man’s hands, lifting a full foot in the air. Flames belched from the end.

  The pellets flew over Lance’s shoulder, two clipping the side of his ear. A chunk of skin tore away. A stinging sensation registered, though he barely felt it in the heat of the moment.

  Though the guard missed with his shotgun, Lance’s aim was true.

  The bullet caught the Bandit in his right shoulder, spinning him around.

  He collapsed against the older guy behind him, good arm flailing. The second guard tried to extricate his gun from between their bodies, cursing and spitting. His wounded comrade grabbed hold of him, trying to stay upright.

  Lance fired again, shooting the first guy in the back.

  The man’s legs buckled as his friend threw him aside, finally freeing his weapon.

  Cass caught up to Lance, started shooting before she even had a clear view of the Bandits. Her bullets tore into the wall, the door, before her fifth or sixth shot folded the second guard over.

  The man cried out as he slumped, hands going to his shot gut.

  Cass screamed at him as she mounted the stairs.

  She towered over him, fury baking off her in waves. He stared up at her, his eyes round ovals of shock and pain.

  Cass put three more rounds in his chest.

  The Bandit flopped to his side, legs convulsing as death throes ravaged him.

  With Cass in the lead, they stepped over the dying men without a second glance. Lance scooped up the sawed-off shotgun, tucking his pistol in his waistband. Though he’d tried to keep bantering with his wife during their ascent, he finally had nothing to say.

  Quips were the furthest thing from his mind.

  His blood boiled.

  A hollow tone filled his ears, drowning out much of the chaos surrounding them.

  Emmett’s prone body flashed in his mind.

  Cass went through the door first, not even bothering to check either side of it for hostiles. When she didn’t fire right away, Lance snuck in beside her, scanning the area before them.

  A handful of bodies sprawled on the floor in front of the cubicle walls. Though he only looked long enough to search for Dragon or Finn, Lance spotted at least two women and a child amidst the dead.

  They weren’t his family, but the sight of the kid almost brought him to his knees.

  The battle raged ahead, rifles and pistols popping off with frightening regularity. Higgins must have brought an enormous amount of firepower. Crashing into The Light hadn’t been a spur-of-the-moment decision, but a coordinated attack.

  Lance started across the floor first, heading for the right wall. After a moment’s hesitation as she inspected the area, Cass went left.

  When he reached the edge of the first cubicle, Lance paused and listened. A pistol cracked no more than twenty feet away. He glanced around the corner, spotted a woman dragging herself into one of the offices. Blood oozed from a wound in her abdomen, trailing a long smear behind her as she moved for cover.

  The door to Lance’s bedroom was closed.

  It took everything he had not to sprint straight for it, to see if the children were in there. Instead, he rounded the corner, staying low so no one could see him above the cubicles. He paused after a few feet and chanced a look over the top, hoping to see Higgins.

  Cass’ hair bobbed up and down as she stalked along the other side of the space. Whether her back injury kept her from bending down far enough to stay hidden, or she just didn’t give a shit about being spotted, Lance couldn’t tell.

  As he moved past the first cubicle-turned-bedroom, he realized he’d never racked a fresh shell into the shotgun. He stopped and did so, wincing at the loud, unique sound of working the slide. Anyone nearby would have heard it, despite the voluminous gunfire.

  Inside the first room, curled on top of a mattress on the floor, was a small man who couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and fifty pounds. He lifted his head from his hands at the sound of Lance’s shotgun, pure terror knitted into his brow.

  “Go,” Lance whispered before realizing the man couldn’t hear him over the din of the battle. Louder, he said, “It’s clear downstairs. Move!”

  The man hesitated a moment, as if unsure whether Lance was on his team. When an automatic rifle sprayed lead a few cubicles over, the guy made up his mind. After scrambling from the minimalist bed, he fled for the exit.

  Lance continued to the next opening, didn’t see anyone inside.

  The shooting was much closer now.

  Stepping into the empty space, Lance took a deep breath, then stuck his head over the wall.

  Two cubicles away, a bald-headed Ban
dit with a tattoo around one of his eyes was shooting through the wall in front of him. He waved his rifle back and forth, blindly dumping an entire magazine through the living spaces. The bullets obliterated the material in front of him with ease, shattering the glass of a makeshift bedroom on the far side of the room.

  A child’s cries followed.

  Lance lifted the shotgun over the wall, holding it at an awkward angle above his head. He tried to aim at the guy as best he could.

  As his finger tightened on the trigger, Higgins popped out of one of the bedrooms farther down the right wall. He wasn’t hiding or sneaking, but walking casually while reloading his rifle. Blood had soaked through his shirt and pants from the wound in his side.

  A small hitch in his stride was the only sign of discomfort he allowed.

  “Where you at, you little shit?” Higgins called out. “What was your name again? Larry? Lucas?”

  Lance lowered the gun, turning his attention to Higgins. While the rest of Bandits were shooting everyone they came across, it was clear Higgins had Dragon in mind as he went from room to room.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Higgins stopped beside another door, kicked it open.

  A woman screamed inside the bedroom.

  Higgins stood just outside the door, spraying bullets inside.

  The woman fell silent.

  Lance raced out of the cubicle into the open space. “Hey, asshole!”

  Rather than look back, Higgins stepped through the open door just as Lance fired. The shot tore through the doorjamb where Higgins had stood a moment earlier, pulverizing the wood.

  As Lance racked another shell in, Higgins popped out of the office, firing before he could even aim.

  Bullets shattered the tall window beside Lance, cut through the curtain behind it. Lance dove sideways, grunting as his knee protested the sudden movement. He hit the floor. Slid into the cubicle he’d just left.

  The landing jarred the shotgun from his grasp. It bounced back into the open space, out of reach.

  Higgins continued firing, destroying the walls surrounding Lance. He kept firing until his magazine emptied. “Glad you caught up to us. Wouldn’t want you to miss what I’m going to do to your little boy.”

  The bullets had cut through Lance’s cubicle less than a foot above his head. Debris littered the floor, clung to his hair. He searched the space for a way out that Higgins wouldn’t be able to see, but realized he was trapped.

  If he went out the only door, they’d cut him down.

  Going over the wall would get him shot just as quickly.

  The shotgun waited a few feet away, but might as well have been a mile.

  Trying for it would also be the end of him.

  Lance pulled the pistol from his waistband, then got to his knees, staying low. If Higgins resumed firing through the walls, he wanted to be as close to the floor as possible.

  He considered glancing through the door, but thought better of it.

  Higgins had him cornered.

  “What’s the matter, Lance? Don’t have the guts to stick your head out and say hi?” Higgins laughed. “Where’s that little slut of yours? I’m dying to show her what I’m packing. Saved my biggest gun just for her!”

  The bald-headed Bandit a few cubicles away cackled.

  “Higgins,” Cass yelled from the other side of the cubicles. “I’m over here waiting to see that needle dick of yours. Come on over and whip it out, pussy!”

  “There she is,” Higgins said. “How about that, Lance? She’s begging for it now. I think I’ll—”

  Using Cass’ distraction to his advantage, Lance hopped up, grabbed the top of the wall to his left, and hauled himself up and over it. Higgins sent a barrage of bullets his way before he’d even hit the ground, tearing up the new room he’d leaped into.

  He fell on top of a mattress covered in old clothes. Though it cushioned his fall, he landed on the shoulder he’d been stabbed in. Fresh hell radiated through his entire body, even worming into his teeth.

  Lance rolled off the mattress to slither out of the small living space. He found himself in a maze of cubicles, lost in a myriad of duplicated walls and winding pathways.

  “Did I get ya?” Higgins asked when he stopped firing. “Doesn’t really matter. It’s your family I want.”

  Lance sneaked down a narrow hallway, pausing to glance in each room he passed. He spotted a few bodies, heard even more wounded wailing. The Bandits had torn the entire place apart, murdered far too many survivors.

  As he made it halfway through the floor, a Bandit strolled out of a cubicle ten feet in front of him. The man walked as if he didn’t have a care in the world. A rifle slung across his shoulder, a beefy arm holding it in place as if he weren’t in the middle of a firefight.

  He was a giant son of a bitch, standing at least six and a half feet tall. A red beard stretched halfway down his chest. When he spotted Lance, he paused in midstride. They glared at each for a moment, as if waiting for the other to make the first move.

  Before Lance could shoot, more rounds punched through the walls, spraying in the Bandit’s direction. One hit the big man in the back, propelling him forward. The rifle fell from his shoulder, clattered on the floor.

  Cass stepped out of the next cubicle, a thin line of smoke trailing from the barrel of her gun. She paused over the big guy, watching him squirm as he tried to reach for the wound in the middle of his back.

  Two more bullets ended him.

  She kicked the rifle on the floor to Lance. It skidded a few feet, stopped in front of him.

  He grabbed it.

  Put the pistol back in his waistband.

  “Nails?” Higgins called out. “Where you at?”

  “Is Nails the tall dip shit with the rat-nest beard?” Cass asked, her voice carrying over the moans of the wounded. “He’s taking a dirt nap.”

  “You got him, too?” Some of the joy left Higgins’ tone. “Killing you is costing me a lot.”

  “You aren’t done paying yet.” Cass’ lips curled in a snarl as she gestured to Lance. “Let’s finish this.”

  “What’s behind door number three?” Higgins asked. The sound of splintering wood came from his direction.

  Children wailed.

  A woman screamed in fear.

  She begged for mercy, pleaded for her life.

  Lance recognized the voice.

  Higgins had found Lilith.

  Which meant he had Dragon and Finn.

  “Look who I found.” Higgins belly laughed. “Come on out… or I plug the kids. You have five seconds.”

  40

  As Brandon swung away from the building, he spotted Higgins step into the doorway to one of the bedrooms. He held a young boy in the air, his arm draped around the child’s waist.

  Higgins dropped a rifle to the floor, fished a pistol out from behind his back. He shoved it against the boy’s temple. The kid writhed in his grip, kicking and wriggling to get free.

  Brandon’s backward momentum seemed to stretch forever. It felt as if he moved in slow motion, time passing at a snail’s pace. He saw Cass standing amidst the cubicles. Bodies covered the floor.

  Blood flowed like a water pipe had burst.

  When he finally started to swing forward, he expected Higgins to glance over, shoot him before he could reach the window.

  But the head Bandit never glanced in his direction.

  Brandon closed his eyes, hunched his body as he braced himself for the collision. His shoulder hit the window first, slamming into a crack that ran from floor to ceiling. The impact jarred him, but he didn’t smash through the glass.

  A dozen more cracks spiderwebbed through the window.

  The hollow thump Brandon’s impact made finally caught Higgins’ attention. They gazed at each other for a heartbeat, confusion creasing Higgins’ oily forehead.

  “Not good.” Brandon struggled to get his feet against the window again. “Not good!”

  He pushed away from the
building again, thrusting himself farther this time, knowing he only had one more chance to break through. If he were lucky.

  Higgins took the pistol away from the boy’s head, aimed it at the window.

  A few doors behind Higgins, Charlie appeared, poking her head out of her bedroom. Her jaw dropped when she spotted Brandon swinging outside the window like Tarzan. Then she saw Higgins and shrank back through the door, only her eye peering around the corner.

  Cass stepped out of the cubicle area, holding a rifle.

  Clumps of hair had fallen out of her braids, dangling in front of her face. Blood covered much of her body. An angry pinch twisted her attractive features. She looked like a complete lunatic to Brandon. He was already afraid of her, but now he wouldn’t have approached her if someone paid him. She pointed her rifle at Higgins. Her mouth moved as she shouted something Brandon couldn’t hear.

  Higgins angled the pistol away from the window, jammed it against the boy again.

  Wind whipped past Brandon’s face, snow prickling his eyes. He reached the zenith of his swing, curled his body into a ball again.

  Lance’s head popped up over a cubicle wall farther into the room. He spotted Cass, Higgins, and his son. The others hadn’t seen him yet as he aimed a rifle at the Bandit. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Brandon repelling outside the building. A stupefied expression crossed his face.

  Brandon smashed through the window shoulder first.

  Glass showered down around him, slid across the floor.

  He landed on his ass, the impact jolting his spine.

  Cass and Higgins glanced at him.

  Then Higgins redirected his aim at Cass. “Told you I’d take you down.”

  “Watch out!” Brandon hopped to his feet, ignoring the glass slicing into his legs and hands as he got up.

  Cass turned, saw the weapon pointed at her face.

  A gun fired.

  Higgins staggered back a step.

  The boy slid from his arm, wailing.

  Another shot dropped Higgins to his side, the gun falling from his grip.

  Lance stepped closer, a wisp of smoke trailing from the muzzle of his pistol. He kept it trained on Higgins as Cass approached. She kicked the gun away from Higgins, training hers down at him.