The Hunger (Book 5): Decayed

by Brant, Jason

  The boy lunged at Cass, throwing his arms around her leg. She released her rifle with one hand, caressing the back of the kid’s head. She didn’t take her eyes off Higgins, though.

  “Dragon!” Lance limped over to them, scooped up his son. He closed his eyes as he squeezed the boy to his chest, rocked him back and forth. “You’re okay, buddy.”

  The kid bawled in his dad’s ear, though Lance didn’t seem to mind.

  Higgins asked, “Who are you people?”

  “We’re just a family of dumbasses,” Cass said. “And you’re just another asshole stupid enough to get in our way.”

  Brandon brushed glass from his pants and shirt. Tiny shards of it pricked his fingers. Pieces fell from his hair, flew from his shoes as he kicked his feet.

  When he started for the others, the hose tightened against his chest, yanking him back a few steps. It took several tugs to slide the loop down his body so he could step free. He noticed The Wildman had finally stopped feeding him slack.

  Charlie gaped at Brandon from her doorway. She didn’t speak or move in his direction, just stared in shock. Though his chest and shoulder hurt—actually, his entire body felt like he’d been hit by a car—he couldn’t help but smile.

  As Brandon walked over to her, he saw another head pop up in the cubicles. A middle-aged man with graying hair glanced around, spotted Lance and Cass standing beside Higgins. He watched them for a moment, then ran the other way, heading for the door.

  “Hey,” Brandon yelled. “There’s another one!”

  Lance spun around, saw the Bandit fleeing. He tried to put his son down, but the kid wouldn’t let go of his neck. While Lance wrangled with his kid, Brandon chased after the Bandit.

  The man had a substantial lead, but Brandon was younger and faster. Even if he didn’t catch him by the time they reached the stairwell, Brandon knew he could leap down the steps and intercept him on the first landing.

  He hadn’t given any thought to what he would do when he caught him. The guy was bigger, stronger, and a violent lunatic. Beating the crap out of a wounded teenager would be the easiest thing the man had done all week.

  Brandon chased him anyway.

  As he ran past the broken windows, the puddles of blood, the cooling bodies, Brandon realized how much carnage the Bandits had caused in such a short period of time. They’d crashed into The Light and annihilated its population.

  How many people had they killed?

  What damage had they caused the building?

  The man burst from the maze of cubicles, racing into the open space leading to the door. He hurdled two bodies, almost fell as he skidded in their blood. His greasy mane flopped around his neck, his shoulders. As he regained his balance, he saw Brandon closing in on him.

  He stopped ten feet in front of the door, raised a pistol.

  Brandon’s shoes slid on a pile of glass as he tried to stop.

  The gun pointed at him.

  Brandon cut left, ran three steps up the left wall, and launched himself at the Bandit. He flew through the air as the gun went off, expecting the bullet to punch a hole through his face.

  Nothing hit him.

  He pounced on the Bandit, landing high on his chest.

  What he expected to happen was the guy falling backward from the impact.

  Instead, the Bandit caught Brandon with both arms. The flying aerial attack only staggered him back two steps before he regained his balance. He spun sideways, tossing Brandon to the floor like a pro-wrestler body slamming his opponent.

  All the air in Brandon’s lungs vacated the premises as he bounced on his back. His arms and legs splayed as he stared at the ceiling in shock. The Bandit stepped closer, his boots flanking either side of his head.

  Brandon looked at him, upside down.

  “Idiot.” The Bandit pointed his gun at Brandon’s face.

  “Leave the kid alone.” The Wildman moved into the doorway, holding a rifle. “Jagoff.”

  41

  Cass watched Paul drop the final Bandit with two rounds to the chest. She turned her attention back to Higgins, watched the bastard writhing in pain on the floor. Sweat covered her entire body. Her nerve endings were lit with adrenaline and pain and anger.

  She felt irrational.

  Violent.

  The urge to execute Higgins had her trigger finger itching. She felt the pressure of the trigger, squeezed it back a millimeter, two. One quick pull and it would all be over.

  Her son cried beside her, jabbering and wailing, clinging to Lance in the frantic way only a scared child could. Cass forced herself to look at Dragon, to reach out and touch him. His warmth pulled her back from the edge of the abyss. The vibrations from his sobs made her heart ache.

  She lowered the rifle, let it dangle in her hand.

  “I had to take the shot. I was so afraid I’d hit Dragon.” Lance stroked their son’s back. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  “You did what you had to.” Cass caressed her husband’s cheek. “You saved us.”

  Lilith stuck her head out their bedroom door. “Is it over?”

  “It’s over.” Cass looked back at Higgins. “It’s over.”

  Higgins lay on his side, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He lifted his head off the floor, bared his bloody teeth at Cass. Blood dribbled from his mouth. “Over? I thought you were smarter than that.”

  “Your men are dead. You’ll join them soon.” Cass bit back the groan of pain that wormed up her throat as she knelt in front of him. “You fucked with the wrong people.”

  “Maybe so. But I didn’t lose.”

  Lance limped over to Lilith, finally managing to pull Dragon away from him. He handed their son over to the pregnant woman, then ushered them into the office. After they disappeared inside, he closed the door behind him and rejoined his wife.

  Neither wanted Dragon seeing all the death and destruction around them. She didn’t want him to witness Higgins take his last breath.

  As she glared down at the last Bandit, she almost smiled when she realized she kept thinking of Lincoln as Dragon. Her damn husband had worn her down. In no time, the kid would end up only responding to Dragon.

  She didn’t smile, though.

  Only glowered.

  “I still have my family,” Cass said. “And you’ll be dead soon. If that isn’t a loss, I don’t know what is.”

  “Why?” Lance didn’t kneel beside her, but towered over Higgins. “Why attack us like this? You had to know you couldn’t win.”

  A Vladdie wailed from somewhere in the city.

  The sky had darkened, the daylight receding.

  “Nobody fucks with me, that’s why.” Higgins spat a wad of red-tinged phlegm on the floor. “And I was promised the keys to the castle.”

  “What does that mean?” Cass asked.

  Higgins tried to reach behind his back.

  Lance snapped his gun up, aiming it at the Bandit’s face. “Don’t do that.”

  “Got a radio clipped to my belt.” Higgins’ voice had begun to fade. “Can’t reach it.”

  Brandon and Paul rounded the corner of the cubicle area. The front of Brandon’s shirt looked as if someone had thrown a can of red paint on it.

  “We got a problem,” Paul said, approaching them.

  Cass held up a hand, cutting him off. “Hold on.”

  “You don’t understand. We don’t have time—”

  “Hold on,” Cass yelled. She didn’t have the patience to deal with the annoying yinzer at the moment. Her frayed nerves had her on the edge of exploding. And she wanted to know what Higgins was talking about. “I’ll grab the radio. If he even bats an eye, finish him.”

  Lance gave her a nod, used his other hand to steady his gun.

  Leaning forward, keeping an eye on Higgins, Cass reached behind him, felt along his belt until her fingers touched a small plastic device. It was clipped to the rough leather strip. After feeling around for the release, Cass pulled a radio free.
<
br />   It was smaller than the palm of her hand, with a tiny antenna sticking out of the top.

  “Go ahead.” Higgins’ smile wasn’t as wide as before. His eyes dimmed as he stared. “Hold it up to my mouth and key it.”

  “No.” Cass considered throwing the radio out the nearest window. “Why would I do that? So you can call in reinforcements? Not gonna happen.”

  “Ain’t no reinforcements coming. Just death.”

  “What does that mean? Stop speaking in riddles.”

  “Cass?” Paul stepped closer. “We need to talk. Right now.”

  “He’s not kidding,” Brandon said.

  Cass ignored them.

  A handful of the infected howled. They sounded closer.

  Higgins’ head slumped down until his temple rested on the floor, his mangy hair smeared the blood pooling under him. “He’s coming for you.”

  More Vladdies shrieked.

  Closer.

  “Who is on the other end of this?” Cass gestured with the radio.

  “Valerie. That dumb bitch.” Higgins coughed again. His chest rattled. “She’s still alive and I’m dyin’, though. Can’t be that dumb, I guess.”

  “What does she—”

  The radio crackled in her head, as if on cue.

  “Higgins, can you hear me?” Static tainted Valerie’s voice. “Are you clear? We’re in position.”

  “What is she talking about?” Cass asked.

  “Ask her yourself.”

  Cass hesitated a moment, trying to think of any kind of trap he might have laid for her. Unless the thing exploded in her hand, she figured they’d be all right. She raised the radio to her mouth, keyed a button on the side. “This is Cassandra York. Higgins is bleeding to death at my feet. What can I do for you, Val?”

  A pregnant pause stretched over the air.

  After a few seconds, Valerie said, “You’re as advertised. It’s a shame we couldn’t come to an agreement. I hate to lose you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere yet.”

  “I guess we’ll find that out soon enough. Give my regards to Emily. Assuming she’s still alive.”

  Cass hadn’t seen Emily Snow since they’d come back to The Light, but she hadn’t been looking for her either. “Higgins is done. Magnus King is our prisoner. You’re next, lady.”

  “You have Magnus? I’m assuming he wasn’t able to hand your husband to the Demon King then.” Valerie paused. “That’s unfortunate. Unfortunate for us all.”

  “I think we’ll be just fine,” Cass said. “Can’t say the same for you, though.”

  “You should have stayed with us. Your children would live through the night if you had.”

  A burst of static followed.

  Cass keyed the button on the side a few more times, tried to reach Valerie. The woman didn’t answer.

  The Vladdie presence outside seemed to multiply by the second. Nightfall was imminent, and the beasts were worked up. Judging from the torrent of cries, Cass assumed their numbers were in the dozens, maybe the hundreds. Their shrieks came from all directions, encircling the building.

  That wasn’t unusual, though. During the few nights they’d stayed there, the beasts had always come near, but the spotlights and defensive structures around the building kept them at bay.

  Even though she knew they were safe, hearing the Vladdies get so close made her hair stand on end.

  “Have you seen Bill lately?” Higgins asked. “I talked to him on the radio a little bit ago. Said he’d been busy all evening.”

  “What?” Lance lowered his pistol, cocked his head. “You talked to Bill?”

  “That’s what I need to tell yinz about,” Paul said. “He killed Fred and that pain-in-the-ass woman. Becky or whatever. And we haven’t seen Emily either.”

  “He did what?” Cass shot up, ignoring her back and hip.

  “You’re dead.” Higgins cackled again. “You’re all so fucking dead. I promised you I’d destroy everything you ever loved, and now I’ve done it. Those little kids of yours? Gonna be worm food inside of an hour. Hell, inside of a few minutes. I just hope I’m alive long enough to see one of the demons rip them to shreds. They’re gonna tear—”

  A gun roared from just behind Cass, making her flinch.

  Higgins’ brains splattered the floor behind him.

  He rolled to his back, spasmed twice, and went still.

  Megan stood a few feet away, aiming a rifle at Higgins’ corpse.

  Everyone stared at her, shocked and on edge.

  Her face was swollen and wet, her eyes red and narrow.

  Beyond her, loitering by the cubicles, stood Magnus King. He gaped at Higgins’ dead body, eyes wide in surprise and fear.

  “Fuck him.” Megan dropped the rifle at her feet, headed for the bedroom the children were in.

  The overhead lights flickered.

  Cass’ eyes cut to them. She whispered a prayer.

  The lights died with an audible click, bathing everyone in darkness.

  “Now what?” Lance moved to Cass, brushing against her. “Did Valerie cut our power?”

  The Vladdies’ shrieks intensified.

  A silence fell over the group as they listened to the damned swarming outside their building.

  “How long does it take for the battery backups to kick in?” Cass asked. “Brandon? How long?”

  “It should be instant.” Brandon’s voice trembled. “But that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Bill was in the battery backup room, and I think he was trying to destroy the system.”

  Cass’ mouth ran dry. “We don’t have any power?”

  “The Lights should be on by now,” Brandon said, his voice barely audible over the stampeding vampires. “I think Bill broke something.”

  “Oh God.” Lance scrambled for their bedroom. “Everyone, get a flashlight and a gun!”

  Cass felt her knees weaken, threaten to buckle. They were in a city, surrounded by the devourers of mankind, and they were defenseless.

  The Vladdies were coming.

  Their laments chilled her to the bone.

  Did you love Decayed? Then please leave it a review!

  Book 6 will release by the end of the year!

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  Also by Jason Brant

  Asher Benson

  Ash (FREE) #1

  The Perfect Crime #1.5

  Madness #2

  Asher’s War #3

  Asher Benson Omnibus Edition

  The Hunger

  Devoured #1

  Lotion #1.5

  Consumed #2

  Ravaged #3

  Ruined #4

  Decayed #5

  Book #6 is Coming Soon!

  The Hunger Omnibus Edition (1-3)

  West of Hell

  Gehenna (FREE) #1

  Tartarus #2

  Sheol #3

  West of Hell Omnibus Edition

  Standalone

  The Dark

  The Gate

  Aces High

  Dead Ringer

  Big Bob

  All I Want for Christmas

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  Watch for more at Jason Brant’s site.

  About the Author

  “JASON BRANT” is an anagram for Bas Trojann, a former Bigfoot hunter who, after being abducted (and subsequently returned) by aliens, decided to hang up his ghillie suit and enter the world of professional arm wrestling. Despite back-to-back first place finishes in the South Dakota World International Championship League, Bas receded from athletics to invent cheese and give Al Gore the initiative to create the internet.

  Nearly a decade after writing the bestselling self-help series, Tomato Soup and Grilled Cheese (Cut into Four Pieces) for the Soul, Bas has left his life of notoriety and critical acclaim behind him to write existential, erot
ic poetry.

  His wife washes their clothing on his abs.

  www.authorjasonbrant.com