The Hunger (Book 4): Ruined

by Brant, Jason

  Eifort sat beside him, inspecting their three captors in silence. Her mouth didn’t constantly get them in trouble, which made Lance thankful. If they both spouted off, they’d probably be dead by now. If only he could learn that lesson, his life would be a lot easier.

  “I see.” Lance worked his hands and fingers as Joe slipped the ropes from his upper body. Blood rushed back to the appendages and digits, prickling them with pins and needles. “So I’m guessing your mother named you Magnus King at birth then?”

  “You’re a funny man.” Sandals laughed. “I like a good sense of humor. To answer your question, no, I changed my name many years back to better reflect my current state of consciousness and my place in certain hierarchies.”

  Lance wanted to poke at him some more over his dumbass name, but then again, he’d named his kid Dragon Lance, so he had to choose his battles. That and Eifort kept shooting daggers at him out of her eyes.

  “Everyone here believes in self-reliance and self-defense. They’re all armed, and no one will hesitate to execute you on the spot if you attempt to flee.” Sandals focused his attention on Lance. “Are we understood?”

  “We are.”

  “Outstanding.” Sandals spun on his—well, sandals—and led them through the barn. “It’s a rare gift when we get unexpected visitors here. The location we picked to create our own Valhalla is off the beaten path. At least off the path of the old, weak world we’ve abandoned.”

  Joe pushed Eifort in the back, sending her staggering a few steps forward until she caught up with Lance. Mouthing Valhalla at him, she furrowed her eyebrows. Lance had wondered why he threw that name out there, too, but figured Sandals would likely spill his guts soon enough.

  The guy had come into the barn five minutes ago, but hadn’t stopped talking since. He definitely liked the sound of his own voice.

  He exited the large structure ahead of them and walked a few feet onto the lawn before raising his arms again and spinning around. “Welcome to Valhalla.”

  The grass at their feet was short and uneven, but it was the first maintained lawn Lance had seen in years. Beside the house, he spotted half a dozen goats grazing and realized that they kept the place from overgrowing like everything else.

  A handful of women sitting beside a fire by the house stared over at the them and laughed. The man who had exited the home naked earlier sat on a swing on the front porch, smoking a cigarette.

  Still naked.

  The house itself loomed large. It was an old farmhouse in need of a fresh coat of paint, but otherwise appeared well maintained. All the doors and windows remained intact, something Lance hadn’t seen in a long time save for The Light.

  Grapevines grew up and around an arbor beside the barn. Multiple gardens stretched beyond that. Fruit trees dotted the lawn randomly.

  “Wow.” Lance was genuinely impressed. It reminded him of their temporary home in Pennsylvania before a man named Colt came along and fucked it up. “This is quite a place.”

  “It’s all hard work. Something long forgotten by the sheep who perished during the fall. The strong have risen up and inherited the earth. Greatness isn’t built upon intention, but of will and action.” Sandals turned back to them. “That’s quite a tan you have. Where did you come from?”

  “The Caribbean,” Lance said.

  Sandals raised an eyebrow at Joe. “And you found them just on that hill?”

  Joe nodded.

  “That’s quite a journey,” Sandals said. “I’m sure the tales of your travels are vast and interesting.”

  “Our travels aren’t over yet.”

  Sandals grin finally slid from his chubby face. “That’s to be determined.” He cocked an eyebrow toward Eifort. “Does she speak freely, or does she wait for your approval before loosening her tongue?”

  “I say what I want, when I want.” Eifort balled her hands into fists. Her shoulders tensed, and she seemed like she might take a swing at Sandals. “No one orders me around.”

  “A strong, independent woman.” Sandals gave her a small bow. “The world needs more of you to rise from the ashes of the fallen.”

  Eifort didn’t appear pacified by his capitulation. Lance would have paid a lot of money, back when it was worth anything, to see her go a few rounds with his fat ass. In fact, if given a chance later, he just might facilitate that.

  “We’re always looking for the righteous, those who have shucked the shackles of the old ways and are capable of standing up and taking what is rightfully theirs. Peasants plod through life, but kings and queens seize it.”

  Lance almost laughed out loud. The guy was so full of bullshit Lance was surprised he couldn’t see it coming out of his ears. Half what he said didn’t make sense, and the other half consisted of platitudes.

  Sandals kept his attention on Eifort. “We fight for what’s ours here. We grow our own food, hunt our own meat. We fear nothing and want for nothing. We are the next step in the evolution of society, free from the capitalistic imperialism of yesterday, prideful of our strength and resolve. Our children will be born powerful and knowledgeable, capable of forging their own path to glory. We are the present: we are the future.”

  Lance tried to hold in the laughter bubbling up, but lost the battle and let a guffaw slip.

  Joe took a step toward him, raising his rifle to hit Lance with the butt of it. With a wave of his hand, Sandals stopped him.

  “You laugh,” Sandals said. “But what do you see here? What did I say that isn’t true?”

  “It all sounds like horseshit to me.”

  “Oh? You see our gardens, you see our animals. Our people are happy and free. They do as they wish.” Sandals glanced around his settlement theatrically. “Do you see walls keeping them in or others out? Do you know of others who live without fear of the night? Have you seen another place so strong they leave their borders open?”

  Eifort stepped closer to Sandals, speaking before Lance could continue to dig their grave deeper. “How do you do that? How do you keep the infected out at night?”

  “I knew you were the intelligent one of your union.” Sandals put a hand on her shoulder. “All will be revealed soon, my child.” He scowled at Lance. “Please, inform me why you’re bound to this weakling?”

  “He’s not my husband.”

  “Oh?” Sandals raised his eyebrows. “We assumed you were betrothed.”

  Some of the camp’s inhabitants moved toward them, slowly forming a circle around their group. Most appeared strong and healthy. They were tanned and wiry, not as malnourished as Lance’s party had become over the past few weeks. Twice in one day, they’d stumbled across safe havens that shouldn’t have existed.

  The survival of The Light at least made sense.

  Lance couldn’t make heads or tails out of this new place.

  “Our families were kidnapped last night. We’ve spent the day heading north, searching for them. That’s why your people found us outside your home.” Eifort looked around at everyone encircling them. “We were checking if our loved ones were down here. We meant no harm.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” Sandals gave Lance a withering scowl. “Communication is much easier when one’s wit doesn’t get in the way. Everyone at Valhalla can understand your grief. We, too, would search to the ends of the earth to find one of ours if they were snatched from us.”

  “Have you seen anyone come through here last night or this morning?” Eifort asked.

  “Only the two of you. But we’ll gladly help you in your search tomorrow, if you desire.”

  “Thank you, King.”

  “Please, call me Magnus.” Turning, Sandals gestured toward the house. “Let me show you around the rest of Valhalla. I’m sure you’ll come to understand the pride we have for what we’ve built here.”

  “Thank you, Magnus.” Eifort started for the farmhouse, Sandals falling in behind her.

  Lance admired the way Eifort played to the weirdo’s distorted self-image. While Lance quipped and
annoyed the chubby little bastard, Eifort massaged his mountain-sized ego. She’d talked them into getting the tour, which was a lot more than Lance had managed so far.

  King glanced back at Joe, giving him a quick nod.

  Joe grunted in approval before grabbing Lance by the upper arm. He yanked hard, nearly dragging Lance to the butchered lawn. “Let’s go, dickhead.”

  “I thought we were going to see your pride and power, or whatever.” Lance winced at the pain in his shoulder and arm as the big man rag-dolled him.

  “She’s getting the tour; you’re going with the others.”

  Three other men peeled off from the crowd and followed behind them, no doubt working as added security in case Lance tried something.

  “Wait, where are you taking my friend?” Eifort stopped and turned back. “He needs to—”

  “He’ll be fine, my child.” Sandals put a hand on her lower back and gently pushed her forward. “I want to speak to you without his pathetic ramblings for now. You’ll see him again shortly.”

  “But—”

  “No harm will come to him. You have my word.”

  Joe tore at Lance’s arm again, hustling him away. They went around the house, cutting off Lance’s view of Eifort and King. In two seconds, Lance had gone from admiration of her silver tongue to worrying she’d just isolated herself in a bad way.

  They’d seen people going in and out of that house with expressions on their faces similar to a john exiting a cathouse. People were doing it like jackrabbits in there. If Sandals planned the same for Eifort, Lance would kill him.

  “Keep moving, smart guy.” Joe squeezed his already vice-like grip even harder. “Don’t make me knock your ass out again.”

  “Okay, okay.” Lance got his feet under him, keeping up with Joe’s pace. “You said you’re throwing me in with the others? What others?”

  “Some other pussies who aren’t strong enough to belong here. Now shut up and walk.”

  15

  Cass had no idea how long they’d traveled today, let alone how much distance they’d covered. Her face was sore from bouncing off the floor of the truck when they hit potholes or took turns too quickly. Their captors had joked and laughed for most of the trip, often at the expense of one of them.

  Someone had grabbed her ass twice. Squeezed until the pain had made her squirm.

  They hadn’t taken her hood or gag off, though they’d done so for Emmett and hopefully a few others. Emmett answered the occasional question they asked him, but he usually steered clear of giving them any specifics that could be used against them later.

  He protested when they abused Cass, which usually cost him a blow to the face by the sound of it. She wanted to tell him to stay quiet, to let them fondle her if it kept him from getting beat around.

  They would all get theirs in due time.

  Her brain worked nonstop, analyzing every little sound. She focused on the terrain of the road, whether they crossed over bridges or drove down a dirt path.

  A few times, she’d heard the children in the cab laughing.

  At least the bastards weren’t harming her baby.

  The truck finally came to another stop a while later.

  “You know the drill,” the boss man said. “Get the kids out to her first, then start hauling the others out one at a time. We don’t want that bitch negotiating a bulk rate with us again. She’s paying by the head this time.”

  “What about this one?” Wayne nudged Cass in the ribs with his boot. “She’ll probably wreck the whole goddamn thing if we take her out first.”

  “She goes out last. Keep her tied up the whole time. They can do whatever they want with her once she’s not our problem anymore.” The boss man’s boots clomped across the floor, heading toward the back of the truck. “Remember what I said—don’t touch her while I’m in there. You hear me?”

  “I got ya,” Wayne grumbled.

  The process felt like it had taken an eternity.

  One by one, her friends were taken off the truck and transported to God knew where. The man in charge had mentioned The Bitch and a woman named Valerie at different points. Was she purchasing people from these animals? If so, to what end?

  Cass lay there, listening and waiting.

  Her mind wandered to Lance again.

  Though twenty-four hours hadn’t passed since they were abducted and Lance and Megan were left behind, realization had started to sink in. All night and morning, Cass hadn’t considered the idea they’d died in Baltimore. She insisted to herself that if anyone could survive such desperate times, it was those two.

  But as she waited for her turn to be offloaded, doubt crept in. As the van drove away into the night, what options had they left for Lance and Megan? The screams of the Vladdies had already infested the night.

  They were in a foreign place with little hope of finding shelter.

  She had to consider the idea her husband had perished. For her child’s sake, she had come to terms with the possibility she might have to raise Lincoln on her own.

  Tears welled in her eyes, and a lump formed in her throat. She tried to swallow desperation down as it rose from her stomach, but it overwhelmed her. They’d gone through too much, made it through too many impossible times, for it to all end so quickly.

  That goof had changed her life, made her care about someone other than herself again. She didn’t know what she would do without him if he were actually gone. How would she protect their child from whatever The Bitch had planned?

  Goddamn it, Cass screamed against her gag.

  When she’d first met and fallen in love with Lance, she knew the dumbass couldn’t survive without her. She kept them going, pushed them through the muck and the death and the horror that had befallen them.

  It hadn’t taken long to realize he had saved her, too. He’d softened her, caught her after years of freefalling through anger and self-pity.

  They’d freed each other from all the bullshit that had dragged them down.

  Together, they were whole.

  They filled gaps, as Rocky Balboa once said.

  Without him, she didn’t think she could ever be whole again.

  No, she thought. He’s alive.

  Her current situation was affecting her mind. The throb in her head made thinking clearly difficult. Their friends were left behind at another camp, her husband abandoned in a city, and her child held captive just a few feet away. That all added up to a troubled mind that drifted to the negative.

  Her husband was alive.

  And he was coming for her.

  The door slid up and then down again. Boots stomped toward her. Heavy, rapid breathing filled the space between each footfall. Cass knew who it was.

  “Hey, girlie,” Wayne muttered. “Just you and me now. The boss is talking to The Bitch, and that usually takes a long time. I can probably finish two or three times before he gets back. What do you think about that?”

  Cass remained silent as he approached. She felt him kneel beside her.

  Reaching under her shoulder, he flipped her onto her side with a grunt.

  His hands pawed at her breasts.

  Fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of her jeans.

  Foul, rotten breath seeped in through her hood.

  She remained perfectly still, not reacting to his grotesque touch, his stench. The body odor emanating from him was enough to strip the paint off the walls.

  He tried to yank her pants and underwear off, but barely managed to get them down to the middle of her thighs. He mumbled, “Goddamn hogtie. Can’t get in there with that fucking thing in the way.”

  Cass fought the fear and revulsion that threatened to overwhelm her.

  The sound of a knife flipping open twisted her fear into a near panic.

  “Now you listen to me, girlie.” Wayne flipped her back over to her stomach and grabbed hold of her hands. “I’m gonna cut your legs free so I can roll you over. You so much as whimper and I’ll gut you and yer kid like the fi
lthy animals you are, got it?”

  She nodded inside the hood.

  The knife sawed at the rope binding her limbs together. When it cut through, her feet dropped to the floor and she nearly cried out in relief. Cramps had come and gone through the trip until she’d lost sensation from the knee down in both legs.

  Pain settled in as fresh blood flowed to her feet.

  She ignored it as best she could.

  The blade of the knife clanged off the metal floor beside her as he tossed it down.

  Her hands remained tied behind her as he rolled her to her back again. He had her nude from the waist down within seconds. His hands tore her shirt up her chest, and he groped her again.

  She heard his zipper come down, the ruffle of him sliding his pants to his knees.

  “I’m gonna split you in—”

  Cass rocked back, bringing her legs together, knees touching her chest, and sprang forward with all her strength, aiming at where she guessed his balls were.

  Her right foot missed, catching him in the lower stomach.

  But her left hit pay dirt, crushing his erect manhood and testicles.

  Wayne bellowed in agony.

  The truck rocked on its shocks as he collapsed to his side, incoherent babbling escaping his foul mouth.

  Cass squirmed sideways until she felt the knife touch her elbow, then wiggled her way toward the front of the vehicle. She kept working closer to the cab until her fingers brushed the handle.

  Wayne gibbered by her feet.

  Then she heard him vomit.

  A lot.

  Cass worked the blade against her bindings as fast and hard as she could with numb hands. It sliced her fingers and nicked her wrists. Blood ran down her hands and coated the handle of the knife, making it difficult to hold onto.

  “Fucking… bitch… kill… you…” Wayne finally stopped vomiting. His breathing hitched in ragged, pain-ridden gasps. “Gonna… cut… you up.”

  The knife sliced through several more strands of the rope, and Cass felt the tension around her wrists ease. She tried to yank her hands free, but didn’t have enough play to work with yet. Her blood flowed profusely as she hacked at the rope faster and harder.