The Hunger (Book 4): Ruined

by Brant, Jason

  “That was easy enough.” Cass swayed on her feet from the bump, then collapsed to the floor, her legs no longer willing to hold her weight.

  “No sweat.” Lance rolled over with a grunt, his mangled arms shaking as he pushed himself off the floor. He crawled over to his wife on his hands and knees. Blood seeped from the wounds above his elbows. “What took you so long?”

  “Just wanted to make you work for it.” Cass grimaced as she reached for her lower back, probing at the spot where the pain throbbed the worst.

  “What is it?” Lance asked.

  “My back is—”

  “We’re through,” Bill hollered back to them, his voice barely audible over the roar of the wind rushing by. “And we can see taillights up ahead. We’re catching up to the van!”

  Cass pushed through the pain, sitting up straight. “Let’s get Lincoln to safety.”

  Lance crawled toward the Vladdie and grabbed the axe handle, working it back it and forth until he could pop the blade free of its skull. “We’re coming, Dragon.”

  “You dumbass.”

  44

  Brandon’s eyes fluttered open as his weight shifted in the blood-drenched seat. Night had arrived. The darkness outside was the all-encompassing black that had become the norm since the power had died a few years ago.

  He’d never realized how much light came from streetlamps and shopping malls. When he’d first stared up at the night sky after civilization had collapsed, he’d been awestruck at how many stars he could see.

  Blinking slowly, Brandon surveyed the cabin of the truck. He couldn’t remember dozing off at all, just bleeding in the seat with Charlie on top of him. Now she sat on the floor between his seat and the dashboard. She watched him quietly as he took in his surroundings.

  They were still driving.

  Through the window, he thought he could see the outlines of buildings on either side, but the darkness made it difficult to tell. Charlie had reclined the seat Brandon sat in too far back for him to see much through the windshield.

  Everyone inside the cabin remained quiet, the noise from the engine, the tires on pavement, and whistling through a broken window on the rear driver’s side all that was audible. What had happened there? He didn’t remember anything breaking through the glass. When Brandon tried to reach for his eyes to rub the sleepiness from them, the wounds in his chest roared. Grimacing, he let his hands fall back to his lap.

  In his confusion, he’d forgotten the horrible claw marks that would forever scar his chest. Assuming they survived, anyway. He hoped the old saying about chicks digging scars was true because he figured he’d have some real doozies to show off.

  “Welcome back,” Charlie said. “I thought you were dying when you passed out. How do you feel?”

  “Weak. Tired.” Brandon managed a small smile. “But not dead yet.”

  “You lost a lot of blood.” Eifort held the steering wheel in both hands, sitting ramrod straight. “Do you think you can climb out of the truck when we stop?”

  “We’re stopping?” He managed to sit up a little straighter, so he could peer through the windshield.

  “We’re getting close to The Light.”

  “How are we getting around the road blocks?”

  “We aren’t.”

  “Oh.” Brandon watched as the headlights illuminated the debris of a past civilization—cars, trash, fallen road signs, and dead power lines. When they’d first become aware of the bandits, Emily Snow had asked several men to barricade all the roads leading to The Light. Though they couldn’t block anyone from creeping through the city on foot, they could prevent the bandits from driving right up to their front door.

  The barricades had worked, but now he worried that having to get out in front of one and run the rest of the way could get them all killed.

  In the side mirror, Brandon saw headlights trailing them, staying close to their rear bumper. The lights made it impossible to see anyone inside. Because no one was freaking out about a car tailing them, he assumed it was the vehicle carrying the rest of Lance’s friends.

  “I got Emily on the radio and asked if they could send some people out to meet us,” Charlie said. “But she didn’t want to risk more lives. She promised to have the spotlights aimed in our direction when we get close.”

  Brandon couldn’t say that news surprised him. Emily was one of the most risk-averse people he’d ever met. She refused to make decisions that could put someone in danger, even if it meant the betterment of the entire building.

  She didn’t even give orders, now that he thought about it. It was more like asking for favors than giving direction. Everyone listened to her all the same, but she definitely wasn’t some kind of dictator who would order her men to charge out into the night to save two kids and a bunch of strangers.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “Northeast part of the city,” Eifort said. “Pretty close to where you found us.”

  “But we found that nest right there.” Brandon managed to sit up a little taller, though the movement came at a cost. The pain made his eyes water. He had no idea how he was supposed to run to The Light when they got out of the truck. Just the idea of climbing out of his seat seemed impossible.

  “I know, but it’s getting too dark to drive.” Eifort ground her teeth, but didn’t say anything else.

  Brandon had to remind himself that her husband and son were in the vehicle behind them. If anyone didn’t want to drive by another nest, it was her.

  Charlie reached up, grabbed Brandon’s hand, and held it. “We’re going to make it.”

  The touch sent bolts of electricity through his arm. He’d crushed on Charlie for so long that seeing some of his feelings reciprocated made him want to do backflips. If only his chest would allow it.

  “I can’t believe your people won’t help us,” Bill muttered from the backseat. “Helping you is looking like the dumbest decision I’ve ever made.”

  “She doesn’t want anyone else getting hurt.” Charlie scowled back at him. “We actually care about others, unlike you weirdos.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I think about giving up everything I have to help some strangers.” Failing silent, Bill stared through the broken window beside him.

  Brandon tried to spot Lance and his crazy wife in the back of the truck, but couldn’t see them. He figured they were lying down. He vaguely remembered a demon jumping into the bed with Lance, but couldn’t recall what had happened after that. Brandon had wanted to help, but was stuck in the cab like the others. That and he’d apparently passed out a few seconds later.

  “I think I see something ahead.” Eifort slowed the truck down. “Everyone, get ready.”

  Charlie squeezed Brandon’s hand. “You can do this.”

  He gave her a small smile, but didn’t say anything. Truth be told, he didn’t know if he could even climb out of the truck, let alone run to safety.

  Greg remained silent in the backseat.

  No bros or anything.

  “Is that one of the roadblocks you mentioned, Charlie?” Eifort asked.

  Charlie squeezed out from between the dash and seat, then turned around. “Yup. The Light is a little farther down there.” She pointed through the windshield. “There! Do you see the glow from the building?”

  “That’s so far away.”

  “We can make it.” Charlie reached up and clasped the handle above Brandon’s door, pulling herself to her feet. She bent over at the waist, leaning over him. Her breasts were less than foot from his face. “I’ll help Brandon.”

  Brandon stared at her boobs, shocked he could still be so horny even after he nearly bled to death.

  “I’ll do it.” Bill sat forward. “You’re too small to drag him if everything goes to hell. And it will. Can’t believe we’re going to run through a fucking city at night. We’re all going to fill some demon’s belly soon.”

  “Shut up.” Eifort glared at him in the mirror. “Or I’ll—”

&nb
sp; Brandon spotted movement ahead, in front of the barricade.

  It wasn’t much, just a flash crossing in front of a minivan jammed between two other cars. Whatever it was had dashed into a building to the left of the roadblock and disappeared.

  He gulped. “I think I saw a demon by the barricade.”

  “Where?” Eifort asked.

  “Left side. It ran in the building.”

  “We aren’t even out of the goddamn truck yet and we’re seeing them.” Bill grabbed his door handle. “Stop on the right side. I’ll cover the building while you get everyone over the cars.”

  Eifort drove them through an intersection and onto the right sidewalk, knocking over a garbage can, sending old trash to the pavement. She stopped just in front of a bus stop and threw the transmission into park before shutting it off and climbing out.

  Bill and Greg were already hopping out before the vehicle had even settled. Charlie reached down and grabbed the handle, yanking it hard. The door popped open and she sprang out, careful not to brush against Brandon’s legs. She turned around and held a hand up, giving him a humorless grin.

  With a mewling groan that bordered on a cry, Brandon swung his legs around and slowly stretched down to the sidewalk. It felt as if someone pressed red-hot pokers against his chest with each movement. The wounds had begun to scab over while he slept. Now they tore open as the skin stretched, fresh blood spilling from the jagged cuts.

  Beside them, Lance climbed over the side of the truck. Blood covered his arms and some of chest. His shoulders and arms had deep gouges dug into them. He painfully lifted his arms up to help his wife out of the truck bed.

  She appeared worse off than he did, though she had less blood on her. Her jaw muscle flared at each movement, as if someone jabbed knives into her sides repeatedly. An axe dangled from one of her hands, a rifle from the other.

  Charlie carefully looped one of Brandon’s arms over her shoulders, twisting him toward the barricade. “Once we get over this, the rest will be a piece of cake.”

  They staggered toward the cars stretching across the road before them. Brandon hadn’t been a part of putting this particular roadblock together, and he cursed whoever had done it. They’d left zero gaps between the vehicles in the road, or between the cars and buildings. A small dog might be able to squeeze between the yellow convertible and the pizza shop beside it, but not a person.

  Whoever had pushed the cars together had been too damned good at their job.

  The van pulled in behind the truck, its headlights still on, illuminating the old convertible in front of Brandon. He used the fleeting moment of light to reach out and grab hold of it. Just as his hands touched the hood, the van turned off, bathing them in darkness.

  Turning around, Brandon slid his butt onto the hood and scooted his way across the filthy, faded metal. Each time he pushed down with his hands to move a few more inches, he nearly cried out. The pain was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

  Even when he’d mistimed a jump between the windows of two buildings and fallen almost two stories into an alley—ending up busting his arm—he hadn’t felt this awful. He’d walked almost two miles back to The Light with his forearm having an extra joint in it that day. That trek had felt like an eternity.

  The pain was excruciating.

  He would have given anything to trade that agony for this one. Every step, every twitch of a muscle in his upper body, lit his entire nervous system on fire. As he continued his snail-like trek across the car, his eyes slowly adjusted to the night.

  People piled out of the van behind him.

  Bill took a knee on the other side of the truck, aiming at the building across the street. Greg stood beside his open door, head hanging low, as if he expected something awful to happen.

  Eifort joined Lance and his wife beside the bed of the truck, gazing back at the people climbing out of the van. A little boy’s shrill voice sounded. And it was loud.

  Even though Brandon couldn’t make out what the kid was saying, he knew someone’s boy had just reunited with his parents for the first time in days. He also realized just how screwed they all were. This wasn’t the place or the time to have little kids out in the streets. They might as well have a blaring siren attached to their backs, alerting every demon in the city to their location.

  A small shadow burst from the van and staggered forward, as all young kids did when their motors were revved up, and ran straight for Lance. “Dada! Dada!”

  Lance bent and scooped his little man up his arms, squeezing him tight.

  If Brandon hadn’t been in mind-numbing agony, he might have gotten emotional at the sight. Instead, he wanted to curl up on the hood over the convertible and cry. That and he wished the kid would quiet down so they wouldn’t all be killed.

  “Almost there,” Charlie whispered as she slid onto the hood, staying close to him. “Easy-peasy.”

  “Easy my butt,” Brandon muttered through gritted teeth. Even though the temperature had dropped several degrees since sundown, his bloody shirt was soaked through with sweat now. The salt pouring from his body made his chest feel lovely, too.

  Nothing felt better than sweat in an open wound.

  “Thank God,” a deep voice said from the van. “I thought… I thought…”

  A big shadow belonging to the voice strode forward, a child held in one of his arms, and grabbed Eifort, pulling her to him. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. The kid grabbed handfuls of Eifort’s hair while babbling something incoherently.

  The entire scene would have been more touching if Brandon could see it clearly, too. He could make out a few details, but almost everything was bathed in shadow. His hands reached the end of the hood, inching over the side. Carefully swinging his legs around, he eased himself to the sidewalk. The first two steps sent waves of searing electricity throughout his entire body.

  Charlie stood beside him a moment later, sliding under his arm again. “I’ve got you.”

  “Go ahead.” Brandon tried to gesture at the glow from The Light ahead, but couldn’t raise his arm that high. “Don’t wait for me. I can make it.”

  “No way.” Charlie shook her head, her fiery hair brushing against his face. “You came for me. Now I’m going to stay with you.”

  She twisted into him and stretched her neck up, planting a kiss on his cheek.

  Brandon felt another jolt course through his body, though he couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or pain. He decided he was fine with it either way. Charlie had kissed him again.

  “Where’s Adam?” a woman asked from behind them. Her voice rose too high when she repeated herself. “Where’s Adam?”

  “Oh, crap.” Brandon glanced behind them.

  “What?” Charlie asked.

  A tiny woman with a rounded mound of belly moved toward Greg, stopping right in front of him. Her volume lessened as she peered into his face. “Greg?”

  Shaking his head, Greg whispered something to her.

  She wailed, collapsing in his arms.

  Her sobs filled the street.

  “Her husband died when we escaped from some crazy cult people yesterday. I think she’s pregnant, too.”

  “That’s terrible,” Charlie whispered. “How is she going to—”

  A demon responded to her wails with one of its own. The bleat silenced the pregnant woman for a moment as it echoed throughout the neighborhood. The reverberations made it difficult for Brandon to tell how distant the monster was, but he figured it couldn’t be too far away if it heard them.

  From the building across the street, another demon shrieked.

  “Everybody, move!” Lance waved for the others to head for the barricade.

  The crowd of people, most of whom were still beside the van, lurched forward in unison. Only the pregnant woman remained in place. Greg put his arm around her waist, attempting to guide her along. She trudged along on stilted legs, most of her weight leaning against Greg. Her sobs started again, though
quieter this time.

  Bill opened fire at the door of the building he’d guarded. The flashes from the muzzle illuminated a demon bursting through the opening. Bullets punctured its chest and neck as it reached the sidewalk.

  It fell to the curb, twitching and screeching.

  Scores of bellows followed the gunshots, coming from all directions, filling the dark city with a demonic chorus. The shrieks rose in volume and number.

  Though they’d lived in the city for a while now, no one at The Light had any idea how many demons inhabited Baltimore.

  Hundreds at least.

  Probably more.

  Probably a lot more.

  No one dared go out at night or down into the tunnels dug by the beasts to count nests. They knew the entire city was honeycombed together, dozens of nests interconnected underground for safe passage during the day. They had a solid idea about the location of the nests, but no one wanted to screw with them.

  Everyone feared the repercussions of getting too close to the demons.

  Living in the city already pressed their luck to the limit.

  “Go!” Lance reached the barricade, maneuvering to slide across the convertible with his child in his arms. He reached back and pulled his wife after him. “We’re almost there!”

  Bill jumped on top of the hood of a van and crouched, aiming down the street. “They’re coming in fast!”

  Brandon didn’t bother looking back that far, afraid the sight of an onrushing horde would weaken his knees. He hobbled along with Charlie, pushing his busted body as fast it would go. Couples passed him in a hurry, racing down the middle of the street.

  Bill fired several shots behind them.

  He cursed between volleys of bullets.

  The cries of the demons drew closer. They surrounded the group on three sides—only the street stretching in the direction of The Light sounding clear of the infected.