The Hunger (Book 2): Consumed

by Jason Brant

  Afterward, Cass led him to the field behind the barn and helped him relax.

  She was right—it worked.

  Chapter 6

  They spent the remaining light burying the elderly couple under the butternut tree.

  Cass crafted a crude cross from dead branches she found beside a pile of lumber by the house. She placed them at the head of the dual grave, pausing to whisper a few words under her breath.

  “I didn’t know you were religious,” Lance said as they walked back to the house.

  “There’s a lot about me that you don’t know.”

  Brown came out of the front door with a six-pack in his good hand. He handed each of them a warm can before sitting on the steps beside Eifort. They tapped their beers together before taking a swig.

  Lance’s face contorted at the warm carbonation. He enjoyed a good beer as much as the next guy, but this didn’t qualify. Still, the setting reminded him of the old world, one where grandchildren would swing on the tire under the tree.

  A world where the elderly didn’t kill themselves to avoid becoming monsters.

  “I think we’ll be safe here,” Eifort said after a few minutes. “If nothing came along and grabbed those bodies upstairs, then we should be all right.”

  “Hope so.” Brown rotated his shot shoulder, wincing. “It’s so peaceful out here. I should have moved out of the city long ago.”

  They polished off their beers in comfortable silence, enjoying the evening as it churned over into the night.

  For the first time in weeks, they didn’t hear a single shriek as the moon poked its way into view.

  Cass and Lance slept on a futon in the living room. Old springs poked into their backs, but neither complained. It was still better than sheets on a hard floor.

  Eifort and Brown each took separate chairs. No one wanted to sleep upstairs because of the smell.

  The doc snored throughout the night.

  Lance awoke in a cold sweat around midnight. His pulse raced as the memories of a nightmare faded away.

  He got up and walked around the first floor, peering through the windows, ensuring that nothing stalked in from the fields. After twenty minutes of pacing, he went back to the pullout bed and slept fitfully until Cass shook him awake in the morning.

  “What?” He sat up and rubbed sleep dust from his eyes.

  “Breakfast is ready.”

  “What’re we eating?”

  “Cold soup.”

  Lance licked his lips. “Yum.”

  “Better than cold baked beans again.”

  During a two-day stretch the week before, they’d lived entirely on canned beans. A house they had raided had an extensive stockpile of them in the basement. The entire boat was filled with methane gas both nights.

  They ate cans of corn chowder on the front porch as the sun rose over the fields. Mountains lay beyond, trees extending across the skyline. A bird chirped from a feeder hanging at the end of the porch.

  Lance breathed in the country air, content to sit there for the time being. He agreed with Brown—he should have moved to the country years ago. Though it took a significant amount of work to live like this, it felt more rewarding, more personal.

  He enjoyed the convenience of the city, but he thought that the bustling nature of it added to the depression he’d dealt with.

  Storm clouds crept over the mountains by the time they finished eating.

  Eifort found a closet filled with camping equipment by the back office. She loaded the truck with sleeping bags, matches, and flashlights. The guns were already in the backseat, along with all the ammunition they could find.

  A water pump jutted out of the ground in the backyard from which sweet, clear well water came. Lance gorged himself on it, relishing the taste of chemical-free nature. The water sloshed in his stomach as he went back to the porch and collapsed onto the swing.

  “Going to rain soon,” he said lazily.

  Brown nodded, pursing his lips. “We should probably stay here until it passes. Why risk an accident?”

  They all agreed and sat quietly, watching as the storm rolled its way down the mountain range. Lance wasn’t sure how they would get in an accident with no one else driving on the roads, but he liked the idea of sitting around the farm for a while longer.

  Eifort spotted jet contrails through a gap in the clouds just as the first rain plopped to the dirt. “Someone is still out there.”

  “I’m surprised they haven’t dropped bombs on the major cities yet,” Lance said.

  “Maybe they will.” Cass chewed on a piece of rhubarb she found growing by the nearest barn.

  The first crack of thunder came shortly thereafter, silencing all of them as they watched sheets of rain glide across the fields. Water poured from the roof gutters, soaking the earth around the house.

  Cass got up and pulled her half-shirt over her head, exposing her sports bra.

  “I don’t think they would appreciate us getting it on right in front of them,” Lance said, gesturing to Eifort.

  “Shut up, dumbass.” Cass went down the steps, tilting her face to the sky, her hair soaking through quickly.

  Her arms lifted from her sides, sticking straight out, palms up. “Get down here—this feels amazing!”

  Eifort and Brown shared a look before she jumped up and pulled her tank top off. Lance tried not to laugh when he caught the doc staring at her as she joined Cass on the lawn. She spun around, her bare feet splashing in the soaked grass.

  Lance got off the swing and went inside, jogging up the stairs. He ignored the smell of decay as he went into the master bathroom and grabbed a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo.

  Eifort was helping Brown get his shirt off as he struggled with his wounded shoulder. The man was in decent shape, considering his age and job-obsessed lifestyle.

  “Here.” Lance slapped the bar of soap in the doc’s hand. He pointed at the corner of the porch where rainwater poured from the broken edge of the rainspout. “Enjoy a shower courtesy of Mother Nature.”

  Careful not to tear the bandage off his neck, Lance pulled his own shirt off and went to the other corner of the porch. Cass followed him, running her hands through her butchered hair.

  They stood under the flow of water, filling their mouths and shooting streams of it at each other. Lance lathered shampoo in her hair, smiling as she tilted her head into his kneading fingers. She did the same for him, letting the cool rain clean them better than the Allegheny River had the week before.

  “Let’s get the soap from—”

  Lance cut himself off when he saw Eifort and Brown embracing each other by the far end of the house. “Damn. Good for you, Doc.”

  Cass gave him a small shove. “Let’s go around the back, give them a little privacy.”

  They walked around the side of the house, their toes squishing in the softening yard. Lightning arched across the sky, the ground rumbling as thunder followed.

  “This feels right,” Lance said as they found another overflowing gutter.

  “Not too bad.”

  “If only we weren’t so close to the city.”

  “There will be other places. Better places.”

  “I hope so.”

  They stood in the rain for another twenty minutes before going inside the farmhouse through the back door. They used towels found in a linen closet to dry off as they waited for the storm to ease. Cass’ blonde hair stuck up in random places, giving her a disheveled, yet stylish, appearance that almost looked planned.

  An old, dinged piano sat in the corner of the dining room. Cass sat on the bench, blowing dust from the faded keys.

  “You play the piano too?”

  “It’s been a lot of years.” She placed her fingers on the ivories and took a deep breath.

  Für Elise, slightly out of key from the old piano, filled the room.

  Lance leaned against the wall and watched as her hands moved along with a grace that surprised him. Her talents continued to rear themse
lves at random times, making Lance thankful once again that he’d found her.

  She played for a minute or so before stopping and cocking an eyebrow in his direction.

  “This thing hasn’t been tuned in decades.”

  “I think it sounds great. Play something else.”

  “Any requests?”

  “Something fun.”

  She thought about it for a moment before giving him a sly smile.

  The Cheers theme song came to life, making him roar with laughter. Eifort and Brown came in the front door as she finished playing.

  “Was that Cheers? Damn, I loved that show.” Brown stood in the kitchen, using one of the towels Lance had put on the table for them.

  Eifort’s face was flushed, though Lance couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or excitement. He decided not to torment her and acted as if he hadn’t seen them kissing in the rain.

  “One of the all-time greats. Apparently, Cassie can play the piano.”

  “Lance, I swear to God—”

  “There you go again, calling me by my real name.”

  They bantered for a while, enjoying the back and forth even though they both pretended to be annoyed with one another. Cass took requests to play on the piano as the storm raged on outside.

  At noon, they sat around the kitchen table and ate soup and sardines they found on shelves in the unfinished basement. The intensity of the rain only increased as the day wore on.

  “Maybe we should stay here the night,” Eifort said through a mouthful of canned fish. “The roads might be flooding.”

  They all agreed that another night in the house wouldn’t be a bad idea.

  The rain continued for two more days, keeping them at the farm longer than they’d planned. No one complained however, as they enjoyed the setting. They sat on the porch, eating and resting, drinking the occasional beer or scotch. Cass played the piano every night, usually doing something silly that made them all laugh.

  Stories of their past lives flowed between them.

  Cass told them of her former boyfriend troubles and the terrible guilt she held over her father’s death.

  “You couldn’t keep a boyfriend?” Eifort asked, disbelief etched in the lines of her face.

  “Men don’t like it when you’re tougher than they are,” Cass said with a shrug. “That and I’m a bit of a bitch when I don’t get my way.”

  She drank from a small glass of single malt they’d found in one of the kitchen cabinets. “When my father died, I hopped from one jerk to the next. I was angry and bitter, with a scorching case of daddy issues. I don’t blame anyone for thinking I was a pain in the ass, because I was.”

  “Still are.” Lance sipped his drink with a wince. He hated scotch. He wasn’t even sure why he was drinking it.

  Cass ignored him. “My artwork wasn’t worth a damn because of the anger I poured into it. A few of my hippie friends lauded over it, but I had a helluva time selling anything. So, I stayed with whatever guy I was shacking up with at the time. I got my shit together last year, for the most part, and found a roommate. I did a fairly decent job of paying my bills and avoiding assholes, until all of this went down.”

  “What made you get your act together?” Eifort asked.

  “I got knocked up.”

  Lance choked on his scotch as he took another sip. “You had a baby?”

  “No, I lost it.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Eifort patted the back of Cass’ hand with her own.

  Cass shrugged and polished off her scotch. “Life’s a bitch.”

  They shared more stories as they all tied one on during their second afternoon at the house. All of them came with their own baggage, though Brown’s was the most noble—he avoided personal relationships by devoting his life to helping the sick.

  Hearing him explain about the wreckage his life had become made Lance feel small. His world had imploded as well, but he’d plodded along life’s beaten path in an entirely different manner.

  Brown devoted his time to helping others. It was a worthy distraction from his personal troubles. Even ten years on, it was apparent to everyone that the doc still missed his wife.

  Lance, on the other hand, wallowed in self-pity, not wanting to leave his apartment. At one point, he thought his ass had grown into his recliner, fusing them together like some kind of new species.

  Eifort’s first name was Megan. Lance had chuckled when he realized that he hadn’t learned the woman’s full name in the week and a half they’d been together. It made him appreciate how little things like names or occupations mattered anymore.

  She had nothing but contempt for her ex-husband, practically spitting his name as she recounted the fallout when she’d returned home from deployment. The separation had been bitter and soul sucking.

  As the booze got to her head, she grew more relaxed, hiding her feelings for Brown less and less.

  She was the only one who called him Emmett.

  During their third day at the farm, Lance found a compact, windup radio in the gunroom. They all sat on the porch at noon and listened as The Wildman of Monroeville warned that the Minutemen were on the move again.

  The group had split, with three quarters of them slowly migrating east. They travelled in a zigzagging pattern, as if they searched for something. Lance hoped they weren’t going to Greensburg to destroy another safe zone.

  The other quarter skirted the edges of the city, scavenging for supplies and vehicle parts. They killed hundreds of the infected as they moved during the day.

  Wherever the man on the radio was, he always seemed to have a good view of what happened in the streets.

  The four of them discussed what they should do about the group headed by the insane Ralph. No one could come up with a solid plan. The Minutemen had weapons and manpower beyond anything their little group of four could cope with.

  But if they did nothing, it might only be a matter of time before one of Ralph’s men caught them off guard again. They’d been lucky to survive the sinking of the Duchess. They might not be so fortunate next time.

  During the third night, Lance awakened again, bolting upright on the futon. Cass mumbled from beside him, but didn’t fully wake up.

  He patrolled the first floor as he had before, moving silently through the old home. He was about to go back to bed when he realized the rain had finally stopped.

  The bittersweet realization that they would leave in the morning washed over him as he stood at the front door, leaning against the jam. He watched the stars twinkle in the black canvas above, wishing they could stay where they were.

  Everything was simple there. The threat to their lives felt minimal, far away. They hadn’t seen a single infected in three days. He enjoyed their time together.

  Wished it could stay that way.

  But Brown felt the calling, the need to help other people.

  He watched the sky lighten a bit as the day approached.

  That was when he noticed the glow above the tree line, beyond the fields in front of the house.

  And it wasn’t from the sunrise.

  He blinked twice, wondering if his fatigued eyes were playing tricks on him. The light not only stayed, but intensified, standing out in the darkness of the electricity-free world.

  Beams of light pierced the sky for a moment, swinging wildly through the air before disappearing as they swiped over the forest ahead.

  “Holy shit.” Lance speed-walked back to the living room and roused everyone.

  “What is it?” Brown muttered.

  “There’s a light outside.”

  The three of them jerked up in their beds, shock cutting through the fog that enveloped their still-waking minds.

  “Say what?” Cass groped in the dark for her clothing.

  “There’s a definite glow past the fields up there. And I just saw a spotlight of some kind.”

  They stood at the front door a moment later, silently watching as the bright beam appeared again.

  �
�Whoa. Who is crazy enough to light up the sky like that? Seriously, that will attract way too much attention.” Cass crossed her arms over her chest as the chilled, night wind blew through the door. “The morning is coming so the Vladdies have probably retreated to god-knows-where, but still.”

  “Are we close enough to Greensburg for that to be the safe zone?” Eifort asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Brown said. “We drove for a long time, but I doubt we crossed more than thirty or forty miles. We aren’t too far away, but that light is much too close. And it looks like it’s moving closer.”

  Cass shook her head slowly. “I don’t like it.”

  They heard the rumble of engines then, quiet at first, but rapidly increasing in volume.

  The sound built to a dull roar in the otherwise peaceful night, blotting out the songs of the insects on the farm.

  “That sounds like an awful lot of vehicles.” Lance felt his heartbeat accelerate as the noise from the road continued to grow.

  “I really don’t like this.” Cass stepped backward into the house.

  Headlights bloomed as they crested a hill, illuminating the road running in front of the fields. Hefty engines revved louder as an eighteen-wheeler appeared in the receding darkness.

  The increasing light of morning illuminated the metal cylinder of a gas truck.

  “Oh shit.” Lance took an instinctive step back inside. “I think it’s those Minutemen assholes.”

  Lance spun around and followed Cass into the kitchen.

  “The guns are outside!” Eifort jumped from the porch and sprinted across the lawn. “I’ll get them!”

  “No!” Brown hobbled down the stairs after her, calling her name.

  Cass cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. “Come back inside! Forget the guns!”

  Eifort kept going, running past the Corvette and reaching the truck. The doc came up behind her, grabbing at her arm to pull her away.

  The lead truck slowed as it passed the long driveway trailing to the house, the air brakes hissing.

  “Let’s go!” Lance ran to the window in the kitchen and flattened his face against the grimy glass. Dozens of vehicles followed the truck, ranging from eighteen-wheelers to SUVs to Jeep Wranglers.