Devoured (The Hunger #1)

by Jason Brant

  “Sir, I need you to stay back.” The police officer held a hand up. “I understand that you want to leave, but you have to stay here for just a little while longer.”

  Lance took another step forward, drawing an uneasy glare from the short, stocky officer. “Why do we need to stay here?”

  “I’m not going to ask you to stay back again, sir.” He kept his hand up in a warding off gesture, his other wrapped around the end of what appeared to be a Taser.

  “What are you going to do? Zap all of us with that thing?”

  “Believe me, I don’t want to.” The cop leaned closer to Lance so no one around them could hear. “None of us know why we aren’t allowed to let anyone leave. The order came down about thirty minutes ago and we haven’t heard anything since.”

  “So we’re being held hostage, but no one can tell us why?” Lance shook his head. “That makes zero sense.”

  “I understand, honestly. I want to keep you here even less than you want to be here. This sucks for everybody, but I really need you to relax and go back to your room. Maybe get something to eat in the cafeteria—I don’t care.” The dark-haired officer stepped back into the line of cops that stood in front of the main entrance of the hospital.

  Lance turned to Liz and Don, shrugging his shoulders. “Guess we’re stuck here.”

  “Now what?” Liz asked.

  The lobby area of the hospital overflowed with angry people, most cursing at the officers and making threatening calls to the police station. Many paced around, hands clenching as they tried to think of a way to get out. Others used sob stories to try to sway the officers into letting them leave.

  None of it worked.

  Two lanky men made a break for it, charging the line of uniformed men, shouting about their constitutional rights. The officers made short work of them. They pinned the men to the ground, cuffing and immobilizing them. Sliding them away from the doors, the officers sat the men against a glass wall, silently refuting the men’s angry shouts.

  Twin children, red-haired and fair-skinned, cried beside their parents, clutching at each other.

  “I want to know what’s going on here. If this has to do with the woman upstairs, then we need to find out why they’re keeping us inside.”

  Don stuffed his hands in his pockets. “This is such bullshit. As if I have the time to sit around here and do nothing.”

  “I’m sorry about this, Don. You came here because my dumbass jumped out in traffic. It’s my fault you’re dealing with this.”

  “Nah, this isn’t your fault, buddy. Some asshole in city hall is making the biggest mistake of his life.”

  Liz watched the people meandering around the lobby, arguing with the cops. “We should get out of here before things get out of hand.” She turned back to Lance. “I think the officer is right—let’s get some food from the cafeteria. When these people get hungry, the hospital is probably going to have trouble feeding all of them. We’d better get something now.”

  “Yeah, OK.” Lance tried not to dwell on the chill in his feet coming from the cold floor, or the draft in his gown. He’d tied the back shut, but the fabric was thin. “Maybe we can find me some clothes too. My ass would really appreciate it.”

  The cafeteria was surprisingly quiet. Only a handful of workers stood behind the counters, chattering about the events surrounding them. A few families were scattered around, sitting at tables, eyes glued to the televisions mounted along the walls.

  CNN played on all of the TVs, but the volume was too low to hear.

  Lance stepped up to the counter and waved at a short, curly-haired woman. She wore a hairnet and apron, looking none too pleased about her current situation.

  “Miss? Do you have any idea what’s going on? We just tried to leave, but they have the doors blocked with cops.”

  “No idea. My shift ended twenty minutes ago and they wouldn’t let me leave either. It’s total crap. My manager says I should just shut up and claim overtime, so here I am.” She gestured to the assortment of sandwiches, vegetables, soups, and bottled drinks. “You want anything?”

  They ordered some food that Don had to pay for because Lance didn’t have a wallet. The idea of Liz paying for anything made Lance want to laugh. Sitting at a table by the left wall of the cafeteria, they stared up at the newscast, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement of their predicament.

  “They have to talk about what’s going on here, right?” Liz asked after several minutes of uncomfortable silence.

  Lance realized as they sat there, that he hadn’t spent this much argument-free time with his wife in the past two years combined. Just the sight of him usually set Liz off. Having a common problem, other than each other, gave them something else to focus on.

  Don must have felt the tension between them, though it was less than usual, as he ate his sandwich and stared at his tray of food.

  “I don’t see how they could ignore this, that’s for certain.” Lance read the summary of news scrolling on the screen underneath the talking head, chewing on his lip as he waited for something relevant to appear.

  Lance was about to give up when he saw a headline about a hospital being quarantined. He looked over at the woman behind the counter. “Can we get some sound in here? I want to hear what’s going on.”

  The volume increased, a woman’s voice piping through in-ceiling speakers.

  “…an odd report from New York City. The Presbyterian Hospital is quarantined. Officials aren’t saying why these drastic steps have been taken, but local residents have stated that a severe flu outbreak is the cause. Family members of those inside the hospital have said that no one is being allowed in or out of the hospital for non-emergency reasons.”

  A live video feed from outside of the emergency entrance filled the screen. Dozens of police cars parked haphazardly in the area, blocking access. “As you can see, there is a large contingent of police cars surrounding the building. We’ll report more on this as soon as we get it. In other news, the string of practical jokers throwing smoke grenades into public parks, concerts, and even sporting events has reached yet another city…”

  Lance rubbed his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. “We might be in deep shit here.”

  “Did she say that was happening in New York?” Liz’s voice went up an octave, her cheeks flushing. “As in, this is happening in more than one city? Not just Pittsburgh?”

  “That’s exactly what she said. It sounded like they don’t even know the same thing is going on here yet.”

  “Christ,” Don said, dropping the rest of his half-eaten sandwich to his plate. “This is bad.”

  “Since when do hospitals get closed down over the flu?” Liz asked. “Is this some kind of epidemic?” She rambled on, her words coming faster and faster.

  Lance reached out and put his hand on her forearm, needing her to remain calm. Both Liz and Don stared at the hand, prompting Lance to retract it, mumbling an apology.

  “Let’s not panic yet. Maybe we can get a doctor to spill the beans.” Lance stood and walked over to a garbage can, depositing his trash. “We should see if they have some of those little paper masks that people wear so they don’t get sick.”

  He didn’t believe those things provided any worthwhile defense against germs, but he needed her to relax.

  Liz’s hands shook as she tried to pick up her tray. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She turned on Lance, her mouth contorting in anger. “This is your goddamn fault!”

  “Mine?” Lance gaped at her, not understanding why she’d become furious with him so suddenly. He knew how frightened she was, but this was too irrational, even for her.

  “If you would have just taken my name off your stupid contact list, then I wouldn’t even be here! Don wouldn’t be here either! But no, you just had to follow some crazy woman into the street, didn’t you?”

  Lance struggled with a response. Part of him wanted to fight back, pointing out her selfishness, but he knew it wouldn’t work. Nothing he co
uld say would make a bit of difference. She was beyond the point where he could talk reasonably with her and nothing short of getting out of the hospital could change that.

  “I’m sorry I got you into this.” He left the cafeteria and went back upstairs, doing his best to maintain his composure. When she got like that, he often wondered how they’d managed to stay married for so long.

  Stubbornness was his guess. That and stupidity.

  His floor had quieted down, but people still moped around, whispering about what happened earlier. Lance padded his way down to the nurses’ station, his feet starting to hurt from the lack of shoes.

  The nurses appeared just as harried as everyone else did.

  “Hello,” Lance said, resting his arms against the counter.

  No one responded. They continued shuffling papers and talking into phones.

  “Uh, hello?”

  The woman sitting directly opposite of him huffed loudly, dropping a pen from her hand. “What?”

  Her aggression took him off guard. She was a stout woman of fifty with a beehive haircut that made her look like everyone’s favorite aunt. He hadn’t expected her to snap at him.

  “Sorry to disturb you, but I have a few—”

  She cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Yinz need to let us work. We have a million problems to deal with right now and we don’t have time to waste answering the same questions over and over.”

  Christ, she’s a yinzer, Lance thought.

  Pittsburgh natives have an odd dialect that Lance was fortunate enough to have never adopted. They often mispronounced words and letters. Sometimes they just made stuff up, like yinz, gobs, and snookies.

  “I’m sorry if my being held hostage is an inconvenience to you.” He read her nametag. “Pam, I just want to know what’s going on.”

  Pam let out a long, slow sigh. “You aren’t allowed to leave because you might be sick.”

  “But I’m not sick. I was hit by a car.”

  “You might be infected and just aren’t showing any signs yet.”

  Lance forgot all about the growing pain in his feet. “Infected? Infected with what?”

  “Pam, I’ll take this from here.” A doctor walked around the station, giving the nurse a small smile. “How can I help you, Mr.…?”

  “York. Lance York.”

  “What can I do for you, Mr. York?” He was tall and slender, thinning hair struggling to cover his pale scalp. Wire-rim glasses sat at the edge of his nose, which he peered over at Lance.

  “I want to know what the hell is going on.”

  “Sorry, Mr. York, but we’re under strict orders to stay quiet.” He gently took hold of Lance’s elbow and led him away from the nurses.

  “Strict orders? From who?”

  “I’m not supposed to say that either.”

  “This is bullshit, you know that? I’m an American and I have rights.” Lance didn’t know what those rights were, but he heard people say that on television all the time.

  The doctor watched him for a moment. His eyes darted around the small waiting area by the station. “Look, I agree with you. This is complete bullshit, but they’ve already threatened to take away my medical license if I don’t cooperate.”

  “Who is threatening you? How can they do that?”

  “The CDC.”

  Lance recoiled. “The Center for Disease Control? Fuck me.”

  “That’s right. There’s something big going on and they’re trying to keep a lid on it. Afraid of panic and all that.”

  “Doctor Brown?” Nurse Pam stood behind the counter. “You’re needed.”

  “I’ll be right there.” He turned back to Lance, whispering. “Honestly, I don’t even know that much right now, so I couldn’t tell you a whole lot even if I wanted to.”

  “Is it the blonde woman with the veins through her face?”

  Dr. Brown looked around nervously before giving him a curt nod.

  “I saw her down on the street. She was stumbling around, talking to herself. She looked like hell. I’m the guy that saved her from getting hit by a car.”

  The doctor nodded again but said nothing.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Lance asked.

  “Doctor Brown. You’re needed right now.” Pam’s hands were on her hips.

  “Coming,” Brown said. “Mr. York, listen—”

  “Lance.”

  “Lance. Listen, I have several patients to attend to—”

  “I saw someone else that looked like her. Is this thing contagious?”

  “We don’t know yet.”

  “Are there more than just two of them who are sick?”

  “So far we have twenty people with similar symptoms.”

  “Doctor Brown!” Pam stormed around the counter, heading their way.

  “Come find me later,” Brown said. “I might know more. To hell with the CDC—people have a right to know.” He turned and met the nurse halfway. They whispered furiously at each other, looking over their shoulders at Lance before disappearing around a corner.

  Lance stood in the hallway, mind reeling.

  Twenty people.

  They were in deeper shit than he could have imagined.

  He slowly walked back to his room, unsure of what to do next. The severity of what was happening in the hospital started to sink in as he walked through the door, finding Don and Liz waiting for him.

  They were talking as he entered and stopped abruptly, turning their attention to him.

  “So, I just talked to a doctor.” Lance sat on the bed, grateful to get off his feet.

  “And?” Liz asked.

  “And we’re in deep shit. He says they have twenty people in here with the same symptoms as that woman. Apparently, the CDC is involved now.”

  “The CDC?” Don dropped his face into his hands. “Fuck me.”

  “That’s what I said. They’re threatening the doctors too—telling them not to say anything to anyone.”

  “But he told you all of this?” Liz got up and paced around, her hands fidgeting by her sides.

  “I guess he’s disgruntled. He told me to find him later on because he might know more. Right now, they don’t know what it is.”

  “It’s obviously contagious though, right? If twenty people have it, then it’s getting around,” Liz said.

  “Yeah.” Lance grabbed the remote control for the television off a little stand by the bed and pressed the power button. “That’s the assumption I’m making.”

  He flipped through the channels until he found a news station and turned the volume up.

  “…still aren’t commenting on the cause for the quarantines, but we know there are at least four U.S. cities with hospitals on lockdown…”

  Lance’s stomach sank like it had a ball of lead in it. Whatever they were dealing with had spread and it did so at an alarming rate. Four cities were affected already—how many more would suffer the same fate by the end of the day?

  “We need to get out of here,” Liz said, tremors playing hell on her inflection. “This can’t be happening.”

  “How do you expect us to do that?” Don asked, his head still in his hands. “The hospital is surrounded and apparently the CDC is involved now. We’re screwed.”

  “Maybe this is the safest place for us.” Lance didn’t believe what he said, but he hoped it would keep Liz from blowing a gasket.

  “What do you mean?” Mascara ran down her cheeks in thin lines, staining her clear skin.

  “If they figure out how to treat this thing, we’ll be first in line. Any precautions they figure out will be communicated to us first. Yes, we’re closer to it than I’d like to be, but we’ll know what’s going on, and how to treat it, before anyone else.”

  “What good does that do us if we’re dead?” Her pacing resumed.

  Lance shrugged his shoulders, giving up. He knew from experience that the only way she’d calm down now was on her own. The more he tried to keep her relaxed, the more wound up she became.


  Don fished a cell phone from his pocket and manipulated the touch screen.

  “Calling your wife?” Lance asked.

  “Me?” Don glanced at Liz, an odd expression on his face. “No way—never been married.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve got an idea. Maybe I can move some money around and get a special favor from someone. See if we can’t get out of here.”

  “Are you going to bribe someone?” Liz went back to pacing.

  “You think that’ll work?” Lance asked.

  “Don’t know till you try.” Don walked into the hallway, yapping into the phone, asking for a man named Frank.

  “I should call my parents and let them know we’re all right.” Liz grabbed her cell from her purse and sat on the edge of a chair, her feet tapping on the floor.

  For years, Lance told Liz that she needed to smoke marijuana or get a Xanax prescription, something to calm her ever-present fidgeting when she was nervous. He wanted to force feed her a pill now.

  “Dad? Yeah, I’m OK. We’re stuck in the hospital though. Lance, of course.” She scowled at him as she filled her father in on the situation.

  Lance mumbled to himself and leaned back in the bed, ignoring her drone. Over the past two or three years, he often overheard her talking on the phone to one of her parents, spilling the details on how much of a loser he’d become. He could only imagine how vindicated her father felt over the situation.

  That man loved to hate Lance. He told everyone he could that his son-in-law would implode one day and that Liz would come running home. He was right, of course.

  And it seriously pissed Lance off.

  “Frank? Frank!” Don stood in the doorway, staring at the screen of his phone. “What the hell? No signal? That’s impossible. The damn thing just had four bars.”

  Lance instinctively reached for his left pocket, intent on grabbing his phone, before remembering that his clothes were destroyed and belongings had gone AWOL.

  Liz yammered on, fear fueling her wagging tongue.

  “Liz, are you sure he’s still on the phone with you?”

  “Don’t interrupt me. Sorry, Dad, Lance is… hello?” She pulled the cell from her ear. “Damn it!” After several swipes and button presses, she threw the phone back into her bag. “Nothing.”

  “Could they block cell phone signals?” Don asked.

  “They? The CDC?” Lance’s attention went back to the TV, hoping to find more answers there.

  “Yeah, the government.”

  “Probably. Or the towers could be jammed from everyone panicking and trying to make calls.”

  “…more of the smoke bomb pranks have continued throughout the day, despite the dire situations many cities are now facing. We would hope that whatever group has decided to play these tricks would understand that now is not the time for…”

  Lance tuned the broadcaster out, not caring about a couple of knuckleheads playing tricks on people. He turned to the window to his right and looked at the darkening sky above. The night was approaching.

  “Maybe we should get some sleep,” he said. “If we’re lucky, we’ll get more answers in the—”

  The rumble of massive engines filled the streets outside the window.

  Lance grimaced as he slid from the bed and walked over, peering down. Humvees and armored vehicles pulled in front of the hospital, cutting off access to the surrounding streets. Armed service men and women in full camouflage hopped out and trotted into the building.

  “Holy shit.”

  “What?” Liz walked up beside him, following his gaze. “Oh my god.”

  Don stayed in his seat. “Now what’s going on?”

  Lance placed his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. “The military just arrived.”

  Chapter 4