The Hunger (Book 2): Consumed (8 page)

“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 themselves 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.

Eifort tore the backdoor of the truck open and reached inside, pulling out the shotgun.

A puff of dirt flowered in front of her feet.

The crack of a rifle echoed over the fields.

––––––––

“D
rop it!”  The voice came from the road, deep and angry.

Eifort froze in the driveway, but didn’t let go of the shotgun.

The unseen rifle barked again.  A bullet punctured through the open door beside Eifort and Brown with a muted thunk.

“Last warning!”

Lance turned and went for the front door again.  Cass grabbed his arm, stopping him before he could leave the kitchen.

“Don’t go out there,” she whispered.

“We can’t leave them alone!”

“We don’t have a choice.  If we go outside, they’ll get us too.  We can’t help them if we’re all captured.”

Lance considered it for a moment, fighting against the panic that gripped him.  He gave her a slight nod and went back to the window.  Outside, Eifort dropped the shotgun and held her hands away from her body, fingers splayed.

A handful of vehicles turned into the driveway, their headlights falling across the lawn and farmhouse.

Lance pulled away from the window as the beams lit up the glass.  He gave Cass another pleading look, needing her to give him some indication as to what they should do.  His hand went to the .44 in his waistband.

She shook her head and looked out the window again.

Three trucks stopped ten yards from Eifort and Brown.  The engines continued to run as a bevy of men climbed out of the cabs.  All of them were armed.

“Bastard!” Cass hissed through clenched teeth.

“What?”

“One of them is the piece of shit who destroyed our boat!”

Lance touched the bandage on his neck as he glowered through the window.  “Which one?”

“The second one in.  Balding and thin with a scar on his right cheek.”

Lance etched the man’s face into his memory.  He wanted desperately to make the man feel the panic and terror that he had felt when the knife slashed into his throat.

“Well, holy shit!  If it ain’t our friends from the city!”  The man looked back at the lead truck.  The driver hadn’t gotten out yet.  “We found ‘em!”

The door to the front vehicle opened and a pair of boots jumped to the ground.  A broad-shouldered man appeared from behind the door.  He spat on the ground, sneering at Eifort and Brown.  Lance sucked in a breath when he recognized the man.

Tony.

Cass saw his reaction.  She whispered, “Do you know who that is?”