The Hunger (Book 3): Ravaged (27 page)

He reached back and patted her leg as they coasted over an abandoned Wal-Mart. A wide, blackened hole punched through the center of the roof, revealing a crater in the floor below. The image shattered Lance’s idea of the coast being relatively untouched.

As they closed in on the ground, more details became clear.

Cars were overturned.

Homes scavenged for all of their goods.

Tunnels were gouged into lawns by the infected.

At least he could smell the ocean.

Adam crashed onto the roof of a home below them. He cried out as he tumbled down the shingles and fell into untrimmed hedges below. The parachute billowed around him, obscuring him from view.

“That didn’t look fun,” Lance said. “Let’s not do that.”

“I’ll get right on it.” Cass gave him a small squeeze before releasing him. “Lance, I—”

“I know. Me too.”

“Good.”

Even their tender moments were awkward. Neither of them were the best at articulating their feelings. Lance laughed, ignoring the pain that followed. More blood splashed onto his shirt.

“Don’t leave me again, OK?” Cass ruffled his hair. “I’m tired of having to rescue you all the time.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think I’m the one who saved you this time. You were stranded in a nest by the man who tried to kill me. What the hell were you doing anyway? Why would you go down there?”

“We thought Colt had some kind of master plan for taking out the nest. He’d been planning it for days. When we got down there, all he did was plant a couple bags of explosives and scream for us to run.”

“But why were
you
down there at all?”

“I wanted to kill them all. I needed to get some payback because of what they’d done to you. Colt had told us that the Vladdies pulled you into one of the tunnels.”

The ground came at them too quickly. They glided above the center of a road, by no doing of their own, and followed it as they approached touchdown.

“Looks like a rough landing, dumbass. I’d offer to help catch most of the impact, but I don’t think my chicken legs could hold our weight.”

Lance grit his teeth when they were ten feet up. He raised his shot leg, hoping to minimize the impact. It didn’t work.

His heel caught the curb, jarring his entire body. The agony traveled from his leg to his chest, sending him into a new coughing fit. Each cough sent red spittle to the sidewalk.

He blacked out for a moment and came to with Cass kneeling over him. The sun was low behind her, obscuring her features in soft shadows.

“You still with me?” she asked.

“If not, then I’m staring an angel with a mohawk. A flattened, gnarly one. I guess that would mean I was in Hell, not Heaven. Damn.”

“We don’t have time for your not-so-funny jokes.” Cass grabbed his arm and helped him up. She had to lean back, almost to a comical angle, to offset his weight with her small frame. He was reminded of just how tiny she was.

“What?” Cass peered up at him. “You’re giving me a weird look.”

“I was just thinking about how small and weird looking you are.”

Cass grabbed the buckles attaching the parachute to her back and undid them. “Maybe you should check out a mirror before you start talking about how I look.”

As she worked at freeing herself, Lance staggered over to a Toyota RAV4. It was parked in the middle of a lawn, weeds growing up around the tires. All four doors stood ajar.

Dried pools of sticky, brown nastiness covered the backseats.

Lance bent over with a grunt and looked in the mirror.

Blood covered his lips and cheeks. A drop fell from his chin as he watched himself. His shirt had a large, wet patch of crimson on the front. Dark bags hung under his eyes.

The pale, thin creature inspecting him in the mirror was only vaguely recognizable.

“What are you talking about?” Lance asked. “I look sexy as hell. GQ called this morning.”

Cass ignored him as she shimmied the pack off.

Adam jogged into sight, working his way between two homes that were entirely too close together. Lance had never understood why people would spend half a million dollars on a house by the beach if you had to live within ten feet of your neighbor.

Then again, he had spent ten years living in a small apartment, so who was he to talk?

“Your landing looked rough,” Cass said as Adam approached.

“You saw that? I was hoping you’d missed it.”

“The way you bounced off the roof was my favorite part.” Lance started toward Cass when he paused and turned back to the Toyota. He looked inside and saw keys dangling from the ignition.

The car clicked when he tried to start it—dead battery.

Lance closed his eyes, licked his dry lips. His chest felt broken. He felt like Humpty Dumpty after he’d fallen off the wall.

“Where are we meeting everyone from the compound?” Adam asked.

Cass pointed in the opposite direction of the setting sun. “At the river in that direction. There is a big dock that can hold a couple of hundred boats. That’s where we’re meeting them.”

“How did you know about this place?” Lance asked. He leaned against the side of the vehicle, taking small sips of air.

“Eifort said she had family here once. An uncle with a boat who took her fishing.”

Lance looked at the sun. “I wonder if they’re having any more luck than we are?”

Tires squealed behind them. Lance turned to see a white utility van skid onto the road. It had a Moon decal on the side that read ‘Moon’s Plumbing’. Paul sat behind the wheel, Liz in the passenger seat.

The van accelerated toward them before screeching to a halt. The stench of burned rubber wafted in the air as Paul put his window down. “What are yinz waiting for? We’re running out of time to find a boat. What, you think we can just hotwire one? We gotta find one and pray the keys are nearby, for Christ’s sake.” He glanced over at Liz. “Well, maybe two of them; I’m getting tired of being involved in all of this garbage.”

How many times had Paul complained since Lance had woken up in the panic room? It seemed to be the man’s modus operandi. He and Liz were a hell of a match.

Lance’s girlfriend helped him climb into the seat behind his wife. He smiled at the oddity of the situation, even as the sun dangled precariously low in the sky.

––––––––

T
he first shriek came from somewhere off to the right.

Brown cut his eyes in that direction, but saw nothing. He pointed through the windshield. “Right there, take that one.”

Eifort downshifted and spun the wheel. The tires screeched in protest as they slid around the turn too quickly. The tank attached to their truck jerked around as it threatened to topple over and drag them all down.

How many people were stuffed in there? He didn’t know who had decided to come with them and who had decided to stay behind at the compound. There hadn’t been time for a headcount before they left.

The smell of the salt water reassured Brown of how close they were to their salvation. He hadn’t been to the ocean in nearly a decade, but no one could ever forget the aroma of the sea.

“I don’t recognize any of this. How much further?” Eifort asked. She peered in the side mirror incessantly, as if she expected the vehicles trailing them to give up and go in a different direction. “We’re out of time.”

Brown didn’t bother with the map. He’d spent so much time staring at it that he’d memorized most of the streets within a mile of the dock. “A few more blocks. This road will take us right into it.”

A torrent of wails from the infected resonated from all directions, signaling the end of the magic hour. Dusk was retreating, making room for the night.

Movement flashed behind a burned-out bus.

A glimpse of muscle and teeth and opaque skin.

“Megan.”

“On it.” Eifort flipped on the lights.

In his mirror, Brown saw the RV behind them switch on their high beams.

An overflow grate in the side of the road burst open, the metal clanging against the street.

Vladdies climbed out and howled at the sky. Two of them ran sideways, crossing the yellow traffic lines.

Eifort floored the gas pedal.

The beasts fell under the grill in an explosion of gore.

Blood splattered the windshield.

Eifort turned on the wipers.

Lights flashed on three blocks ahead, a small glow illuminating their way.

“She made it!” Brown slammed his fist off the dash. He wanted to roll down his window and bellow his elation into the night. If not for the infectious, murderous creatures out there, he would have. “I knew Cass would pull it off.”

A Vladdie leapt against his door, shattering the window and denting the metal. A clawed hand reached inside, the palm slicing on the jagged glass. It howled in pain, but refused to let go.

A face, pale, distorted, and furious, slid into view.

“Hold on!” Eifort jerked the wheel right, swerving to the side of the road.

The truck hopped the curb, jarring them around.

The foulness of the beast drifted into the truck as it shrieked outside the window. It reached in again, its claws digging into Brown’s chest. He cried out and twisted away, feeling his flesh lacerate.

Eifort angled them at a street pole, driving close enough that it scraped against the fender. The pole connected with the Vladdie’s face, shattering teeth and bone, scraping it from the truck.

It bounced clear, landing on the sidewalk in a bloody splat.

“Did it get you?” Eifort guided them back to the center of the road, casting worried glances over at him. “Are you hurt?”

Brown touched the slices in his chest, wincing at the sting. “They’re just superficial cuts—I’ll be fine.” Blood ran down his stomach.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m aware of that. Just get us to that dock.”

Vladdies streamed from between the homes, filling the street from all directions like tributaries running into a river. They dove at the truck, most bouncing off and skidding in gooey streaks on the pavement.

Others grabbed hold of the tank, beating against it with their meaty forearms.

Brown reached into the backseat and pulled out a spotlight and a pistol. After looking at the gun for a second, he tossed it into Eifort’s lap and reached for a second light.

The dock came into view a block ahead. The glow emanated from a boat lolling on the river.

An infected leapt onto the hood of the truck, its feet denting the metal.

It bent down in front of Eifort and shrieked. Spittle flew onto the windshield and dribbled to the hood.

Brown lifted the light in his right hand and clicked it on, showering the windshield and dash in harsh rays. The beast wailed and lifted an arm to block the light from its face.

Even in the madness of the moment, Brown wondered why it shielded its face. It didn’t have eyes. Was that a remnant of its previous life? An automatic reaction ingrained in its subconscious? Or was this part of their continuous mutation?

With its hand held up to protect its head, Eifort seized the opportunity. She slammed on the brakes. The truck hitched, inertia throwing Brown into the dash, the side of his head striking an air vent, jamming it closed.

The infected flew from the hood, landing in the street in a jumble.

Eifort shifted gears and floored it again.

The creature squealed as the tires crushed its body.

In the mirror, barely visible through the trailing headlights, Brown saw the RV covered with the infected. They climbed over the body like flies on a dead carcass.

An arm crashed through Eifort’s window. Its hand scrabbled around the steering wheel, its claws scraping across her forearm. She cried out and lost her grip on the wheel, sending the truck careening to the left.

Brown jammed the spotlight in the Vladdie’s face and yanked on the trigger. It screeched and released the window, falling away into the darkening street.

The light blinded them both until he clicked it off.

Flashes filled Brown’s vision for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the darkness again.

That was when he saw they were barreling toward the dock.

“Stop!” Brown dropped the light and grabbed the leather handle above his door. His other hand went to the dash as he braced for impact.

Eifort slammed the brakes again and grabbed the wheel with both hands. It shook in her grip, vibrating her upper body. “Hold on!”

Cass stood on the stern of a large boat, its cabin lit up behind her. She waved her hands over her head, urging them to stop.

In his mirror, Brown saw the tank jackknifing around to the right. They drove onto the dock, sliding past the first boat. The tank’s tires skidded over the side.

The metal body sparked on the concrete.

They shifted sideways as the rest of the tank slid toward the water, pulling them in.

The truck tipped over, balancing precariously on its wheels.

In the split second they were held there, Brown looked up and over at Eifort, who was now sitting slightly above him. She peered down and reached out, taking his hand.

The truck flipped off the dock and cool, dark water spilled in through the windows.

Brown slammed into his door, then rolled to the ceiling as the truck roiled on the surface of the water. Eifort’s seatbelt held her in place. Her long hair fell down, floating on the water beside Brown as he slid over to her.

The water rose past his waist as he finally got his bearings and reached up to Megan.

“I’ll hold you, get the buckle.” Brown grabbed her around the middle of her chest and braced himself to catch her weight.

She pushed the button, and the belt snapped free. Her body fell into him, knocking both of them back to the ceiling. His head submerged, and water streamed up his nose.

Brown sat up, gagging and sputtering.

Eifort was already at the window. She turned back to him as the water rose to her shoulders. “Come on!”

The truck rolled again, throwing them off balance. The wheels came around until they were underneath the truck, flipping them right side up.

Even more water gushed through the windows, rising up to Brown’s chin.