The Hunger (Book 3): Ravaged (28 page)

Eifort dunked under the surface and put her hands on either side of the broken-out window frame. Her legs kicked and her arms pulled as she swam through the hole. Brown followed, giving her enough space so she wouldn’t kick him in the face.

His face broke the surface and he gasped, snapping his head to clear his eyes.

Cass stood on the boat a dozen yards away. She held a dark bottle in each hand, white rags sticking from the necks. A cigar jutted from between her teeth.

She took a drag on it, and the cherry on the end blazed. When she touched one of the cloth strips to it, the Molotov cocktail lit. “Heads up,” she shouted through her gritted teeth.

As she reached back and tossed the bottle, Brown spun in the water, watching it arc through the air. The flame flickered in the wind, cutting through the night.

Two RVs and the other tanker pulled to a stop by the edge of the water, their headlights illuminating the sinking truck. A Vladdie was hip deep in the windshield of the closest RV. Screams of agony came from inside.

The Molotov burst on the road to the left of the tanker. Flames licked the concrete, spreading out as the alcohol splashed from the broken bottle. The flash from the fire illuminated a dozen vampires closing in on the truck.

The beasts jumped back, baying their frustration.

Cass lobbed the other Molotov even further, and it crashed against the side of the rightmost RV. The outside, crawling with the infected, burst into flames. The Vladdies screeched and fled, their flaming bodies disappearing behind the empty buildings.

“We have to get the people out of the tank!” Brown swam freestyle, his fatigue devoured in a surge of adrenaline.

The tank had two hatches on the top, one toward the front, the other in the rear. The backmost hatch hadn’t submerged yet, though the water was inching its way closer. Eifort beat him there and grabbed hold of the handle, twisting it clockwise.

The hatch burst open as the water level broken even with the lip, spilling the cool sea inside.

A young teenager’s face appeared from the darkness below. Water splashed in her eyes as Brown grabbed her shoulders and hoisted her out.

“Swim to the boat.” Brown stuffed his hand into the hatch, his fingers splayed. Someone grabbed hold, and he heaved against their weight.

“Doc! Heads up!”

Brown snapped his head around in time to see a Vladdie charging down the dock on all fours, flames trailing from its back.

Its maw distended as it lunged at him.

––––––––

L
ance stood at the top of the boat, above and behind Cass.

He manipulated a large spotlight attached to the railing. It cast a bright beam across the dock, cutting through the swarming Vladdies. One broke away from the burning RV and charged down the concrete toward the sinking tanker.

Lance shouted, “Doc! Heads up!”

As the beast leaped into the air, it was blown sideways, its chest bursting in a bloody explosion.

Lance spun the spotlight further up the dock and spotted Paul storming toward the tanker. He held a Spas-12 shotgun in both hands. Smoke trailed from the barrel.

“Get the goddamn light off me.” Paul motioned at the end of the dock. “I need to see the bastards coming, for Christ’s sake.”

Cass lit another Molotov and lobbed it between the vehicles.

Adam appeared beside Cass, a pistol in his hands. He’d been in the front of the cabin, sorting through supplies. “Holy shit!” He aimed at the group of infected climbing across one of the RVs and fired off a round.

A handful of people piled out of the burning RV, shooting pistols at the surrounding Vladdies. Lance angled the spotlight past them, searing the flesh of the infected giving chase.

Two men climbed from the back of the rear tanker. A Vladdie leapt at them as they dropped to the ground. It pounced on one of them, its claws tearing into his stomach before they’d collapsed to the concrete.

Even the burning spotlight on its head and shoulders couldn’t tear it away from the dying man.

Brown pulled two more people from the sinking tanker, shouting for them to get to the boat. The first of the swimmers, Greg, reached Adam. He choked and spit out water, holding his hand out to him. Adam grabbed his shirt and arm, helping Greg get aboard.

“Thanks, bro! I thought I was going to drown in there! I—”

“Get the hell out of the way, Greg.” Cass shoved him away from the ladder and reached for another survivor. She and Adam hauled more people out of the water, one after the other.

Lance spun the light to the rear of the parked tanker, hoping to give the people climbing out enough time to get to the water or dock. Vladdies swarmed around it, thrashing against the metal.

The shotgun barked again, obliterating the torso of another infected. Paul worked his way forward until he was even with Brown. “Hurry the hell up over there! I’m running out of shells.”

Three women ran from the burning RV, shielding their mouths and noses from the smoke billowing around them. Paul ran to them, shotgun held at hip height, blasting into the semi-darkness beyond.

“Is everyone out of the back truck?” Cass yelled. She grabbed two more Molotovs from the back of the boat and tried to light them on the cigar. They didn’t catch. “Shit.”

Cass had found the cigar in the cabin and decided to give it a try. She’d wanted to see what the fuss was about, and had been complaining about the stench when they’d heard the convoy barreling down the street.

She spit the cigar into the water and stuffed her hand into her pocket, producing a tiny lighter. After lighting both, she faced the truck again. Vampires climbed all over it, denting the sides and tearing at the hatches. “Is it clear?”

A man climbing into the back of the boat nodded. “I was the last one out.”

Cass heaved both bottles at the cab of the truck. The alcohol set it ablaze, brightening the area. Adam fired again, hitting one of the infected in the leg, knocking it from the top of the tank.

“Let’s go, Doc!” Lance put the spotlight on Brown and Eifort again. He was lightheaded, his arms feeling weighted. He sat in a hard-plastic seat and reached for a bolt-action rifle sitting in the corner.

He jammed it against his shoulder and peered through the scope. They’d placed metal gas cans along the end of the dock for this moment. When everyone was clear, Lance was to shoot them, sealing the dock and boat off in a wall of flame.

The fire from the RV flickered off the rusted metal cans, giving him a clear line of sight. He wasn’t the best shot, but it was close and the river was calm. The boat barely moved.

He fired. The kick from the rifle sent a bolt of pure agony into his chest. The gun fell from his grasp, clattering on the floor of the boat. He doubled over and spit up more blood.

There was no great explosion. No ball of fire.

A dozen Vladdies ran past the cans, moving closer to Paul.

The Wildman taunted them and fired, dropping two.

Lance reached for the rifle with a groan. Blood poured down his chin. The front of shirt was warm and slick, sticking to his skin. He sighted the first can again, shocked that he’d missed such an easy shot.

Except that he hadn’t. A hole was punched in the metal, gas flowing freely from it, pooling at the end of the dock.

“Shit.” He thought for certain that shooting the can would make it explode. It always worked in the movies. “I should have watched more Mythbusters,” he mumbled to himself. “Cass, throw a Molly at the gas cans!”

She looked up at him, shaking her head. “I can’t hit them from here. I don’t have an angle.

Paul shouted again and fired. “I’m out!”

Lance pointed at the end of the dock. “The gas is leaking out of the cans. Just throw one!”

Brown and Eifort stood on top of the tanker, though it was no longer visible under the surface of the water. They were hip deep, having to submerge to search for more survivors.

The last two Molotovs flew through the air, lobbing over Paul’s head as he retreated down the dock.

The area in front of the first RV exploded in a flash of light. A ball of fire swirled into the air, illuminating hundreds, maybe thousands, of Vladdies pouring down the street toward the water.

Innumerable shrieks filled the night. The flames spread, engulfing the RVs and tanker. The closest vampires, those standing in the pooled gasoline, caught fire. They fled, their flesh charring and bubbling.

Paul jumped from the dock and landed beside Adam. His feet slid on the slick surface, and he fell to his ass. “Goddamn it.”

Lance gathered what little energy he had left and stood. He turned around and climbed down a short ladder to the next level. The boat’s engine idled, supplying the power to the lights. Lance settled in behind the wheel and put his hand on the throttle. “Let’s go! Get everyone on board.”

Liz sat in a chair beside the wheel, ripping strips of cloth from a shirt and stuffing them into alcohol bottles. Her hair was frazzled, eyes wide. “Are we going to make it?”

At that moment, Lance realized the depths of the changes he’d gone through since that day he’d awoken in the hospital. He wasn’t the man he had once been. His wife, or ex, depending on your definition, didn’t view him as the same loser she’d abandoned for another man. She looked to him for courage now, for protection.

He’d become the last sheriff of mankind.

“I’m a man of action,” he said.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Brown dunked his body below the surface again. Eifort grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back up.

“That’s everyone,” she said and tried to tear him away from the hatch.

“We don’t know that for sure. I have to—”

“No! We’re out of time.” Eifort turned to the boat and dove into the water. She swam to Cass and grabbed her hand, pulling herself up.

Brown hesitated a moment, staring into the dark river. He followed her then and joined everyone at the stern. He took in the shivering people surrounding him, his head nodding as he counted. “How many did we lose?”

“I don’t know,” Eifort said. She brushed sopping hair from her face. “At least three, maybe more.” She turned and walked to Cass, her arms held out.

“When the sun went down, I didn’t think you were going to make it.” Cass embraced her, smiling despite the cries of the infected filling the air like a rock concert of the damned. She waved for Brown to join them.

Lance turned back to the controls and eased the throttle up. The boat pushed forward, and he cut the wheel right.

The river went through a tight corridor about fifty yards wide that ran for more than a mile before opening into the ocean. Once they cleared the river, they would be safe.

Then he planned to sleep for roughly a year.

They passed other boats still tied to docks. Several had sank, the tops of their sails protruding above the water.

Liz shrank into her seat and held her face in her hands. Her back hitched as she sobbed. Lance couldn’t blame her. It had been a rough week.

Paul climbed the ladder behind Lance and walked over to him. “I’ll take over. You look like you need to take five.”

“Thanks.” Lance stepped aside, letting Paul settle in behind the wheel. “Keep it slow. We don’t need anyone falling off.”

“No shit.” Paul gestured for him to sit down. “I know how to take care of things. I was doing just fine until you showed up.”

“How did you get here before us?” Brown asked from below. He released Cass and Eifort from the bear hug he’d wrapped them in. “And who was the man with the shotgun?”

Cass grinned at the doc. She put her left hand on his shoulder, her right on Eifort’s. “I had a little help.” She nodded up at Lance.

Their mouths dropped agape when they saw him. Brown’s head rocked back like he’d been slapped.

“Lance?” Eifort pushed through the people standing before her and jumped onto the ladder. “How is this possible?”

She cleared the top of the ladder and reached for him when he stopped her.

“Easy,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “I’m all kinds of fucked up.”

“But Colt said that one of the infected had killed you.”

“Colt shot me, twice.” Lance gestured to the red patch on his shirt. “It hurts just a bit.”

Brown came up behind her, shaking his head in confusion. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been so happy, and completely surprised, to see someone before.” His face fell when he took in Lance’s bloody visage. “I need to take a look at that right now.”

“Let’s save the making out until we’re out at sea n’at.” Paul eased the throttle up higher. “We ain’t out of the woods yet. There are still a few bridges ahead. Get a couple of fellas up on the spotlight. Give ‘em my shotgun too, in case something tries to jump down at us.”

“Eifort, Doc, this is the Wildman of Monroeville,” Lance said. “Otherwise known as Paul the Yinzer.”

“For a guy who is crackin’ jokes, you look like shit.”

Brown ogled at Paul. “You’re the Wildman?”

“Yah.”

“The man who refused to help our camp for the past month just covered us with a shotgun?”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.
Yinz
are nothing but trouble.”

“I’m sure you remember my ex-wife.” Lance eased onto a cushioned bench and gestured to Liz. His eyelids were heavy, his thoughts growing muddled.

“Of course,” Brown said. “But what is she doing here? Good God, this is confusing.”

Eifort turned to Cass, who was climbing the ladder. “You left with Colt and came back with Lance, his ex, and the Wildman of Monroeville? What the hell is going on around here?”

“It’s a long story,” Cass said. She beamed at Lance. “And we have nothing but time on our hands to tell it.”

––––––––

T
he beautiful view did little to mollify Lance as he paced on the beach.

The sand, nearly white, and comfortably warm, worked between his toes.

“Stop pacing, for Christ’s sake.” Paul spun in his chair and glared at Lance. “I’m trying to work here.”

“You’re bullshitting on the radio. I’d hardly call that work.” Lance turned and followed his tracks again. He’d worn quite a path into the sand.