Devoured - - (list of e readers .TXT) 📗
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Unable to force himself to go any further, Lance stopped by the bed. “Is someone in here? Behind the couch? I came to help.”
A woman’s face inched up from behind the cushions, her brown hair disheveled and knotty. She peered at Lance from swollen, red, fearful eyes. “Who are you?”
“Just someone trying to get the hell out of the hospital.”
“Why do you have a machine gun?”
He looked at the weapon in his hands. “I took it off one of the soldiers down the hall.”
“You killed him?”
“No, he was already dead.”
“One of those things got him?”
Lance nodded. “Yeah.” He gestured for her to come out. “I’ll take you to the parking garage—I have friends waiting out there for me.”
She watched him for several seconds, appraising him. “Promise you won’t hurt us?”
“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already. What’s your name?”
“Ashlee.”
“What’s the baby’s name?”
“Theodore.” She stood up then, a bundle of blankets held in her arms. Her hand covered the child’s mouth, his face contorted in anger.
“Let’s get Teddy out of here. You can’t let him cry though, OK? If those things hear us…”
Lance walked to the couch and pulled the end of it away from the wall, letting Ashlee slink around it. She wore a t-shirt and torn jeans. Her light brown hair rested on her shoulders, sweat wetting the roots. Lance couldn’t tell if she was even old enough to drink.
The baby had no hair and large, pissed off eyes. Judging from the few extra pounds that Ashlee still carried around her hips and midsection, Theodore was little more than a newborn.
She caught him looking down at her child and turned him away.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Lance said. “How old is he?”
“Five weeks.”
Shit.
The idea of sneaking through the halls with such a young baby made Lance’s blood pressure spike.
Pounding boots approached the door. Lance ducked behind the bed, pulling at Ashlee’s shoulder. She dropped down as a group of soldiers stormed by the door, not slowing to look in the room as they ran past.
One of them said something about an evacuation.
Lance wiped sweat from his eyes and stood up slowly, waiting until he couldn’t hear the men anymore. He went back to the door and made sure it was clear before motioning for her to follow him.
He kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to worry Ashlee any more than necessary, but his concern over the idea of an evacuation gnawed at him. If they were evacuating, why weren’t they checking the rooms for patients?
They went back to the lobby, flinching every time a gun went off somewhere nearby. Sobs hitched Ashlee’s shoulders. Teddy cried against his mother’s hand.
“Close your eyes,” Lance said as they walked past the reception desk.
“What? Why?”
“There are dead bodies by the doorway. You don’t want to see them, trust me.”
She started to argue with him when she caught a glimpse of the dead creature on the floor. Her eyes slammed shut, face scrunched. “Don’t let me fall.”
“I won’t.” He guided them around the deceased in a wide arc, avoiding congealing blood on the floor. The smell had worsened in the few minutes he was gone and the entire room reeked of spoiled meat.
He angled her toward the doors, warning her not to turn around while he pried the exit open again. “Go through.”
After she went by, Lance cast one last glimpse into the hospital, hoping he was making the right decision.
Death held sway in the building—but what waited for them outside?
They found Don and Liz hiding behind a large F150.
Her head rested on his shoulder, their fingers interlocked. Slow, deep breaths came from them as they relaxed together, whispering quietly back and forth, eyes closed. The rifle sat on Don’s lap.
Lance stared at them for several seconds, swallowing the ball of rage forming in his gut, before nudging Liz’s shoe with his foot.
“Time to move.”
She started, eyes popping open, free hand grabbing Don’s bicep. “What?”
“We can’t stay here.” Lance nodded to their newest companions. “This is Ashlee and Teddy.”
Don stood, stretching his arms, acting as if nothing had happened. “You brought a baby? How the hell are we going to get out of here with a baby?”
Lance snapped his fingers. “You’re right, Don. I should have left the infant back there.”
They locked eyes, neither turning away, before Ashlee spoke up. “We won’t be a burden, I promise. I can keep up.”
“What do you think, Don? Should we just lay the baby on the concrete right here? Wish it good luck?” Lance kept picturing Don and Liz holding hands and felt his anger building. He had more important things to worry about, like staying alive, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been had somehow.
“Fuck you, Lance.”
Lance stepped forward, glaring up at Don, thinking about throwing a punch, when the glass doors separating the garage from the hospital shattered.
“Get behind the truck!” Lance grabbed Ashlee by the arm and pulled her along. They ducked by the headlights, peering over the hood.
A half dozen soldiers ran through the broken doors. They sprinted down the ramp, heading straight for the back of the F150. Two of them were covered in blood and gore, but they moved well, so Lance guessed it wasn’t theirs.
Doctor Brown followed them, lagging behind with Eifort in tow. His white coat was maroon.
Eifort’s gas mask was gone, exposing her soft features. She appeared younger than Lance had initially pegged her for—maybe thirty.
The first group of soldiers banked right, following the exit signs that led to a stairwell.
“Doc,” Lance whispered as Brown jogged by the truck. “Over here.”
Eifort lifted her weapon, swinging it around until she locked on Lance’s face. “You!”
“Come on! Hurry up!” Doctor Brown waved them out. He kept looking over his shoulder as he waited for them. “They might be following us.”
Lance stepped on a sharp rock as he followed Ashlee and had to bite his lip to keep from shouting obscenities. He needed to find a pair of shoes.
And some pants.
“Where did you get those guns?” Eifort asked as she lowered her own.
“From the soldiers just inside the door there. One of those… things killed them.”
“We should talk about this outside where it’ll be safer,” Brown said.
“Lead the way, Doc.” Lance gave Don one last glare before falling in line behind the doctor. He watched for rocks as they walked, his feet and shins sore.
They approached the stairwell when one of the shrieks came from somewhere behind them. The echoes of the parking garage made it impossible to judge the distance it came from. Lance didn’t turn to look for it, running to the door instead, holding it open and waving everyone through. He slammed the door shut and followed behind, finger caressing the trigger of his rifle.
“Hurry!”
Ashlee took her hand from the baby’s mouth to hold onto the railing. His cries were immediate and shrill—a homing beacon for the nightmare that followed them.
They piled through the door on the first floor as something crashed into the stairwell above. Claws clattered on concrete, unseen, but nerve-wracking as they came down the stairs.
Dozens of guns pointed at Lance as he ducked under the wooden gate arms blocking the entrance to the parking garage.
“Halt!”
Lance stopped, glancing over his shoulder, knowing they didn’t have much time before it would be on them.
“Drop your weapons!”
Lance and Don tossed their guns to the ground. The glare from the sunlight outside made it difficult to see who they were talking to.
Eifort stepped forward. “They’re with me!”
“Civilians are not authorized to leave the hospital. Go back inside, now!”
“The hospital is overrun with—”
The door to the stairwell burst open.
It cried out as it stormed forward in unbridled bloodlust, teeth and claws grinding.
Lance grabbed Ashlee by the shoulders and spun her around, dragging her off to the side behind a concrete pillar. “Get down!”
The others scattered, running to safety as the garage filled with the deafening thunder of war. The hard surfaces of the building gave the gunfire a cavernous echo.
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