Devoured - - (list of e readers .TXT) 📗

of the infected… I mean, the Vladdies, running around.”

“And how the hell would we get there? They own the night, and the still-turning rule the day. We’re just a footnote in the Earth’s history at this point.”

Lance thought about it, running through different ideas. Everything he could dream up boiled down to two basic options.

“We could starve to death here in the safety of this shithole, or we can try and navigate out of the city, past all of them, and hide in the forest or the mountains.”

Cass stayed silent for a bit, her fingers rubbing the side of the axe in absentminded swirls. “Starving to death would be less painful. Besides, we can probably steal enough food from the neighboring buildings to last a few days.”

“Maybe. Or we might get killed just trying to cross the street as we search around.”

“Yeah, it’s a maybe. The chances of pulling that off are a lot better than catching a cab and leaving the city. And what’s this ‘we’ shit? There is no we.”

Lance’s grin returned.

“Stop smiling at me,” Cass said, though her voice lacked conviction. “You’re like a stray dog that I’ve fed. I save your life once and now I can’t get rid of you?”

“I sleep a lot and I never piss on the carpet.”

Cass’ hard exterior finally cracked. “Dumbass.”

“Look,” Lance said, smile sliding away. “We have a gun and a chest full of swords and other weird shit. If there was ever a chance of us getting out of here, it’s with this stuff. Besides, the last I heard, the military hadn’t lost Heinz Field yet. Hell, they might be airlifting people out of there. There will be lots of armed men, if nothing else.”

“The military is at the stadium?”

“Yeah. It’s been all over the news—you haven’t kept up on anything?”

“I’ve been a little busy killing friends and such.” Her face stiffened again. “The last thing I saw on the news said they were calling it the Xavier virus. I fell off the grid after that.”

“Well, the military blew a lot of the bridges around the city and setup a few outposts to filter the sick from the exiting population. Apparently two of them have fallen, but Heinz Field is still good.”

“And you think that’s a good way to escape? Going to a place with a ton of people? I can’t imagine how many of those things are attracted there by the lights and noises of all those refugees.”

They discussed it for the next hour, weighing the pros and cons of staying or leaving. The dangers apparent in each decision made it difficult. Lance found himself pushing the idea of leaving the city, even though he wasn’t certain that was the best course of action. He just didn’t like the thought of spending the next couple of weeks in a dingy meth lab without any food.

He found it interesting that he talked about the two of them doing everything together, as if they’d formed a partnership in survival. Cass seemed hesitant about setting off with him, but she didn’t fight it as much as he expected.

Knowing that he might not have to go through this hell alone made Lance push the subject even harder. Having someone to talk to, as tense as some of their encounters were, eased the feeling of isolation he had over the past few days.

Cass went to bed after a while, giving him another warning about going back in the hall. Lance laughed off her threat, though he knew she wasn’t joking.

Leaving the television on, Lance curled up on the plastic-covered couch and watched images of the armageddon until he dozed. Fitful dreams kept him restless, tormenting him throughout the night.

He awoke in total darkness an indeterminate amount of time later, the talons of panic hooking into his mind as he tried to get his bearings.

“Lance, get up!”

“What’s going on?” He sat up, the crinkle of plastic reminding him that he’d fallen asleep in a meth lab. “Why’s it so dark?”

“The power must have gone out while we were sleeping.” Her voice came from down the hall. “I can’t see a thing. This goddamn crack den doesn’t have any windows.”

Lance hadn’t noticed that while getting his tour earlier, but the total darkness surrounding him confirmed it. “Did you see any flashlights or candles in the kitchen?”

“No, but I didn’t go through the drawers or anything.”

“You check in there and I’ll fumble my way through the lab.” Lance got up, holding his hands in front of him like a mindless zombie. He stumbled across the living room, banging his knees against the chair and almost falling over.

Cass’ ransacking of the kitchen filtered through the rooms, followed by her loud swearing as she stuck her hand in something gross.

Lance walked groin first into the edge of the large table holding the chemistry equipment. The air whooshed from his lungs as he bent over, his stomach already flipping from the impact. He grabbed his crotch and turned around, cracking his head off a glass piece of some kind, sending it crashing to the floor.

“You OK?” Cass yelled from the kitchen.

“No!”

“What happened?”

“The table jumped out of nowhere and hit me in the balls.”

“Dumbass.”

The blow sank deeper in his gut. He fought against dry heaves.

Cass continued thrashing the kitchen.

After a minute or so, Lance ran one of his hands across the table, searching for a lighter or flashlight. His other hand stayed on his balls, protecting them from any further impacts.

He didn’t know what he was looking for.

His fingers brushed against tubes, vials, and burners. He continued his exploration for a moment before backtracking, feeling the burner again. A small knob connected to the long stem, near the bottom. Lance twisted it, hearing the hiss of gas.

Running his hands over the area beside it, Lance felt two, thin metal rods that connected together. He picked them up, squeezing the two pieces together. It sparked, giving him a flash of beakers and bottles.

“Gotcha.” Lance found the Bunsen burner again, surprised at how well he navigated in total darkness. Holding the striker above the business end of the burner, Lance twisted the knob again, gas escaping.

The flame ignited in a quick flash, bathing the desk in a soft glow.

“I’ve got some light in here.”

“Bring it to me. I can’t see a damn thing back here.”

“I can’t. It’s a burner on the table.”

Cass worked her way through the apartment, finally making it back through the living room. She held the pistol in her right hand.

“So I guess that’s the last of the power for, I don’t know, ever?” Lance leaned against the wall, watching Cass.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“We could try to find some candles and bring them back here,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Or we could see if the football stadium is still safe.”

“How long did we sleep?” Cass walked over to the next hallway, looking toward the barricaded door. “Holy shit, I can see light under the door. We slept through the entire night.”

The lack of power further strengthened Lance’s desire to leave. Slinking around in the dark of the city, scrounging for scraps, didn’t feel like the best way to spend the last few days of his life. Realizing that he would die, and probably soon, made the decision easier, rather than harder.

“Cass, I really don’t want to do this alone, but I’m going to leave. Now. I understand that it’s probably safer here, for the time being at least. Having said that, I don’t want to live like a rat, as you so eloquently put it. If I’m going to die, then I want it to be while I’m fighting to get to a better life. Living in the mountains without power or running water is going to be tough—maybe impossible. But at least I’ll die knowing that I took one last shot. One last shot at not wasting away, doing nothing, like I always have.”

“OK,” she said with a shrug.

Lance gaped at her. “That’s it? OK? I gave that whole speech to try to sway you, and it actually worked? No argument?”

“Nope. Staying in here was bad enough without being in the dark. Not sure why you had to tell me some little story about you wasting your life. Dumbass.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh. She even made their agreements difficult on him.

Cass disappeared through the living room again, returning a minute later with a pillow in her hands.

“What are you doing with that?” Lance asked.

“Setting it on fire.”

“Can I ask why?”

“So we can see in the bedroom while we grab some knives and my axe.”

The pillow burned well, giving them time to get back down the hall. Cass threw the flaming cloth down onto the bed, the mattress singeing from the flicks of flame.

Lance went straight for the katana. He frowned as he held it in his hands, realizing it was a cheap replica. If he hit anything with it, the blade would likely break off. He tossed it to the ground and dug through the chest of weapons.

He settled upon two knives, one long like a machete, and the other shorter with a serrated back, like the knife Rambo always used. Though they would do massive damage against a human