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

helicopter burned on the other side of Heinz Field. Vladdies surrounded it, standing at the edge of the light.

PNC Park, the home of the Pirates, stood beyond the fire. The moon provided enough light to see its silhouette, but not much more. Had there been people camping around that stadium as well?

As they floated out of earshot of the dead and dying, Lance felt his exhaustion return. His shoulders slumped, arms growing heavy.

Cass leaned into him. “You did well back there. For a dumbass.”

Lance threw his arm around her with a concerted effort. It felt good to have someone to go through this with.

They passed under the bridge in silence.

Lance reached for the throttle when something thudded behind them.

“Did we hit something?” Cass went to the door, sticking her head through the opening. She stood there, motionless, for several seconds.

“What is it?” Lance asked. “Should I stop us or not?”

“Keep going,” Cass whispered. “Get us away from the bridge.”

“Cass? You’re kind of freaking me out.” He spun the wheel a bit, angling the front of the boat to the center of the river.

She didn’t speak, reaching for her pistol instead.

“Oh shit.” Lance pulled his knife free, a movement that was quickly becoming second nature to him.

Cass left the cabin, walking onto the deck behind them. Lance’s hands shook as he followed her, trying to control his nerves.

A Vladdie perched on the deck.

Its thick chest rose and fell with forceful breathes.

Drool slide from its canines.

Its forearms flexed as it pressed against the deck, shoulders and neck bulging. The vascularity of its muscles would have made any bodybuilder envious.

Empty orbitals stared at them, its head cocked at a slight angle, one long ear turned forward.

Lance stopped beside Cass, two feet between them. Fear gripped him as he stared at the killing and eating machine. He licked his lips, squeezed the handle of the knife.

Cass slowly raised her arm, taking aim with the pistol.

It exploded forward, moving with a speed and grace that belied its size.

The gun boomed, fire belching from the barrel.

The Vladdie twitched in the air, but kept coming, crashing into Cass’ shoulder first, knocking her backward into the wall of the cabin. The pistol fell from her hand, clattering over the side of the ship.

Lance reacted on instinct. He flipped the knife in his hand so the blade jutted from the bottom of his fist.

He leapt at its back, driving the knife into its shoulder.

The beast shrieked, swinging its arm in a wide arc. The blow connected with Lance’s stomach, flinging him across the deck.

Pain erupted in his abdomen as he soared across half the span of the boat in the blink of an eye. He landed on the deck with a bone-jarring impact, his teeth clacking together. He slid against a heat pump in back left corner, the metal slamming against his neck.

His diaphragm spasmed, lungs unable to suck in air.

Eyes bulged as he watched the Vladdie turn back to him. Blood coursed down its chest from the stab wound. A bullet hole in its oblique seeped.

Lance spotted his knife several feet away, resting against a white bench. Even if he could breathe, he had no chance of crossing that distance before it was on him.

It slammed its forearms on the deck with a thunderous blow, shaking the Duchess. The wood cracked, splintering around the impact. It reared back on its legs and wailed at the sky.

Lance covered his ears. His eyes watered from the pain in his stomach.

The cry stopped abruptly and it fell back to all fours. Its knuckles punched at the deck as it stalked toward him.

He pushed himself to a seated position, balling his fingers into a tight fist.

Go down swinging.

A thunk came from behind the beast.

It stumbled forward, falling to its knees and elbows, mouth twisting in a screech of agony and fury. Its arm snaked out behind it, throwing a wild swing.

Cass staggered away from the blow, the wind from the near miss tussling her short hair.

The Vladdie weaved around, its grace evaporated. It took clumsy steps on wobbly legs.

Cass’ axe, half its blade buried in translucent flesh and taut muscle, stuck from the monster’s back. It went for Cass again as she backpedaled away.

Lance scrambled across the deck, grabbing his knife. He fought to his feet, his oxygen-deprived body begging him for a reprieve. Resolve settled in when he saw Cass had nowhere to go. She had seconds to live.

He teetered forward, praying it wouldn’t turn around. He didn’t have the energy or agility to dodge a blow of any kind.

Aiming for the right side of its lower back, Lance stabbed at its liver. Dark ichor flowed from the puncture as he jerked the knife free and plunged it in again.

He released the knife, leaving it hilt-deep in the Vladdie’s back. He gripped the axe handle and yanked it free as the beast fell forward, landing face first on the deck.

It struggled back to a kneeling position, claws gouging into the wood.

Lance tossed the axe to Cass. She caught it with both hands and swung it over her right shoulder.

It lodged in the thick skull of the pseudo-vampire.

A death spasm twisted its body before it fell still, staining the deck with its blood.

They stared at its cooling carcass for several minutes, looking at what humanity had morphed into.

Lance collapsed to the deck, landing on his tailbone with a painful thud.

“What’s going on up there?” Eifort called from below.

“Getting our asses kicked.” Lance flopped to his back, watching the stars as the boat slowly moved through the water.

Eifort’s head appeared at the top of the ladder. “What do you—” Her head rocked back when she spotted the enormous corpse of the Vladdie. “Holy shit!

She walked across the deck with tentative steps, as if she expected it to come back to life.

Doc Brown followed her, struggling with the ladder because of his wounded shoulder. His face, flushed from the exertion, had beads of sweat covering it by the time he made it to the upper deck. A torn shirt held his shot limb in a makeshift sling, the fabric tied in a knot over his shoulder.

“My god,” he said. “You managed to kill one with a knife and an axe?”

“Barely,” Cass said. “It was a tough bastard.”

“Where did it come from?” Eifort’s head snapped around as she inspected the rest of the area. “Are there anymore? I thought we were safe on the water?”

Lance pointed behind them. “It jumped from the bridge as we passed under it.”

“Oh, great! How are we supposed to use the boat if we can’t go under the bridges? There are a billion of them in this damn city!” Eifort gave the Vladdie a kick.

“Carefully.” Lance stood up, the pain in his abdomen making it difficult. “We are safe here as long as we only go under them during the day. We’ll drop anchor at night and stay put.”

Cass asked, “Did you find any food?”

“Days to weeks’ worth.” Doc Brown gazed ahead. “More than enough to get us out of the city and beyond, depending on how we ration.”

“We made it,” Lance said to Cass. “Told ya. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” She gave him a tired, but genuine smile. “Not too bad for a failed artist and a loser.”

It took three of them, Brown watched because of his injury, to move the beast’s body to the side of the boat and roll it into the water. Lance went into the cabin and turned the engine off. After several minutes, he figured out how to drop the anchor. He left the lights on while they got themselves situated for the night.

They ate small meals from canned goods they found in the galley at the back of the boat. Lance wanted to eat more, but his stomach felt queasy and he didn’t want to risk getting sick.

Cass made a bed for the two of them on the second level of the dining room. She placed seat cushions and tablecloths on a well-worn rug, giving them decent padding to sleep on.

Eifort and the doc made separate beds on the first floor, using the same materials Cass had.

When Lance came back from turning off all the lights and shutting down the generator, he stripped to his underwear in the dark and lay beside Cass. His muscles just started to relax, his mind wandering into a jumble of dream-fogged images, when he heard Eifort call out to them.

“What are we going to do now? Everyone is gone.”

“Get out of the city—see what the country is like.”

“But then what? Are we going to search for more survivors? See if the safe zone in Greensburg is still going?”

“If that’s what you want. Does anyone have any family they need to track down?”

Everyone responded in the negative, even Eifort, which drew surprise from the rest.

“My