Ravaged: The Hunger, #3

By Jason Brant

Welcome to the mountains of Pennsylvania, one of the last vestiges of the human race.

Lance York, a self-described loser in another life, has rediscovered himself in the midst of the apocalypse. Along with a cadre of other survivors, including the hardened, sexy Cass, Lance has taken refuge in a compound, struggling to survive the onslaught of monstrosities descending upon them each night.

The horrors that have devoured mankind are changing, their minds rebooting like a computer. Intelligence, the lone advantage of the humans, is returning to the infected. They ravage the compound with calculated, precise strikes, chiseling away at the defenses Lance and his friends have erected.

With the help of new ally, Major Frank Colt, the flickering flame of the old world must fight to stave off the extinguishing tidal wave of the new one.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason Brant
• Release date: Mar 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781498999502

Jason Brant

"JASON BRANT" is an anagram for Bas Trojann, a former Bigfoot hunter who, after being abducted (and subsequently returned) by aliens, decided to hang up his ghillie suit and enter the world of professional arm wrestling. Despite back-to-back first place finishes in the South Dakota World Championship League, Bas receded from athletics to invent cheese and give Al Gore the initiative to create the internet. Nearly a decade after writing the bestselling self-help series, Tomato Soup and Grilled Cheese (Cut into Four Pieces) for the Soul, Bas has left his life of notoriety and critical acclaim behind him to write existential, erotic poetry. His wife washes their clothing on his abs.

Book preview

1

All was quiet as Lance walked the perimeter of the field.

The lack of howls and shrieks knotted his stomach. The cries of the monstrosities usually filled the air. Not hearing them cast an eerie silence over the compound that had him on edge.

He paused under one of the large lights casting a yellowish glow over the area and listened.

Nothing except crickets and the crackle of fires by the tents.

Was the forest surrounding their camp truly void of Vladdies? That didn’t seem possible to Lance. The vampire-things had dogged them for months, always arriving shortly after sundown. It had become as commonplace in their lives as the weather. They were always there, always waiting, the soft lighting all that kept their rage from spilling into the field.

Lance rolled his shoulder, wincing at the tightness there. The knife wound had finally healed, but the muscles still ached occasionally. Brown thought they were phantom pains.

Lance wanted to slap him every time he said that.

How long had it been since their encounter with Ralph? Four weeks? Six? He wasn’t sure. It couldn’t have been much longer than that because Cass didn’t even have a baby bump yet.

The relevance of time had changed. Alarms didn’t wake the survivors of the Xavier virus anymore. Now, they warned that the night approached, that death waited on the horizon for anyone not in a safe zone before the sun fell from the sky.

No one cared what day it was.

All that mattered was the sunset.

Lance had finally felt strong enough to take a few shifts on watch. Tonight was his third in a row. He preferred working during the day, exploring the ruins of the old world for supplies, but he couldn’t rightfully complain. He’d been on the bench for too long and had to earn his place on the team like everyone else.

A few men sat around a small fire, laughing at obscene jokes. They hushed the loudest of their group every few minutes, fearing that he might wake the rest of the compound.

Lance ignored them and stepped toward the edge of the clearing, stopping at the tree line.

He inspected the darkness beyond.

Where are you bastards? he whispered.

Sitting in a lawn chair to his right was a man of roughly fifty. He wore a trucker’s baseball cap, pulled low. A rifle sat across his lap, a battery-operated spotlight resting between his feet. He nodded at Lance before turning his attention back to the woods.

Lance returned the gesture, trying to recall the man’s name. Jim? Joe? He couldn’t remember.

Guards worked in shifts through the night, spaced forty yards apart. They sat at the edge of the light, watching and listening for the infected. If any came too close, the guards would repel them with the spotlights.

They’d fired guns at the beasts only a handful of times in the past month. The light kept them at bay. The vampires preferred the safety of the forest, baying their disdain for the humans just out of their reach.

But not tonight.

Lance looked to his left and frowned when he couldn’t see a guard stationed there. He walked over to the empty chair, raising the small, LED lantern he held so he could make out the surrounding area.

The guard’s spotlight and rifle rested on the ground a few feet in front of the chair.

No one went near the forest at night without a light source or a firearm.

Lance exchanged the lantern for the spotlight and turned it on. He half expected to see the guard taking a piss behind a bush, but the tree line was empty. Had the man abandoned his post? There would be hell to pay if he’d simply walked away from his assignment.

The discarded rifle worried Lance the most. Why would the guard have left that behind? Seeing someone without a weapon had become a foreign affair. It was akin to seeing someone walking around in the nude.

Lance moved closer to the trees, sweeping the spotlight back and forth, inspecting the area. His breathing quickened with each step, nerves jangled. The missing guard and the odd silence of the woods didn’t instill confidence.

The guard off to the right watched him, his head tilted slightly. He held his hands up in a questioning gesture. Lance motioned him over. The man rose and hurried to where Lance waited, his own spotlight scanning the trees.

What’s up? the man asked. Where’s Billy?

Lance winced at the name. Billy was a teenager of fourteen. He’d been given guard-duty shifts after weeks of earnest negotiating. He wanted to earn his keep the same as everyone else. Lance had relented and allowed him to sit on the line twice a week.

He regretted that decision as he squeezed the handle of Billy’s discarded light.

I don’t know. His rifle and light were sitting on the ground.

The man looked around. He’s probably taking a piss. The boy has a bladder the size of a newborn.

Without his gun?

He’s, what, fifteen?

Fourteen.

He’s fourteen. Kids do stupid shit all the time. The man spat a line of tobacco juice into the grass. He probably saw that pretty little thing he’s sweet on and went to talk to her.

Lance looked back at the lines of RVs, tents, and converted water tankers. A few people stood by them, chatting with their neighbors or smoking, but the area was relatively quiet and still. Unless you were on watch, there wasn’t much point in staying up after dark anymore. Being a night owl was a thing of the past.

This doesn’t feel right, Lance said. He settled on the name Joe. He tried it out, hoping it fit. You notice how quiet it is in the woods, Joe?

Yeah, that sure is weird. Joe cocked an eyebrow toward the trees. Never heard ‘em so quiet before.

The details of Joe’s life came back to Lance then. The man had been a coal miner outside of the small, turnpike town of Somerset. He’d drifted to the safe zone in Greensburg after the collapse and had managed to worm his way to the compound a few weeks ago. He was a tough, salt-of-the-earth man who would give you the shirt off his back.

Lance bent down by the rifle and shined the spotlight on it.

He spotted a red splotch on the barrel. Oh, shit.

What? Joe knelt beside him, leaning over the gun. His eyes narrowed when he saw the blood. Sumbitch.

Lance crept further along, staying low and quiet. More blood ran through the grass, trailing toward the trees. It grew thicker, more prevalent, as they got closer to the edge of the forest.

He stopped in front of a briar bush and shined his light across it. Several branches were bent and broken, mangled stalks hanging. Tall grass at the base of the bush was trampled, angling into the woods.

Joe came up beside Lance. He whispered, How the hell did they get hold a him an’ drag him away without anybody seeing? How come he didn’t scream?

Lance wrestled with those same questions. He stood and shined the spotlight between the trees, searching for the boy. The utter silence disturbed him even more now that he’d seen the blood trail. Maybe it wasn’t the Vladdies that did this.

You think a man did it?

Vladdies aren’t much for stealth and patience. They barrel in and smash everything. They’re all hunger and rage. Lance stared at the trees. The last thing they needed was another rogue sect of psychopaths attacking the camp. They had enough to deal with.

Something moved ahead of them, a few dozen yards in. A rustling crackle, like trampled leaves, lasted for a split second.

You see that? Joe whispered.

Lance didn’t respond. He angled his light at the spot, holding his breath. Was the boy out there, bleeding to death? Why hadn’t he called out?

Another guard sat off to their left, ogling them. Lance waved him over as well.

What are you guys doin’ over here? the man asked. He shifted a shotgun from his right hand to his left. Where’s Billy?

That’s the million-dollar question. Lance nodded at the cabin behind them. Go and get some help. Joe and I are going to see if we can find him.

What? I don’t—

Something dragged him into the woods.

The man’s eyes surveyed the shadows trailing behind the trees. Fuck me.

Lance slapped him on the shoulder. Go. Tell them to bring the big lights out, so we can light up the whole area.

The man nodded and jogged off.

Don’t tell me you want to go in there. Joe grimaced. "We won’t stand a chance if any of those things are out there."

Lance understood his trepidation. A single Vladdie could tear both of them to pieces in the blink of an eye. But what if this wasn’t a vampire? What if Billy was out there in the bushes, bleeding to death, unable to speak, listening as they quibbled over what to do?

Keep your light on my back, Lance said. I’m going to check the spot that sound came from.

But—

It’s only thirty yards or so in there. I’ll be fine. Lance focused on keeping his breathing normal. He didn’t want Joe to see how nervous he was. Just keep that light on me.

Joe crossed himself, mumbling a small prayer. Good luck.

Lance pulled a pistol from a small holster clipped to his belt and crept forward, maneuvering around the damaged bush. His eyes roamed the encompassing darkness around him, slowly sweeping his spotlight back and forth. He watched the forest floor, doing his best to avoid stepping on sticks and loose rocks, wanting his movement to be as silent as possible.

A thicket of briars trembled ahead of him.

The branches rustled again, before falling silent.

Lance paused, watching, listening. He whispered, Billy?

After five seconds without a response, Lance inched along.

The blood trail led to the thicket.

Lance exhaled, long and slow, not realizing he’d been holding his breath.

Joe’s spotlight cast lengthy shadows from everything behind Lance, their inky blackness dancing across the uneven surface of the forest floor. Stars punched through the tree canopy above.

Fatigue settled into Lance’s legs as he continued forward, hunched over, knees bent. He thought about standing and walking normally, but fear kept him crouched, not wanting to expose anymore of himself than necessary.

He stopped ten feet in front of the thicket, shining his light into it. It was dense with thorny stalks and leaves, impossible to see through.

Lance opened his mouth to call out, but stopped himself.

A stench wafted through the bush.

Something sour.

Putrid.

He recognized the odor of the Vladdies. Their stink filled his nostrils.

Shit.

A twig snapped to his left.

Slowly, Lance twisted to his left, bringing his light around.

Movement behind a tree. Something shifted out of sight.

A breath caught in Lance’s throat. He’d walked into a trap.

The thicket shook again.

Warm liquid dropped onto his hand.

Blood.

He looked up, saw Billy’s body wedged between two branches in a tree above him.

The boy’s face was shredded, flaps of flesh hanging in ragged strips.

Throat torn out.

A snort came from his right, powerful and wet. Lance had heard the biggest bulls do that down in the subway.

The first shriek came from the other side of the thicket. It echoed through the forest, silencing the chirping crickets.

Two more followed in quick session, roaring from the right and left.

A Vladdie leapt from the ground behind the bush and grabbed onto a low-hanging branch, swinging from one bulging, striated arm.

Lance pointed his spotlight at it. He caught sight of a wide, ragged scar running across its opaque face, ending at the corner of its mouth. The light glinted off its fangs.

It bellowed and fell from the tree, its maw contorting in rage and pain.

Lance spun on his heel and ran.

The thunderous pursuit of the vampires urged him to push his body to its limits. They were coming, closing the distance as they barreled through bushes and over saplings.

More shrieks came from deeper in the forest, moving closer. Dozens, maybe more.

Joe’s light blinded Lance. He held a hand up to shield his eyes and ran straight for the torch.

Come on! Joe angled the light to Lance’s right and cried out at what he saw. They’re right on you!

Branches clawed at his eyes as Lance forced his way to the edge of the clearing. He leapt over a pile of stones and burst through the tree line, not slowing as he ran for the nearest overhead light.

Pressure and pain bloomed in his back as something heavy slammed into him.

He sprawled in the grass, sliding face first. The pistol and spotlight flew from his grasp.

He rolled over.

A Vladdie, its muscles prodigious and veined, stood before him. Its pale skin reddened under the burning lights. Saliva dripped from elongated canines.

Joe yanked the trigger of his rifle, his panic forcing him to forget to squeeze the shot off.

The bullet went wide.

The beast lunged for Lance’s prone body, an ear-piercing shriek reverberating through the compound.

Lance watched as it descended upon him.

2

Gunshots barked.

Bloody holes punched into the chest of the infected.

Lance rolled to his left, feeling the impact of the Vladdie on the ground beside him. He scrambled across the lawn for his pistol as more shots rang out.

Grabbed the gun.

Spun around.

The vampire dragged itself along after him, its legs snaking behind it.

The sight of its eyeless sockets sent a wave of revulsion through Lance, cutting through his terror. He put a round through its head. The body collapsed to the ground and remained motionless.

Two Vladdies stood at the edge of the woods, slamming their forearms into the ground in frustration. One of them took a bullet to the arm before they turned and fled into the shadows.

Lance’s shoulders dropped as he stared at the body before him. Its skin darkened as he watched.

Joe stuck a hand out and helped Lance to his feet. You almost bit the big one. Sorry I missed that shot—I panicked.

I can’t believe it chased me into the light like that. Lance kept a wary eye on the woods, in case another of the infected felt suicidal. He tried to swallow, but found his mouth and throat parched. His fingers trembled.

He’s a biggun. Joe nudged the dead body with his rifle.

People flowed out of their homes, forming a crowd in the middle of the clearing. They pointed at the dead vampire, whispering their fears and anxieties to one another. A few men formed a protective circle around the crowd, guns at the ready.

It was a practiced, coordinated maneuver. If anything happened, the pregnant women were to be protected at all costs.

Eifort ran over with Brown and Cass in tow. She wore a pair of boy shorts and a tank top. Her hair was disheveled from sleep, her face slightly puffy. The M4 she always carried was tucked against her shoulder. She’d given Lance a small lecture when he’d referred to it as an M16 a few weeks before. He’d almost been punched when he called a magazine a clip.

Cass had her axe, looking medieval as she ran across the field with it. Her matted hair looked less ridiculous than the mohawk she’d styled it in recently.

Did you make that shot from the cabin? Lance asked Eifort as she stopped beside him. Nice work. Saved my ass. Again.

Barely. I stepped out of the back door right when you cleared the trees. She looked down at the body. What the hell were you doing in the woods?

Being a dumbass, no doubt. Cass glared at him. You’re supposed to be on patrol around the perimeter, not going for a moonlight stroll.

Straight to the dumbass stuff? No, ‘glad you’re safe, Lance?’ He put the pistol back in its holster.

Doc Brown, shirtless and red-faced, stopped beside them. He peered around the area. Where’s Billy?

Lance frowned. They got him.

Brown closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he turned to Joe. Get a handful of men and double up on the guards around the perimeter. Tell everyone to go back to sleep. We’ll hold a meeting in the morning and tell everyone what happened.

What, exactly, did happen? Cass asked. Why did that thing chase you this far into the light?

Brown held up a hand. Wait until we’re inside the cabin. We don’t need to get everyone all worked up until we can figure out exactly what happened.

You want me to tell everyone to go back inside? Joe asked. They aren’t gonna like that too much.

You’re right, Brown said. I’ll tell them myself. Go get those men and keep them posted until morning.

Got it. Joe jogged toward a group of people standing in front of a cluster of RVs.

The doc turned to Lance. Are you all right?

It hit me in the back, but I’m fine. Lance looked at Cass out of the corner of his eye and mumbled, At least someone asked.

Wait for me in the kitchen. Megan, would you get him a glass of my Scotch?

Eifort nodded. Sure. We could all use one after this.

Brown walked over to the waiting crowd, quieting them with his hands.

Eifort led Lance and Cass back to the cabin. She ruffled her hair and exhaled loudly. That’s not something you want to wake up to.

I’m just glad you’re a hell of a shot. Lance tried to count how many times she’d saved him with that rifle. He didn’t know how she’d been as a soldier before it all fell apart, but she’d been as good an ally as anyone could have asked for since.

Cass socked him in the ribs. The blow hurt. She was small, but she packed a punch. Did you go into the woods to find Billy? By yourself?

Yeah.

Why the hell didn’t you wait?

There was blood everywhere. I was afraid he might bleed out while I was trying to get help.

You get me knocked up, then go and do stupid shit like this. And you wonder why I go straight to the dumbass stuff.

They walked through the back door of the cabin and meandered their way to the kitchen. Eifort disappeared into the bedroom she shared with Doc Brown and came back a moment later with three glasses and a bottle of single malt. She’d put on basketball shorts, her modesty returning now that the threat had passed.

Cass filled a cup with water and sat at the table.

Eifort poured three fingers worth into Lance’s glass and handed it to him.

He took a seat beside Cass and pretended to savor the smell of the alcohol. Jealous?

Hilarious. She rolled her eyes. Being pregnant sucks.

Brown came in a minute later and sat down, rubbing his balding head. He took a sip of the scotch and settled in. They’re restless out there. Not having an attack like that for almost two weeks had them feeling comfortable, for a change.

Me too. Lance had felt relatively safe since they’d taken the compound from Ralph. After the death of the prepper from Hell, things had quieted down.

As much as they could when you were surrounded by mutated monsters, anyway.

Lance ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking about where to start. You aren’t going to like what just happened.

Of course we aren’t, Brown said. A boy died.

I think we might be in some deep shit here. Lance looked over at Cass, thinking about the child they would have in a few months. How could he protect them if what he thought had just happened was true?

What is it? Cass asked.

When I was walking the perimeter, I noticed that there weren’t any shrieks coming from the trees.

Eifort leaned forward. "None?"

Not a single one. I could actually hear crickets. Lance had grown accustomed to the bleating beasts and had learned to sleep through the night. Cass still struggled with the racket sometimes, but she’d been doing better over the past week or so. Then I noticed that Billy wasn’t at his station. I found his rifle and spotlight by the empty chair. A trail of blood led into the woods.

Poor kid. Brown threw back the rest of his scotch in one go.

As I was standing there with Joe, we saw something move further into the trees. I was afraid it might be Billy, so I went in to check it out. Joe stayed back and kept his light trained on me. Lance’s nose wrinkled as he remembered the stench that hit him. I followed the blood trail until I found Billy’s body wedged up in a tree.

Cass held a hand up. Hold on. They jumped into the light, grabbed the kid, dragged him into the woods, killed him, and then stashed his body in a tree?

Lance nodded. "They set a trap. Three of them attacked me