Decayed: The Hunger, #5

By Jason Brant

After a harrowing escape from a battlefield of warring camps, Lance and Cass have reunited their friends and family. They've taken refuge in The Light, possibly the only building left in the world with electricity.

But their problems have just begun.

Each night, creatures ascend from Baltimore's sewers, swarming the building and testing the defenses for weaknesses. These aren't the monstrosities Lance and Cass first encountered years earlier—they've evolved. Their laments fill the darkness like a primitive language. A leader has emerged from the hordes, guiding the infected in their assaults on the remaining humans.

With opposing factions of survivors attacking them by day, and legions of the nightmarish horrors prowling through the night, Lance and Cass must make an uneasy alliance with The Light's residents to defend their loved ones.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason Brant
• Release date: Sep 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393817383

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

As they climbed the stairs, Lance wished he hadn’t let his wife talk him out of taking the elevator. They hadn’t used anything requiring electricity for years. An elevator had been little more than a vague memory just a few days ago. Now, they could have effortlessly ascended The Light for their meeting with Emily Snow, but Cass had convinced him to walk instead.

It’ll be good for us to stretch after the beating we’ve taken, she’d said.

Lance had tried to argue she hadn’t biked and walked across most of the goddamn state two days ago, but he’d lost that discussion.

As usual.

His muscles protested each step, his bruised, lacerated body pissed at the exertion. If they didn’t have pressing matters to attend to—like the murderous assholes nearby—he would have stayed in bed. He figured a good two or three months of sleep would have him feeling right as rain in no time.

Cass struggled with the stairs, her injured back hindering every movement. Though she tried to hide a grimace each time she lifted her left leg, her watery eyes and twitching cheeks betrayed the agony she suffered. Her slow pace caused her to fall behind Lance. He paused, leaning against the railing.

Let’s take the stairs, he said in a mocking tone. Why do I listen to you?

Because you won’t get laid otherwise. Cass huffed as she stopped beside him.

Oh, yeah.

Besides, my back is loosening up a little bit, dumbass. Just like I said it would.

No doubt. You look so spry dragging your leg up each step. I thought you were a cat for a second.

A pall fell across Cass’ face that Lance recognized—it meant a punch was imminent. When one didn’t come, he understood just how much pain she dealt with.

You need rest, he said.

So do you.

Nah, I’m good. Lance flexed his bicep.

It wasn’t impressive.

You probably shouldn’t do that. Cass started up the stairs again. All the ladies around here will get jealous.

Lance nodded approvingly, as if she hadn’t insulted him. That’s true.

When they finally reached the top floor, Lance held the door open for her. She gingerly walked through it, heading along the wall toward the elevator doors. There wasn’t much of a path between the bounty of goods that filled most of the expansive room they’d entered and the wall leading to the elevator. The space opened at times while narrowing at others.

If the power went out and Snow had to run to the stairs in the dark, she’d have a difficult time. Lance made a mental note to mention it if their meeting went as well as he hoped. He’d noticed many similar issues over the past few days. The residents of The Light had grown accustomed to their safety.

Their diligence had begun to slip.

Reaching a wider, straighter path that cut through the mounds of unsorted supplies, they headed for Snow’s office. A closed door met them at the other end, the leader of The Light waiting inside.

Cass ogled the guns and ammunition, the bottles of water, and the bags of diapers surrounding them. We could have lived for years on the island with this stuff.

And this is just the crap they haven’t gone through yet. The kid told us this is only what they’ve recently found.

Jesus.

Yes? Lance asked, then waited for the smack that didn’t come.

That joke got old about two and a half years ago.

I’ve barely known you that long.

Exactly.

The door opened, as if in anticipation of their arrival. Emily Snow stood inside, beckoning them to join her. Golden hair cascaded over her thin but strong shoulders. A businesslike dress fell to her knees.

My friends, she said. Glad you could join us.

Us? Lance asked as they approached. I thought we were just meeting with you.

Me and my most trusted advisors. Anything you have to say to me, you’ll want them to hear, too. Snow gave them a warm smile as she stepped into her office.

Lance gently took Cass’ arm, stopping her before she stepped inside. There’s still time to change our minds. We can grab our people. Get the hell out of Dodge. No need to involve ourselves in this crazy-ass turf war.

Cass squinted. You having second thoughts, dumbass?

No, but I wanted to throw the option out there just in case you were. I think this is the safest place we could hope to find for Dragon and everyone else. But we’re about to jump headfirst into some serious shit. Once we start down this road, there’s no turning back.

We started down this road when we left the island. No matter where we go, we’re going to run into Vladdies or entrenched survivors who aren’t going to be all that friendly to us. Cass’ features hardened. And we didn’t choose this war. Those bastards did when they separated us, tried to rape me, and sold our kid to the highest bidder. We didn’t start it, but we’re going to end it.

Even if it means putting our son in danger?

He’s already in danger. This is the best option we have. What are we going to do—take him farther inland? Hope we don’t run into one of those above-ground nests? What about another group of psychos? What about food and water? Are we going to assume we’ll find enough to live on? Cass took his hand. We talked about this already. Why are you bringing it up now that we’re walking in the door?

It just feels like the point of no return.

"I think we passed that a few days ago when they took Lincoln away from us." Cass emphasized their son’s name, making Lance smile.

Are you coming? Snow said.

Are we? Cass asked Lance, giving his hand a squeeze.

We are. We’re all in, I guess.

Hand in hand, they walked through the double doors.

Snow led them across her spacious office, toward the wooden desk at the far end. Papers covered the dark surface, obfuscating the beautiful craftsmanship. Two people sat in executive chairs in front of the desk.

Both swiveled around as Snow approached.

Lance recognized one as Frank, or possibly Fred. He’d stood guard at the entrance of The Light when Brandon had first brought Eifort and Lance there a few days ago. He was a short, squat man with furry arms and a hairline that had begun its retreat a long time ago. As he reclined in the seat, rocking slightly, he gave them a nod.

To his left sat a woman who couldn’t have been more than thirty. Her narrow face was all angles under thin glasses, her raven-black hair in a ponytail. If she weighed more than a buck twenty, Lance would eat his shirt. She studied them as they approached.

You’ve met Fred. Snow gestured to the guard. He’s the head of my security. He also led the mission to save you from the demons. Against my wishes.

Thanks for disobeying orders. Lance stuck his hand out.

Fred stood and shook it, his grip so firm Lance had to hide a grimace. The guy must have crushed bricks with his hands for a living. Lance was sure that was a real occupation back in the day.

Emily isn’t big on orders, Fred said. She just makes stern suggestions. I decided not to listen to that one. Besides, you had some of our people with you and we’ve lost enough already.

Cass shook hands with him, her forearm flaring as she squeezed back as hard as she could. Fred gave her an approving nod. Lance tried not to laugh.

Thanks for not being big on orders, Ms. Snow, Lance said.

I might have to change my policy if people are going to completely ignore my suggestions. Though Snow tried to give Fred a stern look, her voice lacked real conviction. And please, call me Emily.

You got it.

This is my right-hand woman—Rebecca Robinson. Emily moved behind her desk and sat.

Lance took in the serious woman beside Fred. He noticed she didn’t get up or proffer a hand. Hi there.

Hello. Rebecca took them in from head to toe. Welcome to The Light.

Yeah, thanks. Cass walked away from her, then eased down in one of two free office chairs.

Take a seat, Snow said jokingly as she grinned at Cass.

Lance gave her an apologetic shrug and sat next to his wife, trying to get a feel for the room. Snow and Fred seemed friendly enough, but Rebecca had an attitude that was sure to set Cass off sooner than later.

He was already concerned about the direction the meeting had taken, and the damned thing hadn’t even started yet.

They inspected each other in silence for several moments before Cass piped up. We’re going after all three camps that fucked with us.

Oh? Emily squirmed in her seat before glancing at her two advisors. Well, we—

You can help us, or you can sit back and watch the fireworks, but don’t get in our way. Cass leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

Lance plopped his face into the palm of his right hand.

Fred burst into deep guffaws. Sitting forward in the oversized chair, he slapped his knee. Goddamn! I like you.

Cass gave him a mischievous smile, but she remained quiet.

You think you can squat here for a few days, then start a war? Rebecca asked. She held Cass’ glare. Who do you think you are?

Emily held her hand up. Becky.

No! Becky pointed at Cass, but she turned her iron gaze to her boss. These people have caused us nothing but trouble since they got here, and we’re supposed to let them stir up things even more? We’re already dealing with the Bandits, and we don’t need these strangers screwing everything up even more.

"Oh, you’re dealing with them, Cass mocked, doing a weird jazz-hands gesture. And how exactly are you doing that?"

Lance and Fred shared a glance that said here we go.

We’re—

Letting them kidnap, rape, and murder innocent families. Cass’ face reddened. That’s what you’re doing.

How dare you. Becky’s finger, which still pointed at Cass, started pumping in the air for emphasis. You have no idea what we’ve been through to be here, to stay alive here.

And I don’t give a—

Hold on now. Lance sat forward, putting a calming hand on his wife’s tense shoulder. Everyone, take a breath. We’re here to help each other, not start a cat fight.

All three women shot him heated glares.

A fight, I meant. Lance winced, knowing he’d pay for that slipup later. We gleaned a lot of information about all three camps that might be helpful to you. In return for that info, we’re hoping you can fill in some gaps for us. We didn’t get a whole lot of history on the psychos we ran into. Sound fair?

We’ve already talked to Charlie and Brandon. Since they were there for the whole damned debacle, I don’t really see what you can add that we don’t already know. Becky finally relaxed into her chair with self-satisfaction.

Fred rubbed his temples with his index fingers, mumbling to himself.

Emily closed her eyes, slightly shaking her head.

Cass fumed. Oh really?

Really, Becky said.

Did they tell you where the Bandits sleep at night?

Emily’s eyes snapped open. What?

That’s right. I know where their base is.

How—

Did they tell you they rape some of the women before taking them up to Pennsylvania? Did they tell you I killed the one who tried to have his way with me? Did they bring you one of the higher-ups in Valerie’s camp? They must have given you the name of their contact for fuel in the south.

Becky’s mouth popped open, but no words came out. Her cheeks flushed as she glared at Cass in silence. Teeth clacking when she snapped her mouth shut, she averted her gaze.

You know where the Bandits operate out of? Fred finally asked. You’re sure?

Oh yeah, Cass said. And I’m going to take out every last one.

Fred glanced at Emily. We could finally put a stop to this. He turned to Lance. We’ve tried following them at least a dozen times, but we can’t keep up with their truck. They outrun us on 95 every single time. Even when we set up farther along the highway to try to see which exit they take, nightfall pushes us into shelter before we can zero in on them. Bastards always head back at sundown, making it too damn hard to track them.

We’ve put spike strips on the roads to blow their tires, but it barely slows them down. They usually spot them before running them over. Emily sighed. And it’s not like there aren’t a few hundred spares in every repair shop and department store in the area.

If someone will get me a phone book, I can give you their exact address, Cass said.

Emily hit a button on a corded phone on her desk, waiting a few seconds.

A male voice finally came through the speaker. "Yes, ma’am?"

Bring us a phone book, Tom, Emily said.

"Yes, ma’am. The man paused for a moment. Does it need to have the yellow pages?"

Emily looked to Cass, who gave her a nod.

Yes.

"I’ll bring one right up."

Emily hung up. The phones don’t work outside this building, but they make for a fine intercom system.

Lance figured ringing someone up to bring anything needed sure beat going up and down a ton of floors to ask for a book. You keep phone books around here?

Helps us find local stores we can raid for supplies, Fred said. You wouldn’t believe all the little places around here no one had ever heard of. You should have seen the expressions on the kids’ faces when we started using them—none of ‘em had even seen the yellow pages before. You woulda thought we were using magic.

Using phone books had never even occurred to Lance before they’d left the States. Like everyone else, he’d relied on his cell to find local restaurants and stores. He hadn’t used a physical book to look up someone’s number in at least a decade, if not more.

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension in the room ebbing.

Lance finally chimed in. One of the Vladdies spoke to me.

The hell is a Vladdie? Fred asked.

2

The cool breeze relaxed Greg a little as he walked down a desolate sidewalk. His nerves were shot from the past few days. Ever since they’d stepped off the boat, things had gone from bad to worse.

From escaping their kidnappers to Adam’s death to Lilith’s complete breakdown when he’d told her the bad news, Greg had experienced the worst stretch of his life.

Before the fall of civilization, he’d considered life little more than a joke. He smoked weed, drank beer, played video games, and accomplished nothing of significance. The inebriated stupor he’d slumped into toward the end had kept him from fully understanding what was happening outside as Pittsburgh had fallen apart all around him.

Adam had rescued him.

Greg still didn’t understand why.

He knew how annoying he could be, how useless his skillset was. Adam should have left him for dead.

But he hadn’t.

He’d not only saved him, but he’d taken him along on an epic adventure. They’d survived monsters, both human and infected, braved the oceans, and struggled through monstrous hurricanes.

That Adam had died while Greg still remained felt like the biggest insult of all.

Adam contributed.

Had a wife.

An incoming child.

Greg was a human waste of space.

It should have been him on that cross, not his dear friend.

He should have taken a bullet to the temple.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the rheumy, blind eyes Adam had at the end. Greg felt the weight of the pistol in his hand. Heard the thunder when he pulled the trigger. The killing had been a mercy, but only for Adam. Greg would have to live with it until his end mercifully came.

Since they’d made it to The Light, Greg had spent most of his time with Lilith, tending to her every need. He gave her a shoulder to cry on. Brought her food and water. Made sure she was comfortable in bed.

Pregnant women were a confounding mystery to him, but he did his best to help her. She would smile one moment and cry the next, complain of hunger, then whine about her upset stomach a minute later. He didn’t understand it, but he knew Adam would have done everything he could for his wife.

So now Greg would do the same.

He knew that Lilith, like the rest of his friends, saw him as a hindrance, a cross they had to bear because they couldn’t bring themselves to leave him behind. Though he doubted he could change their minds after spending so much time with them, he swore he would do his best to improve.

Greg wanted to help.

To contribute.

When Emmett Brown had come by his room, asking if he wanted to go on a supply run, Greg had jumped at the chance. Not just because he wanted to help his buddy hunt for the medicine they needed, but because he longed for some time away from the others.

He had to clear his mind.

Get some air.

Contemplate his next move.

Those weird cultists had killed his best friend.

His only true friend.

He had to get revenge.

Emmett had the addresses of a handful of pharmacies within a few miles of The Light and a map to find them. They’d headed out several hours ago and had already hit three of the buildings, searching for a few specific things.

They hadn’t found them yet.

Greg wasn’t even sure what they were looking for, and he had to ask Emmett what the medicine was called every time they entered a new pharmacy. But the walking had done him some good. He was thinking a little more clearly.

Now they were a couple of blocks closer to the bay, looking for a local mom-and-pop place. Some guy from The Light had joined them, a slender man in his forties who didn’t talk much, though Greg couldn’t remember his name. They’d gone through the usual introductions when they’d set out, but Greg had barely paid attention. He’d heard something about the guy being a guard, but had tuned the rest out.

His mind kept wandering to the way Adam’s body had spasmed in his arms after he’d shot him.

Each man carried a rifle and a pistol.

Greg had his rifle draped across his back, a sling holding it in place.

Emmett stayed quiet most of the time. About an hour into their search, he’d tried to explain to Greg that Adam’s death wasn’t his fault, but Greg had shut that down. He didn’t want to hear it.

During their silence, he’d considered his options for revenge.

How could he take out the entire camp of weird sex perverts in the north? Could he sneak in with a bunch of guns and shoot everyone? That felt impossible. There were too many, and he was a terrible shot. They’d probably cut him down before he took out more than a handful.

A bomb? Could he put an explosive in the house to blow them all to hell? He liked the thought, but he didn’t know where he could get something powerful enough to take out an entire building. The idea of schlepping a bunch of propane tanks into the basement without being discovered seemed like a pipe dream.

He could use a truck to transport the tanks that far, but he feared the cultists would hear the engine. There was no way he could pull that off.

Maybe he could get the Vladdies to kill them.

That Magnus King asshole had made some kind of pact with the beasts that kept them safe. If Greg could somehow get the vampires to think the sex weirdos had broken their end of the deal, maybe the Vladdies would wipe them out.

How could he do that, though?

Greg’s shoulders slumped as he traipsed along behind Emmett.

What good was all his scheming?

He was a moron, and he knew it. The idea of him pulling off some kind of assault against a crowd of people was beyond stupid. He hadn’t done a single positive thing since Adam had found him, and that would continue until the day Greg mercifully died and left the others in peace.

Emmett stopped to consult his map. I think the next place should be just around the corner.

I’m following you, bro. Greg winced as the b-word slipped out of his mouth.

If there was one thing he knew drove the others mad, it was his incessant use of the word bro. He’d struggled to rid it from his everyday speech on the islands, but had quickly given up. When Adam had died, Greg felt it more important than ever to try to purge that goddamn word.

He knew it was stupid.

Changing something so fundamental about himself felt like the first battle he had to win, however. If he could do that, then maybe he could do more. Do something valuable.

Maybe he could avenge his friend.

The guy from The Light spoke. Greg didn’t hear him because he’d already retreated into his thoughts.

He kept returning to the idea of explosives.

Sure, the propane tanks were a stupid idea, but maybe he could get his hands on a different explosive. He didn’t know a damn thing about that stuff, but someone else might.

Megan had served in the military.

Greg considered approaching her about it for a second, but he dismissed the idea. She would never help him. Not only would she refuse, but she would also ask a lot of questions about why he needed it.

Megan would see right through him.

What about Paul? Greg asked himself.

Hmm? Emmett turned around. Paul?

What? Greg stopped, regarding Emmett in confusion.

You said, ‘What about Paul?’

I did?

Yes. Just now.

Oh. Greg wanted to punch himself in the face. He couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to say aloud what he’d only wanted to think. It was the kind of moronic thing he did all the time that made the others think he was a complete buffoon.

Think fast, he managed to internalize. Don’t give up anything else, you jagoff!

I… uhh… I was just… umm… wondering if… Paul maybe needed something while we were out here. You know, while we’re getting supplies?

Oh. Emmett’s brow furrowed. Did he mention anything in particular to you?

Shit! Greg cursed himself again. He hadn’t considered Emmett asking follow-up questions.

Who the hell is Paul? the guy from The Light asked.

While Emmett explained to the stranger who the legendary Wildman of Monroeville was, Greg racked his brain for anything Paul had mentioned needing since they’d met. The Wildman liked to complain a lot, about pretty much everything, so Greg didn’t think it would be that hard to think of something he might want.

But, in the heat of the moment, as Emmett’s explanation came to an end, Greg couldn’t think of a single damn thing.

Sounds like a weird son of a bitch, the man said.

He is kind of strange, Emmett agreed. The doc turned his attention to Greg. You were saying?

Uhh… he said… he maybe wanted a… Sweat beaded on Greg’s forehead as he racked his brain. A drone!

The word flew out of his mouth before he even realized what he was saying. Over a year ago, while they were still on the islands, Greg remembered Paul rambling about wishing he had a drone so he could scout out locations before they physically went there. He’d said it would be safer for all if he could do a little aerial reconnaissance.

How that old memory popped in Greg’s head just then was a true mystery.

A drone? Emmett scratched at his balding head. I think I remember him saying that a long time ago. He still wants one?

Oh yeah. Greg pondered how to continue deflecting the doc from his real line of thinking, then settled on one idea. His old fallback word always made everyone tune him out. "He definitely wants one, bro."

Emmett turned away from him, continuing forward again.

Greg fought the urge to pump the air with his fist.

There’s an electronics store pretty close to here, the guard said. We raided it for batteries a year or so ago.

Maybe I’ll check that out while you hit the pharmacy. Greg thought it might be a good idea to get away from the doc for a bit while he sorted his thoughts. The last thing Greg needed was to blurt out some other stupid crap.

Fine by me.

They walked quietly for fifty yards or so before Emmett stopped and pointed down the next street. There it is.

The guard gave Greg loose directions to the electronics store, then said they would meet him there after they hit their place first. Greg set off alone, basking in the quiet of the abandoned city. He’d heard little except Lilith’s soft crying for the past few days. The relative silence surrounding him felt like a warm blanket.

Saying he relished a few hours away from her sorrow made him feel terrible, but that was the truth of it. Just a bit of quiet time to gather his thoughts had been good for him.

He followed the nameless man’s directions and found Frank’s Big Screen TVs a few minutes later. The front of the store was mostly glass, or had been before someone, or something, had smashed the massive panes out.

Dirt, leaves, and old newspapers littered the front of the store.

Greg’s shoes crunched the debris as he cautiously picked his way inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darker area ahead. Various phones, cameras, and other now-worthless junk covered rows of shelves and much of the floor.

Looters had likely hit during the earlier part of the infection, hoping to steal high-priced items. Little had they known that none would have any value inside of a week.

Ripped iPhone boxes were scattered on the floor beside a large display.

Greg moved past them, scanning for more niche items. Large-screen televisions covered most of the back wall, their panels covered in dust and dirt. Not too long ago, Greg had managed to buy