The World Hungers: A Post-Apocalyptic Story (The World Burns Book 3)

by Boyd Craven III

  Water was something that was going to be the more desperate issue. Bottles of it had been tossed in with them and then they had been left to their own devices. Time was meaningless in the dark, and only the oppressive heat of the structure gave them a hint it was daytime. Instead, they used sleep cycles. In the dark, they slept more than not. It was something Neal was used to. He was so used to retreating into his own mind that he often lulled himself into a sudden sleep or nap. He never usually affected his sleep at night time and he often had slept more hours in a day than he was awake.

  Patty hadn’t taken well to the capture. She cried hysterically the first day, more in anger and fear than any real pain. She tried to comfort Neal, about him trusting the stranger, telling him that she’d not lost her humanity enough to have wanted to shoot Kenny in cold blood when they found him. It only proved that you couldn’t just trust everybody. They certainly hadn’t, and a friendly face had turned into an absolute nightmare for the both of them.

  The sound of a pickup truck woke Patty and she bolted upright.

  “What was that?” She asked, running her hand over her forehead to ease the dull headache that had started the day after their water ran out.

  “Trucks leaving. Hope they crash.”

  “Me too,” she said softly sitting up and leaning into Neal’s side.

  “Maybe it means they’ll open up the door. If they do…”

  “We fight. We have to. I won’t let Kenny have me.”

  “I won’t either.” Neal said softly, already knowing the leaders intent for them.

  He’d respected Neal enough to not kill him outright, but he’d been fascinated with Patty. He was a widower with a daughter and was looking for a mother for her. He’d given them the basics of his deal while inside the back of the pickup truck on their ride back to the ranch. If Patty became his, Neal could live as a prisoner, unhurt but out of reach. To decline the offer was to be placed on the hooks. They hadn’t known what that meant until he put them in the darkness for a while to ‘soften’ them up and give her a chance to consider his proposition.

  They waited in silence until they heard the truck motor come back. Angry voices and shouts from the truck elicited surprised yells from the lodge and soon there was a flurry of sound. The door was rudely yanked open and harsh sunlight blinded them both, killing their will to fight. They were manhandled to their feet and dragged towards the lodge, their toes barely touching the ground. Two other forms, bloody were dragged from the pickup truck.

  “Where are you taking us?” Neal asked.

  “Shut up,” the guy holding his left arm yelled.

  “Take them all to the garage,” Kenny snarled, a blood stained shirt dragging a half conscious man. “I want answers.”

  They all were pushed into the garage through a side door. Only one bay of the garage acted as such and a shiny new Suburban sat dead in the parking space. A quick glance showed them that there was a room split off from the other bay, full of cleaning supplies for the ranch. The bay was bare, with sheetrock nailed in place and lawn furniture piled up on one side. Neal looked at the newcomers, captives like them. One of them had been shot in the side, under the armpit by the look of the bloodstains and the second man had a bullet wound in his leg and his back, possibly near his shoulder blade. Both were pale with pain and blood loss.

  Blake looked around the room, his eyes half open. It looked like they were bleeding out on floor of an everyday American’s garage. Kenny, the man with the limp pulled a stack of lawn chairs off to the side and put four of them down against the back wall and indicated to the men to put the prisoners there. Weston groaned, but didn’t regain consciousness and slumped in his chair.

  Patty looked around in a panic. Was this some sort of demonstration of power? She knew in her heart there was no way she’d willingly go to this monster. Not alive. She was pushed into the chair between Blake and Neal, with Weston taking the end spot.

  “Now, I’ve got some questions for you guys, and Miss, you already know what I want,” he smirked. “Now you two, where is your group situated?” He kicked Blake’s bad leg, making him cry out in pain.

  Blake screamed, pain overwhelming his senses.

  “I said, where is your homestead?”

  “It’s up in the hills.” He panted.

  “Good, good. Where in the hills?”

  “Up a driveway.” He panted and screamed as he was kicked again.

  “That’s not what I’m asking. Where is your house? What is your address?”

  “I don’t have one, it’s off the grid.”

  “Maybe I should just kill him?” Marv asked.

  “Naw, maybe we should just kill his friend?” Jerry piped up, his crossbow starting to rise.

  “Now there’s an interesting thought,” Kenny said, pulling out a large hunting knife. “Where is your homestead?”

  “Fucking cannibal.” Blake spat back.

  There was a pregnant silence and Patty and Neal looked at the group holding them hostage with something like shock.

  “Cannibals? Only selectively. There’s enough game here to keep us fed for a while.”

  “Yeah, eating the hearts gives us strength over our-“

  “Shut up Marv,” Jerry said, using his elbow to the side of the smaller man.

  The others in Kenny’s group looked a little green at that thought and looked at the leader and the two trackers with something like horror and disgust.

  “Oh, cannibalism has been practiced as long as there has been mankind. I’ve never fed you guys’ flesh of humans,” He told his guys, “Unless they asked for it,” he looked to Marv and Jerry.

  “That’s, that’s sick.” Patty told them.

  “It’s only been two months since the power went out. Surly you weren’t starving?” Neal asked, the horror of the situation dawning on him.

  “Oh, it’s more like getting bored with the same old, same old. In a backwoods hunt in Africa, I learned about the practice by the local tribal leader. They ate the heart and livers of their victims to gain the courage and power of the fallen warriors. I tried it, wasn’t bad. Now that we are selectively thinning the herd in our area, I wondered what it’d be like. So here we are. Answer my question, because I want to know what kind of sheep are in my meadows.”

  “What do you want to know?” Neal asked, ready to tell him anything.

  Kenny smiled, a wicked gleam in his eye. With a start, the captives realized that they weren’t dealing with a sane man, and perhaps fear or security was the only thing keeping the nervous men he surrounded himself with there with him in this den of insanity.

  “I want to know where his group is from. You aren’t a part of it are you?” He pointed his knife at Neal, before using the flat of the blade to tilt his chin up.

  “No, I’m not. We came in from Ann Arbor.”

  A low whistle answered this. Kenny moved over to Patty, and slid the blade under the straps of one side of her bra and tank top and slit it. The fabric parted easily, falling halfway down her shoulder before stopping at the cup of her bra.

  “Is that true missy?” He ran the tip of the knife across the bottom of her throat gently, drawing a bead of blood at the junction of her ribcage and neck before stopping it’s movement under the other side of her straps.

  “Yes, we lived by the university. We’re neighbors. I have my ID….”

  Kenny slit the fabric, watching it fall, probably expecting her bra to fall loose. His eyes widened in anticipation, but he’d forgotten about the back strap. He made up for it by putting his hand on her neck, using his thumb to gently rub her lips. She froze and held still until Kenny moved in front of Blake. He didn’t try to threaten him, just asked him a question quietly.

  “Where is your group?”

  “Go to hell.” Blake told him defiantly, his head wobbling as he tried to look the other man in the eye.

  The knife flashed and Blake flinched. It sank up to its hilt in Weston’s sternum and Kenny ripped it up savagely. Westo
n jerked for a moment, a small spray of blood coming out of his mouth before Blake screamed obscenities. He wiped the blade off on Weston’s shirt and stood in front of Blake again.

  “One last time, where is your homestead?” he held the blade at Blake’s throat.

  Neal was almost shocked comatose, but he’d gotten an idea. If it worked out, he could maybe save the stranger as well as the both of them. The logical side of his brain was trying to calculate the odds of survival of this crazy plan, and no matter how many chips were stacked against them, the plan was the only chance at survival he saw.

  “Ken, stop. I’ll make a deal with you,” Neal shouted.

  The knife wavered for a moment and then Ken turned to look, a crazed expression on his face.

  “Go on?” He gestured with his knife.

  “I’ll make you a trade.” Neal said.

  “For what?”

  “I’ll have Patty come with you willingly, and you let us guys go.”

  “What?” The look of shock and disgust matched her horrified expression. “Neal, how could you?”

  Neal swallowed and for once was thankful that he couldn’t show his emotions well.

  “You were a great neighbor and friend, but I don’t like you the same way you like me. Sorry.”

  “You… you…” She broke down in tears.

  “Free? Go free?” He looked at Patty, taking in her curves with his hungry eyes, her hair that fell like golden strands of silk, the natural beauty that shone through despite being dirty, grimy and without a wash for days on end as they were locked up.

  “I just have to convince her. Let me talk to her.”

  “No.”

  “It’s the only way I can convince her.”

  “You’re sure you can?” He licked his lips.

  “What are you doing Kenny?” One of his men asked, one of the group who had been horrified when he found out his leader was consuming human flesh.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he snapped.

  “Let me talk to her. Alone.” Neal said, knowing it was a gamble and if he lost the throw of the dice…

  “Ok, put them in the storage room. You have two minutes.”

  “That’s all I’ll need.”

  He stood and tried to take Patty’s hand. She pulled her arm away from him and tried to look away.

  “If she won’t go with you, I’ll carry her myself,” Ken rubbed himself, smiling broadly.

  He played with his knife a second, and Patty broke under his intense gaze and jumped to her feet and stalked away from Neal. He followed her into the supply room and almost cringed at the angry hurt expression on her face.

  “Remember, two minutes to convince her to come willingly.”

  “I’d rather die!” She snarled, but they were shutting the door.

  “I can’t believe I ever felt-“ She started screaming, but Neal stepped in close and shut her mouth with a passionate kiss.

  He ran his fingers through the sides of her hair, and when her breath hitched he pulled back.

  “I love you. We don’t have much time, you have to trust me, ok?” His voice was almost lost in the shock that Patty felt.

  “What?” She looked punch drunk and confused.

  “Get those buckets out for me. Hurry.”

  Neal ran to the shelving units and found a large bottle of ammonia and a bottle of bleach. When he turned, something else caught his eye. It was a package of pool chlorine and shock in the powdered form. He shoved that in his pocket and turned to find Patty had grabbed four pails and was holding them out.

  “You almost done in there?” A loud voice boomed out from the other side of the door.

  “I still have ninety seconds,” Neal yelled back and was rewarded with a laugh.

  “Don’t break her.”

  “I’ll break all of you,” he muttered taking two of the buckets and tore the cap off the bleach and poured the gallon of it between two of the buckets.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Arming ourselves,” he took the other too buckets and turned and poured the ammonia and the smell hit them right away, sharp and pungent.

  “Hold your breath, and then throw this on them.”

  “Hold my breath?”

  “Bleach plus ammonia makes hydrochloric acid and chlorine gas. It’s deadly. Now, hold your breath now.” He poured the bleach into the bucket of ammonia and motioned her to do the same.

  He almost kicked the door off its hinges getting it open and two of Kenny’s men, the trackers were right there by the jam, trying to listen in with Kenny standing a few feet behind them. The bubbling gassing liquid in Neal’s bucket was flung on the three. The two in the front caught it full on the chest and face and Kenny caught the splatter on the side of his head. They screamed horribly and Neal took the bucket for patty and waited until the others came running to the doorway to check on them. He flung the volatile mess at them, hitting them in the chest with the caustic liquid. Marv and Jerry fell horribly, the exposed skin sloughing off in strips, choking and gagging.

  Neal took Patty’s hand and pulled her to where the remaining stranger was. They each took an experimental breath and almost gasped. The stranger was also having a hard time breathing and they only slowed their way to the door to grab the shotgun from one of the men. Their coughs and wet gasps filled the air as they thrashed on the concrete.

  “Hurry, Ken’s gone.” Neal gasped.

  Pushing the door open to the outside was a literal breath of fresh air, and Blake staggered, his bad leg not supporting his weight. A door to the house slammed shut and they half dragged, half walked Blake between them towards the trucks. They pushed him in the side door of the Ford that they had drove in recently. Luckily, the keys were in the ignition.

  “I can’t drive.” Neal told Patty, “I never learned.”

  “I can, unless it’s a stick.” She said.

  “It is,” Blake told them, moving into the driver’s seat. “Get in.”

  Patty slid in and felt a tap on her right shoulder, turning she saw Neal looking in at her.

  “I do love you. I wasn’t lying. I need to disable the other truck. If I don’t make it…”

  “Just hurry,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

  Neal ran, pulling the packet of pool shock from his pocket, tearing it open. He slid to a stop next to the bed and pulled the fuel door open. He dropped the gas cap as he heard a gunshot ring out and he ducked, dropping the packet. He got on his knees and scooped up the packet and poured it down the fuel port. It was an older truck, and the crystals easily slid down the opening. He ran as low to the ground as he could, keeping the truck’s body between him and Patty and leapt into the bed of the pickup.

  “Go he yelled.” Just as another gunshot rang out.

  They tore out of the long drive to the hunting ranch just as a fire erupted from the truck, engulfing it in flames.

  “I’m Blake,” a bloody, wincing driver told Patty.

  “I’m Patty, that’s Neal,” she nodded to the bed of the truck. “Where are we going?”

  “To my homestead. We have shelter, defenses and safety.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 13 –

  The Homestead – Kentucky

  Blake laid on the horn as he was coming up the driveway. Stealth was gone, and he knew if he passed out before his family could find him, the newcomers would die in the traps and defenses. Duncan stepped out from his vantage point, an M4 held at the ready. His body shook with tension. Blake’s vision wavered and he came to a dead stop as he stalled the truck, passing out.

  “Blake,” Duncan shouted, approaching the truck on ready, yelling to somebody over his shoulder.

  Another camouflaged man stepped out of the gloom on the east side of the lane, surprising Patty as he opened the passenger door, a pistol in his fist. He quickly pulled the shotgun from Patty’s limp hands and she half turned to check on Neal to make sure he wasn’t going to freak out. There was no movement she could see from
the bed of the truck and she began to rise when the man pushed her back gently.

  “Get Blake out of here,” Duncan said.

  The young man nodded and picked up Blake in a fireman’s carry and hustled up the hill and out of Patty’s sight. Duncan raised the radio to his lips.

  “I’ve got one wounded, send the quad. Blake’s priority number one, I’m not sure if the stranger here is going to make it.”

  Patty looked around in shock, startling Duncan who dropped the mic and raised the M4 pointing it at her head.

  “Hold still, easy. Where’s Weston?” His gun wavered slightly.

  “Neal, is he ok?” Her voice was strained and her body shook from fear and tension as she stared into the bore of the carbine.

  “Where is Weston?” He repeated, “Is that Neal in the back?”

  “Yes, he’s... Let me see him.”

  “Ma’am, you better not.” Duncan told her.

  “No, I have to.” She ignored the gun and almost pulled the door handle off as a sob escaped her lips. She jumped in the bed of the truck where Neal was. Blood was coming out of his nose and mouth and a neat hole in the fabric of his shirt bubbled, air in the blood.

  “No… Neal, Neal honey, just hold on.” She sobbed, holding her hand on the ghastly wound.

  Duncan saw her reaction and knew in his heart that she was no threat. She was disarmed and going to pieces over the man who’s lungs had been torn apart by a bullet. Still, he could try.

  “Pull him to the edge, follow me. There are traps everywhere. Step where I step, do you got it?”

  She nodded, the world a blur. She cried harder when she saw his back, a larger hole exited just below his shoulder blade and his entire back was scarlet. The portly pastor cradled the small man and started walking. Time almost stood still for Patty when three quads showed up, two of the drivers women, the other was the young man from earlier.