The Hunger (Book 1): Devoured by Jason Brant Read Free Book Online Page B

“Bullshit.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not. These people are very much alive. But their bodies are changing at an incredible rate. The woman who came in yesterday barely resembles—”
    Three raps on the door cut him off.
    “Time’s up, Doctor Brown,” Eifort said from the hallway.
    “What time?” Lance asked.
    “They’re limiting our time with each patient. Listen to me very carefully—do not kiss each other or touch anyone who is bleeding. You don’t want to be exposed to any bodily fluids other than your own. We don’t have a test to tell who’s infected or not. Only time is giving us any indicator. If this thing gets inside you, symptoms will appear within hours.”
    The door opened and Eifort poked her head inside. “Now, Doc. The major will be up my ass if you don’t get out here.”
    Brown went to the door. “Be careful. I’ll stop by later if I can.”
    Lance wanted to know more, but the doc looked too exhausted to keep going much longer. He figured it would be better to let the man see patients who actually needed help and not just information.
    To his surprise, Brown paused by the door for a moment, before motioning for him to follow. Lance jumped off the bed, his sore feet and ribs regretting the sudden movement, and fell in line behind him.
    “This patient needs to have further testing done. I have to take him down the hall for a moment.”
    “Bullshit,” Eifort said. “You know the rules.”
    “If this man dies because we couldn’t—”
    “He looks fine to me.”
    Gunfire exploded outside. Heavy and louder than last time, the walls vibrating from concussive blasts.
    Lance ran back to the window, his pain temporarily forgotten.
    The soldier operating the mounted gun fired relentlessly, spraying bullets down an alley to his right. He paused, swiveling around, and let loose another burst into the street.
    Lance craned his neck, pressing his face against the window, following the soldier’s line of sight.
    A dozen people ran forward with jerky gaits. Their bodies appeared bloated, like they retained too much water. They hissed and shrieked, their wails filling the area.
    The machine gun cut them down.
    Civilians cried out and ran inside a café across the street. Two uniformed men dragged the dead bodies to the sidewalk and stacked them on top of each other.
    Major Reynolds strode into the street, barking orders. He was the only person down there who appeared to keep his cool. Men ran around him, following his directions, setting up railings, sawhorses, and police tape to keep people at bay.
    One of the soldiers by the door lost his breakfast as a dilapidated body on a gurney was carried past him.
    Lance turned around. “Eifort, what’s going on out there? Are they telling you anything? It’s like a fucking warzone.”
    Her eyes were as big as saucers, plainly visible through her gasmask. “I’m under orders not to—”
    “Goddamn it! They’re killing people in the streets! You need to help us get out of here! You realize that we’re locked inside this damned building with at least fifty infected people? Do you expect us to just wait here to die?”
    “You’re surrounded by armed soldiers who are here to protect you,” she said without conviction. “This is the safest place you could be.”
    “Tell that to the people piled three deep on the sidewalk.” Lance pointed out the window. “They’re executing the sick. If the order to take us out comes down, will you shoot us too?”
    She stared at him for a while, her fingers tapping on the stalk of her rifle. “What do you want?”
    Glass shattered somewhere down the hall.
    A man cried out, screaming like a wounded animal.
    “Stay here, I’ll come back in a minute.” Eifort slammed the door shut, taking Brown with her.
    More shouting came from the streets below. Lance looked down, watching as a few soldiers coiled cables around their arms, packing them in crates. They loaded up the canvas-covered back of a truck.