Devoured, - [chapter books to read to 5 year olds TXT] 📗

it took to make you be nice to me was saving your life, I’d have pulled the hero shtick a little earlier.”

“Shut up, dumbass.” She let out a small laugh before pushing the heels of her hands against her temples.

“To answer your question, she’s a little bitchy, but I don’t blame her for hating me. I’m a colossal fuck up.”

“Did she die? When all of this happened?”

“Nah. She and her boyfriend, or whatever the hell they are, took off. They were going to the stadium the last I saw them. That was right when shit went south, so they probably made it.”

Cass watched him for a while. “I don’t think you’re a fuck up. You said something similar at the crack den. You have a shitty life?”

“First world problems, really. I haven’t been able to hold a job for years now. Wife resents me. No money. Unable to support us. Depressed.” Lance leaned back against the wall, but sat up again when the pummeling of the truck vibrated against his back. “I don’t know which came first though—her hating me, or me fucking up. Did I disgust her because I’m a loser, or did I become a loser because I disgusted her?”

They sat without speaking for a period of time that Lance couldn’t gauge. No access to the sun made it hard to judge.

“You survived the apocalypse, so far anyway. I’d say that makes you anything but a loser. You saved my ass.”

“I’m not sure that hiding in my apartment as people are slaughtered in the streets makes me much more than pond scum.”

“Bullshit. Everyone else was too stupid to do that. You carried an unconscious woman to safety. Fuck your ex—she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Lance laughed again. Despite the things that had just happened, and still were, he couldn’t help himself. Cass’ gruff personality and over-the-top way of talking had him grinning like a fool.

“That was half the problem. Too little of the fucking.”

“Oh shit. That’s the worst. I’m a woman, so I can get laid whenever I want. Dry spells are for idiots.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not talking about you, dumbass. Women can get laid whenever they want, so any of them who complain about not getting any are full of shit.”

Lance acted as if he was trying to peer up her skirt. “Are you sure there isn’t a penis in there somewhere? You talk more like a man than I do.”

“It’s true,” she said, dismissing his comment with a wave of her hand. “How long has it been?”

“What?”

“Since you had sex?”

“Oh. That’s a little private. And embarrassing.”

“You mentioned it. Besides, who am I going to tell?” She looked around the dimly lit area. “You might have noticed that the world has ended.”

Lance stared at the floor. “Six months. Before that, it had probably been a year.”

Cass choked. “What? Once in a year and a half? That’s crazy! That can’t be good for your health.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know before a few days ago that she’d been dating an old friend of mine for the past eighteen months. That kind of explains why she didn’t have much interest.”

“Are you sure your dick even works anymore?”

That made Lance snort.

“You’re a real douche, ya know? Besides, why am I taking such abuse from someone dressed like a reject from the Village People?”

Cass rolled her eyes. “Back to the way I dress again.”

“Well, you do look like a fool. A sexy fool, but a fool nonetheless.”

“There you go, hitting on me again.”

“I’m not, honestly. Just being truthful. You don’t look so bright in that outfit.”

“That really sucks. Here I was, hoping I could finally get that country club membership too.”

Lance’s blood-covered hand felt sticky as the bodily fluid dried. He’d wiped as much of it away as he could, but it still bothered him. Getting up from the bench, he rolled his sore shoulders and turned the dome light on again. He went to the front corner of their metal sarcophagus.

“Seriously though, you said you were artist. Is that getup some kind of statement about freedom of expression?” Lance found a bag that looked different from the others and unzipped it.

Assorted gym gear was inside. Lance’s back was to Cass as he went through the bag, his widening grin hidden from her. He pulled out an apple, two protein bars, three bottles of water, and a small amount of white powder in a baggie—only touching the food with his non-bloody hand. He figured the white stuff to be creatine or a protein powder of some kind.

Saliva pooled under his tongue as he touched the food.

“Fine,” Cass said from behind him. “You told me about your sad sex life, so I might as well tell the truth about my shit as well.”

“Your shit? Did you have to take profanity lessons to learn how to swear so much?”

“Shut up, ya douche. Or don’t you want to hear my stupid story?”

“Sorry. Please go on.” He found an iPod and a sleeveless Pittsburgh Pirates t-shirt in the bag. Smelly sneakers, balled-up socks, a small bottle of hand sanitizer, and two towels filled out the rest of the contents.

“I started dressing like this to fit in with the morons in the art scene at Duquesne. When I dropped out, I kept wearing it because I was too poor for new clothes, and it’s actually really comfortable. And I like it—so shut up. Not everyone has to wear a suit or a dress.”

“I’m not judging,” Lance said.

“Yes, you are.”

Lance opened one of the bottles of water and tilted it over his bloody hand, pouring just enough to wet the skin. He grabbed the Pirates shirt and used it to wipe everything clean. He repeated the process again, careful of his water usage. The hand sanitizer went on next.

Cass continued, “I was raised in the middle of nowhere, about an hour outside of Erie.”

“That’s what you said yesterday. I would have thought you were a city girl through and through.”

“Nope. My dad raised me. Mom left before I was old enough to even remember what she looked like. I spent a lot of time hunting and fishing with my dad. By the time I was a teenager, I resented the tomboy upbringing.”

“So you decided to dress like a fool?”

“I’m going to kick your ass if you say that again. But yes, that was a big part of it. He died during my freshman year of college.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I never got to tell him I was sorry for being such a bitch to him. My mom left him in a tough spot, having to raise a stubborn girl by himself, and he died before I was smart enough to realize it.”

Lance turned around. “He knew.”

“Did he? I don’t know. I was mean to him up until the time I left. Really mean.”

“He knew.” Lance grabbed the water and food, holding them behind his back. He slid over to Cass, kneeling on the floor in front of her. “I have something that’ll cheer you up.”

“If you pull your dick out, I’m going to stab you.”

“What?” Lance chuckled, shaking his head. “You have problems.” He held the items out in front of his chest. “Behold. I bring you food and drink.”

“Holy shit.” Cass’ eyes widened. She licked her lips as she stared at the apple. “Holy. Shit.”

“We can each have a protein bar, a bottle of piss-warm water, and split the apple. What do you think?”

“I’m allergic to whey protein. I’ll take the apple and you can have the bars.”

Lance handed it over along with a water bottle. He went back to the other bench and sat down, tearing one of the wrappers open. The protein bar tasted like chalk, but at that moment, nothing could have been better. He hadn’t eaten since the assholes at the restaurant tied him up.

“I know what you said at the meth lab, but I have a newsflash for you, Cassie—I think we’re becoming friends.”

“My friends know better than to call me Cassie.”

“Oops,” Lance said, his tone jovial.

They ate their food and sipped the water, relishing the small moment of pleasure. Cass turned the dome light off to preserve the vehicle’s battery.

The thuds against the outside of the truck dwindled over the next hour before stopping altogether.

Lance held his ear to the door.

Nothing.

“Why did they leave?” he asked, more to himself than to Cass.

“Maybe it’s getting dark out.”

“Do the daywalkers leave the streets when the Vladdies come out?”

“Daywalkers?”

Lance shrugged. “I started thinking of them like that while you were taking an extended nap earlier. Vladdie seems like a better choice for the ones at night.”

“That’s not a bad name—I like it. And I don’t know where they go. The ones that come out at night don’t attack them, so I don’t know why they would hide. Maybe someone else ran by and the… daywalkers… followed them. Or maybe they just gave up on getting in here. They’re going crazy, but some kind of intelligence is still in there for a while—they can talk after all.”