Raven's Hell Read online

  Evernight Publishing ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 Jenika Snow

  ISBN: 978-1-77233-139-4

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  When the caterpillar thought it was the end of the world she turned into a butterfly.

  —Anonymous

  RAVEN’S HELL

  Savages, 2

  Jenika Snow

  Copyright © 2014

  Preface

  A flu vaccine was what collapsed civilization.

  Something as simple as an immunization was found to stop the spread of cancer. It had been hailed worldwide as a magnificent accomplishment, one where the scientists had thought they had come across something monumental. They had, but what they brought to humans was a hell on earth. The ones who had gotten the vaccine started exhibiting signs of cannibalism and necrosis right away. They became far sicker than anyone could have imagined. Everyone thought they were safe if they stayed away, waited out the sickness. They refused to take responsibility for what they had done, what they had created. They had thought they were helping people, curing something as devastating as cancer.

  They had been wrong.

  Whatever was in the flu shots had infected people, changing something inside of them and making them crazed, thirsty for blood, and something that wasn’t considered human any longer. It slowly killed them from the inside out, made their flesh rot, every orifice bleed, and all logical reasoning vanish. And this was the world they lived in now, tried to survive each and every day with obstacles thrown against them. Starvation, death, rape, and being hunted by walking corpses was the world now, and the ones standing needed to be the strongest, and have no remorse in trying to survive.

  Chapter One

  New York City, 2013

  The music was loud, the room filled with smoke, and naked flesh gyrated in front of him. Collin Suthers leaned back, brought the cigar to his mouth, and inhaled deeply. The smoke billowed out around him when he exhaled, and the sight before him had his dick hardening. There were two naked women sitting in front of him, their hands on each other, their mouths fused together, and the thought of them getting it on for his viewing pleasure a guarantee in the very near future.

  The club he was currently in was one of many he owned in New York. This was his empire, his world, and he controlled it any way he saw fit. He wasn’t a good man, didn’t care about anything but what allowed him to grow as a King in every way. He fucked any female he wanted, because they were there for the taking. He killed without remorse when the time called for it, and he never looked back. Never. He did things to ensure he stayed on top, and because of that he survived. He always survived, and always would.

  Marco, one of the men working for him stepped up to Collin, leaned down, and whispered in his ear.

  “Mr. Suthers, the shipment is here for your inspection.”

  Collin stood, smoothed his hands down his three-piece suit, and made his way to the back room. The room was lit with harsh florescent lighting, but this space was used to store the club supplies and conduct Collin’s less than legal business deals. He moved away from the shelving and stopped at the stainless steel wall that held bottles of stocked liquor. Collin gestured for Marco to proceed. He crouched and pushed one of the boxes of bottled beer aside. Marco pressed the hidden lever that had the wall opening up and revealing a small office. Collin heard the side door open and saw two men coming forward with black briefcases in their hands. Collin’s men patted them down for weapons once more, because although they had been frisked before they were allowed in his club, he didn’t trust anyone.

  They walked into the back room, and the wall shut behind them, sealing them in. Collin had Marco and Peter standing guard, their guns visible if these two junkie fuckers thought to try anything. If they were smart and knew Collin’s reputation they would not, of course, but they were drug addicts so anything was possible.

  “Collin, we have some primo shit here—”

  “Just shut up and put the fucking cases on the table.” Collin didn’t have time for conversation. He didn’t give a shit what these assholes thought. “If the product isn’t up to standards then the solution for bringing me less than quality drugs is simple.” He stared at the two men, and although he didn’t usually do business with junkies, their product was known to be top shelf shit. He’d find out for himself.

  The men set the cases on the desk, opened them, and the product that was presented could have given Collin a hard-on. “Sample it.” He pulled out his switchblade, sliced the package of heroin with the blade, and held it up to one of the men. The junkie was eager to try, and he moved forward and sniffed the white power off of the stainless steel. After a few seconds of Collin waiting to see if the fucker would drop dead, he had one of his men try the heroin. Marco took a hit for himself, inhaled roughly, and then nodded.

  “The product is primo, Boss. The drip hits real good in the back of the throat.”

  “You have contacts in South America that hook you up with this product?” Collin asked and shut the cases of heroin. When they didn’t answer right away, but just looked at each other, Collin’s patience faded. “Answer the fucking question. I have other business to attend to, and you’re wasting my time.”

  “No disrespect, Mr. Suthers. Um,” one of the men said. “We know a guy that knows a guy that knows a guy in the Cartel. He can send us small amounts at a time. This load took a month to get to us because of the mules having to cross the border.”

  Collin would need to look into getting into contact with their wholesale distributor, because the meth and coke he sold wasn’t enough. He had inventory to stock, people to get high, and his empire was expanding. He nodded to Peter, who grabbed the duffle from off the floor and tossed it to the junkies’ feet.

  “That’s the amount we discussed.” Collin stared at the two men, and when they didn’t move right away his patience snapped. “Get the fuck out of here.”

  They grabbed the money and took off once the wall was opened again. Collin sat on the edge of the desk, blew out a breath, and stared at Marco and Peter, his two most loyal men that worked for him. “Let’s get laid and fucked up.” And then the three of them headed back out to the club to get their dicks wet and enjoy the rest of the evening with a little cocaine and some booze.

  Chapter Two

  Seven months after the fall of civilization

  Collin walked across the rooftop, his last cigarette in his mouth and the sun beating down on him. In just six short months the city of New York had crumbled. Parts of buildings were missing from the bombs that had been dropped. The government had tried to eradicate the threat of the infection spreading by killing off the sick, as well as anyone still healthy and on the ground. Sections of the city were nothing more than crumbled wastelands, burnt to the ground, blackened and ash-filled. He had stayed, though, become the last man standing in his crew, and watched everyone around him flee, become infected, or waste away and die.

  He sat on the edge of the roof, his feet hanging off the side, the drop below thirty stories. The wind picked up, and the stench of the decay below, of the filth that built up in the city and covered it like a sickening blanket, filled his nose. He took another hit off the cigarette, pulled the smoke back, and looked at it. He’d had a few cartons at his place before all of this shit had happened, and during it he had acquired a few more cartons, along with other supplies in exchange for helping some people. Because he had run things before the infection, a lot of people in his area had looked for him for help. But Collin couldn’t do anything but wait it out just like everyone else.

  “So long,” he said to the smoke, took the final hit, and then flicked it over the ledge. Even from the distance he could see the infected below, stumbling around, their groans muffled by the distance. Collin stood and walked back to the rooftop entrance of the apartment building he lived in. He had the penthouse, and although he had lived here comfortably for the last six months, staying was not an option he wanted to exercise anymore. His resources in the city had run out, and if he stayed he’d die like the rest of this place. The country seemed like a good place to start his life over, away from this fucking death, the life he had once had, and now was the time to leave.

  He headed down the stairs and into his place. The sound of moaning came up from the lower levels, and he knew getting through this building and past the fucking infected was going to be a bitch. But he had been preparing for this, plotting out his way to leave the city with as little hassle as possible. After shutting the door behind him, he leaned against his door and stared at his penthouse apartment. The entire upper level was his, with an open floor plan that he had worked for from the floor up. He had everything packed: a backpack with enough supplies—the rest of what he had—a few weapons, and a pair of clothes. Those were the items he’d have to survive on until he found other supplies. He was smart enough to know that the measures he’d have to take to survive out in the world, to get more supplies, could very well mean he’d have to kill and maim for them. br />
  He walked over, grabbed his coat and backpack, and shoved the jacket inside of it. This was it. He was leaving all of this shit behind, going to set roots down away from where the stench of death and decay covered the streets, filtered up to the rooftops, and saturated him in vileness. He didn’t have a shirt on, and his reflection in the wall mirror across from him showed the many scars he had gotten leading a bad life, a few bullet holes in his shoulder, and the raven tattoo that covered his back. He grabbed his shirt off of the couch, and once it was on he went over to his things. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, taking one more look at the life he had once lived, a life that was no more, he set out to start over.

  Collin left his apartment, started making his way down the stairwell, and stepped over a few rotting corpses. They wore employee outfits, their bodies partially eaten from the few straggling infected that had made their way back here months ago. The smell was intense, but Collin was used to it, used to the death that was part of his world now. His descent was far since he had been on the top floor, and when he finally reached the bottom he stopped, hearing the low groans and shuffling coming from behind one of the two doors. One exit led out the back alley that he knew was thick with infected, and the other went into the employee kitchen. The groaning was coming from the staff entrance, and although he could have taken a big chance and risked going out through the back entrance, he was playing it smart. He had a better chance of going through the main part of the apartment building and dealing with what leftover corpses were walking around, than braving the small, narrow alley that wouldn’t allow him to move very well.

  He walked over to the staff entrance, listened to see if he could hear how many infected were behind it, and when he heard only the one, he held onto the lead pipe he had in one hand and gripped the door handle with the other. He had a few weapons on him, one being the pipe, a couple of knives, even a thick bike chain. He had two guns with him and a small amount of ammo he had stocked up on. But Collin wasn’t going to waste the bullets on the sick so soon.

  When Collin pulled the door open, he held the pipe up high, saw the infected slowly turn around and face him because of the noise, and watched a spark of energy come to life in the asshole. The guy was badly decomposed, but not nearly enough for him to be one of the original people who had gotten that damn vaccine that started all of this shit. No, this poor bastard had been infected by a bite, and that was confirmed when he lifted his arm toward Collin and the grisly looking bite mark was prominent on his inner bicep. His head was cocked unnaturally to the side, and when he opened his mouth Collin saw the way his tongue hung over his mouth, no longer attached fully.

  Collin moved forward, bashed the pipe on the side of the man’s head, and heard the sickening crunch of his skull caving in. The corpse fell to the ground, and black blood was pooling beneath his body, covering the red tiled floor beneath. He stared at the kitchen, the large stainless steel appliances, the few dead bodies on the ground, and the fact it was scavenged clean. He had come down, as had many of the people still toughing it out in the building, and taken what supplies he could. There had been riots and looting, killing and overall chaos. The apartment building he lived in had catered to the wealthy, served room service even, and because he had been on top of the world, owning his own empire, albeit an underground one, Collin had ruled like a King. But that was in the past. He was alone now, and it was kill or be killed.

  The building had been closed up, and with no windows in the kitchen, the only light came through the open doorway from the stairwell, the one that led into the main foyer of the complex. The place stank to high hell and looked like a dark wasteland. He moved around the dead bodies, pressed himself up against the wall, and listened to hear if there was any movement in the main lobby. When he heard silence he leaned over the side, stared out the doorway, and saw that it was clear. Collin moved through the lobby, stepped on broken glass, walked over the body of the security officer that had been named Robert, and went over to the front doors. The glass on the front part of the building was reinforced and had withstood the destruction of the city. He peered through the foggy, filthy glass, saw a few infected across the street, more down the way moving slowly away from him, and he knew that he would need to just make a run for it. Because the infected were already dead, the infection that killed them rotting their bodies from the inside out, they were slow, had no conscious thought, and were only intent on feeding. Collin could handle one or two head-on, but if he got stuck, cornered with a horde of them, he’d be outnumbered and done for. Even a scratch from one of these motherfuckers would infect him, and he wasn’t going to die that way. If his life on this world ended, it would be because he’d fought to survive, not because a nasty corpse got to him. He opened the door, and the damn thing creaked. Pausing, he hoped those bastards didn’t hear the sound, and waited to make sure everything was clear to go. When they didn’t turn and notice him, he slipped out of the door, and started moving toward the city limits. The road ahead of him would be pretty damn long, but he had nothing but time anymore.

  He made his way quickly down the street, stayed close to the side of the buildings, and kept his attention all around. There was the decomposing woman lying on the sidewalk, her face unrecognizable, and her scraggly long dark hair lightly blowing from the breeze. She held a small bundle wrapped in a pink blanket, and the sight was heartbreaking. In all his life Collin had never felt any kind of emotion aside from the power, violence, and rage that stayed with him at all times. But things inside of him were changing. He was changing.

  Another infected moved out from an alleyway and crashed into Collin. They both fell backward, the corpse scenting fresh meat and starting to try to bite at his neck. Black blood, bits of rotten flesh, and the stench of death covered Collin. The pipe dropped to the side and rolled down the sidewalk. He brought his knee up, grabbed for the knife at his ankle, and once he had it slammed it into the fucker’s ear. The infected fell off of him, but the scuffle had caused commotion, and the other assholes that had been moving away were now moving toward him. Collin got up, grabbed his backpack that had fallen during the scuffle, and the pipe, and moved quickly away from the death and corpses, and out of the city.

  ****

  One year later

  Solitude. Isolation. Alone.

  Those three things meant the same, and they were definitely the worst things that had happened since the world had ended, at least to Rebecca Shaw.

  Walking corpses needing, wanting to consume human flesh, men who were no longer decent and honest, but intent on raping, maiming, and stealing anything and everything, were what she lived with now. But those things weren’t as bad as the silence that consumed her, at the fact she’d never be able to sleep next to a warm body again, or the fact that she was utterly and miserably alone for the rest of her life. She couldn’t trust anyone but herself now. With no family or friends left, she was this lone person that was always looking over her shoulder, always wondering if tonight would be the night she didn’t wake up, or if she was taken and used as a plaything for depraved men.

  Rebecca stared out the single, tiny window in the loft she now called home. The moon’s glow came through marginally, but she didn’t need much light. She was currently staring at the small lake in the distance, at the way the light bounced off the surface of the water and seemed to make it glow. The close, distinct sound of moaning and groaning had her looking below the abandoned warehouse she was in. She didn’t know what the building had been used for, but she assumed maybe manufacturing farm machinery by some of the equipment scattered, slightly dismantled, on the floor below.

  The moaning got a little louder, a little more desperate, and she knew the corpses down below were hungry. She had been holed up in the loft for the last few days, but she knew she’d have to venture out because her supplies were dangerously low. She spotted a walking corpse directly across from her window. Although Rebecca was a few stories up from the ground, she could see the woman well enough because of the full moon. Rebecca didn’t know if the walking dead were called zombies, but it didn’t matter much anyway. They were what they were: rotting flesh, decomposing former people, and monsters needing living human flesh to survive.