Season of Rot

by Eric S. Brown

  The others fell silent. Even Jenkins settled back against the side of a jeep, keeping his mouth shut for once.

  “Scott’s never late,” Warren continued. “He’s too damn good for the dead or the vermin to take him down without him getting off a couple shots.”

  “Where does that leave us?” Matt asked, looking to Warren for direction.

  “We’re going into Greensburg and we’re going to take what we need, demons or not.” Warren tossed his smoke aside and walked past Matt to the jeeps.

  “Whoa, hold up!” Daniel cut in. The hulking mass of muscle that he was, he still managed to sound like a frightened child. “Didn’t you just say there may be demons down there?”

  Warren climbed into the driver seat of the closest jeep and turned its key, revving the engine. Only then did he speak. “We have to get those supplies or everyone in the convoy is dead, not just us.”

  “You heard the man,” Michelle barked. “Daniel, you can ride with me and Jenkins. I don’t want you stuck alone with Scott gone.”

  The big man scrambled over to join them as Warren peeled out down the hill, barely giving Matt time to hop in the jeep.

  The road into Greensburg was filled with abandoned cars. There was no sign of the dead—even the true dead. It was odd not to see picked-over skeletons littering the street. Clearly the rats had swept through this area some time ago.

  The wreckage filling the roadway forced the team to slow down so much that Warren almost wished he’d brought the tank to clear a path. As the team finally rolled into town, the dying sunlight vanished from the sky, and night fell over them.

  Warren scrapped the lists of needed supplies in his head, focusing solely on fuel. Something wasn’t right here, and the sooner he could get his team in and out the better. He ordered the jeeps to a halt at the first gas station and dispatched Michelle and her crew to find a tanker truck, which they would use to haul the fuel. He and Matt secured the station and went to work on getting the pumps operational; luckily most stations had a backup generator, and it was just a matter of getting it running.

  By the time the tanker drove up with Michelle at the wheel and Daniel and Jenkins following her in the jeep, the lights were on at the station. Warren said a quiet prayer of thanks that his information about the town had been correct. There weren’t many places left with easily accessible fuel tankers. Daniel and Matt leapt into action and began filling the massive tanker to its brim.

  Michelle approached Warren, and his eyes lingered on her long legs for a moment before he realized he was staring. He cursed himself for his weakness and got to business. “Well?”

  “No sign of Scott. We haven’t seen a single rat or walking corpse either. It’s as if this whole town is just empty.”

  “Shit.” Warren grimaced. “It’s a trap. The rats must have been watching the convoy.”

  Michelle retreated a step, as if afraid he might lose it. “But if it’s a trap, why aren’t we dead yet?”

  “It’s not that kind of trap,” Warren explained, springing into movement. “Finish filling her up, then get the hell out of here!” he told Daniel and Matt. “I don’t care where you go, but don’t head to the rally point—no matter what happens. Understood?”

  Both men nodded.

  “Keep your radios on and stay sharp. We’ll be in touch as soon as we can.” Warren sprinted to his jeep, motioning for Michelle and Jenkins to follow him. “The fucking demons are making a move on the convoy. We’ve got to get back there—now!”

  #

  The dead came out of nowhere and the rats followed in their wake. The convoy had been in the process of setting up a new camp, and the handful of trained fighters Warren left behind simply weren’t enough to organize the would-be defenders. Hundreds upon hundreds of the dead surrounded the camp’s perimeter as nearly everyone with a weapon opened fire. Most of the bullets struck rotting chests and arms without real effect; worse, some of them struck legs and kneecaps, creating crawlers who wormed their way beneath the protective line of vehicles into the already terrified mob of civilians. Only a headshot stopped the dead.

  One woman, in her attempt to flee, ran in front of the M-60 mounted on the command APC, and Mike, unable to turn the heavy gun away in time, watched her body splatter into a bloody pulp.

  Benji sat behind him atop the APC, spraying the dead with an AK-47 cranked up to full auto.

  Waves of rats poured beneath the shambling legs of the dead, using the corpses as cover as they raced towards camp. The convoy’s flamethrowers were the only defense against the vermin, but if Mike ordered them to be employed now, with the rats under cover the way they were, the whole convoy would be overwhelmed by a sea of flaming corpses. Somewhere in the battle a man howled as the rats washed over him, pulling him to the ground as their teeth tore into his skin.

  Mike watched as Gerald and two of his mechanics struggled to load a group of children into an escape van. The engineer blasted a dozen rats into blood and bone with his shotgun. As he went to pump another round into the chamber, a cold gray hand latched onto his weapon and pulled him face to face with one of the dead.

  At that moment, the ground itself seemed to shake, nearly blowing out Mike’s eardrums. He lost his balance and fell from the top of the command car, but Benji grabbed him by the shirt at the last possible second and kept him from falling off completely. He helped Mike climb back up, and they looked around for the source of the quake.

  Some idiot had tried to fire the tank’s main gun, but the shell had detonated against a clog of rats that had been searching the barrel for a way in. The combat vehicle was now a flaming mass of wreckage and secondary explosions as its remaining ammo expended itself in the blaze.

  Mike could see Benji shouting something at him but couldn’t make out the words over the ringing in his ears. A dead hand reached up from below and took hold of his ankle, trying to pull him from the vehicle. Benji slid to Mike’s side, pressed his 9mm sidearm against the creature’s head and pulled the trigger. Mike jerked free as the thing toppled backwards to the ground.

  More explosions rippled through the convoy, lighting up the night like flares. Many of the cars and trucks were engulfed in flames.

  Mike heard the bullet before it slapped against his skull. As Benji leaned over him and the darkness swooped down over his vision, Mike realized too late that he hadn’t been able to alert Warren and his team to the attack.

  #

  Michelle could see the fires raging where the convoy was supposed to be camped, red and orange flames leaping up into the darkness.

  Warren slammed on the brakes and the jeep came to a screeching halt on the road.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she screamed.

  “We’re too late,” he said; he sounded hollow. He went to slam the gearshift into reverse, but Michelle bolted from her seat. Warren turned to Jenkins. “Why the hell didn’t you stop her?”

  Jenkins didn’t answer. He was frozen as if in some kind of shock, his eyes transfixed on the carnage in the distance.

  “Shit.” Warren jerked the gearshift into park, then swung his feet onto the asphalt and ran after Michelle.

  She was tall and fast, made even faster by the adrenaline pumping through her veins, but Warren managed to grab her from behind and bring her to a halt. “Michelle, it’s over.”

  “No!” She tried to shove Warren off of her. “My brother’s there—we have to help them!”

  “Michelle—”

  She elbowed him hard in the stomach. Any other man might have fallen from the blow, but Warren’s training took over; he spun her around and smashed his fist into her cheek.

  Michelle toppled to the road. She got on her knees and looked up at Warren with a burning rage in her eyes. He didn’t have time to argue with her. They had to get out of the area before the rats from the convoy discovered they were there.

  He kicked Michelle in the head, and she fell over, eyes rolling up to the whites. Then Warren picked her up and tossed her in
to the jeep’s passenger seat.

  Jenkins was beginning to come around. “What… what are we going to do?” he asked.

  “Survive.” Warren gunned the engine, and the wheels spun out as he doubled back the way they had come. “Mike!” he said into his radio. “Mike, if you’re out there, bring anyone you can to the second rally point. Mike!”

  The radio remained silent.

  “It’s like you said,” Jenkins reminded him. “We were too late. They’re all dead.”

  Warren tossed the radio aside and focused on the road in front of him.

  #

  “Hey there, sis.” Benji smiled as Michelle opened her eyes. At first she thought she was dreaming, until she tried to sit up and a sharp pain stabbed through her head.

  “Whoa.” Benji gently pushed her back down. “You had a pretty rough knock to the head.” He laughed. “I told you that Warren guy was a psycho. Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.”

  Michelle looked around at her surroundings. She was lying on a makeshift pile of bedding stretched out on the dirt. The sun was high in the sky, and she could hear people talking in the distance.

  “The convoy was burning.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “I… I thought you were dead.”

  “I almost was,” Benji replied. “Less than twenty of us made it out of there alive.”

  “Mike?” she asked.

  “Mike’s fine. A bullet grazed his head, but he’s fine.”

  Michelle squeezed Benji’s hand and smiled. He nodded and smiled back.

  “Where are we?”

  “About seventy miles closer to the base Mike’s been leading us to.” Benji shook his head. “We’re down to one overcrowded van, a pickup truck that’s nearly falling apart, and the tanker and jeeps you guys brought with you from Greensburg.”

  “That doesn’t sound too hopeful.”

  “Actually, in a kind of sad and sick way, Mike says we’re better off. We can move faster now and we’re a smaller target. Mike said the rats may even think they got us all and leave us alone if we’re lucky.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Benji gave her a funny look. “Warren said the exact same thing.”

  “Where is that bastard?”

  “He’s off with Mike. I think they’re discussing a faster route to the base since we don’t have as many people to worry about now. Mike talks like we might be able to reach the base in just over a day if we keep pushing straight when we roll out.” Benji paused, “A day, Michelle, can you believe it? A single day.”

  “Good.” She tried to sound cheerful. “Then maybe I won’t have to eat your burnt oatmeal anymore.”

  Benji shot her a playful injured look. “Just get some rest, okay? We’ll be moving soon.”

  She promised she would, and he scurried off to where the others were. Michelle closed her eyes and tried to think of the future, but all she could see were the flames of the convoy burning in the night.

  Hours later, the convoy ventured on toward the base. Michelle found herself riding shotgun next to Warren in one of the combat jeeps, with Benji in the seat behind them. She understood why Warren had knocked her out and she tried to forgive him for it. Benji wasn’t happy about sharing a jeep with the guy who had punched out his sister, and he wasn’t happy about being separated from Mike either, but he’d promised to stay with Michelle this time.

  Their jeep was in the lead, followed by the pickup and the van, both crammed full of the remaining survivors. The tanker truck was next in line, with Daniel and Jenkins’s jeep bringing up the rear.

  The scenery left much to be desired. Barren sand sprawled out around them on all sides.

  “We’ll be there soon,” Benji tried to assure Michelle. She wondered if he was actually trying to convince himself.

  “Has Mike told you what this base is?” Warren asked, taking them both off-guard.

  “It’s a bomb shelter,” Benji answered. “Like the kind they took the President to when all this started happening.”

  “No. No it’s not,” Warren said. “But you’re right, they did take the President to a place like what you’re talking about. Him, the other VIPs, and the men assigned to protect them all died horribly. The rats were waiting for them underground.”

  “Warren, stop it. There’s no way you could know that,” Michelle said.

  Warren ignored her. “Where we’re going isn’t a bomb shelter or some kind of bunker, though they did gut one and build the base inside of it. It’s a research facility, a state-of-the-art, self-contained place of nightmares. It’s one of the most sterile and impenetrable places on Earth. The base was designed to keep the government’s worst experiments contained should something go wrong, but I think it will keep the rats out as well… As long as it hasn’t been breached by someone else before we get there.”

  “What were they working on in the base?” Benji asked, hating himself for believing Warren but realizing it was just the kind of place Mike would lead them to.

  “Bio-weapons, viruses, new types of killer radiation—how the hell should I know? I doubt if Mike even knows for sure. Regardless, it will keep us alive and we’ll be a hell of a lot better off than we are outside.”

  After that, the three of them rode on in silence. Benji leaned into his seat and stared up at the sky. He knew Mike had been some sort of high-ranking scientist before the world ended. Everything Warren had just told them made perfect sense, but what bothered Benji was how much Warren knew. Why hadn’t Mike told him more about the base if he’d shared this much with Warren? And was what Warren said about the President true? Warren didn’t come across as a guy who made shit up, so just who the hell was he? Benji promised himself to confront Mike about Warren when they were all safe.

  He closed his eyes, tired of staring at the clouds and the sand, and dozed off to sleep.

  #

  The small chain of vehicles came to a stop outside the massive steel fence encircling the base.

  The group got out of their vehicles like expectant kids on Christmas morning and gathered at the gate, filled with new hope and relief to have finally arrived. A sign hung on the fence, proclaiming that this place was government property and off-limits to the public. It warned civilians to stay away and also boasted that intruders would be shot, but Mike explained that it was just a ruse to help keep the base secret.

  “The gate’s locked. That’s a good sign,” Warren said to Mike. “But how do we open it?”

  “Just shoot the lock off. The defenses up top don’t really matter. It’s what’s under the sand that’s going to keep us alive.” Mike could see Warren’s military mind unwilling to sacrifice something as small in the grand scheme of things as a locked gate, so he added, “We can use one of the cars to brace it or maybe find a way to chain it back ourselves if we need to.”

  Warren called for Daniel to bring him his weapon and used the high-powered rifle to destroy the lock. A cheer rose from the survivors of the convoy and people rushed through the gate as it swung open.

  “Wait!” Warren screamed, but no one listened.

  Mike put a hand on his shoulder. “Let them have this moment. I doubt there’s any need to worry until we actually get inside the complex proper. If there was still a military presence here, we’d already be dead or under fire. We’ll take it slower then. I promise.”

  Warren reluctantly agreed, but moved the lever of the rifle to load another round into the chamber.

  Three

  Mike sipped at his cup of coffee, savoring the flavor as he flipped through the stack of paperwork on his desk. He and the others had been living in the base for a week and it still seemed like a dream. They were as safe as they could be in a world gone to hell. They had food, running water, electricity—he even had a damn office again.

  There was so much to do ahead of them. They had yet to finish a full inventory of the base’s massive stockpiles, and they hadn’t even begun to explore the research that had been conducted there before the rats came. Maybe there was somet
hing they could use as a weapon against the creatures. Anything seemed possible.

  The first things they had done after moving in were simply the basics: getting the place as operational as they could, assigning everyone living quarters, and setting up a watch shift for the base’s security room; they had also assigned a team to make contact with other survivors via the base’s communications array.

  Everyone was happy and finding a way to contribute—everyone except Warren. The man had become withdrawn now that he had accomplished his mission. He was a soldier by blood, and damn good at his job too, but it appeared that after he’d gotten everyone to the base, his job was at an end, at least for the foreseeable future; while Mike hated to think that the man felt useless, he had to confess he was thankful they had no reason for his protection.

  The base also had an armory, so he’d assigned Warren the task of inventorying the weaponry and devising the best plan to defend the base, should the rats breach the compound. He knew Warren took the task seriously, but he also understood it wasn’t what Warren was really trained to do.

  Someone knocked on the door to his office. Mike placed his coffee beside the paperwork on his desk as Benji let himself in. Mike instantly saw the mischievous look on Benji’s face and knew that his plans of working through the morning were pretty much shot to hell. He smiled as the younger man entered and shut the door behind him.

  #

  A classic Beach Boys tune echoed in the hallway as Brent sped along on a skateboard. He let out a scream of pure joy as he reached the hall’s end and jumped into the air, pulling off a Tony Hawk-style stunt. He landed and, keeping his momentum, turned to head back the way he’d come.

  He nearly lost his balance and barely managed to stop when he saw Warren standing in his path. He grabbed up the board and snapped to attention. “Sir,” he bellowed over the Beach Boys.

  “Music’s a bit loud, isn’t it, Private?”

  Brent rushed over to the portable stereo he’d looted from one of the base’s work areas and shut off the song halfway through. “Sorry, sir, won’t happen again.”