Rot Series (Book 1): Rot

by Hunter, Damon

  The skin on the balding man wearing a cheap suit with tie that did not match had turned a bad shade of green in the places it had not fallen off to reveal the bones underneath. Bubble-like sores, which popped and oozed a white milky pus before another bubble began to grow covered half his face. The oatmeal-like goo slowly oozing out of his sleeves indicated his face was not the only part of him covered in sores. His eyes had swollen to the point his sockets could barely hold them in. His mouth hung open and a thick stream of gelatinous drool slowly leaked over his skinless chin on one side, while his black tongue lolled out of the other.

  He was not alone; three more like him were stumbling toward the bus.

  “Everyone on the bus,” said one of the cops, who had been leaning against his squad car watching the proceeding. Those who did not run began to board with a little more sense of urgency than before.

  The two police drew pistols. They stepped between the people getting on the bus and the infected slowly approaching.

  “I think I know him. He works with my dad,” the younger of the two cops said, pointing to the bald man in the suit.

  “Then take the two on the left,” the other said before he double tapped the man in suit in the chest and then did the same to the woman loping along behind him.

  The other officer did the same to the other two. Everyone was surprised when the infected kept coming. The cops fired again. This time they all fell.

  Three of them were down and did not move. The man in the suit started trying to get up.

  The first officer stepped forward, getting ready to put one in the guy’s head from close range. Before he could fire, a man stepped out of line and got between him and and the fallen ambler.

  “They’re just sick,” he said. “For all you know there will be a cure next week. Isn’t there something else you could do besides executing them?”

  “Please move, Sir,” the cop said.

  “You don’t have to kill them,” the man said, holding his ground.

  Some in the line were urging on the protester, telling him to stand his ground. A significant number more were yelling for the cops to execute the infected. A few others called for the protester to take a bullet.

  Katelin stopped to watch, but Donna pulled her onto the bus, saying, “We need to get out of here.”

  They tossed their bags into the open luggage compartment on the side of the bus and climbed aboard. They took the first seats they saw; Katelin slid into a window seat and looked out just in time to see the man in the suit dig his teeth into the ankle of the protester.

  The man yelled in pain and then leaped at the police officer, sinking his teeth into the cop’s face. He pulled away with a mouthful of the cops cheek. Katelin expected him to spit it out but he swallowed it instead.

  The cop shot the man in the face until he fell. He fell on the man in the suit, who was still gnawing on the dead man’s ankle. The cop did what he’d intended to do before being interrupted, shooting the man in the suit in the temple with the last round in his magazine.

  He turned to his partner, who was aiming his gun at him.

  “Some people are immune,” the older cop with a hole in his cheek said, “that dude turned in seconds and I’m still me.”

  “Everyone is different,” the younger cop said. He did not lower his gun.

  “Yeah, I know, but. . .” the cop began, but three bubbles grew out of his face and popped like balloons, spraying green goo everywhere. His partner shot him until he fell.

  “Sorry,” he said to the dead cop before turning to the bus. Donna wondered if he was looking to get aboard, but the bus was full.

  With every seat taken, the bus driver closed the door. Those on the outside looking in were not happy about it and pounded on the side of the bus.

  There was a lot of yelling, most of it with the basic theme, ‘Don’t leave us.’ The general sentiment seemed to be no one would be infection free by the time the next bus arrived. A feeling bolstered by the fact the other buses should have already been there. The driver appeared to be considering opening the door and letting more in.

  Donna wondered if the people who’d run had made the right decision as she could see more amblers in the distance closing in on their location. Some quit pounding the side and began climbing on top.

  The cop fired his gun in the air, saying, “The other bus is coming,” to the crowd, and then to the driver, “Get out of here.”

  The driver listened to the police officer, pulling away as the cop went to his squad car to retrieve the shotgun. He turned the nearest ambler’s head into a puddle of blood and brains as the bus plowed through those who refused to get out of the way.

  It occurred to Donna she did not want her daughter to see this, but she was too busy watching to act on the thought. As the bus got on the road and accelerated she was glad she was on it instead of waiting. Her confidence of another bus arriving was not high.

  “I guess your father was right,” Donna said as the bus worked its way toward the Eastbound freeway. “It wasn’t safe here.”

  Katelin scoffed. “You mean Eric?”

  “Yes, I mean Eric. Only you should call him your father.”

  “Fathers don’t miss three birthdays in a row.”

  Donna almost defended him. She almost said he was a soldier, a good one, and the last three years were busy times for soldiers like him, but instead she said, “I guess.”

  “I don’t have to guess.”

  Before Donna could respond, something hit the side of the bus. She looked over to see something like the things they had encountered at the evacuation point but more animal like. It did not seem to her it was possible for a human to run on all fours, but this one was.

  It leaped and launched itself through the window two rows back from where they were sitting. It sunk its fingers into the lady sitting by the windows shoulders, pushing them through to the knuckle. It leaned forward and bit her on top of the head. When it let her go The driver swerved a the rotter lost his grip and fell to the street.

  Another runner hit the front window, landing next to the driver. No man should get up after plowing through the windshield of a speeding bus, but this one was. The driver drew a pistol and fired, hitting the thing point blank, but it hardly slowed as it jumped on him. He fired again and pushed it off of him. It hit the door and did not get up. The driver opened it and let the creature fall into the street.

  “Are you bit?” a big man near the front with a military haircut said as he stood and made his way into the aisle.

  “Sit down,” the bus driver told him as he drove.

  “I need to know if you are bit first,” the man said as he came forward.

  The bus driver turned just enough to point the gun, saying, “I’m fine. get back in your seat.”

  The man seemed to be convinced when the old lady who had been bitten in the head came loping down the aisle. Everyone moved to the side as she moved toward the front of the bus. She could have turned and sunk her teeth into anyone but she had her eyes on the man out of his seat.

  She was almost to him when a young woman came out of her seat and started clubbing the old lady with a hardcover copy of Stephen King’s ‘The Stand.’ It took three swings of the thick book to bring the old lady down, but it did the job.

  People were started to cheer when Katelin looked at the bus driver. He was wearing a cap but a trio of bubbles grew out the side of his head and knocked it off.

  Katlin pointed and screamed as the driver dropped his gun and let go of the wheel.

  The man with the short hair was thanking the woman who had luckily brought a book to read when he heard Katelin. He turned to see the bus driver coming his way. The woman handed him the book and he smacked the driver across the jaw with it. The driver kept coming.

  The short-haired man lowered his shoulder and drove it into the bus driver, knocking him on his back. He stomped on the driver’s head with his boots until the driver quit moving and then stomped on him a few more ti
mes.

  While this was happening, no one was driving the bus, which was steadily moving toward a diner. Two people in the front went for the wheel but both reached it at the same time. Each was so focused on getting there they did not notice the other doing the same thing. The banged into each other.

  As one of them fell, he grabbed the steering wheel, yanking it hard to the left. The other put out his hand to break his fall and put it right on the gas pedal, causing the massive vehicle to accelerate. The bus missed the diner, but bounced up on the sidewalk and fell on its side. It slid that way until coming to a stop in the lobby of a hotel.

  Katelin held onto the seat in front of her and Donna held onto Katelin. They both managed to avoid falling into the mass of humanity piling into each other on the ground side of the bus.

  To the right of them they saw another thing like the one who had bit the old lady on the head was gnashing its way through the stack of people, and to the the left another monster with the sharp teeth and long arms had come through the busted front window and started tearing into the two men who had gone for the steering wheel.

  Katelin opened the window and punched out the screen. The skinny teenager easily pulled herself up through the window as Donna pushed her to make sure she got clear.

  “Run,” Donna told her, but Katelin reached in and grabbed her mother’s arms and started pulling her up.

  Donna was not as thin as her kid, and did not get through as easily, but with Katelin pulling and a few twists of her hips she got out.

  A green hand with long, sharp fingers came through the window and tried to grab Donna, but she moved enough that it missed. It slapped the side of the bus and they both could see it pulling itself through the window.

  Katelin stood up and stomped on the hand with her heel, and it was enough for it to let go and fall back into the bus.

  Donna looked outside through the hole in the wall made by the bus. More people with green, rotting skin covered with popping bubbles full of pus were stumbling toward the lobby.

  The ding of the elevator got their attention. The turned to see an overweight kid dressed like he was getting ready to do some dirt bike riding and toting a machine gun, emerge from elevator. He turned the black baseball cap on his head so the bill shaded his neck and opened fire into the approaching infected.

  A petite girl, not much older than Katelin and dressed much like the fat guy, stepped out with a hatchet in one hand and a Glock pistol in the other.

  A woman wearing a nametag with the name of the hotel on her lapel came from behind the front desk and started moving toward the elevator. The girl stepped to her and buried the small axe into her forehead. It looked to Donna and Katelin like this teenager had just murdered the receptionist. After freeing the hatchet from the receptionist’s head she swung the gun at Donna and Katelin.

  They both figured they were about to be murdered like the hotel employee, but instead the girl said, “Come with me if you want to live.”

  They wanted to live, and noticed the receptionist had a quartet of bubbles on her face. They jumped off the bus and ran toward the elevator. The long-armed thing came up through the window after they jumped. The girl shot it until it fell back inside the bus.

  Donna and Katelin entered the elevator and the two armed kids joined them. The kid with the machine gun punched the button for the top floor and the door shut as more infected people began to climb off the bus.

  As the elevator rose, he swung his gun at Donna and Katelin, saying, “Are you bit?”

  “No,” they both said.

  He motioned to the girl. She looked them over.

  “They’re good,” she said.

  Katelin pointed to the girl’s chest. “Is that like one of those Go-Pro cameras?”

  She smiled, “Hell yes.”

  The fat kid was wearing one as well.

  Katelin said, “Cool.”

  Donna was not sure what was so cool about it, but didn’t comment.

  The door opened to another kid with a gun and a camera strapped to his chest..

  “Room’s secure,” he said to them and then turned and started moving down the hall.

  They all followed.

  The kid knocked three times. I took longer than it seemed it should, but the door opened. They stepped inside and Donna saw why. Somehow the kids had added an extra steel slab to the hotel door and used steel bars bolted to the floor to hold the door in place. The kid was right. It was secure.

  The girl who opened the door for them said, “Sit on the bed.”

  Katelin and Donna looked at the bed and stayed where they were. It was covered with weapons. A variety of handguns, a couple shotguns and few assault rifles like the fat kid was sporting. There was also a collection of knives, some aluminum baseball bats, a few hatchets similar to what the girl was carrying, and a pair of large broadswords out of a Lord of the Rings movie.

  The kid who met them at the elevator said, “Sorry for the mess,” and started moving stuff so the two of them could sit down.

  Looking at the broadsword, Donna saw someone had engraved the word SWARC along the flat side of the blade. The kid standing there also had SWARC written on the front of his shirt.

  “What is SWARC?” Donna asked.

  “South West Apocalypse Response Crew,” he told her.

  “Maybe they shouldn’t have to sit with all our gear,” the fat kid said as he opened the door leading to the unit next door. They must have booked both rooms.

  The other one nodded, saying, “Why don’t you wait next door while we figure out the next move. There’s a lot more room.”

  Donna stood; she didn’t want to share the bed with a cache of weapons anyway.

  The kid held out a hand and helped Katelin up. Donna did not like the look in his eye. He was older than Katelin, but not by much. Donna liked the look in her daughter’s eye even less. The kid was tall and broad shouldered, kind of gawky and goofy, but not bad looking.

  “I’m Dean, they call me Dino. what’s your name?”

  “Katelin.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said as he extended his hand, which she took. “Big guy is Lumpy, sounds insulting but he likes it. Back in middle school someone called him that to make fun of him but he owned it and ruined it for the bully. Girl who looks like she should be leading the debate team is Ana and the girl who opened the door is Jo.”

  Dino was slow letting go of Katelin’s hand, and she did not seem to mind. Donna stuck her hand our, saying, “I’m Donna.”

  Dino shook her hand too, but not for nearly as long. He turned his attention back to her daughter.

  Donna pulled her daughter along into the other room, before she and Dino could get too friendly.

  “He seems nice,” Katelin said after Dino closed the door and they took a seat on the bed.

  Donna shrugged; she didn’t want to discuss how nice or not nice Dino was. She looked at the door. Unlike the other room, it did not have the homemade steel barrier in front of it. It seemed typical teenage half-smart behavior. Having the support was a good idea, but only having one when there was another door to cover meant it was more or less useless.

  She went to the door and tried to listen. The more she thought about it, the more she didn’t like relying on these heavily armed kids with cameras strapped to their chests. They kept their voices low enough as they discussed the current situation that she could not hear them.

  “Maybe we should get out of here,” Donna said.

  “And go where?”

  Donna nodded. Her daughter had a point. The lobby had been swarming with infected when they boarded the elevator.

  Donna got out her phone. She was happy to see she still had service. She remembered she had gotten a message from Eric Vance last night. An odd vague offer of help and a half-hearted acknowledgement of Katelin’s birthday he should have sent to her. She had been tempted to reply with something rude; other than a check he was forced to send by the courts he had been no help at all since the
divorce. She’d resisted, deciding no reply at all was the best response. Over the years, both before and after the divorce, he left her waiting indefinitely for a reply when she contacted him.

  Sitting in this less-than-stellar hotel room next to a bunch of armed teens and a mob of ravenous infected outside looking for things to bite, she felt she needed all the help she could get.

  “What are you doing?” Katelin asked as her mother worked the screen with her thumbs.

  “Sending a message to the only person I know who has a clue what we are dealing with.”

  “Who?”

  “Eric.”

  “You mean my father?”

  “Yes.”

  With the message sent, Donna went back to the door. She still couldn’t hear much, until the crackle of a short-wave radio and a voice who did not know he was supposed to be quiet filled the room.

  CHAPTER 3

  California Quarantine Zone - Southern Edge

  Trey was glad Dino hadn’t taken his advice back in the day when they started SWARC. Unlike the rest of the crew, Trey was older; he had been a marine, going into the Iraq and later Afghanistan.

  When the kid asked him for help training for the coming zombie apocalypse, Trey told him to join the military. Told him any branch would do but the Marines were the best. He told him it would suck ass, and if he was anything like Trey he would hate it, but in the end he would know some shit.

  Trey thought it was funny when Dino looked him in the eye and said, “I don’t think we have the time.”

  Turned out Dino was right. Dino and his goofy friends were collecting diplomas or coming back from their freshman year at college when people in Asia started getting the rot.

  Trey didn’t mind showing some kids how to shoot and even talking basic combat techniques. He figured he was doing a public service since they were going to be out in the desert doing this shit anyway. If they had some clue what they were doing, it would reduce the chance of any of them shooting themselves or each other.

  While in terms of life experience they may have been miles apart, Trey was only twenty-two, having joined up right out of high school, and getting out as soon as it was legal to do so. He could relate to Dino, saw himself in the kid. Like Trey, Dino was an average to below-average guy who maybe was not completely connected to reality, but wanted to do something special.