Rotter Apocalypse

by Scott M. Baker

  Derrick took the curtain from Cassi’s hand and let it fall back over the balcony door. He moved her away from the window to distract her from what was going on outside. She was still pretty after almost a year of isolation. Her blonde hair hung down past her shoulders. Sure, she looked older than twenty-three and had lost some weight. Who hadn’t these days? She smiled, which he had rarely seen her do when they moved in. Cassi would be what got him into trouble. He had come across her cowering in a public loo in one of the nearby parks and offered to give her a place to stay in exchange for sex. After all, fair was fair. If he shared his limited supplies of food and water, she should give up something in return. Besides, she’d agreed to go with him and to put out, and he never hit her, although several times she could have used a crack off the side of the head. They had a mutually agreeable relationship, and had gotten along pretty well, so there shouldn’t be any problems. Yet every experience he had with the authorities told him otherwise, and he didn’t want to have survived the apocalypse only to be put up against a wall and shot for rape or slavery or some feminist bullshit charge like that.

  Derrick took Cassi’s hands in his. “We have to get out of here.”

  The smile drained from her face. “The military will be here in a day or two at most.”

  “That’s the problem. I… we can’t be here when they show up.”

  “Why?”

  For a moment, Derrick contemplated leaving her behind to be rescued. He ruled that out. Once she told them about their arrangement, they might come after him. It’d be difficult enough avoiding zombies without having to worry about the authorities trying to track him down. So he thought up a plausible lie.

  “We don’t know how they’re going to treat us. Remember when the outbreak started, and the police rounded up anyone who broke curfew and tossed them into detention centers?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Everyone in those centers died when some of them became zombies. We’ve made it too far to die now because of some government fuck up.”

  Dejection crushed what optimism Cassi had only moments before. “I guess you’re right.”

  He needed to offer Cassi something to keep her spirits up. “I don’t plan on staying on the run forever. We need time to figure out how the military is treating survivors. If they’re cool, we’ll sit tight and wait for them to catch up. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Cassi faked a grin, the same grin she wore every time they fucked.

  Derrick headed for the front door, grabbing the backpack off the couch. “Let’s do this.”

  “Right now?”

  “We need to go while we still can.”

  “I need time to pack.”

  Derrick help up the backpack. “I got everything we need here. Now get your jacket and haul ass.”

  As the two exited the apartment, Derrick grabbed the Glock 23 and extra magazines from the end table, sliding the firearm between his back and belt, and the magazines into his leather jacket pocket. Cassi took the baseball bat. They followed the stairwell to the first floor apartment where he kept the Harley. Derrick handed Cassi the backpack. She slid it on and took her place on the rear of the motorcycle, with the bat across her lap. Derrick went down to the main entrance. It was secured by three 2x4 boards stretching from jamb to jamb and held into place by L-shaped hooks bolted into the wall. He removed the boards, opened the door a few inches, and peered out. Nothing moved. Opening the door all the way, he raced back to the Harley and hopped on.

  “Ready?”

  “Do you think we should wait and take our chances with the military?”

  Derrick ignored her. He started the engine, and then maneuvered the motorcycle into the hallway and out the exit. Normally, he’d stop so Cassi could close and secure the door. Since they’d never be coming back, he took off across the front concourse and left the building wide open. He made his way through the side streets to Boul de l’Ile des Soeurs and headed north toward Highway 20. At the first roundabout, he veered right onto Boul Rene Levesque.

  “Why aren’t we taking the highway?” Cassi asked.

  “Too many abandoned cars and zombies. I know another way to get to the mainland.”

  Upon reaching the car dealership at the end of the road, Derrick steered onto the lot and gunned the engine, darting between the rows of dust-covered vehicles, and bumped over a grassy curb onto a back street. A few seconds later, the street merged with a narrow, two-lane bridge spanning the river. Only a few of the living dead sauntered along the span. He accelerated, maneuvering around them. After two kilometers, the bridge connected with a causeway that paralleled the east bank of the river. A bicycle trail ran the length of the causeway. Derrick maneuvered onto the trail. They traveled a few kilometers before spotting their first zombie. Derrick rushed past it. The zombie spun around and lunged at the noise, its outstretched arms barely missing Cassi. Ahead of them, two more of the living dead shambled abreast along the path. He drifted to the right side of the trail, and the zombies moved toward him. At the last second, Derrick swerved left and went around them. Thirty meters ahead, three more lumbered along the path, with another half dozen fifteen meters beyond that.

  “We should go back,” Cassi whined.

  “We’ve got a few more kilometers to go, so hang on.”

  Though he didn’t admit to Cassi, Derrick wondered if they would make it. The farther they drove, the more zombies they encountered. There weren’t enough living dead to be able to swarm them, but he had no idea what lay ahead. Those they passed closed in behind them and gave chase, and soon there would be too many following them for him to return. Derrick considered going back now while they still had a chance.

  Up ahead on the left Derrick saw Saint Catharine Island and, beyond that, Island of the Maritime Lane where a series of bridges reconnected the causeway to the mainland to the south.

  “We’re going to make it!” he yelled back to Cassi, although he still had doubts.

  Derrick sped up, wanting to get off the restricted causeway and back onto land where he could maneuver. The zombie presence grew denser. With some adept maneuvering he avoided being overwhelmed. A few hundred meters up ahead he could see the cement counterweights of the drawbridge leading from the causeway to the mainland, which meant the bridge was lowered and they’d be able to get across. If they made it that far. Right before the bridge, chain link fences lined either side of the trail for twenty-five meters, channeling the zombies into a more confined space. Derrick accelerated, taking the Harley up to eighty kilometers per hour, and leaned over the handlebars to present a smaller target. Cassi held on tight and cowered against his back. The Harley barreled through the pack, racing past most of them and shoving several aside. Decayed hands reached out and slapped against them, but they moved too fast for any of the living dead to get a grip. One was able to clutch Cassi’s backpack. The motorcycle’s momentum knocked it over and dragged it several meters before the zombie released its grip. If Cassi had not been holding on to him so tight, she probably would have been ripped off the back. Only a few zombies blocked the entrance to the bridge. Slowing enough not to tip over, Derrick wound his way between the living dead and, once on the bridge, throttled the engine. The Harley raced across the drawbridge onto Island of the Maritime Lane, and then across another two-lane bridge into the residential neighborhood of Saint Catherine where a handful of zombies milled around the streets, the closest over three hundred meters away. Derrick pulled over and idled.

  “Why are we stopping?” Cassi asked.

  “I’m trying to figure out the best way out of here.”

  “Take a left.”

  “Why?”

  “My grandmother used to live in this area.” Cassi pointed east. “Boul des Ecluses is a kilometer that way. It runs through the city and will take us right into the countryside.”

  Derrick steered left and headed in that direction. They drove for a minute, passing residential homes on the right, the Saint Laurent River on the left, and an occasiona
l zombie. It appeared as if this part of the city had escaped the outbreak unscathed. Derrick assumed everyone here had evacuated during the first few days and died somewhere else.

  They approached a street on the right blocked off by police barricades and an abandoned squad car. Cassi tapped him on the shoulder and pointed. “Turn here.”

  Derrick drove around the barricades and halted. Boul des Ecluses was a two lane residential street divided down the middle by a grass median with trees planted every ten meters, lined on both sides by single family homes. He scanned ahead of him for any signs of zombies and, seeing nothing, continued. Approaching the first intersection, he understood the reason for the police roadblock. Between the connecting streets, the one off to his right and the second one fifteen meters ahead on the left, stood a two-vehicle accident. A transit bus had been making a U-turn around the break in the median when an SUV coming out of the street on the left collided with it head on, immobilizing the vehicles and blocking both lanes. There was more than enough room for them to get by. Using someone’s driveway, Derrick maneuvered onto the sidewalk and raced behind the bus.

  Right into a horde of zombies.

  Derrick braked the Harley so hard that the rear tire skidded and the motorcycle tipped over, spilling them both onto someone’s front lawn. He felt a jolt of pain shoot up his right leg. Fortunately, he hadn’t broken it, and the Harley’s engine was still running. He counted his blessings until he glanced up. Nearly a hundred of the living dead wandered around behind the bus, stretching from one side of the street to the other, including sidewalks and lawns, the closest only ten meters away. As one, the horde twisted toward the sound of the Harley. In a matter of seconds they would close in around him and Cassi.

  Derrick used his leg to push the Harley upright. His knee throbbed and his vision blurred. Shifting his weight onto his left leg, he rebalanced himself.

  “Help me!” Derrick glanced over his shoulder. Cassi stumbled to her feet, her left hand cradling her right arm. A shattered piece of her radius bone had torn through the skin. Derrick knew if he tried to save Cassi they’d both be overrun, so he accelerated and raced along the side of the bus. A girl zombie who had been no more than twelve moved into his path. He lifted his right arm and elbowed the zombie across the face as he passed, knocking it out of the way before swerving around the front end of the bus.

  “Fuck you, you fucking asshole!” Cassi screamed behind him.

  Backtracking to the first intersection, Derrick steered left onto it, and then left again onto the first street that paralleled Boul des Ecluses. There were only a few zombies here. Racing down it, off to his left he saw Cassi running between the houses, clutching her bleeding arm, with the horde chasing her. She spotted him and frantically waved her one good arm, hoping to catch his attention and have him come to her rescue. He focused his attention back to the road. At the end of the street, he steered left and then swung right back onto Boul des Ecluses.

  After traveling for two kilometers, signs advised that Route 302 was ahead. As Derrick drew closer, the number of abandoned vehicles lining both sides of the road increased, so he rode up onto the sidewalk and slowed, keeping an eye open for zombie activity. He cruised past a Burger King on his right and approached a Shell station when he saw movement down by the intersection fifty meters ahead of him. Pulling into the gas station, Derrick rolled over to the side of the building, parked by the men’s room, and shut down the engine. He reached for his Glock. It wasn’t there. Damn thing must have fallen out when he overturned the Harley. Nothing he could do about that now. Moving along the side wall, he checked behind the building to make certain nothing lurked there, and then retraced his steps back to the front. He couldn’t see inside the station because of the darkened windows. Crouching low, Derrick rushed across the parking lot to the outermost bank of fuel pumps and hid behind them to get a better view of the intersection.

  From this distance, he couldn’t make out much. Abandoned vehicles blocked the intersection in all four directions, and he could discern movement between them. He estimated a couple of hundred of those things roaming around, most moving along Route 302. He could never cross from here and, judging by the number of living dead, he figured he’d probably run into the same problem anywhere along this route. Fucking Cassi. She made him come this way, and now he was trapped because of her. If the living dead hadn’t gotten her, he had half a mind to go back and—

  A sound off to the right caught Derrick’s attention. A figure stood in the open doorway leading into the gas station’s concession area. Derrick froze, hoping it wouldn’t see him.

  “What are you waiting for?” the figure said in a low voice and waved him forward. “Get your fool ass in here before one of those things sees you.”

  Ducking down, Derrick ran over to the gas station. The figure stood aside and, once Derrick entered, closed and locked the door behind him. The darkened interior resulted from boards having been secured over the glass from the inside. A series of battery-operated lamps lit up the interior. The figure moved away from the door and walked over to Derrick. He appeared to be about fifty, with graying dark hair and mustache, and a gaunt physique. He extended a hand.

  “My name’s Andre.”

  “Derrick,” he replied, taking the hand and giving it a halfhearted shake.

  “It’s good to meet you.” Andre stepped close and gave him a hug. “Damn, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen another human.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “A year, maybe more. I’ve lost track of time.”

  “How long have you been here?” Derrick asked.

  “Since the third day of the outbreak.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Linda stirred. Gradually she regained consciousness, as if coming out of a deep slumber, only this time she rose from the dead as a vampire. The grogginess associated with sleep had been replaced with a heightened sense of awareness. She could hear a spider spinning its web and a mouse scurrying across the floor in the other room. She could smell things around her that she never knew emitted an odor, like the age of the wooden beams behind the walls, the accumulated dust and sweat in the mattress she lay on, and even the staleness of the air. That all paled in comparison to the powerful aura that inundated her senses, pushing its way to the forefront of everything else.

  “Good evening, my child.”

  Linda opened her eyes and rolled over. Vladimir sat in the corner on the floor. Although the room was pitch black, she could make out every detail, almost as if she wore night vision goggles with a red hue.

  “Good morning… what do I call you?”

  “Vladimir. I don’t like formalities.” He stood up and crossed over to the mattress. “How do you feel?”

  “More alive than I’ve ever felt.”

  Vladimir laughed. “So many people say that after waking up from death. I find it ironic.”

  “I never knew it could be this way. The sights and smells and sounds I’ve never experienced before. And I feel so strong, so confident, so… so….”

  “Hungry?”

  Linda met his gaze, her eyes filled with lust. “Horny.”

  Vladimir laughed again. “That’s natural. Right now it’s intoxicating. Some people find these sensations overwhelming. In time you’ll learn how to deal with them. The sights and sounds will fade into the background, like they did when you were human. You’ll always be able to tap into them. It’s what makes us superior to the humans. I’ll be here to mentor you.”

  Vladimir held out his hand. Linda took it, lifted herself off the mattress, and moved up against her Master. She wrapped one arm around his waist and ran her hand up and down his chest. Her voice grew lustful. “Will you also be there to take care of my desires?”

  “Of course.” Vladimir took her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed the knuckles. “Right now, you must feed. The euphoria you’re experiencing is temporary. Like your other feelings, once the hunger strikes, it’ll be overwhelming.”


  “Okay.” Linda clutched his hand.

  “Let’s get the others, and then we’ll all get something to eat.”

  * * *

  When Robson heard the chains on the barn door rattle, he braced himself and hoped tonight’s outcome would be different. This time he knew what to expect and had prepared the others to stand up to Vladimir. He had no delusions about his position, and knew full well that being forewarned didn’t give him an advantage over the vampires. It only made them less vulnerable than they had been yesterday.

  The door opened and the coven entered the barn. Everyone except Vladimir and Linda carried a lamp. They stopped by the entrance and formed a line. Vladimir continued inside with his latest sire holding his arm. Robson had not expected the extent of Linda’s transformation. Yesterday she had been a frightened, broken, abused woman. Now she strode into the barn with a confidence rivaled only by Vladimir. Rather than lower her head to avoid contact, like she had done at their first encounter, she kept it held high and met the gaze of everyone held captive. He also detected a sensuality about her that he had not seen before. Robson cursed himself for miscalculating so badly. He had hoped that when the others saw what Linda had become, it would strengthen their resolve not to join the coven. Instead, Vladimir paraded Linda before the others like a fucking poster girl for vampirism.

  Vladimir stopped in the center of the group. Linda let go of his arm and walked in front of the others as if she were a model on a catwalk. Vladimir extended his hands toward her. “What do you think of your friend?”