“To move the coven to a safer location.”
“If we have to move, shouldn’t we do it tomorrow night before the humans get too close?”
Vladimir shook his head. “Tomorrow night we’ll turn or feed on the rest of the humans. The night after that, we’ll take care of Robson once and for all.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Derrick filled the spare backpack Andre had lent him with five cans of Red Bull, two dozen stale candy bars, and some rudimentary medical supplies such as rubbing alcohol, bandages, and Motrin. The food and drinks were the healthiest items left in the store. He didn’t intend to live off of them for long, merely for a few days until he found someplace else to ride out the apocalypse and get a better feel for whether or not the approaching forces were going to rescue him or throw him in a prison camp. He’d deal with that later. Right now his goal was to get across Route 302 without getting killed. Stepping over to the boarded up window behind the cash register, Derrick peered through a gap between two boards. It was growing brighter outside, although the sun hadn’t yet crested the horizon. He still had enough light to see by and, with luck, could sneak by the zombies before they spotted him. He had to move now if he wanted to take advantage of the pre-dawn.
“It’s time for me to go.”
“All right.” Andre stood ten feet away, another backpack hanging off of his shoulder.
“Thanks. I don’t need a second backpack.”
“It’s not for you. It’s for me.” Andre stepped closer. “I want you to take me with you.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Hear me out,” Andre pleaded. “I’m not asking to go on a road trip with you. If I stay here much longer I’m going to kill myself, and if I try to make it out of the city on foot I’m as good as dead. Take me as far as the countryside and we’ll go our separate ways. I promise.”
Derrick didn’t like the idea of trying to cross the road with a passenger. He still remembered what a pain in the ass Cassi had been. On the other hand, Andre had given him a place to hide out and shared what little food he had left, so it would’ve been douchey of him to leave the guy behind. Besides, he didn’t have time to argue.
“Okay, you can go. But only to the city limits.”
Andre rushed forward and hugged him. “Thank you.”
“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?”
“No.”
“Then do exactly as I tell you.”
Opening the front door, the two silently crept to the back of the Shell station where Derrick’s Harley stood. He would have loved to top off the gas tank, but that would have made too much noise. Raising the kickstand with his foot, Derrick wheeled the Harley around the corner and toward Route 302, keeping the gas pumps between them and the zombies’ line of sight. It seemed like there were fewer zombies in the intersection than yesterday. Derrick climbed on first and motioned for Andre to get on behind him.
“Wrap your arms around my waist,” Derrick whispered.
“It’s hard because of your backpack.”
“It’ll only be until we clear the zombies, then you can sit upright. When we get to the intersection, hold on tight and don’t move. Let me worry about keeping us upright. If you squirm around you’ll throw us off balance and then we’re dead. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Derrick placed his foot of the starter pedal. “Wish us luck.”
He pushed down on the starter. The engine roared to life. The living dead heard the noise, and glanced around in various directions, having no idea where the sound came from. Now or never, thought Derrick, throttling the engine. He drove out of the parking lot and raced for the intersection.
Several of the zombies on their side of the road saw the Harley approaching and moved toward it. Derrick ignored them, keeping his attention focused on the gap in the traffic that he needed to traverse. As he approached the intersection, he cut his speed in half to maneuver through the thin line that ran between the vehicles across the lanes of highway. A few zombies headed toward them. Derrick steered left, swung around the rear end of the pick-up truck in his path, and steered back right. Only then did he notice a zombie with two broken legs spread out across his path. It raised its arm, clutching at him. Derrick throttled the Harley. The motorcycle drove over its head and outstretched arm, the weight crushing the rotten skull beneath it. When its head exploded, Derrick lost balance, tipping the motorcycle to the left. He reached out and prevented himself from falling by placing his left hand on the hood of a nearby car, and then righted the Harley. Loud moaning caught his attention. A zombie two meters away approached on his right and two more ahead of him threatened to close off the gap at the other end of the intersection. He throttled the engine again. The Harley shot forward as the zombie to the right lunged, falling into the space he had been a second ago. Breaking through the other side of the intersection, Derrick felt two pairs of dead hands clutching at him, fortunately not grabbing hold of anything. The road ahead was wide open.
“How are you doing back there?” he asked Andre.
“Okay,” the other man croaked.
Derrick felt something warm and wet collect around his ass. Jesus fucking Christ, he thought. The wanker pissed himself.
The next thirty minutes passed without incident. Derrick drove down Rue Saint Pierre. The residential neighborhoods gave way to suburbia, which then became the countryside. The farther they got from the city, the fewer zombies they encountered, which was fine with him. Once he came to the next intersection, he’d drop off Andre to go his separate way.
Derrick raced around a bend in the road into a mass of living dead moving south. The Harley was traveling so fast that they were twelve meters amongst them before Derrick could react. The horde had already started to close in around them. Going back was not an option, and continuing ahead would be suicide. He headed for the side of the road through a tight opening between the zombies on his left, weaving between them. The road became a rocky shoulder that merged into a slight incline leading up into the woods. They had made it halfway to the top when Andre glanced over his shoulder to see how close the zombies were, knocking Derrick off balance. The Harley flipped over backward, throwing off the two men. Andre tumbled back down onto the shoulder. Derrick fell to the side, cursing under his breath when he felt a sharp pain across his left hip. He rolled onto his back to assess the situation.
Five zombies had dropped to their knees around Andre, dead hands clawing at his face and digging into his chest. Andre screamed and flailed. Even if Derrick wanted to help him, there was nothing he could do. A dozen more of the living dead surrounded him, fighting the others for space to join the feeding frenzy. Another two dozen shambled up the incline toward Derrick. He went to stand up and screamed when his left leg collapsed under him. The pain was unbearable. His vision blurred and his senses dulled, and for a moment he thought he might pass out. That would have been a death sentence. Derrick forced himself to get back on his feet, this time favoring his right leg, his left still throbbing. As long as he didn’t put pressure on it, he could manage the pain. Hopping on his one good leg to the nearest tree, he pushed off it with his left hand and hobbled along to the next one, his left foot dragging beside him. Every time it bumped into a rock or tree branch, his vision blurred and his stomach heaved. It took him several minutes to scale an incline no higher than four meters. When Derrick reached the top, he glanced over his shoulder to check on the living dead. Except for those that had stopped to strip Andre clean, every zombie on that stretch of road was following him up the incline, a line of decaying bodies stretching for over thirty meters. Derrick assumed that there were at least one hundred converging on him. The closest were within ten meters.
Derrick ran. Being on level ground, he hoped to be able to outrun them, an idea that proved futile after he had limped about ten meters. The faster he moved, the greater the pain became until he could barely suck in air. He paused for several seconds at a time to catch his breath, and ea
ch time the mass of living dead got that much closer. He spotted a large stream flowing thirty meters away to the southeast. If he could get across that, then maybe the water would slow the zombies down enough for him to escape. Granted, it did not offer much of a chance, but right now it was the only one he had. Pushing off the tree he was leaning against, Dereck headed for the stream.
He mustered his energy and kept going, refusing to stop. Any more rests would be fatal. However, with every step the throbbing grew more intense. He focused on the opposite bank, pushing out all thoughts of the pain and the moans of the zombies chasing him. Step by step, he got closer to the stream. After a few minutes that seemed like hours, he approached the bank. The closest zombie was still five meters behind him. Wading into the water, Derrick took only two steps before his right leg sunk into a muddy patch of the bed. His ankle twisted and snapped. Crying out, Derrick collapsed into the stream. He attempted to crawl across, or at least he thought he did. He couldn’t tell for sure, the pain in his leg and hip having become so intense it overwhelmed his senses. Derrick didn’t even feel it when the first zombie splashed into the stream, dropped to its knees, and sank its teeth into his neck. Another dozen joined in, shredding the skin and organs from his body and feeding off the meat.
Unable to join in the feast, the other hundred living dead crossed the stream. Once on the opposite bank, they stumbled into the woods and continued their slow march south. They had no idea where they were going, and merely shuffled along in the same direction they had been heading after chasing the two humans, like thousands of rotters that roamed aimlessly throughout the area.
Except that this horde was on a path that would take them directly to the Denning farm.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Windows came downstairs to find Miriam standing in front of the stove cooking scrambled eggs and the kids gathered around the table eating. She inhaled. Why was it that food always smelled better when someone else cooked it?
Miriam peeked over her shoulder. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” Windows stepped over to the stove. “I’m surprised you’re still up after pulling the midnight shift.”
“I won’t be for long. I walked the perimeter with Denning, and when I got back to the house the kids were up wanting breakfast.” Miriam lifted the skillet off the burner. “I made some for you, too,”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“How many rotters were on the perimeter?” Windows whispered.
“Only three. Each day there’s less.”
“Thank God.”
“I know.” Miriam tilted the skillet over a plate and emptied out the eggs. “Bon appetit.”
“Merci.” Windows took the plate and sat down at the table with the children. “Good morning, guys.”
“Good morning, Aunt Windows,” said Rebecca.
Philip waved.
“Can we go out and play today?” asked Cindy.
“We’ll see.”
“Please. We’ve been stuck in the house for two days.”
“I said, we’ll see.”
“Pleeeaase.”
“They’re going stir crazy,” said Miriam as she cleaned the skillet in the sink.
“Is it okay with you?”
“I trust you.”
The two little girls bounced in their chairs.
“Calm down,” Windows chuckled. “Let me finish breakfast first.”
“Okay,” Cindy said with dramatic exasperation.
When Miriam bent over the table and gathered the kids’ dirty dishes, Windows asked, “Where’s Denning?”
“Not sure. He had some chores to do. He said he wanted to check on the combine, whatever that means.”
“I know where he is.”
Miriam washed the dirty dishes while Windows finished her breakfast. Five minutes later, after Miriam had gone upstairs to bed, Windows grabbed her automatic weapon and hunting knife. She herded the children outside with an admonition to be quiet and stay close, knowing that would do as much as good as telling Walther not to shit in the pasture. Only when she promised them that they could feed the chickens if they listened to her did the kids settle down.
After leaving the chicken coop, Windows led the kids to the pasture. As expected, she found Denning working on the engine to the combine. Walther stood nearby, curious about what his owner was doing, his tail swishing every few seconds. Upon seeing the children approach, the bull wandered over to the fence in expectation of being fawned over. Cindy led the way, rushing to the fence and making sure she got to him first. As the children jostled each other to pet Walther, who basked in the attention, Windows hopped the fence and walked over to Denning.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
Denning put down his wrench and sat facing her. “Quiet morning. We found only three of those things along the fence.”
“Miriam told me. Hopefully the horde has passed us by.”
“Let’s hope so. We’ll check later this afternoon.” Denning glanced over at the children. “I see you’re playing day care today.”
“Only so Miriam can get some rest.” She gestured toward the combine. “I thought you fixed that thing a few days ago.”
“I did.”
“So what’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing. Tinkering with it gives me something to do. I have a lot of free time on my hands now that you’re here.”
Cindy ran over and hopped up onto the fence. “Good morning, Mr. Denning.”
“Morning, Cindy. Why aren’t you petting Walther?”
“I want to give Rebecca and Philip a chance.”
Windows crossed over to the fence and rubbed Cindy’s head. The girl ducked out of the way and rolled her eyes. “Mom, stop that.”
“Get Rebecca and Philip,” said Windows. “We’re heading back to the house.”
“Can’t we stay outside a little longer?”
“Yes, but in the backyard close to the house.”
Cindy moaned in disapproval.
“Do as your mother says,” said Denning. “I’ll let you guys feed the chickens later and say good night to Walther.”
“Okay.” Cindy ran off to get the others.
“Are you heading back?” Windows asked Denning.
“Give me a minute.”
Denning packed up his tools and headed for the fence. Windows saw him wince when climbing over the top with his toolbox, and become winded when he got on the other side. However, since it didn’t seem to slow him down, she didn’t express any concern in front of the children, although she made a mental note to ask him about it later.
Gathering up the kids, Windows led the way back to the house.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Robson waited for the sun to be at its highest before talking to his group. Although he knew none of the vampires would be out during the day, he allowed his paranoia to get the best of him. If Vladimir and the others suspected what he planned, he’d fail and all their deaths would be in vain.
“So what’s this about?” Corey asked snidely. “We gonna get a pep talk about not joining the bloodsuckers?”
“Shut up!” Roberta snapped. She focused her attention on Robson. “What do we want to talk about?”
Robson took a deep breath. He pretty much knew how this would go. “Corey’s being an asshole, but he’s right. I want to make a final plea to all of you not to join the coven tonight.”
“Screw you, man.” Corey threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes. “I’m not getting involved in this game of yours with the vamps.”
“It’s not a game.”
“Yes, it is. And we’re the fucking pawns. You two are whacking your dicks at each other because you threw him out of your little group back in Maine and now he wants to take your people from you. When the two of you get together, you can choke on the testosterone. Vladimir doesn’t care if we join him or feed him, which I can live with. He’s a vampire. We put our trust in you, and you don’t care about
us either.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Robson saw Magda and Yukiko nodding in agreement. “That’s not true.”
“Really? What have you done to get us out of here? When there were nine of us, enough to put up a fight against these things, did you come up with a plan of action? Or an escape plan? Jesus Christ, man. You haven’t even asked them to give us food and water. We’ve been living on that one pail of water the vamps brought us the first night.”
Robson took a deep breath. “What good would any of that have done? We’re too weak to fight them, and with our cut Achilles’ tendons we’d never get away.”
“So you decided to give up and sacrifice all of us to the vampires?” Corey huffed.
Robson hesitated, trying to convince himself to tell the others what he intended, to give them a reason why he was asking them to make this sacrifice. He could not bring himself to do it. “I know it seems that way, but it’s not.”
“Bullshit,” said Corey.
“Mike,” said Yukiko, “you must understand. We’re scared, and we’re looking to you to tell us what to do. And all you’ve been telling us is that we should allow ourselves to be drained like James and Edward. How do you expect us to go along with that?”
“Because becoming part of the coven is worse,” said Robson.
“Why?” asked Magda. “It sure is less scary than being fed on, and in return we’re immortal. How can that be worse?”
“It is. Trust me.”
“We want to,” said Roberta. “I’ve known you for a year, and you’ve always been straight with me and everyone else in camp. This is different. You’re asking us to trust you, to accept a horrible death, without telling us why it’s important. You have to be up front with us.”
Robson met Roberta’s gaze, his eyes expressing his determination. “I can’t.”
“Fuck this shit,” Corey mumbled.
Yukiko and Magda were crestfallen. Roberta shook her head. “I expected better from you.”
The others avoided making eye contact, not that Robson could blame them. He was asking them to accept a painful, terrifying death based only on his good faith, which he knowingly violated. He felt confident Roberta would probably stand by him, although he doubted any of the others would. He couldn’t do anything about it now, other than hope that when this was over anyone who survived might understand why he took this course of action and forgive him. However, he doubted that.
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