Rotter World (Book 2): Rotter Nation

by Baker, Scott M.

Dravko heard the sound of gunfire behind him, snapping his attention away from the living dead nurse banging against his door. In his rearview mirror, he saw six rotters around the Humvee go down one by one. Only then did he realize how untenable their situation had become.

  “Screw this.” Dravko shifted back into second gear. “If those assholes won’t back up, then we’ll have to go forward.”

  Dravko pushed his foot down on the accelerator. The Ryder lurched into gear, shoving the chained police cars in front of it. Metal ground against metal. The tires on the police cars popped and their windows exploded. The rotters behind the vehicles were either shoved along or knocked to the ground where they got caught up in the undercarriages. Dravko cringed when he felt the truck’s tires bounce over the mangled bodies, afraid of getting a flat. After moving clear of the bridge, he spun the wheel right, maneuvering the police cars to the side of the road. Dravko shifted into reverse, but when he backed up the Ryder dragged the two police cars along with it.

  “Fuck! They’re hooked on the front bumper.”

  Tibor leaned out his window. They had pushed past the rotters, most of which converged on the vehicles still on the bridge. A few followed the Ryder, but they were still a dozen yards away. Opening his door, Tibor slid out and rushed around to the front of the truck.

  * * *

  “Get in here!” Robson yelled to Jennifer.

  Flipping shut the reloaded chamber, she surveyed the situation. The Ryder had driven off, shoving the cars in front of it and leaving behind a trail of metallic and human debris. Most of the living dead that had been trying to get into the truck now turned their attention to the lead Humvee, eight in total. There was no way she would win this one with a Magnum. Sliding back into the passenger seat, she closed the door behind her.

  Robson followed the Ryder.

  * * *

  Thank you, thought Natalie as she fell in behind Robson’s Humvee.

  * * *

  Once Doreen saw the other vehicles moving, she pushed her foot down on the gas pedal. The bus lurched forward, knocking Emily and Josephine off balance. The women reached out and found something to hold on to.

  * * *

  Tibor stood by the Ryder’s fender and immediately saw the problem. The truck’s right bumper had shattered one of the car windows and the end had become hooked around the frame. Grabbing the rear end of the police car, the vampire lifted and twisted, hoping to break it free.

  Robson drove past and slowed. “What’s the matter?”

  Tibor didn’t look up. “We’re lodged on one of the police cars.”

  “Leave it. You and Dravko get on the bus.”

  “We need the truck to survive during the daytime. Besides, this will only take a minute.”

  As much as Robson hated to admit it, the truck was worth the risk, especially with the sun about to rise. He noticed ten rotters stumbling across the bridge. They could handle this.

  “I’ll be back.” Robson drove one hundred feet beyond the Ryder and stopped, leaving the engine running. He grabbed his AA-12 and climbed out of the vehicle. Jennifer slid out the passenger side.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To help you.”

  “Stay here and guard the Hummer. I’ll have a couple of the Angels back you up. Fire a warning shot if any of them get close.”

  “Copy that.”

  Natalie and Ari stood by the open doors of their Humvee as Robson approached. Natalie started to ask a question, but he cut her off. “We need to cover Tibor.”

  Both women nodded. Ari fell in behind him. Natalie circled around to the front door of the school bus, where Emily and Josephine waited. “You two are with me. The rest of you, set up a perimeter.”

  Robson approached the Ryder on its passenger side. The first rotter lumbered around its rear, heading for Tibor. It wore an orange road construction crew safety vest, with the yellow stripes covered over with dried blood and gore. It snarled at Robson. He raised his AA-12 and fired, and its head disintegrated into a mist of blood and gore. Ari, Josephine, Emily, and Natalie moved up on his left, taking out the next four rotters that approached. Slowly and methodically, the five humans moved forward, bringing down any of the living dead that came near them.

  The sounds of scraping metal came from the Ryder’s driver’s side. Circling around the rear of the truck, Robson saw three rotters trying to claw their way into the cab. He raised the AA-12 and aimed.

  “Hey!” he yelled.

  As one, the three turned toward him and shambled toward their prey. When they closed to within five feet, Robson squeezed the trigger and swept the barrel from left to right, decapitating all three rotters.

  At that moment, Tibor broke the two police cars free from the Ryder and shouldered them across the road onto the sidewalk. He raced back to the truck, waving. “Let’s go!”

  Robson barely heard the vampire, his attention focused instead on the convoy. None of the other Angels had gotten off the bus. Jennifer defended the entire perimeter by herself. If any rotters had attacked from the surrounding neighborhoods, Robson and the others would have been outflanked before any of them knew they were in danger. Hell, if this had been Glens Falls or Montoursville, they would be among the living dead by now.

  Tibor stood on the Ryder’s running board, staring at the humans. “What are you waiting for?”

  Natalie sighed. “I’ll round up my team so we can get moving.”

  “You don’t have a team anymore.” Robson shook his head and walked back to his Humvee.

  Two minutes later, the convoy raced through South Portland on its way back to camp.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Camp” referred to Fort McClary, an early-eighteenth century fort that occupied twenty-five acres along the Maine coast outside of Kittery where the Piscataqua River navigated around a series of small islands before emptying into the Atlantic. When the Zombie Virus broke out, it had been a tourist attraction. Paul Martin, the commander of the camp, had seen the advantages to setting up a compound in a fort surrounded by ten-foot-high granite walls enclosed by trees on three sides and a cliff overlooking the ocean on the fourth. Over the course of several months, Paul and the other survivors had raided local construction sites, outlet malls, and farms until they had stockpiled enough supplies to create an austere yet self-sustaining community to ride out the apocalypse. They had survived just fine until Dr. Compton, the creator of the Zombie Virus, had shown up at camp stating he had a vaccine for the virus in an underground facility in southern Pennsylvania, and convinced them to drive five hundred miles and retrieve it. That promise turned out to be a lot easier made than filled, and had proven extremely costly. Despite everything, they had acquired the vaccine and, in a few minutes, would be home. At which point, Robson planned to crash in the steel container that served as his quarters and sleep for a week.

  Robson glanced in his side mirror. The school bus followed right behind him, and Natalie brought up the rear. Emily now drove the Ryder, with Josephine riding shotgun. A few miles outside of South Portland, the convoy had stopped long enough for Dravko and Tibor to crawl into the back of the truck, the trailer of which had been covered in sheet metal and fitted with blackout curtains so the vampires could travel in sunlight. It had been designed to house four vampires; they were returning with half that number, a loss that devastated the clan.

  Hell, even he had lost more people than he had anticipated.

  Traveling down Route 1 South, Robson could see ahead of them a swarm of rotters still lingering around the Kittery Outlet Mall, attracted to the location by the frequent raids they had made there in search of supplies. They would not have to run the gauntlet today, thank God. He took a left onto Harley Road, which wound its way to the coast. After a few minutes, he glanced at his watch. 8:09. With any luck, they’d be back in time for breakf—

  “That can’t be good,” said Jennifer.

  Robson followed her gaze. Black smoke billowed into the early morning sky.
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br />   Jennifer glanced over at him. “Isn’t that where the camp is?”

  Robson nodded.

  As the convoy exited Harley Road onto Route 103, Robson’s worst fears were confirmed. Down the road to the right was the entrance to Fort McClary. The front gate sat wide open, which would be unacceptable under normal circumstances. Black smoke mushroomed over the tree line.

  Natalie’s frantic voice came over the hand-held push-to-talk radio. “Mike, what the hell is going on? Is that smoke from the compound? What happened?”

  Robson removed his radio from the dashboard and clicked the talk button. “Calm down. We don’t know anything yet. Natalie, you and Ari follow me into the compound, and be ready for anything. The rest of you, stay here. If you see any rotters or humans, get away and come back in an hour. Is that clear?”

  “Roger that,” Doreen answered from the bus.

  “Ditto,” replied Emily. “And be careful, honey.”

  Robson cruised down Route 103, pausing a few feet from the camp. He studied the entrance and the surrounding trees, looking for any sign of movement, but saw nothing. Accelerating slightly, he turned into the driveway and coasted down into the parking area.

  “Oh, dear God,” said Jennifer.

  The parking area was empty except for a Subaru Outback and six bodies that lay scattered across the ground. The metal container by the fort’s main entrance, the one that the vampires used as an emergency dark room, had been destroyed, its doors ripped off and holes punched through the surface. The rebar-reinforced main entrance to the fort had also been torn from its mountings, exposing the passageway through the wall into the compound.

  Robson reached into the backseat and removed his AA-12. Getting out of his Humvee, he approached the closest body. Jennifer followed, scanning the area for movement. The body lay face down, its back covered in blood. Robson examined it for bite marks. There were none. Even so, he nudged the body with his foot. When it didn’t move, he knelt down, placed one hand under its shoulder, and rolled it over. It was Hodges, the head of their motor pool staff. He had five bullet wounds in his chest.

  Robson heard a gasp behind him. Ari stood with her hand over her mouth. “Are you going to be okay?”

  She nodded. “I always assumed we might be overrun. I just never expected we’d be attacked by other humans.”

  “They’re not human,” spat Natalie. “They’re animals. They came in here and took what they wanted.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Jennifer.

  “There’s only one SUV left. Someone took the other vehicles.”

  Robson suddenly got that uneasy feeling cops get when something about a situation doesn’t add up. “Why did they leave one good SUV behind?”

  Natalie’s eyebrows rose at the implication. “Because some of them may still be here.”

  The four spread out and cautiously approached the tunnel leading into the compound. Robson and Natalie went first, their weapons trained on the far end, while Ari and Jennifer brought up the rear. At the opposite end of the tunnel, Robson waved for the others to halt and peered around the corner.

  Very little remained of the compound. A few bodies dotted the grass, obvious victims of the ambush. The two-story, nineteenth-century blockhouse that dominated the center of the compound and served as the dining quarters had been torched. Only the stone foundation remained, with black smoke pouring from the debris where internal fires still raged. Off to the right, the wooden fence surrounding the barnyard had been knocked down. From this distance, Robson saw several large mounds resting in the dirt, and assumed they were the camp’s livestock. Though he could not see them from this vantage point, he guessed that the metal containers on the other side of the hill that served as their living quarters had also been trashed. This had been a methodical raid intended to scavenge what they needed and scorch anything left behind.

  Robson leaned back into the tunnel. “Looks like everything is gone.”

  “Shit,” mumbled Ari.

  “So what do we do now?” asked Natalie.

  “I want to clear the grounds and make sure no one is here. Then we can go through whatever wasn’t destroyed.” Robson turned to Jennifer. “You stay here and guard the entrance. Don’t let anyone in. If we start taking fire, cover our escape.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “You two girls are with me. Stay a hundred feet apart, and be ready for anything.”

  Once they acknowledged, Robson dashed out from the tunnel toward the base of the hill in the center of the compound, half expecting to hear the crack of a weapon and feel the burning pain of a bullet enter his body. Moving toward a stone wall at the base of the hill, he ran up beside it and crouched, giving himself some cover. Natalie and Ari joined him a moment later.

  “Ari, you have my back. Natalie, you keep your eyes on the hill. I’m going to check out the containers.”

  Natalie’s eyes widened. “Don’t you want me to come with you?”

  “No. If you hear gunshots, coming charging in like the cavalry.”

  Staying hunched over to conceal himself, he moved along the wall until he reached the seacoast side of the compound. As expected, the row of steel containers that served as their living quarters had also been vandalized. Furniture and personal belongings lay spread across the ground, doors had been twisted off their hinges, and bullet holes had been shot through the sides and tops. He approached the first container from the left, out of line of sight of the opening. He assumed nothing could be salvaged because whoever had been here had made this place uninhabitable, but at least he could check it out.

  A tall man in a safari vest jumped out in front of Robson and raised a shotgun in his face. “Freeze, assho—”

  In one fluid move, Robson sidestepped to his left. With his right hand, he grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and pointed it away from him. His right knee came up fast, catching the man in the groin. When the man bent over in agony, Robson yanked the shotgun out of his fingers and tossed it to one side. He aimed his AA-12 at the man’s head, who knelt on the ground sobbing.

  “Jesus, Chuck.” Robson moved the AA-12 to one side. “I almost killed you.”

  “Sorry,” Charles DeWitt gasped through his tears. “We thought you were one of them.”

  “Who’s ‘we’ and who’s ‘them’?”

  “Mike, it’s us,” said Roberta Giovanni, emerging from the container, her hands held up so Robson could see she posed no threat. Jean Allard and Aaron Frakes stepped out behind her. The four were members of the camp.

  Robson pointed his weapon down. “Is anyone else with you?”

  “No.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “On the other side of the blockhouse,” said Roberta.

  “Show me.”

  “Okay. But…” Roberta cast a nervous glance at the other men.

  “I understand,” said Robson. “I still need to see it.”

  * * *

  The eight of them stood by the western façade of the charred remains of the blockhouse. Robson clenched his fists tight, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside of him: sadness, depression, revulsion, fury, and a lust for revenge. In the nine months since the outbreak of the zombie virus and the complete destruction of civilization, he thought he had seen every horror imaginable. He had grown accustomed to widespread devastation from the rotters. The betrayal at Site R had taken him by surprise, though in hindsight he should have been less trusting of Compton and Thompson, and his misguided trust had cost them some good people. This was man at his cruelest.

  In front of them sat a tangled mass of corpses, all members of the camp. They had been lined up against the wall and gunned down. A few bodies stood out from the pile, those who had tried to escape or had charged their attackers. Most formed a death pile at the foot of the structure. Gunshot wounds riddled each body, and blood soaked the ground beneath them. Hundreds of spent shell casings littered the area. He had seen photographs similar to this, only now it involved people he knew.
People he had lived with and cared for. People who had survived the end of the world, only to wind up massacred in the relative safety of their haven by people with even less humanity than the rotters.

  Thousands of flies swarmed around the corpses and maggots crawled through the open wounds, feeding off of the remains. Robson wanted to fire his AA-12 into the insects, although he knew that would be futile. He would only desecrate his friends. He might kill a few flies, but the rest would come back and resume their feeding, like the hordes of living dead. Instead, he vented his anger on the survivors.

  Robson whipped around, startling Natalie and Jennifer, both of whom stood beside him. Tears rolled down Ari’s cheeks. He ignored the women and focused on DeWitt, his voice shaking with rage. “What happened?”

  DeWitt glanced over his shoulder for support, receiving none. Allard and Frakes stepped back and averted their gazes. Only Roberta stood her ground.

  “Well?”

  DeWitt took a deep breath to steady his nerves. “It began when an SUV drove past the compound heading toward Portsmouth. The driver didn’t see us and kept on going. Hodges noticed it, and Paul sent us out to follow. He told us to keep our distance and only make contact if we thought they were friendly. We searched for almost three hours. When we couldn’t find them, we came back here. That’s when we found that the camp had been taken over by about twenty guys. They had busted through the front gate, shot Hodges and the motor pool crew, and stormed the compound. We hid the Outback in the woods not far from here and made our way back. By the time we made it here and scaled the walls, they had rounded up everyone in camp and lined them up in front of the blockhouse. This young kid was telling the others that he had told them monsters were here and ranting about the death of his friends. Paul tried to calm the kid down when the leader of the gang… at least I think he was the leader… smashed Paul across the face with the butt of his rifle. A few of our people went after them and… and ….”