Rotter World (Book 2): Rotter Nation

by Baker, Scott M.

  God, she missed him. It went beyond a physical attraction, though that was a major part of it. She missed the little things. The way he’d smile at her from across the compound. The way he laughed. The way he used to make hand contact with her, which appeared innocent enough even though it harbored deeper feelings. He had been a major part of her life for these past seven months, one of those constants in her day-to-day existence, and one of the few things that gave her focus. Now he was gone. Not dead, although he might as well be. Even if he and the others survived the raid on the compound, the chances of the two of them ever seeing each other again were minimal.

  The sound of approaching footsteps jarred Natalie out of her self-pity. Emily, Ari, and Bethany ascended the ladder to the flying bridge.

  “Morning, honey.” Emily slid up beside Natalie. “Anything exciting happen last night?”

  “Thank God, no.”

  “You didn’t run into any zombie sharks?”

  “No!” Natalie had never considered the possibility that the Zombie Virus could species jump, and didn’t want to start thinking about that now.

  “Just teasing.” Emily gave her a hug around the shoulders. “What’s our location?”

  “My best guess is we’re somewhere off the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I can’t tell for certain.” Natalie pointed to the state-of-the-art GPS chart plotter. “The GPS is acting funny.”

  “That’s not surprising. GPS satellites require ground control station updates to maintain coverage. Without that guidance, readings become inaccurate and many areas will suffer from low confidence. We’re making good time.” Emily examined the navigation charts. “How’s Doug running?”

  Natalie furrowed her eyebrows. “Who’s Doug?”

  “That’s what I call our yacht.”

  “Why Doug?”

  “I named it after an old boyfriend who treated me like shit in college. Like him, I’m going to use it to my advantage, run it into the ground, and then leave it when I’m done.” Emily flashed a conspiratorial smile. “Never screw over Southern women.”

  Natalie chuckled. It had been a long time since she found humor in anything. She gave Emily a mock salute. “The bridge is yours, Captain.”

  Emily slid behind the wheel. “Aye, matey.” The pirate accent mixed with a Southern drawl didn’t sound right.

  Ari replaced Sandy at the radar. Ari checked the screen when she called out, “We have a contact at bearing 338.”

  “Shit, I missed that?” asked Sandy.

  “It just appeared. It’s five miles out.”

  “Is it a lighthouse?” Natalie asked.

  “It’s too far from shore to be a lighthouse. And it’s too big.” Emily studied the charts. “There’s nothing listed in this area as a navigational hazard. It has to be a ship.”

  “It’s pretty big,” said Ari.

  “What’s its course and speed?”

  Ari watched the radar for several seconds. “It’s not moving.”

  “A derelict?” asked Tiara.

  “Possibly,” said Emily. “Or they could just be coasting. Where else can they go? I’ll set a course so we steer clear of it.”

  “No,” countered Natalie. “Let’s check it out.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” asked Ari.

  “They may have fuel we can use. I’d rather get it out here than have to try and go ashore for it.”

  “Suppose they’re not friendly?” asked Emily.

  Natalie thought about that for a minute. “Sandy, go downstairs and wake the Angels. Take Tiara and Bethany with you. I want all of you locked and loaded in five minutes. Stay below deck. It this ship turns out to be trouble, I want to have the element of surprise. If it’s friendly, then you can stow the weapons and come on up.”

  Sandy nodded and led the others down below.

  Natalie turned back to Emily. “How long until we reach it?”

  “Just a few minutes. I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “So do I.”

  The fog surrounded the yacht like a cocoon. Natalie had appreciated it because it offered them a sense of security, however superficial. Now it worked against them, preventing them from knowing what was ahead. With each passing minute, she became more uncertain about her decision. Every time Ari called out the distance from the mysterious vessel, Natalie wanted to order Emily to change heading. Yet she knew she couldn’t. Avoiding the unknown was not an option, especially if they might be able to refuel without having to go ashore. When Sandy came up to let her know the Angels were ready she felt a little more secure.

  “We’re a mile out.” Ari lifted her head from the radar and visually searched for the vessel. Emily reduced speed to zero knots, allowing the yacht to coast.

  A few seconds later, a shadow appeared in the fog, becoming a virtual wall of steel that loomed out of the murk stretching out for hundreds of feet. As they drew closer, an outline began to form in the mist. Natalie recognized it as a cruise ship. Multiple decks stacked one on top of the other towered above them, the top decks obscured by fog. Even the gloom could not conceal the dried blood that flowed through the drain holes and stained the hull red. The yacht drew closer, and Emily steered to starboard to parallel the vessel.

  A sudden shift in the wind to the north confirmed her worst fears. As the breeze flowed across the cruise ship and past the yacht, it brought with it the stench of decay. A second later, the collective moaning of hundreds of living dead broke the silence. Looking up, the women saw a mass of rotters lining the deck and leaning over the rail, arms flailing at the only food they had seen in months. Some lost their balance and tumbled over the side, others were shoved off by the mass of living dead forming behind them. The yacht coasted by, the swarm following along the deck, moving en masse.

  “This is as bad as Site R,” Ari mumbled.

  The words rang loud to Natalie. The battle with the four hundred rotters in the access tunnel leading to the underground facility had destroyed the Angels’ spirit and fractured their unity as a fighting force.

  A gasp from behind her caught Natalie’s attention. She spun around to see the rest of the Angels on deck, staring up at the mass of living dead swarming along the rail. Josephine’s mouth hung agape. Those shoved off deck splashed into the water and sank beneath the surface.

  “Get us out of here,” she said.

  Emily pushed the throttles forward. The yacht picked up speed, racing along the cruise ship’s beam. With the increased noise and movement, the horde went into a frenzy. They chased after the yacht, pushing along the rail and spreading out across the fantail. Between their mass and momentum, the horde couldn’t stop when they reached the stern and began dropping from the ship like lemmings off a cliff. A virtual rain of living dead flowed from the fantail into the ocean, disappearing beneath the surface. Within a few seconds, the fog engulfed the cruise ship, although the wail of the hungry rotters and their splashing into the ocean followed the yacht for almost a minute before fading away.

  The Angels went back below deck, their fragile cohesion damaged even further. Josephine sat down on the deck and cried. Natalie didn’t blame her. Hell, she wanted to do the same thing, and probably would have if she didn’t have to maintain this stoicism of command façade.

  Emily clasped her shoulder. “Honey, go below and get some sleep.”

  “Who can sleep after that?”

  “You have to. You’re what’s holding those girls together. If you fall apart, we might as well just scuttle this thing at sea and get it over with.”

  Emily was right. The rest of the Angels had always looked to her for guidance, even more so now after Site R. She hated the idea of having so much responsibility, but couldn’t shirk it. Once they reached Omaha and passed along the vaccine, she planned on disbanding the Angels and going her own way, which meant heading back to Maine to find Robson.

  “I’m heading below,” said Natalie. “You’re in charge.”

  “I’ll call you if we run i
nto anything else.”

  “Thanks.”

  Natalie did not even want to contemplate what other horrors waited for them out here.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Last night had been a good night for Windows. Meat had gone out for several hours and returned horny and drunk. He had almost been gentle with her, foregoing rough sex and his usual litany of derogatory remarks. Thankfully, he finished after a few minutes and passed out, which allowed her to get a good sleep for a change. As an added bonus, Meat was still asleep when she got up this morning, so she snuck out to do her breakfast detail without having to perform a morning quickie.

  It didn’t dawn on Windows until she reached the kitchen that she had not seen Debra or Cindy all night, and neither of them was there to help prepare breakfast. A sense of panic began to set in.

  Tracey saw her and frowned. “It’s about time you showed up. The three of us have been doing all the work while you and Debra whore for Meat.”

  “I haven’t seen Debra or Cindy since yesterday,” snapped Windows.

  Karen and Lisa glanced at each other with an expression of concern.

  “What’s wrong?” Windows asked. The women averted their eyes. Windows grabbed Tracey by the arm and yanked to get her attention. “Tell me.”

  Tracey shrugged her arm away. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re the new flavor of the month for Meat, so Debra is out on her ass.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That means the bitch and her little brat are fair game now. They’re either in the Rape Room or on the Line.”

  Windows rushed out of the kitchen, ignoring Tracey’s protests about having to cook breakfast on her own. She found Cindy crouched in front of the Rape Room, clutching her knees tightly against her chest.

  Windows sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her. Cindy leaned in close, but would not meet her gaze.

  “Hey, kid. Are you okay?”

  Cindy nodded.

  Windows did not want to know the answer to the next question. She took a deep breath and asked. “Did anyone touch you or hurt you?”

  This time Cindy shook her head. Windows exhaled with relief.

  The little girl looked up. Tears filled her eyes. “They hurt Mommy.”

  “Who hurt your mother?”

  “They all did.”

  Cindy leaned her head into Windows. She felt the girl’s tears soaking her shirt. Windows held her tight and let her cry. After a few minutes, she asked, “Where is your mother now?”

  Cindy pointed to the Rape Room. “She’s in there. They took her in last night. Mommy told me to stay out here and wait for her, and not to go in no matter what.”

  “You’re a good girl.” Windows hugged Cindy and kissed the top of her head. “Let me go check on your mother. Stay here and don’t move, and scream like hell if anyone bothers you.”

  “I will.”

  Windows stood up and stepped over to the door. Grabbing the handle, she raised it just enough to crouch and duck under, and then lowered it behind her. The moment she saw the interior, the memories of her second night on the compound rushed back to her, numbing her senses. She fought back the urge vomit. She had to check on Debra.

  She found Debra curled up naked in a fetal position on the floor under the wooden table, her back to the door. The torn remnants of her pants and blouse covered her bruised body, providing scant protection against the cold. At first, Windows feared the worst until she saw Debra’s chest rising and falling with each breath. Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief until she moved around to her front. Debra had been roughed up pretty bad. She had discolored bruises across her thighs and cheeks as well as a split lip. Her right eye was swollen shut from where someone had punched her. Small streams of blood trickled from her anus and vagina. Windows didn’t even want to imagine what had gone on in here last night.

  Bending over, Windows placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder and gently shook her. “Debra, are you okay?”

  Debra’s eyes shot open, growing wide in terror. A sharp, fearful cry escaped from her mouth. She punched and kicked at Windows, so stricken with panic that most of the blows glanced off. After a few seconds, Debra rolled over facing the opposite wall and scurried on her hands and knees for the far corner. She crouched there, her back to Windows, whimpering.

  “It’s okay. It’s me, Windows. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Debra turned her head and, seeing her friend, calmed down. Windows came closer and crouched three feet away, just out of striking distance. “Are you all right?”

  “Do I look all right?” Debra screamed.

  “What happened?”

  “They… they….”

  “Who are ‘they’?”

  A few moments passed while the woman sobbed. She then took a deep breath and began. “Meat brought me here last night. I thought maybe, after spending so much time with you, he wanted some alone time with me. When we got here they…. Fifteen guys were waiting for me. They were all drinking and having a good time, and Meat made me have sex with all of them.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Debra shook her head. “That wasn’t the bad part. By the time I had finished and gotten dressed, they were all rowdy. They wanted a second go around. When I refused, they beat me up, tore my clothes off, and took me two and three at a time. Meat stood in the corner, laughing and egging them on. The more they humiliated me, the louder he laughed.”

  “Where was Cindy during all this?”

  “Outside the door.” Debra panicked and sat upright. “Oh, my God. Where is Cindy?”

  “She’s fine.” Windows wrapped and arm around Debra. “I found her sitting outside. No one harmed her.”

  Debra leaned into Windows and sobbed. “This is my fault. I hooked you up with Meat hoping to get a break, and instead he picked you over me. This is going to happen to me every night now!” she wailed.

  Windows hugged Debra close and let her cry. She remained silent. Partly because she didn’t know what to say, and partly because she knew this could just as easily be her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Robson, DeWitt, Simmons, and Wayans lay prone on top of the hill overlooking the storage facility, concealed behind a row of bushes. Robson realized he had spied on the rape gang from this same hill just two weeks earlier. Each of them examined the facility through a pair of binoculars, except for Wayans, who used the scope on his sniper rifle, ready to defend the group if necessary. The afternoon sun sat high in the sky, allowing them to get a good view. DeWitt divided his attention between the binoculars and a notepad, jotting down every detail of the compound.

  “Jesus Christ,” whispered Simmons. “What the fuck are those people doing tied down outside the compound?”

  “We think it’s their version of an early warning system,” Robson replied. “While the rotters are feeding on them, it gives the compound time to man their defenses.”

  “But who are those people?”

  Wayans huffed. “Probably survivors from Locke Lake and other towns they raided.”

  “Have you ever been here before?” asked Robson.

  Simmons shrugged. “About five months ago, right after we first noticed these guys cruising the area. We tracked them back here to see what trouble we faced. At that time, they were turning the facility into a fortified compound and hadn’t set up an outer perimeter yet.”

  “It’s disgusting,” said DeWitt.

  “It’s friggin’ ingenious,” said Wayans.

  Robson lowered the binoculars. “What do you mean?”

  “Those people tied up out there are gonna make a fuss no matter who shows up, including us. Our chances of sneaking in to get your friend just dropped by more than half.”

  Robson hadn’t thought about that. If just one of those people started screaming, mistaking them for rotters, the entire compound would be alerted. A tough job just got damn near impossible.

  “We got activity,” said Simmons.

  A black Hummer H3 sped
down the main road and slowed as it approached the compound. The vehicle bounced off the road and into the driveway, dislodging a backpack from the rear that fell onto the pavement. The driver came to a stop in front of the gate and sounded the horn. After more than a minute, the main gate to the facility opened a few feet and two figures emerged. One stopped in the center of the security zone while the other rushed to the chain link fence, unsecured the lock, and slid the gate aside. While the Hummer pulled in and stopped by the first figure, the one who opened the gate stepped past the Hummer and walked outside to get the backpack.

  * * *

  Price climbed out of the driver’s seat and frowned as Carter approached. “What took you so long to open the gate?”

  Carter stopped ten feet from his boss. “You’re back earlier than expected. I wanted to be sure everything was okay before I let anyone in. Those vampires are still out there.”

  “And you think they’re a threat in the middle of the fucking day?”

  “No, but the assholes who took down Ike and the others are.”

  Price held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry. I’m pissed. We’ve been out there for weeks searching for these people, and all we’ve done is waste half our gas reserves.”

  “Maybe we should stand down.”

  Price shook his head. “I don’t want to get caught with our pants down like we did last time.”

  “Last time was different. No one expected to run into a truck full of blood suckers. Besides, if they were coming after us, they probably would have done so by now.”

  Price turned from his deputy and stared out across the road. Of course, Carter was right. This band of mercenaries had only been passing through when Ike’s team had come across them. Sure, they would want revenge for what he did to their compound, assuming these guys even made it back from Pennsylvania, which under the circumstances….