Gunfire cut off Ari’s screams. When she felt the hands release her legs, she kicked away. Another shot, and the rotter pulling on the backpack let go. Ari scrambled up onto the roof. One by one, the rotters attacking her were taken down by headshots. Josephine stood on the next car over. She popped out the empty magazine and, as she replaced it, smiled at her friend. The two women made their way forward in tandem, slowly but steadily.
* * *
Natalie and Amy found themselves at a disadvantage. The commotion the others made advancing along the line of traffic had drawn the rotters between the vehicles, blocking their path. The two women would jump to a vehicle, choose which direction they wanted to go, and then clear the way with their weapons before moving to the next. To do this, they had to expend ammunition, which in turn attracted more of the living dead. Within minutes, they fell behind the others and were in danger of being surrounded.
Natalie called out to Amy, “Follow me.”
Making her way to the outer lane of vehicles, Natalie headed for an eighteen-wheeler. She made the jump to the bed of a pick-up truck in front of the rig and waited until Amy joined her. She shot the three rotters between them and the rig.
“Jump!” she ordered.
Amy did not hesitate. She leaped off the bed, covered the few feet between vehicles, and landed on the truck’s left fender. Getting her footing, she scrambled up onto the hood. Natalie made the same jump. When she landed on the fender, her right foot slipped and she fell on her left hip. The fall gave the closest rotters a chance to grab hold of her leg. Natalie tried to kick away. When she rolled over, she saw three of the living dead trying to bite her or pull her into the horde. Natalie reached up and grabbed the side mirror mount as more rotters approached. From the hood, Amy fired three three-round bursts into the head of those rotters holding Natalie, and then grabbed Natalie’s hand and lifted her up onto the hood seconds before another five of the living dead descended on the fender.
The two women scurried onto the roof of the truck and made the leap onto the semi-trailer. They raced to the end, hoping to make their escape. Instead, they had come upon a dead end. A Harley Davidson motorcycle sat directly behind the trailer and, to the left of the truck, was an SUV with luggage attached to the roof rack as well as a VW Beetle. They could not jump to any of these vehicles without seriously injuring themselves, which would be a death sentence since dozens of rotters already swarmed around the truck, with a hundred more closing in from all sides. Glancing back over her shoulder, the way they had come had been cut off.
“What now?” Amy asked.
“Shoot as many as we can with what little ammo we have, and then hope for the best.”
* * *
Stephanie had made it only a thousand feet when enough rotters had fallen over the guardrail to block her path. More than a dozen closed in on either side, with too many more beyond that to allow her to escape even if she could push her way past these. Stephanie contemplated whether to die fighting or spare herself and jump. From out of nowhere, a loudspeaker cut through the moaning of the living dead.
“Drop to the ground now.”
Stephanie did as ordered. A second later, she heard a metallic whir similar to a blender being turned on, followed by a steady stream of gunfire that lasted five seconds. Something rained down on her back. When the shooting stopped, she lifted her head. Small chunks of rotter lay scattered on her and across the pedestrian walkway. Not a single living dead remained standing. Vehicles drove past her as well as a dozen soldiers rushing in her direction. Stephanie remained still, not wanting to appear to be a threat. The soldiers came up to her, most forming a circle around her. Their leader, a young Hispanic woman, asked, “Are you all right, ma’am?”
“I am now.”
* * *
Ari and Josephine continued their forward advance when they heard the sound of motors followed by the roar of gunfire. A line of Bradley fighting vehicles moved past, chain guns mowing down a horde of rotters on the eastern pedestrian walkway. The women had no idea what to make of this until they saw Duncan jumping up and down on the hood, waving his arms. Three twelve-man squads broke away from the main group, one heading for Duncan and the other two for Ari and Josephine. The squads fought their way through the vehicles, eliminating any nearby rotters. When they reached Duncan and the Angels, they helped them off the vehicles and escorted them back to the Bradleys. The rear doors dropped open and a tall man wearing sergeant stripes ushered them onboard.
“You guys are safe now.”
* * *
Natalie and Amy saw everything play out from the rear of the semi-trailer. Several of the Bradleys stopped to rescue Stephanie, Duncan, Ari, and Josephine, while three more headed for them. The chain guns mounted on the roof opened fire, sending thousands of rounds into the sides of the semi-trailer and the surrounding vehicles. Windows erupted; metal was punctured; rotters were shredded. The carnage lasted less than ten seconds. When the guns wound down, no rotters remained and the lower half of the semi-trailer looked like a sieve.
The lead Bradley pulled up alongside the eighteen-wheeler and stopped while two more continued ahead. The rear door came down and five soldiers ran out. Two of them crawled onto the Bradley. One by one, they helped Natalie and Amy off of the semi-trailer, where the other three then helped them onto the bridge. A middle-aged man wearing captain insignia exited the Bradley and strode up to them.
“Do you know where Lieutenant Pandelosi is?”
Natalie lowered her head. “She didn’t make it.”
“Damn,” the captain muttered under his breath. “Which one of you has the Revenant Vaccine?”
“How do you know about that?”
“Pandelosi radioed us yesterday about your arrival at Offutt. Secretary Fogel is excited about the prospect of being able to take back the United States from these things.”
“One of my girls is carrying a backpack with the vaccine,” said Natalie. “You picked her up a few minutes ago.”
“How many of you are there?”
“I’m not sure. There are the ones you just picked up, three more on the pedestrian walkway closer to shore, and the pilot, who’s wounded. We left him back at the airstrip in Sausalito in a C-130.”
“We didn’t see the other three on the way in.” The captain turned to one of his subordinates and pointed to the western walkway. “Sanchez, have one of the squads check out that portion of the bridge. We’re looking for three more people. And radio the Beachhead that we have a wounded survivor back at the emergency airstrip who needs to be rescued.”
“Yes, sir!” the soldier said and ran off to follow orders.
The captain turned back to Natalie. “Are you ready?”
“Who are you?”
“Sorry.” He offered his hand. “I’m Captain Rogers. I’m in charge of the military unit protecting the Beachhead. We’re here to get you to safety.”
“How’d you know where to find us?” asked Amy.
“Alameda alerted us that you had arrived early and tracked your movements until you landed in Sausalito. We mobilized to come and get you. When you blew up half the bridge, we knew exactly where to find you.” Rogers stepped aside and motioned toward the Bradley. “If you’ll please get on board. We have a lot of revenants heading this way, and I need to get us out of here ASAP.”
Natalie and Amy entered the Bradley. Rogers barked some orders to his men, and then climbed on himself and closed the rear hatch.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
The drive back to the Beachhead was uneventful, especially after the last hour. Once near the southern end of the Golden Gate Bridge, the foot soldiers boarded the Bradleys. They joined up with five additional fighting vehicles deployed along the bridge’s southern approaches that had been holding back rotters, and together the convoy made its way home. Natalie noticed that here, like on the bridge, lanes of traffic had been cleared of abandoned vehicles to allow for easy access. The trip lasted less than five minutes.
&nbs
p; The Beachhead was actually the old San Francisco Port of Embarkation located inside Fort Mason, now known as the Fort Mason Center. The cement wall that surrounded the complex had been augmented by guard towers every fifty feet and strands of barbed wire erected along the top. Two rows of Jersey barriers ran parallel to the perimeter at fifty and one hundred-foot intervals, the former being stacked two barriers high. Various cars and small vehicles had been placed between the two barriers, creating a nearly impenetrable defense against rotters. M1 tanks blocked each of the three entrances through the walls. As the Bradleys neared, Rogers fired two flares into the air. The tanks pulled aside, allowing the convoy through, and then rolled back into position. The convoy entered the parking lot. When the rear doors opened, Natalie stepped out.
The complex itself didn’t look very impressive. Four three-story barracks that had been converted into office space spread across the grounds. To the north, three piers extended into the Bay, each dominated by a warehouse. Two ferry boats, a barge, and several speedboats were tied alongside them. Another dozen Bradleys and a few Humvees were parked near the buildings. Everyone wore camouflage uniforms and carried a weapon. This place appeared more like an armed camp than the de facto government-in-exile. Natalie felt her hopes fading away.
Rogers stepped up behind Natalie and cleared his throat to get her attention. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m going to have to ask you and the other ladies in your unit to follow me.”
“Where to?” Natalie felt her suspicions rising.
“All newcomers have to be placed into quarantine for forty-eight hours. That includes the military personnel who flew in with you. It’s protocol, especially since one of your number has been bitten.”
“Who was bitten?” Natalie asked.
Rogers hesitated, trying to remember the name. “Arianne?”
“You mean Ari?”
“Maybe that’s it. She received a minor bite to the hand. She claims you’ve all been inoculated, but we still have to place you under quarantine.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you.”
Natalie followed Rogers to the farthest of the three barracks. The rest of her Angels and the surviving military members were being escorted in the same direction, though none of them at gunpoint. In fact, Duncan seemed to be chatting amiably with his escort. Batchelder, Sandy, and Josephine were not among them
“Did you find the other three members of our group?”
“Not yet. Once we pick up the pilot in Sausalito, I’ll send out a search party for them.”
“Thanks,” Natalie said. A moment of silence passed between them. “I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed.”
“Because we couldn’t find your people?”
“We were told Secretary Fogel had gathered a lot of people under him and was preparing to take back the country from the rotters. I don’t mean to be rude, but this doesn’t look like much.”
“Ma’am, we call this the Beachhead because it’s the part of the complex attached to the mainland. This is where we bring in survivors and quarantine them.” Rogers pointed out into San Francisco Bay. “Secretary Fogel and the main community have set themselves up there where they’re safe.”
Natalie followed his finger. The captain was pointing to Alcatraz.
* * *
It took five hours for Robson’s team to wrap up things at the storage facility and return to base. While Dravko and Tibor finished releasing the prisoners chained to the perimeter defense, Robson had taken DeWitt back into the compound to kill off rotters and rescue survivors, including Caslow, whom they found cowering inside one of the units. In total, they had saved thirty-three people from the perimeter defense and five women from inside who had remained hidden throughout the battle, and helped them into the Ryder for the trip back to camp. They also had gathered up the bodies of their fallen companions, as well as those women killed inside the compound who had been innocent victims. The bodies of the gang members were left to rot amongst the corpses of the living dead. Some of the survivors had complained about having to ride with corpses. Robson had stopped their whining by reminding them that those people had died trying to save them. He would make certain the dead got a proper burial and memorial tomorrow.
Unfortunately, they had not found Windows. According to the women who had been rescued from inside the compound, she had been alive as of that evening, and some of the survivors from the Line had reported a young woman and little girl sneaking through the fence during the battle, so what the old man had told Robson about her having an escape plan must have been true. Roberta had spent an hour driving up and down Route 28 and some of the side roads searching for Windows, but never found her.
Wayans had suffered only a superficial wound. While Roberta had stitched him up, Simmons had cooked the survivors a hot meal. Not that he had much to offer—bacon and scrambled eggs. For the survivors, it was more than they had eaten in months. Robson stood by the door of the construction company garage watching them. When Simmons handed out the meals in paper bowls, some of the survivors grasped his hand and wouldn’t let go, or cried at their good fortune. Most, however, silently devoured their meal.
Simmons made his way back to the garage door and stood by Robson. “You know, most of these people are so emaciated and sick, a third of them will probably be dead within a week.”
“I know. At least they had a chance to regain their humanity before they die.”
“Amen to that.” An awkward silence passed between the two men. “Where do you plan to go from here?”
“I promised I’d only stay a day or two, and then we’d move on.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Robson detected a tone of guilt in Simmons’ voice. “I really do want to know. What’s next?”
Good question. Too bad Robson had not thought it through more thoroughly before now.
Because of the trip to Site R to obtain the vaccine, he had ultimately lost most of his team, his camp back in Maine, and the Angels. He would probably never know whether or not Natalie and the girls were successful in delivering the vaccine to the government-in-exile, or if they were even still alive. In the grand scheme of things, that concern was minor. He had to provide for and protect thirty-eight invalids, and do it with a team that now numbered five people, with DeWitt and Roberta being the only ones he could truly rely on. He still questioned the vampires’ loyalty, and Caslow would be only slightly more useful than the survivors.
Robson felt woefully unprepared for all this.
“So,” prodded Simmons again. “What’s next?”
Robson shrugged. “It’s time to move on and start over.”
* * *
Windows had stopped thirty minutes after leaving the construction site, and then just long enough to gather some food and water for Cindy and to arm herself with one of the AK-47s in the back. After that, she continued to drive north, staying to the back roads as much as possible, while Cindy slept in the front seat. Earlier, she had passed signs for Laconia and Lake Winnipesaukee. About three hours ago, she had to turn east because of the White Mountains looming in the distance. The last sign she remembered seeing was for Conway, and that was almost ninety minutes ago. As the sun burst over the horizon, she pulled over and consulted the maps she had found under the front seat. After staring at it for ten minutes, she still could not figure out her location. Placing the map on the dashboard, she drove on, planning to get her bearings the next time she came upon a road sign.
The sun crested the trees and poured through the windshield, falling across Cindy. The girl stirred. She yawned and stretched, and then opened her eyes. Upon seeing Windows beside her, she smiled.
“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?”
Cindy nodded and sat upright in her seat. “Where are we now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.” Cindy looked over at Windows. “When we get there,
will we finally be safe?”
“I hope so, honey.” Windows reached out and gave Cindy’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I really hope so.”
Acknowledgements
I want to thank all my readers who have patiently waited for this sequel to Rotter World, and an apology for taking so long to get this into print. The delay was a combination of a series of life changes and business issues beyond my control. However, that is all in the past, and Rotter Nation has been released. I hope it is worth the wait.
A major debt of gratitude goes to Felicia A. Sullivan, my editor, who worked closely with me to tighten up the manuscript. Felicia is a consummate professional who did a superior job, and I value her expertise as well as the fact that she is also a fan. However, any errors in the final product are mine to own.
Zach McCain provided the cover art. He took my original concept and greatly improved on it. I love having this cover associated with my novel.
I am grateful to my readers–Alison, Tony, and Odyn York–for reviewing the first draft and providing their honest feedback. I rely on my Beta readers to point out my mistakes and plot flaws, and they did a fantastic job. I also want to give a special shout out to Steve Konkoly who provided a sanity check on my yacht-related scenes and made me sound like I wasn’t a complete land lubber.
As always, a special thank you goes to my family, human and furry, who tolerated the long hours I spent with the living dead rather than with them. I cannot remember how many times I sat in front of my computer with a drooling snout resting on my leg and a pair of large brown eyes staring up at me begging for attention. To all of you, thank you for sharing me with my passion. I love you all.
Rotter World (Book 2): Rotter Nation Page 32
