Rotter Apocalypse (10 page)

After breakfast, when Denning went off to make his rounds of the perimeter, Windows and Cindy cleaned up the kitchen and set off to feed the chickens and take care of the crops. It had taken them all morning and most of the afternoon, partly because Windows was unfamiliar with the procedures, and partly because Cindy had so much fun Windows didn’t want to take her away from the chickens. Cindy spent over an hour playing and laughing, two things Windows had not seen her do before. She had watched Cindy the entire time, experiencing lightness in her heart, something
she
had not done in weeks. For the first time since being kidnapped by Price, Windows felt confident and hopeful about the future.

Not until late morning had it dawned on Windows that she had not seen Denning all day. At first it didn’t concern her. As midafternoon rolled around, her concern became fear. The thought occurred that something bad might have happened. Once finished tending to the crops, she took Cindy and searched the compound, starting at the east side of the perimeter fence near the ranch house and heading north. It took only a few minutes to come across Denning. He was in the ten acres reserved for Walther working on the engine of a combine, the bull standing a few feet away, keeping an eye on his master. Cindy raced ahead and jumped up onto the fence, calling to Walther. The bull strolled over and extended his head, begging to be petted. Windows headed for the fence opposite the combine.

Denning placed his tools back in the box. “Hello.”

“Hi,” said Windows. “Where’ve you been?”

“Right here. It hasn’t been that long.”

“You’ve been missing all day.”

Denning turned toward the sun. He raised his right hand vertically to the horizon, placed the left on top of it, then the right on the left, and the left on the right again. “Man, you’re right.”

“What are you doing?” Windows asked.

“Telling the time.”

“How?”

Denning raised his right hand again. “You hold your palm up with the bottom on the horizon. Each finger represents approximately fifteen minutes, and one hand equals an hour.”

“You’re fascinating.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one. You didn’t muddle through the end of the world like the rest of us. You survived it. You kept on going as if nothing had happened. That’s impressive.”

Denning laughed. “My wife would have called me paranoid.”

“Your wife would be very proud of you.”

Cindy walked over. “Do you farm anymore?”

“Just the patch of crops for myself.”

“Then why do you have that thing?” She pointed to the combine.

“That’s a Massey-Ferguson 850 combine.” Denning pointed to the front end of the machine. “See that device that looks like teeth?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s the maize header. When I used to farm, I’d drive this through the fields. The header would scoop up the stalks and feed them into the conveyor. Cylinders inside the combine would grind up the stalks, leaving the grain in a bin and spitting the empty stalks out the back. It made my life a lot easier.”

“If you don’t farm anymore, why do you need to fix it?”

“Let me put it this way.” Denning leaned over the fence so he could be closer to Cindy. “Before the dead came back to life, you used to play with toys so you wouldn’t get bored, right?”

Cindy nodded.

“Well, that’s my toy. I keep it running so I don’t get bored.”

“No offense, Mr. Denning,” Cindy said, “but I’d rather have a doll.”

“I wish I could help you there.”

“Does it work?” asked Windows.

“Let’s find out.” Denning closed the cowling to the engine compartment and climbed into the cab. Sliding into the seat, he switched the ignition into the ON position, pressed the start button, and the engine roared to life. Walther jumped to one side and snorted. Upon realizing it was only the combine, he gave the machine a disdainful glance and strode off. Denning shut down the engine and leaned out of the cab. “Success.”

The two girls clapped.

Denning climbed down from the cab. He lifted the tool box and passed it across the fence to Windows, who held it for him while he climbed over, pausing for a few seconds on the other side to catch his breath.

“Now what?” Windows asked.

“I think it’s time we head back to the house so I can make you gals supper. We’ve got a lot to do in the days ahead.” Denning passed by Cindy and leaned over. “Come on, I’ll race you back.”

Cindy giggled and darted off, with Denning chasing after her, although he soon fell far behind. No matter. It was great to see her acting like a little girl again. Windows tagged along, lugging the tool box, and hoping this would last a while.

Natalie, Ari, and Doreen sat at their table in the dining hall comparing notes.

“Where were you assigned?” Ari asked.

“An armored unit.” Natalie took a sip of coffee.

Doreen paused as she raised the fork to her mouth. “You mean tanks?”

Natalie nodded.

“What do you know about tanks?”

“I don’t have to. I talked with the unit commander this morning. Since this isn’t traditional combat, and since they’re short on qualified tank crews, they’re doubling up on functions. The tank commander will also be the driver, and the gunner will be the loader. I’m the observer.”

“What does that mean?” Ari asked.

Doreen chuckled. “It means she’s the one who gets out and pushes in case they get stuck.”

Ari flashed Doreen a stare that could have killed. Doreen did not see it.

“I’m their eyes,” explained Natalie. “The other two will be stuck inside the tank with a limited view. I’m the one who gets to pop the hatch and see what’s going on around us.”

Ari scooped up a forkful of beans. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It shouldn’t be. Rotters can’t climb. Besides, the commander says once the operation begins, we’ll be moving all the time.”

“Are you nervous?” Doreen asked.

“None of the tank crews I’ve met seem nervous, so I figure there’s no reason I should be.” Natalie broke her biscuit in half. “What about you two?”

“We’ve been assigned to a mop up battalion,” said Ari. “There are a couple of dozen cruise ships and naval vessels sitting off the Pacific Coast with almost a hundred thousand troops on them, plus ten thousand civilians who are going to start rebuilding the city once it’s secure. Once the main operation begins, we’re going to land on a twenty-mile front from the Presidio down to Morris Beach, and then push east until we reach the Bay, mopping up any rotters you guys miss. The civvies will come ashore later and start rebuilding the city.”

“And they’re keeping us together,” Doreen told her. “We’re going ashore near the San Francisco Zoo. They’ll be flying us out to our ship later tonight.”

“I just realized,” said Ari, “that means we may not see each other for a while.”

Natalie saw the concern in Ari’s eyes. “Don’t worry. This doesn’t seem anywhere near as dangerous as what we’ve already gone through. I’m sure we’ll all be back here before—”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” bellowed a voice from the other end of the dining hall. A tall, burly, African-American colonel in Army ACUs stood in the center of the door. “I hate to break up this merry gathering, but it’s time to deploy. Gather your gear and be on the Parade Ground in ten minutes. Choppers are coming in to fly you to your respective units. God help anyone who comes to me and says they missed their flight. I want to see asses and elbows, people.”

A bevy of excitement broke out as those assigned off of the Rock jumped up from their tables to bus their trays and head back to their quarters to get their gear. Doreen stood up and nudged Ari, “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

“I thought we’d have more time,” Ari responded.

“I’ll take those for you.” Natalie stood and crossed around the table.

“Don’t you have to hurry?” Doreen asked.

“No. I’m taking the ferry over to the Beachhead later tonight.” Natalie hugged Doreen. “You be careful. Don’t do anything foolish.”

“Have I ever?” Doreen hugged back. “Good luck.”

Natalie moved over to Ari. “That goes for you, too. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Ari wrapped her arms around Natalie and embraced her, holding her for several seconds. “I love you. Take care of yourself.”

Doreen took Ari by the arm and led her across the dining hall. Ari kept her gaze on Natalie until they disappeared into the corridor.

Once her friends had left, Natalie piled all the garbage onto one tray, and then stacked the two empty ones underneath. She waited until the commotion had died down before taking the trays up to the counter. As she headed back to her quarters, she felt a sense of optimism. When Dr. Compton had first arrived at their camp talking about the Zombie Virus vaccine and using it to fight back, she had considered him delusional. Now she knew better. Too many people around here were too optimistic about the prospects of success. She could feel it as well. 

Tomorrow morning, humans would engage the living dead for the ultimate control of Earth.

Two hours after sundown, everyone still remaining in Gilmanton gathered in front of the warehouse to say their final goodbyes.

Earlier that morning, Robson, DeWitt, Roberta, and Caswell had helped move the fourteen survivors to the community along Suncock Valley Road. They had stayed for five hours, patrolling the neighborhood to make sure there were no rotters or squatters and helping the others settle in. Roberta had found a house at the end of a cul de sac that had been vacant during the raid, so the gang had not bothered to smash its windows or break down its doors. Once his team had unloaded the supplies, Robson had tried to offer some advice to the tall man, whose name was Jim, on how to survive. Jim had listened politely, although it had been obvious to Robson that he was not interested, so Robson gathered his team and headed back to Gilmanton.

Once back at the warehouse, the group packed the remaining vehicles for their upcoming trips. The camp followers had asked if they could take Price’s black Hummer H3. Robson had agreed, seeing it as the perfect irony that their former captor’s vehicle would now be their means to salvation. Robson had made sure that each woman had their own weapon, plenty of ammunition, and extra rations. Of the two groups who were going their separate ways, Robson knew these four had the best chance of survival, and would also have the roughest time. After making their farewells, and after an emotional and tearful goodbye with Linda, the four women climbed into the black Hummer and set out north.

Robson had decided to take only four vehicles to decrease the amount of gasoline they would need to scrounge while on the road: his military-style Humvee, the Humvee Tibor had converted to accommodate the vampires during daylight, the RAV-4, and the Forester commandeered from the storage facility. Each vehicle contained an equal share of food, medicine, ammunition, and canned gasoline in case they became separated. Robson would drive the lead Humvee. Linda, Cory, a smarmy teenager with dark hair down to his neck that he refused to trim, and Magda, a young woman from Germany on vacation in the States who became trapped when all flights were grounded were riding with him. Roberta would follow in the RAV-4 along with Gary, a middle-aged man who had lost his glasses during the apocalypse and had trouble seeing, and Ed, a Marine whose unit had been overrun by rotters outside of Albany and who had been on his own until captured by Price’s gang. DeWitt would drive the Forester and would take the last two camp survivors, a middle-aged Japanese woman named Yukiko whose nose remained disfigured following a beating at the camp, and an African-American male who refused to give his name. Robson had begun to refer to him as Clint. Dravko, Tibor, and Caslow would bring up the rear.

Right after sundown, once all the gear was packed away and the survivors were on board, Robson called his people together for one last briefing.

“Remember, our primary goal is to find a location that can be easily secured. We want to avoid all population centers. I plan on stopping every couple of hours so we can give everyone a chance to stretch their legs.” To Dravko and Tibor, he added, “We’ll find a place where we can safely hole up during the day.”

“Thanks,” answered Dravko.

“You all know the direction we’re heading. Each vehicle has a radio, so if for some reason we get separated we’ll try to regroup. If we don’t, then you’re on your own, and I wish you the best of luck. Any questions?’

None.

“Good. Load up. I’ll be back in a minute.” While the others climbed into their respective vehicles, Robson crossed the warehouse parking lot to where Simmons and Wayans stood.

“I guess this is it,” said Simmons.

“I guess so.”

“Where are you heading?” Wayans asked.

“Northwest. We’re going to follow the back roads as much as we can to avoid heavy population centers. Until the survivors are on their feet physically, we’re vulnerable on the road. The first place I find that makes a halfway decent encampment, I’m setting up shop.”

“Makes sense,” said Simmons.

“Who knows? If we’re really lucky, maybe we’ll find our friend Windows.”

“That’d be friggin’ nice.”

An awkward silence followed. Finally, Robson said, “Guys, thanks for everything. I never would have been able to pull this off without your help.”

“I wish we could have done more,” said Simmons, who offered his hand.

“You did more than enough.” Robson shook the hand, and then pulled Simmons in close and wrapped his left arm around his back.

Robson broke the hug and offered his hand to Wayans. “Sorry you took a bullet for us.”

“I’ve gotten hurt a lot worse for less noble causes.” Wayans shook his hand, and then offered a fist bump. “You friggin’ take care of yourself.”

“You can count on it.” Robson bumped fists with Wayans. “Good luck.”

Walking back to his Humvee, Robson slid into the driver’s seat. “Are we ready?”

“No,” said Linda. “But we don’t have a choice.”

Starting up the vehicle, Robson pulled away from the warehouse and headed for the parking lot exit, waving to Simmons and Wayans. Once out onto North Road, he veered left and accelerated, passing the rectory. The other vehicles in the convoy fell in behind him at one-hundred-foot intervals. He kept his gaze on Gilmanton until it was no longer visible. This moment reminded him of the last time he had departed Fort McClary for the run down to Site R.

Everyone remembered how badly that had turned out.