Rotter Apocalypse (16 page)

Windows woke up from a restless sleep and glanced around the darkened bedroom. Cindy lay beside her, clutching a pillow tight against her face, and with the lion’s share of the covers wrapped around her. The girl seemed at ease, lost in her dreams and breathing deep in what amounted to a child’s version of a snore. Something did not set right with Windows. It was not a sense of danger but of unease, as if bad karma had settled over the farm. Gently sliding out of bed so she did not disturb Cindy, Windows crossed over to the window. The yellowish-orange colors still painted the northern horizon, appearing more eerie in the full darkness of night. Denning stood in the front yard, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, his gaze intent on the distant glow. Throwing on her sneakers and a bathrobe, Windows went downstairs, fixed herself a cup, and stepped outside to join Denning. She sipped from her mug, trying to appear as casual as possible.

Denning saw right through her. “You couldn’t sleep either?”

“No.”

“Worried about that?” Denning pointed to the horizon.

“I guess.”

“I don’t blame you. I’ve been watching it for close to two hours trying to determine where it is and what direction it’s heading.”

“Any luck?”

“I still think it’s either Montreal or something in the suburbs.”

“How long will it take to reach us?” Windows asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

“I doubt it will.” Denning pointed to the trees off to their left. “The wind has been blowing from west to east, which will drive the flames perpendicular to us.”

“That’s good.” Windows saw the concern in his eyes. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s good because we don’t have to worry about it spreading to the farm.”

“But…?”

“That fire is going to disturb whatever made its home around Montreal.”

“Rotters?”

Denning shook his head. “Those things are as dumb as cow shit. They’ll swarm into the flames thinking that’s where the food is, which is good for us. I’m talking about the living.”

“You mean packs of wild animals.”

“I mean humans.”

The implication dawned on Windows. She glanced up at the bedroom window, realizing that they might soon be in danger. “How long will it be before they show up here?”

“Don’t go jumping the gun,” Denning said, trying to sound reassuring. “We don’t know if there are any other survivors in the area and, if there are, whether they’ll even find us. To be on the safe side, carry your weapon and a sidearm with you at all times. I have some two-way radios in the house. I’ll give you one so you can keep in touch. Don’t let Cindy out of your sight until we know better what’s going on.”

“You can count on that.” Windows felt her heart racing fast and her breathing grow rapid and shallow. After all she and Cindy had gone through, after all they had endured to find this sanctuary, only to face the possibility of it being violated by others like Price… she could not bring herself to think about it. Rationally, she knew Denning was right. The odds were in their favor. Assuming groups of survivors were displaced by the fire, the chances of them coming across the farm and of being hostile were thin. However, the time she spent in the camp had taught her to consider the worst possible realities. How would the two of them defend themselves if a group of thugs like Price showed up at the farm and wanted to take it over?

An explosion to the rear startled Windows, until she realized it was only thunder. Gray clouds moved in from the south. A bolt of chain lightning lit up the sky as it arced to earth.

“Good,” said Denning. “Maybe if it moves far enough north it’ll put out the fire. Come on. Let’s get inside before it starts raining.”

“What’ll we do if someone shows up at the front gate?” Windows asked.

Denning thought for a moment, then placed a hand on Windows’ shoulder and led her back to the house. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

The convoy had parked along the banks of the Thurman W. Dix Reservoir. This place presented a pleasant contrast to rotter-infested Barre. A peaceful quiet engulfed the reservoir, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs. Robson sat inside his Humvee and used a flashlight to read the map he had spread out on the steering wheel. The others milled about, either chatting amongst themselves or wandering off to calm their nerves after the encounter a few hours earlier.

After escaping from the horde, Robson had given up on the idea of traveling through town because it was too risky. Instead, he backtracked a few miles and headed north until he reached the reservoir where he stopped to take a break and get his bearings. He studied the map, realizing the detour wouldn’t hurt them. They could still reach the resort area where he hoped to find a location to set up camp; they would just have to do it from a different direction. In hindsight, he should have chosen this route when first planning the trip rather than risk going through a city, no matter how tiny it appeared on the map. That screw up had already cost one person his life, and almost got four others killed. Robson knew he had better get his head back in the game quickly.

“Are you okay?” Linda asked.

He had not heard her approach, so when she spoke it startled him.

“Sorry,” she said, lowering her head.

“Don’t apologize. I’m a little jumpy after what happened back there. How is everyone else doing?”

“Your people are fine.” Linda leaned back against the open door. “Mine are still pretty shaken up, especially over Gary.”

“I’m sorry about that...” Robson let his sentence fall off, not wanting to say what was on his mind.

“No one blames you. He panicked and ran, and almost got Roberta and Ed killed in the process. We’ve all experienced death before, although this is the first time any of us have run into a situation like that.”

“You get used to it after a while.”

“How many times have you gone through something like that?”

“More than I care to remember.” Robson didn’t know how many encounters he had survived with rotters, always being superstitious that if he kept count his luck would run out that much quicker.

“I guess we have a lot to look forward to,” Linda said, trying to make it sound like a joke, but her voice sounded heavy with resignation.

“I wouldn’t worry. We’re heading north to where the population is thinner to avoid concentrations of rotters. We’ll arrive tomorrow night. In two nights, three at most, we should have set up a new camp. After that, we won’t have to worry about the dead.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Trust me.”

“Okay.” Linda glanced over at him and smiled. The smile morphed into terror. She moved away a few feet. “You’ve been bitten!”

It took a moment for Robson to realize what Linda was referring to. The top of his right hand had scratch marks from where the rotter with no lower jaw had tried to bite him. Two of the marks were bright red and oozing blood. 

“He didn’t bite me. See?” Robson held up his hand so Linda could see better.

She backed further away. “It doesn’t matter. It broke the skin, so you’re infected. You’re going to turn.”

“No I’m not.” Robson lowered his voice and tried to sound soothing. “Linda, I’ve been vaccinated with a strain of the Zombie Virus that makes me immune to infection. Remember?”

“I forgot.” Linda halted. “I guess I’m jittery, too.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Robson placed the folded map between the dashboard and windshield of his Humvee, and then stepped out. “Let’s check on the others.”

Dravko and DeWitt came forward to meet them.

“So,” said DeWitt, “how far off of our planned route are we?”

“Not far at all. I was telling Linda that—”

Dravko held up his hand to cut off Robson. “Listen.”

The area was silent.

“I don’t hear anything,” said Robson.

“Exactly. What happened to the crickets and frogs?”

Robson expected to find rotters converging on them. He listened for rustling in the woods and bushes to their right, or splashing from the reservoir to their left, some sound to indicate where the danger came from. Linda moved behind Robson for protection. DeWitt raised his weapon, scanning the area for a target.

“It can’t be,” Dravko muttered, his tone possessing an uncertainty unusual for the vampire.

“Can’t be what?” Robson asked.

Dravko looked over at Tibor, who had also sensed it. Tibor seemed excited rather than confused.

Robson was about to demand Dravko tell him what he sensed when something bolted out of the woods. At first he thought it might be a swarmer, except that it moved too quickly and didn’t snarl or moan. The shadow raced by DeWitt. DeWitt convulsed once and his eyes widened. A gash formed across the man’s neck that opened up, spilling blood down the front of his shirt. DeWitt dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, swaying in that position for a moment before collapsing face first onto the asphalt. Other shadows rushed out of the woods and took up positions behind the rest of his group. Before Robson could react, he heard Linda gasp. A pallid hand clasped her neck, the tips of its talon-like fingernails resting on her throat.

“Dear Satan,” muttered Dravko. “It can’t be.”

“It is,” Tibor said, a growing excitement in his voice.

A tall figure crossed the road and walked up to Dravko. He stood over six feet in height. His clothes fit poorly, hanging loose on his lean frame. What he lacked in physical appearance was more than compensated for by a poise that displayed arrogant self-confidence. Several strands of blond hair fell across his long, angular face. The figure pushed the hair back behind his ears, revealing piercing blue eyes that mirrored a penchant for violence and cruelty. Robson immediately recognized him, and a chill raced down his spine.

The figure strode up to Dravko and stared at him with a cold, hateful glare. “I never thought I’d run into you again.”

“Vladimir. Is it really you?”

“Yes. I survived, no thanks to you.” Vladimir studied the others. “I see Elena still bids you to be the servant for the humans.”

Dravko became defensive at the slight against his Mistress. “Elena is dead. I’m Master of the coven now.”

Vladimir leaned in close to Dravko. “I’m Master here.”

When Dravko tried to protest, Vladimir cut him off with a menacing glare. He moved closer to Robson, a note of recognition in his dead eyes, and stepped up to him. “I don’t know any of the others. I remember you.”

Robson never saw Vladimir’s hand swing at him. He experienced a brief moment of searing pain, and then everything went black.

Consciousness returned slowly to Robson. He opened his eyes. He could make out nothing of his surroundings. Everything was a blur, partially because of the dark, partially because he lay face down in dirt, and partially because of the throbbing in his left temple. When he attempted to lift himself up, the pain spiked, blacking out his vision. Robson moaned and dropped back down onto the dirt.

In the background, Linda said, “He’s awake.”

Roberta’s voice cut through the dark. “Mike, are you okay?”

“I’m alive,” Robson answered. He rolled onto his back. The pain throbbed again in his temple. This time he expected it. When he opened his eyes, he squinted against the sunlight filtering in through the gaps between the wood. A few moments passed before his vision adjusted, and he saw they were inside a barn. “Where are we?”

“An abandoned farmhouse less than a mile from the reservoir,” said Roberta.

“I remember being attacked and Vladimir knocking me out. What happened next?”

“The vampires escorted us here and chained us up.” She held up the chain for emphasis. The link ran five feet, with one end entwined around the wooden support beam of a horse stall and the other wrapped tightly around her ankle, both ends secured in place with padlocks.

“That’s very trusting of them.” Robson rose to his feet. “Did they really think we wouldn’t tr—”

The moment he stood on his right foot, a searing sensation burned its way from his ankle up through the leg muscles. Unable to support himself, he toppled onto the dirt and clasped his ankle in agony.

“After they chained us, they sliced through our Achilles tendons with their talons.” Roberta sighed. “Even if we try to escape, we won’t get very far.”

“They’ve got us trapped in here like cattle,” said Linda.

“Blood cattle,” added James.

Robson bent over and checked his ankle. Sure enough, someone had torn a gash two inches deep across his Achilles tendon. “How many did we lose last night?”

“Only DeWitt,” Roberta answered.

“What about Dravko and Tibor?”

“Those motherfuckers joined the other bloodsuckers,” Corey, chained up at the far end of the stalls, spat.

“Even Dravko?”

“Yes,” Roberta said gently. “I’m sorry.”

That disappointed Robson. Of all the vampires, he had trusted Dravko the most, and always thought that the two of them could work out their differences. He could beat himself up later for being naïve. Right now, he had to figure out a way to save his people.

“How many vampires were there?”

“Nine,” answered Roberta. “Not counting Dravko and Tibor.”

“Nine that we saw,” Ed chimed in from somewhere behind him.

“What about our weapons?”

Roberta shook her head. “The vampires made us leave everything by the reservoir. We have no idea where our vehicles and equipment are.”

“What do we do now?” asked Caslow, his voice barely concealing his desperation.

Robson leaned back against the support beam he had been chained to. “We wait.”

“Wait for
what
?” Roberta asked incredulously.

Yukiko lowered her head and cried. “I don’t wait to die.”

“Me neither,” said Magda. “We need to do something.”

“Do what?” James cut in. “We’re outnumbered, we have no weapons, and we’re in no shape to take on vampires.”

“So this is it?” asked Ed. “Game over?”

“If Vladimir wanted us dead, he would have killed us out there by the reservoir,” Robson stated, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “The fact that he didn’t means he wants us for something.”

“Yeah,” Caslow snorted. “He wants to feed off of us.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Robson. “As long as we’re alive, we have a chance of figuring a way out of this.”