Rotter Apocalypse (2 page)

“Damn,” Windows muttered under her breath.

The RAV-4 bucked as the engine stuttered, jarring Cindy from her nap. She sat up in the passenger seat, her eyes wide with fear.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Windows reached over and wrapped her hand around Cindy’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’re about to run out of gas, that’s all.”

“Oh.” The girl visibly relaxed. The RAV-4 bucked again, a little harder this time. Cindy giggled. “It’s like being on a ride at Canobie Lake Park.”

Windows grinned. After what the world had gone through this past year, she doubted anyone would ever be excited again about amusement park rides, if society even reopened them. She admired how Cindy could retain her childhood innocence after everything that had happened, especially after spending so many months in that camp.

Windows closed her eyes tight and swallowed back the bile as the memories of that place rushed into her memory. She knew she would relive those events for the rest of her life. Windows’ time in that Hell had only lasted a few days, beginning with her kidnapping after the gang had destroyed her original home at Fort McClary, and lasting until the raid last night when she and Cindy used the commotion to sneak out, find the RAV-4 that had been prepared for a quick escape, and headed northeast. However, in those days she had experienced more sexual abuse and psychological torment than she ever thought imaginable. Thankfully, Cindy had been spared from being molested, but not because of any moral standards on the part of their captors. Cindy had been kept out of harm’s way because her mother Debra and Windows had allowed themselves to suffer degradation and humiliation in order to keep her safe. The emotional strain had been too much for Debra, and she had committed suicide, leaving Windows to care for Cindy. To do that, Windows had killed a man, broken out of a secure facility, and went on the run. Not bad for a woman who should be graduating from college right about now.

The RAV-4’s engine sputtered and died. Windows maneuvered it toward the side of the road and braked. The sun had set only a few moments earlier, leaving enough light for her to scan the surrounding area. Woods stood off to the right, and a large field to the left. The road ahead ran straight for a mile before becoming lost in the shadows. She saw what mattered most–that there were no rotters nearby.

“Where are we?” Cindy asked.

“I have no idea.”

Windows opened the map and spread it out, knowing it was futile. They had traveled all last night, first heading north for several hours before traveling northeast along the foothills of the White Mountains. The last city she remembered passing through had been Berlin, and she had spent over an hour trying to navigate the outskirts of town so as to avoid the living dead. A few miles north of Berlin they had come across an old gas station/service center, pulled into one of the empty bays, closed the doors, and slept for most of the day. After setting out again, the two had stayed off the main roads, which allowed them to avoid the living dead. It also meant they often had to retrace their steps due to fallen trees, washed out roads, or abandoned roadblocks. Having spent so much time on the back roads, none of which were listed on the map left inside the SUV, Windows had no idea what their current location was or even in which direction they had been heading when they ran out of gas.

Getting out of the RAV-4, Windows went around to the back deck, opened the hatch, and sorted through the four backpacks. Cindy joined her, watching quietly while Windows transferred all the food, water, and ammunition into two backpacks, making sure all the lighter stuff went into the smaller one. When finished, she slung the heavier of the two backpacks across her right shoulder and one of the AK-47s over her left. She held out the second pack to Cindy.

“Do you think you can carry this?

Cindy looked apprehensive as she took the bag. Her face lit up when she realized how light it was. “No problem.”

Windows helped the girl slide it over her shoulders and picked up another AK-47 with her right hand. She placed her left behind Cindy’s head and ruffled her hair. “Okay, let’s move out.”

“Where are we going?”

“I have no idea.” Windows walked down the road in the direction they had been heading. “We’ll know it when we get there.”

“Jesus,” Robson muttered under his breath.

“I told you it wouldn’t be easy,” Simmons replied.

From their vantage point on top of the hill, Robson used his night vision goggles to scan the Super Walmart a quarter of a mile away. The building looked pristine. Along the front, the doors remained closed and the windows were intact. No debris lay spread across the parking lot, so the store probably had not been ransacked. The only things in the parking lot were a dozen vehicles left by their owners in scattered spaces. And, of course, a few hundred rotters that milled around the building.

Robson passed the goggles to DeWitt on his right. He said to Simmons, “We’ve seen worse.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” said Robson.

“
You
have,” DeWitt chimed in as he looked through the goggles. “This is a whole new Hell for us.”

Sadly, what DeWitt said was true. Robson had seen worse, much worse. During those times he had an entire raiding party behind him, including the Angels, four vampires, and his own team of six. Because of the trip to Site R, the assault on the rape camp, and sending the Angels west with the vaccine for the Zombie Virus, those numbers had dwindled down to Dravko, Tibor, DeWitt, and Roberta. Bringing along Linda had been a necessary evil; although not psychologically ready to face a rotter horde, she was the only person in the group with medical experience, and they needed her to gather supplies inside the pharmacy. Robson had left Caslow back at Gilmanton, ostensibly to take care of Wayans. In reality, he didn’t want him around. So that left him with a total of seven people, half of them untrained, to break into a Walmart, steal enough food and supplies to accommodate more than thirty people, and sneak out, all while avoiding the horde of the living dead.

He must be fucking insane.

“You and Wayans have never actually been inside?” asked Robson.

“No need to. We already had everything we needed. We considered this our emergency reserve. And what better way to protect it?”

“Lucky for us no one overrode your security system.”

DeWitt huffed. “Do you really think we’ll have any better luck getting past all those rotters?”

“No,” said Robson. “We don’t have to get past them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Watch and learn.” Robson turned back to Simmons. “I’m going to need you to create a diversion. Take the Hummer and drive through the west end of the parking lot. Once you get their attention, lead them away from the building. Take Dravko and Tibor with—”

“No,” Dravko interrupted. “We’re going inside with you.”

“You’re not vaccinated against the Zombie Virus. If one of them bites you, you have no protection.”

“Our extinction is inevitable no matter how hard you try to protect us. Besides, we’re tired of being relegated to the sideline. Tibor and I are part of this team. If you go into that building, we’re going with you.”

The determination in Dravko’s eyes told Robson it would be futile to argue.

“Do you mind being on your own?” Robson asked Simmons.

“Not as long as I don’t have to mix it up with the living dead. Don’t you need me to hang around in case you need help?”

Robson shook his head. “If we get into more trouble than we can handle, there’s nothing you’ll be able to do. Lead the rotters away from us for as long as possible, and then head back to Gilmanton.”

“Roger that.”

Robson faced the rest of his team “Okay. Let’s do this.”

*  *  *

Simmons led the three-vehicle convoy along the county road leading to Super Walmart. Ahead of him he could see the southern entrance to the parking lot, and two hundred feet beyond that the northern entrance. He continued to the furthest one and entered. Robson swung the Ryder truck in behind Simmons, stopped before entering the lot, and shut down the engine and headlights. Dravko pulled his Humvee alongside the Ryder and did the same. Both vehicles sat silent, leaving the black Hummer H3 as the only noise in the parking lot.

As anticipated, it attracted considerable attention.

Every rotter in the vicinity shifted their gaze onto Simmons. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Instinct told him to gun it for the other entrance and get out of there. Instead, he coasted through the parking lot, careful to avoid concentrations of the living dead. The deeper in he drove, the harder that became as rotters swarmed him. Simmons ignored those closest to him and blared the horn to attract the ones on the perimeter. One by one, each of the living dead lumbered toward him. Some staggered around the sides of the building or emerged from around back. A small group that had clustered around the front doors, their attention directed inside the building, was the last to focus on him. Within a minute, several hundred rotters converged around his Hummer.

Simmons’ heart raced and his body tensed. He warned himself to stay calm. If he panicked and allowed the rotters to overwhelm his vehicle, he’d never make it out alive. Concentrating on the parking lot rather than the oncoming horde, Simmons calculated the path of least resistance and maneuvered through it, making his way toward the southern entrance. Several times he had to swerve around rotters, and occasionally ran some down. Others clawed against the side of the Hummer, grasping at him until he could barely see out the side windows because of the decayed flesh and gore stains. Flies and wasps covered the windshield, blocking his view. The sound of bones and fingernails scraping against the glass, accompanied by the incessant moaning, threatened to paralyze him with fear. He felt himself clenching his bladder and sphincter, and his thinking becoming frenzied. Just as Simmons felt his nerves about to give way, he broke through the outer perimeter of living dead and into an empty portion of the parking lot, heading toward the exit.

When Simmons glanced in his side mirrors, he could see the mass converging on him. He slowed his speed enough for them to keep up with but not catch him. The seconds dragged by like minutes as he passed through the exit and turned left onto the main road, leading the rotters out of the area. Eventually, Super Walmart or Robson’s other two vehicles disappeared from view. With only the mass of living dead following close behind, Simmons felt like he was some sort of demonic Pied Piper.

*  *  *

It took almost an hour for Simmons to clear the rotters out of the parking lot. Robson waited an extra ten minutes to make sure the horde was far enough away before starting the Ryder. He headed around back, with Dravko close behind him. When they pulled behind the building, Robson saw half a dozen rotters milling around the back lot, stragglers that had not followed the main herd. Nothing they couldn’t handle. When they cruised along the rear façade, the few living dead shambled toward them.

The rear entrance was located in the center of the building, fifteen feet from the loading dock. A military-style Humvee in camouflage paint was parked diagonally between the two. Its doors had been left open. A body lay on the pavement near the vehicle with an M-16A2 automatic rifle resting nearby. As the headlights illuminated it, Robson noticed the body had been picked clean of flesh and muscles except for some residual chunks of tissue attached to the shoulders and skull. Its head fell to the side and its jaws snapped at the air.

“Looks like someone had the same idea you did,” said Linda from the passenger seat.

“We’ll have better luck.” Robson maneuvered around the military Humvee and backed the Ryder into the loading dock. When he felt the truck’s rear thump against the rubber bumpers, he shifted into park and shut down the engine. “Let’s go.”

Dravko had parked close to the entrance. While Tibor checked the door, DeWitt and Roberta fanned out, neutralizing the few rotters with head shots. Robson joined the vampires by the door.

“Can we get in?” he asked.

“It’s locked,” responded Tibor. “I can break it, though.”

“Go ahead.”

Tibor pulled on the handle, the muscles along his neck and shoulders straining. The steel around the jamb groaned under the pressure until the deadbolt snapped. He opened the door and smirked. “After you.”

Slipping on his night vision goggles, Robson raised his Atchisson AA-12 assault shotgun, an automatic version of a shotgun that held twenty rounds in a drum magazine, and stepped into the storage room. He scanned the area from right to left, and saw no signs of danger. Pushing the goggles onto his forehead, he motioned for the others to follow. One by one they entered and switched on their flashlights, each checking out the area for themselves. Tibor entered last, closing the door behind him, sliding a broom through the handle, and resting it against the jamb.

Robson stepped over to the double doors leading onto the main floor and motioned to the others. “Douse the lights.”

When the storage room went dark, Robson slid the goggles back over his eyes and pushed open one of the swinging double doors leading onto the main floor. He half expected to be greeted by a wall of the living dead. Instead, everything seemed normal. No signs of movement. Not even any indication that the store had been looted. From this vantage point, it appeared as though the place had been closed prior to the outbreak and never visited again.

Robson stepped back into the storage room and pushed the goggles up onto his forehead. “You can turn the flashlights back on.”

As their glare lit up the storage room, he continued. “I don’t think this place has been touched, so this should be easy. That doesn’t mean you can be careless. We’ve seen easy turn to shit too many times before. Linda and Tibor will head for the pharmacy and gather medical supplies. DeWitt and Roberta will be responsible for clothing. Dravko and I will get the food. Any questions?” When no one responded, Robson said, “Move out.”

The three groups exited the storage room and spread out through the store.

*  *  *

DeWitt and Roberta made their way to the center of the store to the clothing department. They stood between the men’s and women’s sections. “Now what?” DeWitt asked.

Roberta searched around until she found a wheeled clothing rack upon which hung dresses and children’s garments. She gathered them in her arms, lifted off the hangers, and tossed the pile onto the floor. She pushed the rack over to DeWitt. “Grab sweatpants, jeans, and t-shirts for men and women. Make sure you take only small sizes. Load this up and meet me back here in a few minutes.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get everything else we need.” Without waiting for a response, Roberta headed for the footwear department. She found a shopping cart at the end of one of the aisles stacked with shoe boxes. The staff must have been in the process of restocking when they abandoned the store. That made it easier for her. She emptied the shopping cart and proceeded up and down each aisle, filling it with running shoes of various sizes. When she felt she had collected a wide enough variety to accommodate all the survivors, she headed over to the underwear section and grabbed boxers, panties, bras, and socks. By the time Roberta had made her rounds and returned to the clothing section, DeWitt had finished gathering his items.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“I think so. I can’t fit anything else on this thing.”

“Then let’s get out of here.” Roberta spun the shopping cart around and led the way toward the storage room.

*  *  *

Robson and Dravko approached the food section. The vampire raised a hand and placed it on his friend’s chest. “Do you smell that?”

Robson inhaled. He did. It was the stench of decayed flesh.

Robson raised his AA-12, shut off his flashlight, and lowered his night vision goggles over his eyes. Dravko morphed into his vampiric form, his human features changing into a furrowed brow and fanged mouth. His fingers elongated, the nails becoming two-inch talons. Together, the two walked into the food section, anticipating the inevitable rotter attack.

Moving down the cereal aisle toward the bakery, Dravko took the lead. He sniffed the air and pointed toward the back. Robson nodded in acknowledgment. At the end of the aisle, Dravko peered around the corner and waved on his friend. Robson fell in behind the vampire and they made their way toward the rear of the store. He scanned behind the bakery counter and down each aisle they passed, searching for rotters. His fingers tensed around the trigger. When Dravko reached the rear wall, he laughed.

Robson moved up beside him. “What’s so funny?”

“There are our rotters.” Dravko pointed to the refrigeration units along the rear wall. With the electricity out, the units had failed, allowing hundreds of pounds of meat to spoil. Numerous cellophane wrappers had broken open, and the exposed meat was swarming with maggots and flies.

“Thank God for small favors.” Robson shone his flashlight along the rear wall until it fell upon the dairy section. “Come with me.”

“Everything there is spoiled.”

“I’m not looking for food.” Robson walked down to a cart in the center of the aisle stacked with milk crates, half of them empty. He removed the full ones and dumped the gallon cartons onto the floor. “We can use these to carry the food.”