Rotter Apocalypse (32 page)

“No!”

“It’s the only way.”

Roberta nodded. “Then what should I do?”

“Get out of here as fast as you can.”

Dravko slammed the doors shut.

*  *  *

The vampires that still survived had only a few seconds left before they were completely transformed into rotters. Hobbling over to the lamps, Robson grabbed one in each hand and moved over to the closest vampire. Stamos raised his head and glared, any semblance of humanity having been replaced by the soulless mind of a rotter. Robson swung one of the lamps and smashed it across Stamos’ face, and then hobbled back as flames engulfed the vampire’s head. It snarled even as its tongue shriveled and its eyes exploded within their sockets. Dropping to the ground, it thrashed around until the heat cooked its brain.

Mia was next. She still knelt down, her body doubled over in agony. Robson smashed the lamp on the back of her neck. She never even attempted to stand as the burning kerosene poured down her back and over her head and shoulders, preferring the ultimate death to becoming one of the living dead. Robson limped away from the charred corpse to get two more lamps.

When Robson reached the closest lamp, something jumped him from behind, knocking him onto a pile of hay and pinning him. He fell on top of a pitchfork, but couldn’t get to it because of the weight holding him down. He felt a pair of cold hands on his shoulders, and could feel decayed breath against his neck. Robson braced himself. Then the weight was suddenly lifted off his back. Rolling over, he saw Dravko standing beside him, holding Tamara’s head between his hands. She struggled to break free, but his grip was stronger. Dravko squeezed as tight as he could, his arms straining from the pressure. Tamara cried out as her skull caved in. Her body slipped through his fingers and onto the dirt, covered in a rain of skull chunks, brain, and skin. Dravko wiped his hands on his pants, and then reached out his right to help up Robson.

“Thanks,” said Robson, struggling to regain his balance, favoring his good leg.

Dravko patted his friend on the shoulder. “Let’s end this now.”

Robson picked up the pitchfork, using it as a makeshift crutch. Taking one of the nearby lamps, he lobbed it at the barn doors. The glass shattered, splattering kerosene across the wood and bursting into flames. Robson tossed three more against the other walls, creating a conflagration that would consume everything inside the barn. Dravko had culled out the coven, having snapped the necks of Jonathon, Sean, Lewis, and Miles.

Clutching the pitchfork, Robson limped over to Dravko. “You should get out of here while you still have a chance.”

“I’m the last of my kind, so I’ll die here with the rest of my coven.” Dravko took a step back to stand beside his friend. “I could say the same about you.”

“I’ve lost too much blood. I’d never make it to morning. Besides,” Robson pointed ahead of him. “You’re going to need help.”

Vladimir and Gabrielle had completed their transformation into the living dead. Both zombie vampires had risen to their feet and stared at the two men with dead gray eyes. Vladimir tilted his head, sizing up his prey. His lips curled up at the corners and he growled. Vladimir and Gabrielle lunged.

*  *  *

Roberta had finished wrapping the chain around the barn door handles and securing the lock when something smashed against the other side. A moment later, a searing heat shot through the cracks, followed by a whoosh as flames engulfed the interior. Roberta limped backwards, forgetting about her wounded ankle, and fell onto the dirt. She crab walked twenty feet away before stopping to rest. By then, the flames had moved to the exterior walls and lapped at the roof. More fires sprang up along the other three walls.

Robson and Dravko were burning down the barn, and she had trapped them inside. Roberta crawled to her feet and hobbled forward to unchain the handles to give them a way to escape. By now, flames had engulfed the twin doors, making it impossible for her to reach the chains. She stepped back, searching for a way to get inside.

That was when a howl emanated from inside the barn, a sound so ungodly it made her blood run cold.

*  *  *

Robson raised his pitchfork and jammed it into Gabrielle’s face when she came within range. One prong punctured her left eye, one lodged in her throat, and the other pierced her neck. She lurched from side to side, trying to break free. Clawing at them had no effect and biting on the center prong succeeded only in shattering her teeth. Gabrielle grew frustrated at not being able to get to the food. Grasping the handle and balancing himself on his good leg, Robson shoved the pitchfork in deeper. Because of his weakened condition, he could not puncture the skull.

Gabrielle snarled and lunged, her outstretched arms grasping for his throat. Robson fell over backward. Still holding the pitchfork, he lodged the end in the dirt, locking it in place so that Gabrielle impaled herself. The prong in her eye smashed through the skull and scrambled her brain, while the one in her mouth severed the spinal column. Her weight broke the handle below the metal connection. Her body dropped to one side, the pitchfork still imbedded in her skull. Gabrielle convulsed a few times and then her body went limp.

Robson tried to climb to his feet, but did not have the energy. His heart pounded in his chest, and his breathing was shallow from the exertion. He wanted to do nothing more than lie down and go to sleep. He knew he had to push on, although he couldn’t remember why. Rolling over, he sat up on his knees.

A roar to his left caught Robson’s attention. Dravko and Vladimir were engaged in a death struggle. The confusion cleared. Mustering the last remaining reserves of strength, Robson stood. Grabbing the wooden handle from the ground, he brandished the broken end like a stake and went to help his friend.

*  *  *

Vladimir sprang at Dravko. Dravko had anticipated the attack and moved aside at the last second, allowing Vladimir to rush past. As he did, Dravko spun around and grabbed Vladimir, one hand wrapped around his neck and the other around his forehead, hoping to snap his spine and immobilize him long enough to destroy him. It didn’t work out quite as planned.

Vladimir bucked. Dravko knew if he lost his grip, Vladimir would be on him in a second, and he could not win a one-on-one with something that had the determination of a rotter and the strength of a vampire. Dravko dug in his talons and wrapped his legs around Vladimir’s waist. The zombie vampire thrashed about more violently, and Dravko had all he could do to hold on. Vladimir spun around so he his back faced the central support beam and rammed against it, driving Dravko into the wood. He kept up the pounding until Dravko wasn’t sure what would break first, the beam or his spine. Yet he held on tight, knowing if he let go Vladimir would tear him apart.

“Hey, asshole!”

Vladimir looked up. Robson stood in front of him. The zombie vampire didn’t register who the person was or what he wanted. It only saw food and lunged, and then felt a sudden pain in its chest. A broken handle stuck out from below its sternum. In its last shred of conscious thought, the zombie vampire knew the piece of wood posed a danger and reached up to pull it free. Dravko reached around and dug his talons into Vladimir’s neck, hoping to tear it out. The zombie vampire forgot about the stake in its chest and slammed back into the support again. Dravko felt his right shoulder blade shatter and his arm go limp. He clasped Vladimir even tighter with his left. Vladimir grabbed Dravko’s left arm, raised it to its mouth, and bit, ripping a chunk of flesh out of his arm that he chewed. Dravko cried out, knowing he had only minutes left to live.

Robson stood hunched over, all of his energy spent. He had failed because he didn’t have the strength to push the makeshift stake through the vampire zombie’s heart, and now they’d all die. Raising his head, he prepared to meet death straight in the eye, and instead witnessed the struggle between Vladimir and Dravko that ended in Dravko being bit. Robson had one chance left. He placed both hands on the end of the wooden handle. Then he paused, realizing that if he staked Vladimir he ran the risk of killing Dravko directly behind him.

Dravko caught Robson’s attention and nodded.

Vladimir growled.

Robson leaned all his weight against the handle. The broken piece of wood slid through the zombie vampire’s chest, pierced its heart, and continued out through the back until it lodged into Dravko less than an inch from his own heart. Vladimir tensed. The skin around the stake began to fall apart, the decayed skin breaking down into ash. The cavity spread quickly, across its chest and deep into its abdomen, and then fanning out down its legs and arms. The Vladimir rotter cocked its head to one side, contemplating Robson. Its eyes registered hatred. It snarled as the disintegration engulfed its head. By now, Vladimir’s entire body was an outline in ash. Its form remained intact for a moment before crumbling apart.

With the zombie vampire gone, Dravko fell back against the support beam and slid into a seated position, the broken handle still in his chest.

Fire engulfed the barn, burning along all four walls and the wooden outlines of the stalls, and lapping at the rafters. Smoke filled the area, making it difficult to see or breathe.

Robson knelt beside Dravko. “Come on. We can still get out of here.”

Dravko shook his head and lifted his arm to show the bite wound. “It’s over for me.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes.” Dravko motioned at the stake protruding from his chest.

“I can’t kill you.”

“You’d be doing me a favor. I’d rather die as a vampire than burn to death as one of those things.”

Robson shifted his position to get better leverage and placed his hands on the end of the broken handle. “Are you sure?”

Dravko nodded.

Robson leaned forward, driving the stake into Dravko’s heart.

Dravko winced. The disintegration took place immediately, spreading out across his chest and along his entire body. Laying his head back against the support, a sense of contentment washed across his face. He closed his eyes as his head turned into ash. A second later, Dravko crumbled into a pile of ash.

Robson fell onto his back, not caring anymore. He had no energy left and only wanted to sleep. He no longer realized that fire consumed the barn. For the first time in months, his mind was at peace, even if it was a peace induced by confusion from lack of blood to the brain. He couldn’t remember much other than his life had been difficult the past year. Something told him that was over now.

As Robson slipped away, the final thought that crossed his mind was of Natalie.

*  *  *

Roberta had crawled to the end of the driveway when she heard the groaning of wood over the furnace-like roar of the fire. She stopped and rolled over in time to see the barn collapse, sending a shower of sparks billowing into the night sky. Bracing herself, she half expected a swarm of flaming zombie vampires to emerge from the rubble and bear down on her. Thank God, nothing walked away from the inferno.

The sound of engines caught her attention. A military-style Humvee pulled onto the farm followed by a pair of Bradleys. They stopped in a line abreast thirty feet from her. A dozen soldiers exited the vehicles, some taking watch on all four quadrants while the rest approached her. They stopped ten feet away, their guns in the high ready position and aimed at her. A young lieutenant in a Canadian army uniform continued toward Roberta.

“Ma’am, stay still and don’t move.”

“There’s no chance of that.” Roberta lifted her left leg to show the gouged Achilles’ tendon.

The lieutenant knelt in front of her and shined a flashlight in her face and over her body. “Have you been bitten?”

“No.”

The lieutenant turned to one of the soldiers behind him. “Woods, get the medic over here.”

“Yes, sir.” 

The lieutenant’s eyes fell upon the remains of the burning barn. “What happened here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Are you all right, ma’am?”

Roberta sighed. “I am now.”

Windows stood by the two freshly-dug graves. Both sat to the right of Anna’s marker under the oak tree. A pair of makeshift crosses composed of sections of fence marked their final resting place. She knew that was how they would have wanted it. They were both at peace, and would not have to endure the hardships of building a new world from the horrid remains of this one. Most importantly, Denning had joined his wife, which was where he always wanted to be.

That still did not stop the tears.

For the survivors, the worst was over. Five hours after the rotter attack on Denning’s farm, a Canadian military unit pushing south from Montreal came upon them. Based on previous experiences, she had feared the worst. In reality, the soldiers were entirely professional. As the line pushed father south toward the U.S. border, their commanding officer agreed to leave five of his men behind for a day to help dispose of the bodies. They had dug the two graves for the deceased and oversaw the laying-to-rest ceremony, and then cleared the pasture of the living dead, placing the corpses in a pile. Two of the soldiers even volunteered to repair the fence. Windows had thanked them by preparing scrambled eggs, the last of their bacon, and chicken. Before the five men left the next morning, they set fire to the pile of bodies. The stench had been sickening. Windows didn’t mind. With the soldiers’ departure, she realized that the farm was now in human territory, and the rotters to the south were being destroyed. For the first time in a year she was safe. No rotters. No rape gangs. No constantly looking over her shoulder to see what danger was closing in on her. Life had returned to a semblance of its former normalcy, and Windows had been one of the few lucky enough to make it through Hell and come out on the other side.

Too bad she couldn’t say the same for those she loved.

A tiny hand slid into hers and squeezed. Windows glanced over at Cindy, who was also sad.

Cindy sniffed back a tear. “I miss them.”

“I know you do.” Windows wrapped her arm around Cindy’s shoulder and hugged her. “We both do.”

The two stared at the graves for Denning and Walther, remembering them in their own way.

After a few seconds, Cindy asked, “Will Walther go to heaven?”

“Of course, honey.”

“Good. I want to see him again someday. And Mr. Denning, too.”

“You will, but not for a long time.”

Miriam and her children stood thirty feet away, also paying their respects while not wanting to intrude. They would be leaving tomorrow morning. Windows had offered to let them stay here for a while, but Miriam declined. She wanted to go back to Montreal and try to rebuild her life. Hopefully they could settle back into their old house and see if any of their neighbors who survived would return. If not, Miriam was certain new people would move in. She figured if she could rebuild the life they once had, that would be her memorial to Paul. Windows envied her. Miriam had a former life worth trying to regain.

Cindy tugged on her hand. Windows crouched down. “What’s up?”

“What’s going to happen to us?”

“We’ll stay here and take care of the farm for Mr. Denning. Maybe we’ll even take in a few people who have nowhere to go so they can help us out.”

“Like Mr. Denning took us in?”

Windows nodded. “Would you like that?”

“As long as I can stay with you.”

“Always, honey.” Windows put her arms around Cindy and hugged her tight. “Always.”